#okay I need to get out of bed and do something instead of complaining to my blog

[jigglyjeon]

all the things she said -> jjk (four)

summary: your second attempt at a social gathering is at an office party for the place your roommate works at; you come to a realisation about who your true friends are and things are starting to feel okay again— until you learn something you were never meant to find out about.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

genre: roommate au, angst, fluff, smut

word count: 8.8k +

warnings/tags: some floof in the beginning <3 some angst at the end </3, this chapter was so intense to write, but it’s the climax and what you’ve all been waiting for lowk, the culprit pic leaker is revealed!, fighting, crying, blowjob, titty sucking, dry humping, soft!dom jk, missionary

notes: hi my loves! this series will end in the next chapter (: i’ve had a lot of fun writing it and appreciate the support and love i got from it, but i didn’t intend for this to be a long series. truthfully, i just started writing this as a small project to get my creative juices flowing again. thanks so much for reading all the things she said so far, gorgeous people! the final part will be out within the next week or so!!!

soundtrack: i want to be with you - chloe moriondo // all the things she said – poppy

⋆ ࣪.  masterlist  ˖ ࣪⭑ 

<- prev | finale ->

You had never been one for hiking.

Not until today, anyway. You lost your breath easily, especially with the number of steps you’ve had to walk up along this trail. Even with the beautiful scenery that was supposedly meant to make up for it, you can’t help but wish you were laying in your bed instead— you usually would be on a Saturday morning at 7:45.

But today you were spending time with your friends, or rather, Jungkook’s friends; you still haven’t spoken to Jia or Hanna since that disaster of a dinner Jungkook made you go to, you were sure to remind him how ungrateful you were about that. That was why you were here, it was, apparently, his way of making it up to you. You’re huffing and puffing, losing sight of Jungkook and Jimin who are way ahead of you. You don’t even have the power to call out to them loud enough for them to hear you. You stop, prop your ass against a rock and rest your hands on your knees.

You’re so positive that Jia and Hanna are probably doing something so much more fun today than dying.

You pull out your phone from the pocket of your tights, still catching your breath. You scroll through your messages, your socials— still nothing. You let out a pitiful breath, shoulders falling.

“Can you pick up the a pace a little bit, chicken legs?” Jimin calls out to you, when you look over at him with a sharp glare, Jungkook slaps the back of his hand against his chest. He lets out an ‘oof’, coughing dramatically and clutching at his chest. Jungkook points at you, then gives you a thumbs up, asking if you’re okay.

You flash him a tight smile, stretching your arms before you make your way toward them. You ignore the way Jimin whines about how slow you’re being, but Jungkook is quick to your aid, scolding him whenever he had something to complain about. You playfully bump into his side, and he throws an arm over your shoulder. 

“Oh, hell no.” Jimin exclaims from behind you. Jungkook makes sure to look over his shoulder right at him when he presses his lips against your temple; it’s casual and used to tease Jimin sure, but it makes you flustered all the same. “This is insufferable, and I don’t need this energy in my life right now.” He points between you both, sassily taking long strides forehead to move ahead of you and Jungkook. He hikes on ahead, leaving the two of you alone together.

On purpose.

Jungkook has since dropped his arm from your shoulder, and you hold your hands behind your back. When you look up at him and catch his eye, he huffs through his nose with a shy smile, and you chuckle nervously. 

“So, did I tell you about that office party?”

No, he hadn’t. You’re not sure he ever intended on it – telling you that is – but the tension was thick. You can see the slight panic growing in his eyes, they always grew bigger and glossier when he was feeling nervous, as he claws at a point of conversation to break the awkwardness in the air. He probably had assumed you were done with socialising after what had happened last time. 

You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers fiddle behind you. 

“Oh, well. It’s tomorrow night. I don’t even think I want to go, though.” He shrugs, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his shorts. He looks ahead at Jimin who runs into an unsuspecting stray branch, and he blinks at him when he starts pointing at it and scolding as if it were him. He slaps the branch away, thinking he’s got the last of it, but it rebounds and hits his back. Jungkook looks down at the bark beneath his feet, fighting off a laugh.

You’re too busy in your thoughts to notice anything that’s going on around you. All you can think about is the way your arms brush his every now and then, because you never can just walk straight and always at an angle. Jungkook smiles every time you bump him lightly.

“Ah. Why not?” You ask.

Jungkook shrugs. “It’ll probably be boring, they usually are.”

It’s only half a lie. Some of them are boring, but some of them have been the most interesting nights of his mid-twenties. He had always brought Taehyung as a guest, and he was always the most theatrical drunk. There was a point in the night all Jungkook wanted to do was sing karaoke, even when nobody was left nor were they indulging in it alongside him. And Jimin…well, Jimin was Jimin— drunk or not.

“I’d rather hang out with you.” He smiles at you.

You don’t return it, and his curled-up lips slightly falter when he can’t figure out your expression. You pucker your lips and nod slow. “Hm.”

“What if you go and I come with you?” You ask, and he blinks at you.

“Um”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Sure. If you want that, dove.” He’s dumfounded; you can tell. You could tell by the way he dragged out his words, chose them carefully when it could dial back to that bad memory. Honestly, you didn’t know if you thought that was kind or if it was offensive. You didn’t need to be coddled, but Jungkook is trying his best and that wasn’t fair to expect him to read your mind. You know how much he cares about you.

“We better go, I’m worried Jimin is going to fight with more of the foliage if we leave him alone any longer.”

Back at the car, you lean against the boot, looking up at the sky as Jimin stands a few feet away, his arms crossed and foot tapping against the dirt. You’re waiting for Jungkook to come back from the restroom, and neither of you know what to talk about.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel comfortable around Jimin. That hadn’t ever been the case with how easily he slotted you into ‘I’m gonna pick you apart verbally and call out all your wrong doings’ category – which according to Jungkook meant that he liked you –  it was more so the fact that he stared at you with narrowed eyes, glaring so sharply at you that you feel like the first layer of your skin was begging to shred off. Maybe it was the sun burning your face. You’re glad you’re adamant about your daily sunscreen application in this moment.

The sky wasn’t particularly that interesting, either. There’s like, no clouds up there— just a light blue abyss. It wasn’t all that exciting; the colour was nice maybe? Are you sweating?

“Stop ignoring me, I know you know that I’m looking at you.”

You squint when you pull your neck down, you rub the back of it because it’s kind of stiff from looking up for too long. “Hm?”

“Don’t act clueless,” Jimin raises a sharp brow, “It’s not gonna work on me.”

You groan, throwing your arms up in defeat. “What do you want from me?” You whine, stomping your foot dramatic, pouting like you’re having a temper tantrum akin to a toddler. His lip curls in a grimace at your attempt of being cute. Jungkook was buying this? He snorts at the thought of that.

“I just want to know if you plan on being serious.” He loosens his harshness with a shrug, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“With?” You lean back against the car again, resting your palms behind you.

“Like, are you serious about Jungkookie or are you not?”

Your entire body freezes and tightens, not expecting a weighted lecture from your roommate’s best friend about whether you are taking – whatever it is that’s going between you and Jungkook – seriously, at nine in the morning. “I would never do anything to hurt Jungkook.” You furrow your brows, kind of offended that Jimin would even insinuate that. “I care about him a lot.”

“Yeah, you do keep saying that.” He shifts his gaze, nodding in consideration. “So, then why were you with Taehyung the other day?”

“How do you know I was with Taehyung?” You push yourself off the car, crossing your arms with a lifted brow.

“Jungkook told me.”

Right. Jungkook.

He had seen you on the front steps the other day when Taehyung was dropping you off. There was something off about the whole interaction, and you haven’t spoken to Taehyung since. Granted, so much as happened within that time span— you had almost kissed Jungkook, for crying out loud.

And he didn’t even let you.

It was cruel. But you supposed you understood, for so long you hadn’t allowed yourself to indulge in feeling anything past a best friend for him. You couldn’t date someone while you were taking pictures for strangers, it was against your morals. That, and you weren’t exactly sure just how serious Jungkook would be about you. You liked the place you shared with him, but most of all you really cherished the friendship that had blossomed between you and him.

Maybe it was okay to explore something more, maybe he was the one for you. What was life if not to try new things even when you’re scared that might fall apart? Jungkook was good to you, and he always tried his best to be. It was clear in every word he said, and in every move he made. His actions always spoke volumes to you the most.

Perhaps you went out of your way to make him happy because you’ve felt the same.

Jungkook comes back before you can explain yourself to Jimin, that Taehyung was there for you when nobody gave you the time of day. He had only spent a few hours with you to help you feel better. It wasn’t anything weird, you didn’t have intentions with him or anything like that. He drops of Jimin and drives you back the apartment, the radio filling any spaces of quiet when your conversations ended naturally. He pinches your leg when he spots a yellow car, and you hit him a little too hard in retaliation, but he laughs so hard, it makes you smile.

He was right about joining them this morning— it did make you feel good.

Now that you’re let your feelings flow freely for the first time in a long time, all those small things you ignored before had hit your harder than ever. The two of you spend the rest of the day inside, and it was peaceful up until the late afternoon, just before dinner. He emerges out of his room; a towel is low on his waste and his shoulders are sprinkled with droplets of water he never got to dry off. His hair is wet, and the way he pushes it back when he enters the kitchen is lethal. His back faces you to open up the pantry, the muscles in his back subtly flexing and tensing as he rummages through. He’s done this so many times before.

Why did you feel so guilty looking at him now?

“I think I’m gonna make some kimchi fried rice.” He announces, and when he turns to face you, he just captures the way you shut your unhinged jaw. You look away as you start to blush. He smirks, “Careful, dove. Might catch a few flies.”

“That sounds fine.” You ignore his comment, pushing yourself up off the couch, scurrying toward your bedroom. “Gonna go study a little bit.” You mutter. He hums in acknowledgement as he moves around in the kitchen to make the both of you dinner. It’s all very normal, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary— to him, anyway.

In your room you’re staring at your laptop, struggling to bring yourself to gather your thoughts as they scatter around in your brain like strobe lights at a rave. Which only makes your head pound as a reminder of the habits you had in your early twenties, just prior to becoming Jungkook’s roommate. You couldn’t be further detached from that persona now, or that’s how you see it anyway. You use a lot of your old rave stuff to take pictures— well not anymore. “Ugh,” you slap your hands over your hot cheeks, trying to move on from the bad memories that continue to plague your mind. Somehow it always creeps its way back into there uninvited, even having deactivated and deleted your account ever since that dreadful dinner.

You do, however, plan to actually get some work done, you wanted to be a at least a little productive this weekend. You hated when the work piled up and you had it do it all at once, because then you’re grumpy and have no time to blow off some steam with your friends.

Your friends.

You wonder what they were doing this weekend. Do they miss you, too?

You shake the thought from your head, your fingers hovering over the keys, tapping against them mindlessly as you try for a decent way to start your essay. Usually you would spurt nonsense, add a couple of credible sources and fiddle with the end result once you’re done with it. In other words, it usually came easy to you, but you can’t even bring yourself to type even a word.

Not when you know Jungkook is cooking your dinner with a towel low on his waist. Did he even bother to pull on a pair of boxers? Your mind conjures up the image of him again, of you and him on the couch, but this time you wonder what would happen if he were just in his towel.

There you go, objectifying him again. You sigh, bowing your head with an annoyed groan. You haven’t been this fired up since you watched that re-run of 21 Jump Street at four in the morning when nothing else was on. And yes, you do mean the late 80’s television series that starred Johnny Depp. That was nearly a year ago now.

You had to admit it to yourself at least, that you were hard to get. You weren’t that easy to please, and a pretty face wasn’t enough to pique your interest. Not these days, not when you’re so focused on finishing school and kickstarting your career. You weren’t entirely aware of your surroundings, weren’t much of a people watcher when it came to strangers. It was more your thing to walk around with a pair of headphones and disappear from the world. When your friends used to point out someone was attractive when you were out in public, you would admit to them you hadn’t even noticed.��

You never did a double take at the cute guy behind you in line at the university coffee shop, and you didn’t prolong that eye contact with the guy sizing you up at the party. Whether it was because your heart was reserved for someone else is uncertain, because you’re so shut off to the idea of pursuing romance that you probably wouldn’t even notice if it was staring you in the face.

When you looked into Jungkook’s eyes that night, when you leaned in to feel his lips…it was one of the most intense feelings you had felt in a long time. Like you had finally taken off the glasses you’ve worn around him your entire friendship, the ones that never allowed you to look beyond just that— friendship.

You felt hypocritical checking him out now, when you never have before, because you knew how it felt to be objectified without your knowledge. Suddenly you understand what it’s like being on the other end of the stick. It was humbling, to say the least.

With a frown you shut your laptop, accepting that you just weren’t going to be getting anything done. Not when you were preoccupied, not when you really wanted to let off some steam. Instead, you stare at your door that’s slightly cracked open.

You wonder if you should get up and close it, but you put your laptop on your nightstand and flop back onto your bed. You pull your pillow over your face and scream into its softness, muting your frustration.  You stare at the ceiling, and your hands wander down your torso…

“Y/N? It’s done!” He calls, causing you spring up from your bed with a gasp.

You slide off your bed, clearing your throat. You tell yourself to act nonchalant, like you weren’t just about to touch yourself with your door open. You discover quickly that you’re not that great at it, because you’re as stiff as a rock when you waddle into the kitchen, avoiding looking at him entirely as you sit on your knees at the coffee table by the TV. Where you always ate. When he joins you, you learn that he has since thrown on clothes and you were grateful for that. You don’t think you would be able to handle it if he hadn’t.

He eyes you carefully when he places your bowl in front of you, staring down at the food. Your hands stay glued to your thighs; your smile is hollow, and the sound of your stomach grumbling breaks the silence first. He takes his first bite warily. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yep!” You chirp, looking up at him, but not really because your gaze moves straight past him. “Just waiting for you to kiss– eat! Waiting for you to eat first.”

Jungkook blinks at you, and there’s a grin that’s slowly tugging at the corners of his lips.

How the hell were you meant to bounce back from that?

You take the bowl in your hands, push a spoonful into your mouth. Your shoulders slump and you hold your bowl so close to your face it’s practically inside of it. You’ll chew for longer, you think, and maybe then you won’t say anything else humiliating. 

“Cute.” He laughs under his breath. He takes another bite, looking chirpy when he puts the bowl down on the table. He props his shoulders on the table, rubbing his hands together. “You still want to kiss me, huh?”

Your eyes could fall out of their sockets with how wide they had gotten at his words. How could he be so forward? Can’t he see how red you’ve gotten! How embarrassing that was? You don’t want to admit that your frustration is just a front; your heart races and you think your brows are tightened and scrunched together but they’re lowered, and your eyes are softer than you think they are as they stare at him. You part your lips, shutting them like a fish out of water, grasping for air.

Instead, you’re grasping on for your sanity because the way he’s so clearly flirting with you, purposefully pushing your buttons to make you look at him— well, it works.

Clearly.

Consider your buttons pushed.

“Jungkook,” you warn, narrowing your eyes at him. “Drop it right now.”

He sighs, leaning over the table, forefinger rests on your chin, tilting your face up slightly when his thumb swipes against the corner of your lip. His gaze, and his thumb alike, linger on you for longer than necessary. You watch him in anticipation, but also because your words are caught in your throat; you’re too flustered to throw another playful quip his way.

“Nah.” His features crinkle up playfully, removing his hand from you and leaning back on his spot. “I like it when you blush because of me.” He flashes the most heart-throbbing smile your way, and it doesn’t falter when he picks his bowl back up, taking another large bite of his food.

You roll your eyes, grumpily doing the same. “Thank you for dinner.” You grumble.

“It’s no biggie. I like taking care of you.”

He’s so casual about it, when he says things so sweet they’d make your teeth ache. Has he always been this way or was he relishing in the fact that you’re starting to admit that you like him too? Because you do. You do like him.

A lot more than you thought, because it makes you smile shyly into your spoon. Taking small peaks at each other as you finish off your dinner in comfortable silence.

When Sunday night rolls around, you’re rushing around your room, tearing your closet apart as you get ready for the work function you had invited yourself to yesterday morning. You didn’t go to any previous ones, only heard stories from Jungkook whenever he stumbled home a little bit drunk, or in the morning when you were making him soup to cure his hangover. They were hit or miss, but the key to these functions, according to Jungkook, was to get drunk either way.

You weren’t going to argue with that.

He walks toward your room, adjusting the silver watch on his wrist to check if you’re nearly done getting ready. He’s stopped in front of your door when he’s distracted by the sight of you, can you catch sight of him gawking shamelessly at you through the reflection in the mirror. You snort, turning around to face him.

“Is this okay?” You ponder, not fully sure about the basic little black skirt you’ve thrown on, your top matching in colour. The long sleeves flare out toward the ends adding a little more character to the outfit. “Is it too simple?”

You didn’t mean to match him, completely unaware he too had gone for an all-black appearance. Or maybe subconsciously you did? You knew it was the colour he gravitated toward the most. His black compression top accompanied his baggy black jeans, a chunky pair of boots peeking out from beneath the hem.

“You look good.” He settles for, fighting the desire to shower you with every positive comment under the sun. And the way your legs looked beneath those sheer black tights.

That was dangerous territory, and he thinks you know that.

Ever since knowing him each time you pulled out the mini dress/skirt and tights combo, he had always been particularly touchy with you, more than usual. Hand on your knee, arm over your lower back; he’d search for every decent way you claim you amongst other predatory gazes, silently claim you even though you had never been his.

But to everyone he knew…you had always been off limits. Silently praying for the day he could hold you close to him and make it known to everyone else, too.

He flashes a crooked smile, he takes a step toward you, slow. “We look good.”

You’re about to scold him about tracking his shoes around on your carpet, but he reaches down for your hand, taking your hand lightly in his. He lifts your arm above you. “Look at my girl.” He exhales sharply, making you giggle.

“It wasn’t my intention to match with you.” You smile brightly at him, teasingly pushing at his chest. You turn to face the mirror again, to touch up at your appearance, give yourself another look at your outfit but discover the way Jungkook is raking half-lidded eyes over the curvatures of your body. You bite your lip, pretending not to notice. “We do, though.” You admit as he steps closer, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We look like a couple.”  He whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and his voice sultry, the words sliding off his tongue smoothly. Wrapping his arms around you in a loose embrace. You tut in faux annoyance, pushing him off of you as you go to look for shoes to wear.

He sits at the edge of your bed, watching as you drop carefully to your knees, tugging your skirt down as to not flash him. He looks away anyway, his attempt at being chivalrous, he supposes. He rambles on, “I know I said we should take our time, but if you’re going to be looking like this all night…”

“I might just have to kiss you first.”

You freeze with a pair of doc martens in your grip. You scold him under your breath, scuttering out of your room as he strides after you, eyeing you off as you hop into your doc martens with a bit of struggle. He grabs the keys of the kitchen counter leading you out and toward the car, promising you that he won’t drink tonight so that you could have a little bit of fun and have a designated driver. It only made sense.

You and Jungkook are the last people to arrive – you never liked turning up too early – and are greeted by a multitude of cheers the moment familiar eyes spot you coming through the front doors. Before you can really react, Jimin is clapping Jungkook on his broad shoulders, dragging him over to the pool table, leaving you awkward standing by the front door.

“I’ll come find you later. Try to have some fun, dove!” He calls over the blaring music, leaving you on your lonesome.

Not for long though, because Jia and Hanna are waving you over the moment you spot them looking right at you. “Y/N!” Hanna waves you over, both her and Jia riddled with excited smiles. You’re wary when you walk toward them, your hands fiddling in front of you nervously. The moment you get close they both squeal with excitement, pulling you in for an unexpected group hug.

“It’s feels like it’s been forever!” Hanna pouts, looking at Jia.

“Yeah, we’re really sorry. We didn’t really react all that well, did we?” Jia chimes in, a guilty melding into her features.   

You think you’re having one of those light bulb moments. You’ve spent nearly half the month wanting this moment to happen. Wanting them to say sorry, that they should’ve been there for you when you needed them the most, that having them by your side would have made things easier. But in turn, you’re realising something; they were so quick to abandon you— judge you, even.

Especially when there were people who were on your side. You part your lips in a sharp inhale, exhaling calmly through your nose as you smile at them. “Thank you.” Is all you say.

A hand snaking around your lower back makes you gasp, but when you look up to see its Taehyung, you relax. “Hey, doll.”

“Hi” You grin back wider, excusing yourself from your friends, or perhaps the friends that used to be. All was forgiven, and that was all that mattered in that moment to you. You felt lighter now, your shoulders straighten up as Taehyung leads you away, and you sit on the couch in the living room.

“You and the posse back together again?” He teases, fiddling with the wrapper of a piece of gum, he offers you one, but you decline with a wave of your hands.

“I don’t know…” you sigh, leaning back, peaking over at them from the corner of your eye. They’re laughing and smiling together, doing that thing that they always did at parties; the thing that all three of you used to do. Analyse everyone in the room. You were simply part of the heads in the room, now, and for the first time in a while, you feel okay about that.

“You’re better off, I reckon.” He shrugs, casually throwing an arm along the back of the sofa behind you. “Better than them.”

“It’s not that,” you laugh humourlessly, “They lost faith in me, changed their perception of me without a second thought.” You nod, as if coming to terms with it for the first time. In a way, you are, and the more you sit with the idea of that the happier you are to let them go.

“I never changed my perception of you.” Taehyung moves his arm. From around you, placing his warm hand on your knee. He taps, leans over to look down at you with an even warmer smile.

You nod, “Exactly!”

From across the room Jimin is burning holes through your head into Taehyung’s skull. He can’t help but think the two of you look way too close for comfort, and that set him on fire.

He had to act fast when Jungkook frowned at him “What’s wrong?” He asks, going to turn around by Jimin aims his pool stick straight into Jungkook’s chest.

“It’s your turn– do you need a drink? I need a drink.” Jimin’s tone of voice raises higher with each word, and he speaks too fast for it all to seem normal. He ignores the younger boys strange glare, pushing him toward the table as he rushes off toward you and Taehyung. He scoffs, leans over the table and prepares to make his play.

He looms over you like a storm cloud. Taehyung moves his hand as if he’s touched a fire, rubbing the back of his head. You tilt your head, looking up at Taehyung’s line of sight.

“Jesus Christ,” your body jolts in surprise, clutching at your chest. “A simple ‘hello’ would have been nice.”

“I need to talk with you, like– now.” He seethes between his teeth, grabbing your arm and lifting you off the sofa. Taehyung just leans back cooly against the couch when you stutter confusedly, and you give Taehyung a look for help, but he instead leans back against the couch cooly with a shrug.

Jungkook is mid-conversation with his other co-workers, turning just as Jimin is halfway across the apartment, dragging you down the hallway with a scrunched up look on his face. Jungkook’s eyes follow them until they out of sight with a dent between his brows.

He doesn’t stop until he shuts the both of you in the bathroom, flickering on every switch on the wall to produce light in the briefly dark area. He turns on all the fans as well as the lights, it was a blessing in disguise because it was noisy and maybe it will distract from your voices. The music was also kind of loud, anyway. You stand stick straight, tense and awkward as you search Jimin’s face for answers, but he throws his head back and groans a little bit too loud.

“Um? Hello?” You raise a brow.

“I need to tell you something important, okay?” He finally says, “I should have told you sooner, I think, but I just thought things were going to resolve on their own and things we’re honestly looking better for you, for Jungkook too and–”

“You’re rambling, Jimin.” You furrow your brows, crossing your arms. “Spit it out.”

“Taehyung– Y/N, you should be really careful hanging around him. He–”

“Why? He what?” Your arms fall to your sides, and you take a step toward him. The blond parts his lips, then bites on his bottom lip, reluctant to tell you what he’s about to tell you. “Jimin!”

“It was him, that’s why!” He shouts, he huffs out a breath, “He bought those photos from you, and he leaked them on that Facebook group.”

You scoff, glaring at him in disbelief. You start to shake your head and back off. “No.”

“It’s true.” He sighs, running a hand through his golden locks. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you the minute I found out.”

You spit out a sob instead of the sour laugh you intend to come out of your mouth instead. You reach for the door, throwing it opens only to run into a hard chest.

You sniffle angrily, wiping at your nose as you look up to apologise, but the words don’t come out when you see that it’s Jungkook.

He doesn’t look at you, only stares daggers straight at Jimin. You look between them. Jungkook’s jaw tenses, pursing his lips as he nods slowly. Without a word, he turns on his heel, both you and Jimin calling after him as he storms back into the living room. The calls from you and his best friends are drowned out, ears ringing as he bee lines straight for Taehyung.

He’s leaning against the wall, a beer in his hand. He lifts his bottle in acknowledgement when he sees Jungkook coming toward him, only to be greeted with his tattooed, balled up fist. Square to his jaw. His drinks fall to the floor, shatters against the tiles. There’s a mixture of hollers and screaming when Taehyung stumbles back, tripping over his own feet onto the ground. Before he can react or defend himself, Jungkook pulls him back up by the shirt.

“You’re pathetic.”

He swings his hand back again, Taehyung staring straight into his friend’s eyes as he prepares for another hit.

Your soft hands grab at his bicep, halting his movement. “Baby,” your voice shakes. He freezes at the sound. “Let’s go home.”

He shoves Taehyung back, letting you drag him toward the door.

On the drive home, you soft sniffles are the only sounds that fill the car. Each time it hits his ears is like someone rubbing salt in the wound, and his knuckles grow white with his blaringly tight grip on the steering wheel. He swerves a little too sharply, and he drives a little bit too fast. You’re just glad he never got any alcohol in him. Although, you’re not sure him being angry and driving was any safer.

You do however make it home in one piece, but he stomps out of the car, opens your car door and slams it shut when you exit the car. His boots are loud and heavy with each step he takes, with purpose and conviction as he takes the elevator instead of the stairs. You follow him in, avoiding his eye. You’re just as angry as he was, if not angrier.

“Are you upset with me?” You whisper when you exit the elevator, and he fiddles with the keys as he unlocks the door to your shared apartment. He ignores you, kicks his shoes off and chucks the keys onto the coffee table. You shuffle after him, following him around like a lost puppy. “Jungkook?”

He knew Taehyung has been acting off. He didn’t deny Taehyung had always been a flirt, that much had always been true, he was suave with women, including yourself, but he found comfort in the fact you never gave him the time of day. Jungkook liked to think that it was because you ever only had eyes for him.

“I just can’t believe that fucking–”

You hush him, reaching for his arms. You soothe your palms over his biceps, drawing them up and down in hopes to help him relax. “Hey, look at me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes, the rage slowly melting away when he watches your sad eyes find his. Your eyes flitter down to his pink lips then back up at his softening gaze.

Jungkook had always been your protector, since day one. There was nothing and no one that could stand between how much he cared about you— loved you. From the minute you stumbled into the apartment with a box too heavy for your wobbling arms, and he quickly took it from your struggling grip and offered to bring the rest of your things up for you. Told you that pretty girls shouldn’t be doing hard work.

Whenever you were too nice to end a conversation that you weren’t comfortable in, or had simply grown tired of, he was there to fabricate the lies that unwrapped you from the sticky web you had unintentionally stuck yourself within. Scolding you over a phone call or pretending he was kidnapping you just to scare your counterpart and give you something to laugh about later.

Because whenever you were laughing or smiling, Jungkook was happy. It had only been two years, it wasn’t that long, Jungkook had known Taehyung longer than that, yet the time didn’t seem to matter anymore.

When you know you love someone, you just loved them— and that was that.

Seven years of friendship with Taehyung, and he still stabbed him in the back. He wished he knew why, still wondering what the hell he was thinking hurting you like this. There was nothing you had ever done to him to make him hate you so much. Or maybe there was. His mind was too clouded to think about the ladder right now.

“You’re my girl, right Y/N?” He whispers, his own hand coming to rest on your waist. You hum, looking up at him with such an innocent look, as if your nails down drag lightly down his chest, over his nipples. He grunts, licking his lips.

“I could be your girl,” you sigh, your hands play with the hem of his black shirt. “If you want me to be.” Your hands dip beneath the fabric, feeling his hard abdomen beneath your fingers. “Will you take good care of me, Jungkook?” You ask, a teasing glint in your eye and a suggestive tone to your voice.

“Always take care of you, dove.” He breathes, his lips pressing into your hair. He inhales, his eyes shutting softly as you touch him slowly. You grow bold with your hands, dragging them down his abdomen and toward the belt of his jeans. You tug on it, making him stumble closer to you. “Careful.” He warns, fingers wrapping carefully around your wrist.

“You said I couldn’t kiss you.” You pout. “But you never said anything about sucking your dick.”

His grip loosens, drags gently up your arms as you take off his belt, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. You unbutton his jeans, and he watches your face carefully. “Y/N, are you sure you want to–”

You drop to your knees, making him swallow his words, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. You smile impishly up at him, bottom lip between your teeth as your palms push on his thighs, back him up, making him sit down on the couch behind him. He watches you with a lustful gaze, letting you pull down the zipper, and he lifts his hips to aid you when you tug the denim down his legs.

His hand reaches out for you, tucking your hair behind your ear while your fingers trace the outline of his hard cock beneath his boxers. It twitches impatiently against your couch, and you bite your tongue when you feel a moan lingering in the back of your throat. Jungkook breathes heavily before you, watching you with dark eyes when you tug down the grey material, letting his cock spring out from its confines, raising to your attention. Jungkook smirks, carding his fingers through your hair when he notes you admiring his thickness.

“S'big.” You mumble, both your hands wrapping carefully around his length. Jungkook hisses, sinking into the couch. His features contort with pleasure when you lean forward and dart your tongue out to flick the tip over the head of his cock.

“Yeah, baby? You like it?” He runs his tongue over his teeth, watching you drag your tongue along his thick length. You drag it back up, enclosing your lips over the bulbous tip. He nearly growls, the sound rumbles within the depths of his chest as he pulls your hair back over your shoulders, holding it up with one hand in a make-shift ponytail. “Baby, baby…” He chuckles dryly, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes. “Can’t believe I’ve got your pretty mouth on my cock.”

You moan, your fingers wrapped around the base as you slowly drag your lips over the top half, your tongue swirling around him, your spit pooling from your lips as you lightly suck. His fingers tighten in your hair, looking down at you, and when you look up at him through fluttered lashes he twitches in your grasp.

You remove one of your hands, rubbing his thigh as you lower your mouth, taking in more of him, as much as you can. “Y/N…” he warns but doesn’t argue when you remove your other hand, your nose hitting his pelvis.

He cries out your name again when he feels your throat contract around him. You gag slightly but still take your time dragging your mouth back up, sucking on the head of his length before doing it again. “You’re– fuck, dove.” He mutters incoherent words that you can only assume to be words of praise, blinking slowly at you as he places his free hand on top of the one you have on his thigh. He bites harshly on his lip with knitted brows as he lightly tugs you up and off his cock. “No more.” He pants, “C’mere.”

He helps you crawl up into his lap, pulling you up by your arms. Your legs are feeling weak and a little sore from being on your knees for a little too long, but when you throw your legs over each side of him and lower your hips onto his, you forget all about the soreness. His dick is angry and red, pressed against his shirt and waiting to feel your touch again.

“Always knew you’d have a pretty cock.” You admit your thoughts aloud, rounding your hips against his lap. “Felt so heavy on my tongue.”

He chuckles lowly, pulling off his shirt. He tosses it to the side, his hands roughly exploring your fully clothed body. He frowns, tugging on the end of your top. “Can I take it off? Wanna see you pretty girl.” When you nod, a little bit too enthusiastically, he peels it off your body as you hold your arms up so he can pull it over your arms and head. “Wanna see all of you.” He sighs.

He throws it in the same direction he threw his shirt and watches you gingerly as you slide the straps of your bra down your shoulders. Your eyes don’t break from his, and he watches your face closely, letting himself get lost in you. Reminding himself that this wasn’t a dream. You were really here, needing him— wanting him. His fingers dragging patiently up and down your back, and even when you drop your bra behind you after you unclasp it from the back, he still smiles at you, cupping your cheek.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” He whispers like if he spoke any louder, he might wake up. You might slip through his fingers, like all those maybe’s and almost’s he clung to before this moment. “Can’t believe you’re choosing me.”

“I’ve always chosen you Jungkook,” the moment feels melancholic, and there’s a twinge of guilt in your eye that he’s too glad that this moment is true to pinpoint. But you know it’s there, you feel it inside of you, because you set him aside in ways you didn’t even realise until you looked at him now. “I’m just…” you roll your eyes away in search for the right words, “Choosing you again.”

He laughs at that, and it’s only when it dies down that he looks down at your bare chest, he sucks in a breath, letting his hands climb your stomach, letting them rest just beneath the juncture of your breasts. He leans forward, and your eyes flutter shut when you feel his lips on your neck, swiping his tongue over your skin, lowering them dangerously close to where you want them.

You release a needy sigh when his thumb swipes over your nipple, stiffening under his brief touch. He kisses the tops of your breasts sweetly, then wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks harshly.

“Oh, Jung– ah!” you gasp, the sound is borderline pornographic as you grind into him. You shuffle up off his knee and higher up to lower yourself where his cock rests, the material of your panties rubbing against his erect member. He flicks quickly at your other nipple, making out with your other so messily that you shiver when he pulls his mouth away. The air feels cold against your wet tit and there’s a wild look in his eye when he meets your blissful gaze. You focus on rubbing yourself against him, and his hand climbs from your breast to wrap around your neck. You grind down hard on him and it makes him freeze, his fingers flexing around your throat. You halt your hips, blinking at him when he shuts his eyes with an annoyed groan.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You pout, your gentle hands rubbing at his chest. He’s eyes flicker to where your clothed cunt presses against his cock, then looks back up at you wordlessly.

You take the hint, swinging your leg over him and crashing back onto the pouch much to your dismay. He takes the moment to kick his boxers off where his jeans are sitting, and he clears his throat and waddles awkwardly down the hall.

You hold back a giggle, admiring his ass while he walks away. You puff, looking around the living room you knew so well, and you decided you’d rid yourself of your tights and skirts while you waited also. You lay back, spread your legs and play with the ends of your hair, huffing impatiently.

When he walked back in, he’s ripping the wrapper of the condom with his teeth, but he pauses for a second when he catches sight of you. He tongues at the inside of his cheek, a dry breath of amusement leaving his nose. He doesn’t waste much more time, he clambers onto the couch, knees on either side of you as he makes you watch him roll the condom onto his cock.

He hovers over you, body so close you can feel the heat of his skin radiating off of him. His face is inches from yours, and he flashes you the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen. “I know I told you not to kiss me on this couch, but–” He presses his lips against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. Your eyes shut immediately, and you lean up when his lips pull away from yours far too soon. “I’m about to fuck you on this couch.” He kisses you again, and your hands slide up his shoulders and rest at the nape of his neck. “It’s only fair you get to kiss me too, right?” He rests his forehead against yours, and when you laugh, shaking your head with amusement, he can’t help but pepper a few more kisses over your face and neck.

“Then fuck me, Kook.” You whine, “I’ve been waiting too long.”

He wants to make a snarky remark back, tell you that he’s been waiting even longer than you could ever imagine, but who is he to deny you when you’re begging him like that? He leans back, and you raise your hips when he spits roughly into his palm and tugs on his cock.

You mewl at the pretty sight of him fisting his length tightly, prepping himself for you. He hisses, pulling his brows together when he circles the tip of his cock around your entrance before pushing it past your hole. Your breaths come out quick in silent moans, relishing in the delicious stretch of his thick cock pushing its way inside your tight walls. He groans, praising you, reminding you just how good you are for him. He collapses on top of you when he fills you to the brim, kissing your shoulder as he lets you adjust.

It's sweet of him, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you want him to ruin you. You didn’t realise how much you needed this, needed him. Your legs wrap around his waist with a huff, and when your cunt squeezes him, he catches on, and he pulls out and slams right back into you. You cry out his name, grasp onto his arms that are holding himself up on the arm rest you’re resting your head upon.

“How do you like it, dove?” He whispers into your ear, teeth tugging at your lobe teasingly. ”You like it hard?” He repeats the harsh movement of his hips again, snapping against yours with a loud thwack. He watches your reaction, the way your eyes roll back at the dull stinging in your cunt. You savour that feeling, rolling your hips against him slowly. “Wanna be fucked like the little slutty tease that you are, hm?” He continues to pound into you, squeezing the thighs that tighten around his lower back as he picks up the pace.

Jungkook learns quickly, though he doesn’t expect it, that you aren’t a quiet fuck. No, you’re quite the opposite— the cries of his name, the whimpers and the moans with each piston of his hips, as he thrusts his cock into your sweet spot over and over is a telltale sign.

What Jungkook doesn’t know is that you usually are— quite a quiet fuck, that is.

“Fuck, you’re a noisy little thing, aren’t you?” He noses at your jaw, nipping at the skin as you wail for into his ear.

“You’re gonna make me cum!” You cry, palms pushing down on his back to bring him closer to you. His chest brushes against your hardened nipples, and you grind up to meet his rough thrusts. His jaw tenses when you start to flutter around him. “Oh, baby, oh Koo!”

“Cum then, all over my cock pretty girl.” He husks into your ear, and just as you’re about to announce that you’re cumming, he brings his lips onto yours, lets you moan into his mouth instead. You convulse beneath him, sighing into his kiss.

He drags his cock in and out of you slowly, allowing you to ride out your high. He’s so close. You hum, clenching around him, making him shudder. “Don’t stop, want you to cum too.” You tell him.  

He leans back, holding your hips as he fucks you slowly, admiring the way your tits bounce, your half-lidded stare and the way you bite on your finger provocatively. His features scrunch, head dropping as he uses your cunt, hips stuttering as he reaches his own release. “Y/N, fuck, baby…”

You wince when he pulls out of you, your once stretched now empty of the feeling of him inside of you. “I deprived myself of this? For two years?” You hide your reddened face in your hands, your comment eliciting a hearty laugh out of your roommate. He leans down again, tugging of your wrists to see your face.

“You’re crazy.” He teases, grinning widely at you, pressing his lips against yours. Letting them linger there as the feeling sets in. “I’ll bring you a towel.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and you let yourself have a moment to shut your eyes and rest. You can’t drop the dumb smile that’s beginning to hurt your cheeks, though. Even when the rest of your body is laxed— content.

On the coffee table, the buzz of a text peels your eyes open. You sit up, thinking it could be yours but only Jungkook’s phone sits there. You pick it up, opening your mouth to let him know he got a text, but when you see the name that pops up on his lockscreen, which is a picture of you and him making cross-eyes at the camera, you feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Jungkook returns with a wet cloth and dry towel, but when he catches on to the look on your face, he freezes on the spot. “Y/N, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You hold his phone up to him, showing him the missed text.

A text from none other than Yuri.

“Miss you too, big boy.” You stand up, shove his phone into his chest, and storm off into the bedroom, but not before you rip the towel from his grip to cover your body from him. You had just borne yourself vulnerable to him, shared your body with him.

Jungkook flinches when he hears your bedroom door slam closed. He doesn’t even move his phone from his chest, just grips onto it tighter than before as his heart pounds harshly in his chest.

You didn’t think your night was going to get any worse, not after you found out what Taehyung did.

But alas, it had, and it was the cherry on top of the cake— Jungkook hadn’t even bothered to end things with Yuri.

You try to ignore the tears forming in your eyes, angrily pulling your pyjamas from your closet, and throwing them onto your bed. You move toward the shower, hoping it was going to help flush out your thoughts. But the moment you step underneath the warm water, you can’t hold back the sobs that force their way out of your throat.

Jungkook can hear them clearly, taunting him through the walls of his room.

Neither of you can get any sleep that night.

©jigglyjeon 2025 all rights reserved

taglist: @bhonbhon, @rikifever, @jungkookswifeeeeeee, @songbyeonkim @ttanniett, @jungkookswifeeeeeee, @songbyeonkim, @busanbby-jjk, @justsomoneliving, @supercoolchem, @jeeykey, @toosweetforyall, @nikkinikj, @prxdajeon, @whoa-jo, @kelsyx33, @bugbxte, @army7-013, @jmsrealgf, @elimelbe, @yunhoswrldddd

[novelmonger]

I think I forgot to post a scoping update this week. I forgot multiple things I was supposed to do on Friday, so I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise. What happened on Friday? Did Friday happen at all?

The entire month of August doesn't quite feel real. The whole summer feels like it's neverending, but also passing by in the blink of an eye. I'm sure that's partly because of my grandpa's passing, partly because of remodeling the bathrooms, which has been a bigger upheaval that I realized it was going to be even though I didn't really need to do much myself.

I feel like I'm waiting for life to go back to normal. Like I'm waiting for just a single day where I can stay home all day and have no distractions or claims on my attention, where I can just hole up in my room and actually buckle down and work on writing and scoping homework. Because it seems like, even when I have a few hours in between workmen coming to the house, or going to my grandma's for a meal, or a thousand other responsibilities and errands that aren't supposed to take much time, I blink and those hours are gone and I haven't done anything more productive than catch up on my Tumblr dashboard.

Tomorrow I'll be eight hours behind on what's supposed to be my scoping schedule. And I'm probably not going to have time to do much, if any, homework until Thursday this week. I'm getting horrible flashbacks to college, even though my current deadlines are completely self-imposed. It's that feeling of finding yourself balancing on a ball that's rolling down a hill, and you can't stop or you'll fall flat on your face, but you also can't catch up or slow down. It's like a very calm, subdued panic, if that makes any sense.

I don't really have much of a life, and yet I still have no time to do anything. And I'm still running on only 5-7 hours of sleep a night, which is entirely my own fault, but if I stopped earlier each night, I'd only have even more to catch up on the next day....

I probably just need to go to bed. Things usually seem slightly more manageable in the morning, even if that's bleary-eyed at 5 a.m. and none of the circumstances have actually changed a jot.

Oh. And I'm on Chapter 15.

[mwphisto]

There is something so thrilling about trying to be quiet.

Something that urges Caleb to work harder, move faster, push the limits. Until you have no choice but to bite him to break him out of his trance before you really do get caught.

Grandma Josephine is right down the hall, after all. How shameful would it be if she caught her two adoptive children naked in the other’s bed.

But, for Caleb? That was part of the appeal. Some twisted part of his mind wanted to get caught by the old lady. And judging by the way you always found yourself in this position? You found the risk appealing too.

Your semester had come to an end, now you could spend the summer months in Linkon. Caleb’s training had also gone on break, giving him roughly a month before he needed to return to Skyhaven for more grueling work.

Two months apart… of course you two were jumping at the chance to be alone. Bidding grandma Josephine an early good night — y’know, the traveling was so exhausting that neither of you could wait to collapse in bed.

…yeah, okay.

God, Caleb wasn’t sure how he managed to contain himself from pouncing on you at the train station.

Hell, he just may have if Josephine hadn’t been accompanying you on the platform.

Given the amount of eye contact and silent conversations passed between the two of you? You weren’t doing much better. So much so that you and Caleb ended up in the front seat with a clueless Josephine in the back.

One hand on the wheel, the other sneakily resting on your bare thigh. Calloused fingers inching up…up…up…and— “Caleb, dear. How has training been?” Oh fuck off!

Some way, somehow, you two survived — barely.

Only thirty minutes after pretending to go to bed, you were slipping out of your bedroom window and shuffling along the slanted roof to tap on Caleb’s.

Everything from there was a bit of a blur. Hands and teeth, lips searing into your skin and then melding to your own. The familiar taste of Caleb, sticky sweet like the apple juice gran had bought just for him. How you had missed it so dearly over the last two months. Dreamt of it.

“Ah, ah… don’t try and hide.”

Somehow, you had gotten here. All clothing shed and discarded around his bedroom floor.

Your back pressed to his broad chest, your legs spread so wide it nearly hurt. You couldn’t close them if you wanted to, Caleb’s much larger ones slung over them and braced on the sheets so you were trapped by his body instead.

Perfectly spread out for him, all his to you and play with. The thought had him twitching against your back, smearing more sticky precum between heated skin.

His hands were both occupied, one roughly playing with your breast, the other running two fingers between slick folds. “You’re so soft, pip. Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy.” You had half the mind left to complain about him saying he just missed your cunt, but all the came out was a whimper.

Still, Caleb knew. Somehow he always did.

“And…” a kiss on your cheek, his nose nuzzling it a second later. “…of course I missed you.” His fingers pressed to your entrance, heat radiating and slick leaking. The pressure made you groan, hips weakly jerking forward yet the bastard had yet to slip them in. Just toying with you and you were completely drenched. It was humiliating.

“You’re not gonna return the favor?” Caleb’s voice was a warm whisper against your ear, his fingers rubbing up against your entrance, just barely slipping inside. “Wha…?” But you understood when he began to chuckle.

“Tell me how much you missed me, pip. And maybe you’ll get what you’re looking for.” Your cunt was aching too much for you to dare put up a fight. “I missed you so much Caleb…” a shuddering breath leaves you as his fingers slid back up to circle your clit. Just enough friction—

“I-I slept in your shirts until they smelt more like me than you… my roommate kept prying y’kn-oh-ow…” your entire body shivered at the pleasure that zapped up your spine. “Kept wanting to meet you, I told her you were a pilot and she was s-swooning…” God you were getting drunk off the pleasure and he had barely done anything.

“…so proud you’re all mine, Caleb.”

You nearly screamed as he plunged two fingers inside of your wet heat, the hand that had been groping your breast slapped over your mouth to successfully muffle it.

Caleb’s thrusts were unrelenting, fingers pounding into your cunt at such a speed your entire body was arching and squirming. Your hips were restless, legs attempting to snap shut as the pleasure was overwhelming.

Caleb’s legs stopped you, his breathing ragged at the sound of wet squelching. His fingers were hitting all the right spots, massaging your walls until you felt your arousal leaking out and down towards the sheets below.

Every thrust had the heel of his palm smacking your clit, shaking almost violently with the intensity of his movements. You swore you tasted blood as you bit down on your lip, nails digging into his forearm.

“You’re such a good girl, y’know that? This pretty pussy is taking my fingers so well even after months apart…” you couldn’t focus, not mentally or physically. Your eyes blurring as the tether pulled tighter and tighter.

You nearly feared the orgasm that was approaching you, already overwhelmed by the pleasure of Caleb finger fucking you. “Gonna cum all over my fingers?” The sounds were obscene at this point, so wet that you swore it was echoing off of his walls. “Y-yes!”

It was just a little too loud, and Caleb had been so distracted by the warmth encompassing his hand that he didn’t think to quiet you. “Sweetie? Caleb honey? Is everything alright?” Everything froze, from your heart beating to Caleb’s fingers in your cunt.

“I thought you two went to bed… you know you don’t have to sneak around if you want to hang out.” The doorknob jiggled, luckily Caleb had half the mind to lock it before. “Sorry Gran…” you somehow recovered faster.

“Finally won against Caleb… got a little too excited.” Slowly, you guided his hands into moving again. “She’s lost three rounds.” Caleb added, smiling against your skin as your walls suctioned to his fingers. “Just don’t stay up too late.”

You both acknowledged her with a good night, faces burning with embarrassment at nearly getting caught. What if Caleb hadn’t locked the door?

“Someone got too excited.”

He’s biting your ear, hand resuming their brutal pace and before you know it, you’re coming all over his fingers with his other hand pressed to your throat. You couldn’t get a sound out if you wanted too now.

The bedding is ruined, and Caleb doesn’t seem to care one bit. His fingers restarting their mission to get you to squirt again. This time, a third finger slipped in.

“Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock. It’s been a few months, can’t risk hurting ya.”

[thesuperiorrobin]

Safe space~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Crush!Reader

Warnings: none

Damian needed to get out of the house.

Immediately.

Somehow, everybody seemed to be pushing his buttons just right, from the way Jason would just come in unannounced and eat the food while chewing loudly, Dick trying to invade his personal space while completely yelling in his ear, and when Tim would enter a room he was in he would get this annoyed and ticked off feeling that just had him puffing and glaring at the tired man. He needed to leave the manor or else the entire building would be ashes on the ground in the next ten minutes. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and Alfred was doing his own little thing in the kitchen, probably feeding a very hungry Jason.

Damian hides himself in a black car that belonged to his father, a nice old Aston Martin DBS and as he sits in the driver's seat with his phone in his hands he can only stare at the screen, thumbs typing away.

Damian: are you awake?

His eyes glance up at the time on his phone, reading 10:37 pm. He hopes you’re awake, considering it’s a school night after all. He waits for a response, three minutes go by and his phone vibrates in his hands.

You: yeah was literally about to go to bed and rote until 3 am.

You: why? Wanna play Roblox?

You: see I told you it wasn’t so bad. Now I got you addicted 🙄🤚

Damian rolls his eyes at his screencast shaking his head as he starts to type. On your side of the screen, you can see the bubble disappear and appear, for a solid minute before he finally sends the message.

Damian: if you are not busy, I would like for you to accompany me.

You: YAY ROADTRIP😩

You: where we going?

You: also I’m like broke .38 cents isn’t really going get me anything.

Damian: Anywhere. I just need to get out of the house to take a breather and don’t worry about it, whatever you need I’ll get it for you.

You: you okay? Did something happen?

Damian: No. Just be ready when I get there.

You: okay😑

He really hates that stupid emoji.

You’re running out the door when you get the ‘I’m here’ message from him and Damian watches as you almost miss a step and trip over your own feet. You make it into his car in one piece and buckle yourself in.

Damian can see that you were getting ready to lay in bed, entering his car with your hair out of your face, all cozied up with warm black pants that had kuromis imprinted all over, and a black zip-up sweater that’s keeping you warm.

“Helloooo~” you breathe out, placing your tote bag on your lap as you glance at Damian “So where we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah….but I wanna skip the meal and go straight for the dessert!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you shrug “we got free will, why not use it”

This is where you were now, in the car as your choice of music plays softly, after Damian so kindly gave you the Aux after complaining about his music taste for a solid minute. Your seat is, moved back giving you room to get comfortable as you face Damian with your leg bent over the other.

You seem to be yapping away with the milkshake in hand as you wave it around slightly and he listens, eating away at his ice cream cone as he watches your every move.

Damian feels at ease, relaxing up against his seat as he glances at you—eyeing every feature on your face. From every eyelash to every acne scar to every birthmark to the smile lines that grace your face. He’s memorized them by now. You feel his eyes on you, and as you glance up to stare up at him he looks away shyly.

Clearly out of character for him.

“Is there something on my face?” you question as your arms reach out to pull down the car's visor, seeing as it had a little mirror to look at with little lights to see in the dark “Do I have whipped cream on me?”

“No… just thinking” he breathes out, eyes fixed out ahead of him.

You hum, eyes never leaving the visor as you answer back “Does that have anything to do with why you wanted to get out of the house tonight?”

He doesn’t answer instead, he takes a glance back at you. You’re staring back at him with a questionable look, visor now put back up. He takes a look at your hand, fingernails shining in the moonlight.

“Did you get your nails done?” He’s quick with the topic change, seeing as you glance down to show him but you retreat your hand back with a glare.

“Don’t change the subject!”

It takes hums a moment to answer before sighing “It was nothing serious….every little thing my brothers did irritate me”

“Ah…sibling irritation” you let out a breathy laugh “I get it, your brothers can be a handful sometimes”

At least you get him, others really wouldn’t, and his father sometimes doesn’t. It’s not like he had any siblings growing up anyway. Sometimes people would disagree with him, but you seem to agree with everything he says even if he’s wrong, which is rare, but you still do anyway.

Sooner or later the conversation seems to shift from a different topic to another different topic—and it seems like the cycle continues for hours.

He likes this.

You aren’t loud, you aren’t slurping away at your drink and your presence doesn’t seem to annoy him at all.

Yeah, he enjoys your presence more than anyone he knows.

and as he finishes the last of his ice cream he clutches his head, groaning as he hears you laugh.

“Brain freeze dumbass”

He starts to laugh too, and now the car is filled with your giggles and his breathy laughs.

Yeah…. You’re his little safe space and he’ll do anything to protect it.

Was literally supposed to post something for Valentine’s Day but I ended up getting the flu plus strep throat and an ear infection all at once so I couldn’t write it 😕.

[yuiiiriii]

megumi is head over heels for you. Maybe even obsessed but he’d never admit it.

There was only one problem.

You both were friends because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. He told himself many times that it was okay. If you could still drag him everywhere with you, if he could still come over and do your skincare routine.

Then it was ok.

But he was selfish.

Oh how he wanted to hold you, kiss you, he couldn’t help the jealousy that filled him when another guy treated you terribly.

Megumi was never subtle with his feelings but you’re oblivious. When he’d take you out to get your favorite treats, your to busy stuffing your face that he swiftly swiped your hair out of your face, holding it with an amused smile on his face. The way he ‘complains’ about you not bringing a sweater when you said that you wouldn’t get cold. But he thinks it looks better on you anyways and now you’re happy, that pretty smile on your lips. But it’s so painfully obvious because Megumi is only soft with you.

“Come on Megumi!” Yuuji yells, throwing his arms around his shoulder. Megumi slumps, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” Nobara eyebrows raise, digging her shoulder into his side.

“Why? Only your ethereal best friend can call you that?”

Megumi wants to smile because he’s always happy when you’re mentioned or around. But he bites it back and pouts instead. He sucks his teeth as the two continue to pester him.

He lets out a sigh when he enters your room.

“Megs!” You light up and that warm smile etches back on his face.

“Hey.” He caresses your hair when you hug him.

“Come! Sit!” You pat your bed and he obliges. You begin rambling about the new skincare products you wanted to try with him.

“I got you something.” His words cut you off.

“Huh? Me?” You blink and he laughs.

“Yes you.” He pulls a small box from his pocket.

“You’ve been saying you wanted one…so I got you one.” He opens the box and your eyes twinkle, much like the diamond on the necklace.

“Megumi.” You breathe out, holding it so softly in the palms of your hands.

“Thank you.” You quip, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

It wasn’t the first time and Megumi hopes it isn’t the last.

“Put it on me!” You say giddily, turning around. He gently rests it in your neck, clasping it. You face him, playing with it.

“Does it look pretty?” You smile at him but he’s already looking at you, never flickering to the necklace.

“Very pretty.” He says so softly.

“So are we gonna try those products?” He tilts his head and you clasp your hands.

“Right! Come on!”

Megumi enjoys his time with you like it might be his last. He cherishes every look you give him, every word you say. He holds onto everything. He’s sat on your bed once again, as you rummage through your bag. Your hands engulf his face.

“I was gonna put a lip mask but they don’t even look dry. You have pretty lips ‘gumi.” You say staring without a shame and his heart races.

“I do?”

You hum.

“But I don’t so you need to apply some on me.” He laughs as you close your eyes, scooting closer to him.

He holds your chin between his fingers, letting the cream lather on your lips. You can feel his breath inches away from you, making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes flutter open and he blinks at you. He gulps, focusing back on your lips. However your eyes stay open, engraving his features into your memory.

“You’re very pretty Megumi.” He tries to fight the blush that covers his face.

“Pretty?” He glances at you.

“Fine. Handsome.” You cheekily say and he shakes his head in amusement.

He swipes his thumb over the bottom of your lip, cleaning it up. He holds your chin, his thumb gliding across your skin. Your big eyes blink up at him and he can’t find it in himself to hold back any longer. As soon as his lips meet yours, you deepen it, almost as if you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

News flash, you were.

Megumi loses himself in you, the way your lips feel, your hands coming up to brush at the nape of his neck, your scent. When you pull away you break into a smile.

“My lips were kinda chapped.” He jokes, the product on his lips as well. You laugh and he does too.

“So…” You drag on and he laughs.

“Come over here you idiot.” He says as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you once again.

Finally his problem was solved.

© yuiiiriii

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[cameronsbabydoll]

with reader being in her early 20s, how do u think rafe would feel if she was thinking about college? assuming shes not in college rn. like she randomly is like !!! it would be nice to have a degree… maybe even a masters… !!!!! and shes like always busy looking at applications and curriculum and stuff and not paying attention to him as much anymore

Oh, Rafe would hate this even more than the job idea.

At first, he’d just brush it off—like, yeah, okay, baby, go ahead and daydream about being a little college girl, that’s cute. But when he realizes you’re serious, that you’re actually looking at applications, planning your future, without consulting him first? That’s when his grip tightens.

"Why the fuck do you need a degree?" His voice would be calm, but there’d be this edge to it, this barely contained irritation. "What, you wanna be some businesswoman? A little scholar? You think that’s gonna make you happy?"

He’d be so condescending about it, like the idea of you sitting in classrooms, taking notes, working toward something that isn’t him is just ridiculous. And the fact that you’re so invested, always staring at your laptop instead of giving him attention? Oh, that would piss him off.

"You don’t even look at me anymore," he’d complain, pulling your laptop out of your hands, tossing it onto the bed like it’s nothing. "All this for some stupid piece of paper?"

But underneath all the arrogance, there’s fear. Because college means freedom. New people, new ideas, a life that doesn’t revolve around him. And that? That’s unacceptable.

He’d start planting doubts in your head, making you second-guess yourself.

"You really think you’re gonna like it? You think you’re built for that? Stressing over deadlines, dealing with professors who don’t give a shit about you?" He’d shake his head, running a hand down your back, voice dropping into something smoother, silkier, dangerous. "You have everything you need right here, baby. I take care of you. Why do you wanna make your life harder?"

And if you kept pushing? If you actually started filling out applications? He’d escalate. Maybe he’d “accidentally” misplace your laptop charger. Maybe he’d plan a last-minute trip to “celebrate” you before you get too busy with school, keeping you too distracted to finish the applications. Maybe he’d just fuck you stupid every time you tried to study, so by the time you remembered what you were supposed to do, it’d already be too late.

And if, somehow, you still made it to enrollment?

Well. Let’s just say Rafe wouldn’t be above buying the whole damn school just to make sure his pretty little girl never forgets exactly who she belongs to.

[skipper1331]

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

-

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

-

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

-

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

-

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)

[narrycherries]

✰ baby honey ✰ #8 (part 1)

(dom!harry)

Harry let’s you come to the office with him..

masterlist

word count: 6.4k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, dom!harry, daddy k!nk, praise k!nk, smut, oral m receiving

There was a bit of excitement brewing as you squeezed Harry’s hand in the elevator. He was checking the time on his watch, somewhat ignoring your happy mood and bright grin. He decided the night before that he would allow you to accompany him to his office. You had an appointment you needed to be taken to later on in the day, so he figured it would be more convenient to have you with him. You were definitely thrilled to be getting out of the house. It had been a while since you last came to the company’s building. Usually Harry was extremely busy and he couldn’t tend to you, so you prefer to just stay at home and be comfortable.

When the elevator door opened, your eyes lit up as you saw the familiar floor. You saw his assistant sitting at his desk, jotting down something as he spoke on the phone. You saw another person you recognized and gave them a gentle wave. Harry didn’t pay anyone any attention as he gripped your hand and guided you towards his office door.

You caught his glance as he opened the door for you and gestured you in. A whimper left your mouth as he released your hand. You twirled around to face him, reaching for his waist. He let you grab him, but he easily gave you a stern lift of his brows.

“Baby love, remember what we talked about? You have to behave today.”

You pouted your lips out. “I will, I promise.”

“That includes not being a distraction, doll.” He gently took hold of your wrists and pulled your hands off. “I’ll tend to you during lunch, okay?”

“Lunch?” You frowned. “That’s in four hours.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t start complaining, baby.”

“M’not complaining.”

Harry wasn’t in a very good mood, so he didn’t want to deal with your attitude. You rolled your eyes as he walked past you, not bothering to entertain your nonsense this morning. You watched as he sat down at his desk and immediately occupied himself with the computer. Despite being joyful about being out of the house, you knew there wasn’t much you could do here.

So, as usual, you found a spot on the leather couch placed against the wall and crossed your arms and legs. There was a throw blanket specifically there for you, but you didn’t grab it. Instead, you huffed and opted to fixate your stare on him. Harry was very serious about his work and he did not like to be interrupted or bothered while he was doing important business. You knew that all too well, yet you’ve tested your luck with him way more than just once.

His hair was perfectly sculpted and neat on his head. You chewed on your cheek as you thought about the quick orgasm you received before you got out of bed. Harry wanted to give you something to hold you over for the day. He was well aware that you got extra clingy and needy while you were with him in his office. It felt like he was teasing you by just sitting there and ignoring you - so close to you, but refusing to entertain your desires. That was a big reason why he preferred to not have you in the office. Not only was it torture for you, but he hated knowing you felt that way. It was easier to send you a text or a quick call to calm your nerves while he was working than it was to meet every one of your needs while together.

Even though you were gifted a treat this morning, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. His mouth sucking on your pussy, his tongue slurping around and poking into you, his cheeks hollowing around your clit. He gave you an incredible orgasm that made your entire body tingle. You didn’t notice your hand had fallen between your legs until there was a sudden blaring of the office phone ringing. You jerked your hand up and swallowed as you watched him talk on the phone. The words he was speaking didn’t make any sense to you. Your mind was so focused on his mouth that you couldn’t make out any sounds. His lips were moving, his tongue being exposed as he spoke, and his eyes had shifted up to meet yours.

After a few moments, he sat the phone down and licked his lips. “There’s donuts and stuff in the kitchen. Go get something to eat, love.”

“Okay.” You were a tad nervous, fearing you had been caught in your trance despite him not saying anything. He didn’t even notice. “Do you want something?”

“No, thanks.”

Your stomach did a flip as you realized he wasn’t standing up to join you. “You’re not coming with me?”

He smirked slightly and lifted a brow. “You know where to go.”

“Yeah, but..” Your voice trailed off while your eyes dropped to your feet.

“You’ll be alright, sugarplum. Go get something to eat, alright?”

It was disheartening to see his eyes move back to the computer monitor. You sucked on your cheek as you mustered up the courage to walk to the kitchen area by yourself. You knew the layout of this floor very well. There were the bathrooms, the storage rooms, the meeting rooms, Harry’s office, the kitchen style break room, and a few offices that belonged to Harry’s more important employees. You shook off the worry and made your way to the room. There were voices coming from the open door, and that made you somewhat nervous. The attempt to ignore those feelings was weak.

“Boss man is wanting this meeting to last a while.” One of the men said.

You slipped into the room and went to the counter. There was a spread of donuts, muffins, and fruit that were provided for breakfast. You gulped quietly as you grabbed a plate and began to scan over what you wanted to eat. You couldn’t help but to hear the conversation between the two men sitting at the small table drinking coffee. You recognized one of them as the chief marketing officer for Harry’s company, the other you weren’t sure of.

“He’s got plans for an expansion.”

The man you knew sighed. “He’s got big ambitions but he knows what’s right.”

“Oh, it’ll be worth it for sure, just a shit ton of work and headaches to get there.”

You chose to ignore the men as they began talking about business. Instead, your attention returned to the selection of donuts. You saw regular glazed, chocolate icing, some with sprinkles, and what appeared to be caramel coated. You smiled to yourself as you picked out a glazed and a chocolate one for yourself, then grabbed a caramel for Harry. Despite him saying he didn’t want anything, you wanted him to eat breakfast.

Harry’s eyes flicked to the door as you returned, the plate of donuts balancing on your palm. Your gaze locked on his while you crossed the room. He gently tilted his head back as you stopped in front of his desk. You sat the plate down and carefully laid out the single napkin you brought. He was intrigued by your quiet movements, not quite sure what you were up, to if anything.

When you placed the caramel donut on the napkin, you moved your eyes back to his and gave him a cute smile.

“I got this for you.”

“Thank you, sweetness. But I already ate.” A smirk toyed on his pink lips.

Blush rose to your cheeks as you playfully rolled your eyes. Just minutes ago you were replaying that event in your head.

“You need actual food.”

“Hmm.” His response was light.

It was difficult to think about anything other than him right now, but you were trying to keep your thoughts under control. Your goal today was to behave and not receive any sort of punishment. Harry watched as your eyes trailed down to the desk, you seemed out of it. He thought maybe you were just tired. A sigh pushed past his lips and he slid his chair backwards. You looked up and caught his eyes instantly.

“C’mere.” He motioned for you with a pat to his thigh.

A flutter erupted in your stomach as you sat down on his legs, his strong arm wrapping around you. There was a rule that was very clear and simple - don’t bother him while he’s working. He would give you attention when he had the time. Perhaps this was his way of easing the tension. It was clear that you were distracted by your mind, and he assumed he was the reason.

“I want you to be on your best behavior today, alright?” He said as he moved his palm up to cover your jaw.

You coiled your fingers around his wrist and nodded. “I know. I will.”

“Do good for me and I’ll make sure you get all the attention you want when we get home, baby.”

“Promise I’ll be good.”

He smirked, his lips placing a kiss to yours. “M’sure you will be, kitten.”

You almost weren’t fully aware of what was going on. Your eyes fell to his neck and you bit down on your bottom lip. Harry’s thumb rubbed over your skin, but you weren’t focusing on that.

“What’s the matter, baby doll?” His warm voice was deep and slow.

When you shook your head, he didn’t accept that as an answer. He squeezed your hip and moved his hand to the side of your neck. Your skin was hot and flushed, he noticed easily.

“Baby love, answer me.”

Your eyes darted to his as those specific words left his mouth. He knew that would get your attention. You shrugged while your fingers fell down his forearm, rubbing over his elbow before you let him go.

“It’s.. almost nine.. you have to start working.”

Harry was aware of the time. “I know.”

You pouted your lips out. “Just.. just don’t want to.. get in trouble.. by distracting you.”

“I asked you to come sit, didn’t I?”

For a second, you thought there was a trace of annoyance in his voice - but you were incorrect and simply just nervous. He licked his lips and let his hand glide up your waist.

“Yes.”

He gave you a smile. “Then you aren’t going to be in trouble, darling.”

“I.. I should leave you.. alone.”

Harry grunted when you moved to get up, he stopped you. “Baby, you’re fine. Nothing’s wrong, okay?”

You shook your head. “I.. I don’t want to get-“

He guided your head forward so that his lips could gently kiss the corner of your mouth, bringing you to silence. A whimper came from your mouth as he pecked your lips a couple of times, trying his best to make you calm down.

Before you could process it, his lips were moving in sync with yours and his tongue was flicking around in your mouth. You started to feel extremely greedy, but not for anything more intimate than this. You wanted to make sure he knew he was yours, you never wanted to let him go.

One set of your nails sunk into his nape while the other scratched through his scalp. The kiss became sloppy as it normally did, with spit slipping out of your mouths and smearing on your skin. You couldn’t focus on his crotch, you were too deep in your thoughts and this kiss. He was growing underneath you, but he knew he needed to refrain himself.

The phone began to ring yet again, breaking up the moment. Harry groaned and pulled his mouth from yours. You frowned, but knew you had no choice. He slid the chair up and leaned forward to grab the phone, all while his arm kept a tight grip on your body.

“Hello?”

You could hear a muffled voice but had no desire to know what was being said. If it was the office phone, that meant it was work related. Instead, you furrowed your brows to yourself as you attempted to piece his hair back together. You didn’t destroy it completely, but there were noticeable differences. His eyes were on you as you did so, wishing he could return to your lips but knowing he won’t be able to.

“Yeah, nine fifteen works. I’ll send the file in a minute.”

The mention of the time made your heart sink. If he was scheduling a time that meant he most likely had a meeting. Your hand dropped down his chest, slowing pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt. He kept talking, which allotted you time to just look over the details.

His collar wasn’t buttoned at the very top. He hated wearing ties and opted for this look. His long sleeves were neatly folded up to his elbows, it was too warm to be wearing them how they are meant to be worn. You admired the way the light blue pigment of the shirt looked against his tan skin. You wish you could see his arms fully, have them wrapped around you as he pounded you. You squeezed your eyes shut and pushed out the thought. You didn’t need to let yourself fall into a pit you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Alright, thank you.” Harry said and sighed as he put the phone down.

“Guess I.. have to find something to do.” You mumbled quietly, toying with one the buttons on his shirt.

“Be a good girl for me, alright? I have a meeting soon.”

Your frown dropped lower. “Didn’t know you had one this early.”

You could feel his stare on you, watching you closely, but you never moved your eyes back up. He patted his hand gently on your hip, wanting to get your attention but it failed.

“I had a reschedule. I’ll give you some time when it’s over, alright?”

“Time?”

He smiled even though you weren’t looking. “We’ll see what I can do, alright? Might not be much.. but enough to hold you over.”

You nodded lightly and sighed, knowing this time with him was about to end. “Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The words easily fell from your lips. You shifted your head and finally met his intense gaze. “I’ll be good.”

He chuckled. “I hope so, kitten.”

While Harry was attending his meeting, you occupied yourself with the few games on your phone. You weren’t thrilled to be in his office alone, but you had no option. You could explore the building if you wanted to, but Harry knew you would be too nervous to be alone. So you stayed put on the couch and tried to pass the time. If he were in the room, you could just stare at him and let that be your distraction.

You weren’t sure of how long you had been sitting there when the door opened. You almost jumped up to greet him, but thankfully didn’t as you saw two men following behind him. He was talking to them, but he paid you a quick glance. You considered asking if you needed to step out, but you knew he wouldn’t make you.

The men sat down in the two chairs placed in front of the big desk. You frowned as you realized they would be staying in the room. All you could think about was the “time” Harry promised you. These men were ruining that. As much as he wanted to tell you he’d tend to you soon, he couldn’t right now.

You waited patiently for an additional thirty minutes. Harry was talking back and forth with the men, carrying their meeting topic into the office. You glued your eyes to the screen of your phone and tried to stay focused on the game. It was hard to be fully detached when you could hear his voice. Most of the time, he’s not talking unless he’s on the phone so you can easily distract yourself.

Eventually, the two men stood up and headed towards the door. Harry didn’t follow them, his eyes were on the computer as he typed an email. You smiled to yourself as the door shut and you were finally alone. Harry’s brows were set low as he typed. You stayed still and waited for him. To your dismay, he grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and went towards the door. His eyes never looked your way. Your smile dropped to a frown as he left the office.

Although you were on his mind, he was extremely busy. The promise of giving you some time had slipped his mind and unfortunately for you, it wouldn’t return any time soon. He was carrying the stack of papers to someone because he was too impatient to wait on them to get them from his office. This work had to get done this week so he wasn’t wasting any time. He stopped by the coffee maker to fix him a cup, forgetting to do so before he came back from the meeting earlier.

You were becoming agitated while waiting in his office. You were lying on your side now, facing the room with the blanket draped over your body. You weren’t cold, but you craved his warmth and that was the best you could do. He was gone for nearly ten minutes, and you thought it would never end. The door opened and you swallowed gently, not sure what to expect. Would he ignore you again or would he spare you a few moments? Sadly, he didn’t even turn his head in your direction. He sat down at the desk and immediately started typing on the keyboard.

A frustrated sigh left your mouth, but Harry was so focused that he didn’t even notice. You closed your eyes and tried your best to fall asleep. You weren’t tired but you figured the boredom would make you sleep.

Luckily for you, it did. It was nearing lunch when Harry shut his office door yet again. The loud noise made you flinch in your sleep, a moment later your eyelids peeled back. It was almost a jumpscare to see him walking towards you, a smile placed on his pink lips.

“Hey, baby.” He said as he gestured for you to sit up.

The blanket fell from your body as you moved. “Hi.”

He chuckled at your cute voice and messy hair. He knew you had been asleep the whole time and when you would toss onto your other side, he’d glance your way to check on you.

“Is it time to go?” You asked, sort of confused on the time.

You reached for his hand and he gladly let you take it. He smiled and gave you a gentle shake of his head. He squatted down in front of you, his other hand grabbing your thigh.

“It’s almost time for lunch, darling. What would you like, hm?”

You shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

He lifted his brows and squeezed your fingers. “Decide, alright? I’ll order it after I handle this email.”

“Wait!” You chirped as he stood up, trying to slip his hand from yours.

“What is it?”

“Don’t.. don’t go.” You muttered quietly, your eyes dropping down to stare at your joined hands.

Harry lightly sighed and reached for your jaw. He angled your head back, his eyes meeting yours. You pouted your lips out in attempt to get what you wanted, but he didn’t fall for it.

“Babe, I have to do this real quick. I’ll come sit with you in a few minutes, okay?”

You were going to protest again, but a thought shot to the top of your mind. “What.. what about giving me some time? Will you ever?”

He smirked, amused by the obvious irritation you were trying to hide. “I will after we order lunch, alright?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’ve been super busy all day.” You reminded him.

Harry licked his lips and smiled. “I’m at work, love. That’s how it is.”

Since you didn’t respond to him, you let him slip away to his desk. He told you to figure out what you wanted so he could order it. After a few minutes of thinking, you decided on what you felt like eating and told him what you wanted. He did the whole ordering process and scheduled it for delivery. You were glad he didn’t want to go out to get lunch like he did most of the time when you were at the office.

“Well, that’ll be here in forty five minutes.” Harry sighed out as he stood from his desk and started the journey to you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him undo two more of his buttons. His eyes were on his shirt as he walked towards you. When he lifted his gaze, he laughed as he saw you practically bouncing on the cushion.

“What’s up with you, missy?” He said through his smirk as he extended his hand to you.

You gave it a hard tug, trying to pull him down. He was too strong to move though. He didn’t make you wait any longer. You squealed as he sat down next to you, his big hands grabbing onto your body. You giggled as he wrestled with you, dragging your body on his lap.

“You made me wait long enough.” You smiled as you grabbed either side of his face and pulled his lips to yours.

He let out a moan as you settled over his crotch and swiped your tongue through his mouth. It was obvious that you were eager and ready for whatever he was going to do. He kissed you for a minute, just soaking in the taste of your mouth and the smearing of your tongue against his. Work was entirely too stressful for him today and he needed this. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

You groaned when he pulled away from your lips. “No, more.” A soft whine fell from your mouth.

He chuckled and lifted a hand to run through your hair, pushing it back from your face. “What do you want to do, hm? I’m letting you decide.”

Your lips puckered as you thought about the different things you could do in the short time. As much as you wanted to do absolutely everything with him, you knew it was unrealistic. You were working with borrowed time, so you had to make your decision quickly.

“Want to use my mouth on you.” You said sweetly, a smile shaping to your lips.

He grinned back, somewhat surprised by your request. He figured you’d want him to focus entirely on your pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, wishing there were no barriers blocking him from your skin.

“That’s all, baby? Don’t want me to eat you out or use my fingers, hm?” He asked with a lift of his brow.

You shook your head, fingers playing at the back of his head. “You gave me something this morning.. I want you this time.”

He lifted his arm so he could check the time on his watch. “A forty minute blow job, darling? Is that all you want?”

“No. That’s just the first thing.” You smirked back as you slid off his lap and dropped to your knees on the floor. You were grateful for the thick rug that laid in front of the couch. As much as you loved doing this to him, it was rough on your knees at times. “Want you to fuck me after.”

Your casual words made him laugh and shake his head in disbelief. He gave you a smile as a response, you already knew he wouldn’t deny you of what you asked for so there was no point in having to verbally tell you. He licked his lips and grunted as you tore his belt from its buckle and undone his pants. You wished you could see him completely bare, but he wasn’t going to do that in the office. He never had and today wouldn’t be any different.

Harry kept his stare fixated on you while you reached into his briefs and pulled his length out. You were pleased to see that it was already rock hard for you. He let out a light moan as you gripped the base, but you stopped before you did anything. You shifted your eyes to his and frowned slightly. He lifted his hips off the couch and tugged his pants down to his knees. It was much easier for you to access what you wanted, and much more comfortable for you both. You smiled when he relaxed back against the plush leather and gave you a nod, instructing you to carry on.

“So pretty when you got y’hands on my cock, baby girl.” He said through a sigh as you started to pump him.

His words made butterflies pop up in your stomach. You used your hand for a little bit before becoming impatient with yourself. You leaned up, one hand bracing on his thigh while the other squeezed the base of his cock. His head fell back as a string of spit spilled through your lips and landed on the head of his cock. Harry returned his eyes to you quickly, he didn’t want to risk missing the perfect scene.

A knot formed in his stomach as you closed your lips around him and started to suck. The sound of you hollowing your cheeks and stuffing your mouth full filled the room. Your head bobbed up and down as you took in a few inches, then pulled back before going even further. Harry was enjoying the vicious cycle you were performing. Your hand switched from squeezing his base to massaging his balls, both of which were just fuel to the fire.

Even though he fucked you last night after you both swapped foreplay routines, he felt as though it had been ages since he felt the warmth of your mouth engulf him. You hummed around his cock as his fingers raked through your scalp, his attempt at trying to keep your hair out of the way was sweet and meaningful to you. He liked to watch and have a clear view, but he also didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or bothered by any obstacles.

“There you go, fuck.” He groaned out in a thick, heavy tone as you took him down your throat, holding yourself still for a few seconds before gasping for air.

A trail of spit connected your lips to the end of his cock as you leaned back, your lungs struggling to keep up. Harry moaned at the glorious sight, it was always one of his favorite things to see - your lips swollen from sucking his cock, spit covering your skin and tears in your eyes from straining yourself. He was in awe at your beauty.

“Fuck, baby doll.. do you want my cum in your mouth?” He took the chance to ask you while your mouth wasn’t full.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at his cock until you shifted your eyes to his. You shook your head and felt a warmth come to your cheeks. “No, in my pussy, please.”

The corner of his mouth lifted as lust filled his eyes. “Alright, whatever you want, baby.”

You fell forward, your tongue running all over his skin. You swiped up from the bottom, already to the slit in his tip. You sent time poking and slurping it, knowing that he loved that. He was falling apart above you, moaning and grunting and cursing in whispers.

“So good f’me, kitten.” The words came in a low rumble, making your heart flutter.

There was nothing you loved more than praise. It made you feel the best kind of pleasure, made your heart skip beats and your stomach drop, it made your brain dizzy and stars fill your eyes.. It was perfect, especially when Harry gave it to you.

You swallowed him whole again, keeping him stuck in your mouth for a few long moments. Harry tapped your jaw, shaking his head at you. You pulled him out, a loud gasp filling the air.

“Baby, don’t hurt yourself.” He sternly said. “Y’know I don’t like it when you hurt yourself.”

“M’not.. I can handle it.” You whined back, sometimes you got annoyed by his over protectiveness. You wanted to shove him as far in as you could, whether it was in your mouth or your pussy.

“Behave, kitten.”

That worked almost too well on you. You nodded and decided it would be best to just listen to him. When your lips returned to his tip, he sucked in a breath and held it, a sign that he was close. You kept going, sucking on the top inches of his cock, making sure to squeeze the lower half as hard as you could. He felt a familiar feeling growing in his stomach. He wanted you to keep going, but he knew he was dangerously close to busting in your mouth. As much as he loved seeing you swallow his cum, you wanted it elsewhere and he was going to honor that request.

The sound of you slurping on his cock was sending him over the edge. He dug his fingertips into his own thigh as he watched your head bob on his cock. There was a string of spit dripping down his length, sliding over his balls, that was driving him mad. He wanted to explode all over your pretty face and watch you wipe it up with your fingers and suck it off, but he couldn’t.

He grunted, sitting up to grab your jaw. “Gotta stop, baby, or m’gonna cum.”

You whimpered as he pushed you backwards. You kept hold of him though and gave him a squeeze. He swatted your hand back and gave you a stern look. He pushed his pants down to his ankles and gestured for you to stand up. A grin swept over your lips as he reached for your body and easily yanked you forward. You squealed as he slid his hands under your shirt to grab the waistband of your leggings. He pulled them down, along with your panties, and tossed them on the couch beside him.

“Mm, look at that pretty pussy.” His eyes were just as hungry as his cock was for you.

“All for you.” You muttered back with a sultry tone, making him smirk and pull you down on his lap.

He spit on his fingers and gently stuck them in your entrance. You gasped at the sudden feeling, but instantly felt a fire spark to life in your gut. You needed him more than you thought.

“Take your time, okay?” He said while looking up at you. His hand was wrapped around his cock, preparing to line it up and guide it into your body.

You gave him a nod and started to sink down on his length. He moved his hand back once he knew he was in place, and quickly grabbed either side of your waist. A soft whine fell from your lips as he stretched you out. Being on top wasn’t necessarily your favorite position, only because you felt like he had less control and couldn’t dominate you as much, but you knew he liked doing it this way so you never complained. Besides, he quickly reminds you that he dominates over you in any position..

“Oh.” You chirped as you went to grasp your own breast but realized it was covered.

His lips curled up as he watched you tug your shirt over your head and discard it on the floor. Instantly, your hand cupped your boob and gave it a tight squeeze. Harry grunted at the sight and leaned forward to take care of the other one. He sucked hard on your nipple, knocking your hand away so he could squeeze the other one. You let him do whatever he wanted, it felt good to you either way.

Your head fell back and you let out a heavy moan. His length was completely lost in you, filling you to the brim with his pulsing cock. You wanted more.

You grabbed his face and pulled him away from your chest, tilting his head back so you could see him. “Please, please, I need you.”

He returned his hands to your hips and immediately started to assist you in lifting and slamming your body on to his cock. With each hard impact, you gasped and moaned to him. He kept the pace steady since he knew you struggled to stay strong during this. You weren’t weak but it was definitely tiring for you. Just as you grabbed onto his shoulder, he shook his head.

“Nuh uh, baby, you can’t wrinkle my shirt.”

“But.. but that means I.. can’t touch you.” You frowned back.

He sighed, this was a conversation you always had to have while doing this in his office. He wished you’d remember. “No, it means don’t grab onto my shirt.. you can hold on to me but don’t ball up my shirt, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

Despite your promise, you were already struggling with the reality of not being able to touch him. It was like torture for you. He’s so close to you, you’re literally on top of him and you can’t touch him. It felt completely unfair, his hands were gripping your body and fingertips glided over your skin. This couldn’t possibly be fair..

Harry watched closely as you kept hesitating to touch his body. It was almost painful to not feel him or hold on to him in some way. You went to grab his shoulder out of instinct as his cock buried deep in you, but you drew your hand back and let out a frustrated huff.

“Get up.” He said almost instantly, making your brows drop in confusion.

“What? What did I do? M’sorry.” You quickly began to apologize, fearing that something you were unaware of happened. Maybe you did something that made him irritated?

“Don’t apologize, darling, you didn’t do anything.” He said with a smile as you stumbled to your feet. You pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling oddly queasy. “M’not gonna watch you suffer ‘cause you can’t touch me.. Go over the couch for me, okay?”

“Oh, okay.” Your frown morphed to a grin and you hurried to the arm of the couch.

Harry laughed to himself as you quickly fell over the arm, your ass perched in the air as your arms folded beneath your head. You both knew that this was a good position. He was able to go deep and you were able to simply relax and lay there looking pretty for him. You obviously couldn’t touch him this way either, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t have to suffer with being so close to him and having access to his body. This way, thrown over the couch with his cock pounding into you, you didn’t even have to worry about touching him.

He smacked his hand against your ass a few times, making you whine and beg for a few more. You were always his dirty girl, even underneath all the cuteness and the perfectionism - you loved a good spanking.

“More, please.” You said again, looking over your shoulder at him.

He squeezed both sides of your ass, pushing your cheeks upward as his cock disappeared into your pussy. He grinned at you, biting down on his lip as his palm landed hard against your skin. You whimpered and gave him a smile.

“Thank you.”

“My kitten loves getting her ass spanked, doesn’t she, baby?” He said, his tone lowered and his eyes dark with lust and sex and euphoria.

“Yes, Daddy. I love it so much.”

There it was. That one simple word, that second name you’ve given him - it drove him over the edge every time. He closed his eyes and just fucked you for a solid minute straight. Your moans circled through the office before floating to the high ceilings, echoes of your squeals and hauntings of your gasps followed. Harry was mesmerized by the sweet sounds you let out. His mind was drifting into the bliss as he was balls deep in your cunt. There was nothing he wanted more right now than you - your body, your heart, your soul, everything. He craved you.

“Fuck, kitten. Such a tight pussy, yeah? And, fuck, so wet f’me.”

Your eyes bolted shut as he splayed his hands on your ass and fucked himself as hard and deep in you as he could. You felt your toes curl and your stomach bubble with excitement. It was becoming overwhelming very quickly, and you knew you were about to let loose. A small gasp slipped out of your mouth as he pounded into you, not wasting a single second.

“M’gonna.. c-cum.” You managed to squeak out a few words.

He heard you, thankfully, and ran his hand down to the small of your back. “Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock. You’re such a good girl.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back and your lips fell apart as your body trembled, your legs shook a little as the orgasm rushed through your body. Your pussy was throbbing, your clit hadn’t even been touched by him, yet it was sensitive as it rutted against the arm of the couch. You fell apart on the leather, your feet went numb as you waited for the blissful high to fade in your head.

As you pulsed around him, your soft skin hot and tight around his cock, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could tell you were fucked out, but he was so close he just kept going. Within a few seconds, he was spurting ropes of cum deep inside of your pussy, filling with his warm release. You moaned sweetly as it burned through you. Harry let out a heavy groan as he slowly pulled out of you. His cum began to drip out of your hole. He watched as it slowly seeped out. As much as you wanted to taste it, you were too tired to even move.

[a/n: I decided to split this into two parts bc it was super long.. sorry for the long wait for this series update! hope u enjoy]

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[bluntzah]

SPARK UP ♡ HAMZAH.

ⓘ ⋮ WC: 3.2k words.

ⓘ ⋮ CONTENT: 18+ CONTENT, making out, smoking, sexy asf. if my work isn’t to your taste, feel free to leave but negativity has no place here.

ⓘ ⋮ SUMMARY: poor hamzah, stressed and pouty by the misery of his sick friends. if only there were a way to ease his frustration, to make him feel better…

THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, the old, creaky door of your room slowly rattled with a groan as your best friend strolled in. You didn’t even flinch, fingers moving as you rolled the blunt, the familiar scent already stinking the air with its smell.

“What’s that?” he asked, and you nearly rolled your eyes. Not because he’d interrupted you: you could do this blindfolded — but because the question was stupid. The smell was obvious, sticking to the room despite the spritz of perfume you’d tried moments before. He knew exactly what it was.

He just wanted a hit.

“What does it look like?” As if the scattered rolling papers and the scent weren’t enough evidence. You didn’t bother turning around, fingers working as you crushed the weed into pieces.

Hamzah flopped onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, the mattress creaking under his weight. “Come onnnn,” he drawled, stretching the word out. “Just let me take, like, at least three hits.”

He fucking wishes.

You didn’t even hesitate, shaking your head as you focused on sealing the wrap. “Buy your own.” And you meant it. Last time you shared with this motherfucker, not only did he have the audacity to complain about your lip gloss making it - in his words -“soggy,” but he also damn near finished the whole thing himself.

“The high just doesn’t hit the same when it’s your own,” Hamzah mused, then paused, brow furrowing like he was already second guessing himself. “know what I mean?”

“No.” But you did. You just liked to fuck with him, liked the way he’d start tripping over his own logic, scrambling to make his point sound less stupid. He always did - back then, and even more now.

Hamzah let out a breath, already annoyed. “Yeah, okay, so just fuck me then, right?”

Normally, he would have brushed off your saying with a roll of his eyes, a scoff, or a flick to your forehead. The two of you had a certain banter hat usually left you irritated and smiling despite him getting you all riled up. His words, while sometimes hurtful, always carried banter.

But this time was different. This time, there was a tension in his voice, a real edge that cut through the usual playful tips. It caught you off guard, making you pause. You found yourself turning back, glancing over your shoulder.

Hamzah lay there, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The pillow, your pillow, rested on his bicep as he lost himself in thought. He seemed oblivious to your presence, his brow furrowed slightly as if deep in thought of something only he could understand.

With a sigh, you decide to let the matter drop, choosing instead to be the good friend Hamzah needs right now. "What happened?" you ask. "You've been off all day."

"Nothin'," he replied. You raise an eyebrow at Hamzah's response, giving him a side glance. You know him well enough to recognize the signs. The quick, almost snappy tone, the evasive answer. Something's bothering him, it's not like him to brush you off like this.

Nodding slowly, you finish rolling the blunt, licking the paper carefully to seal it. Turning to face Hamzah fully, you cross your arms and meet his gaze head on. "Don't give me that 'nothin' bullshit," you say. "You're always a real snappy fucker when something's got you all worked up. Spill it already."

Hamzah pauses, considering your words. He fidgets with his beanie, adjusting it slightly on his head as he gathers his thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he sits up and swings his legs around to the same side of the bed as you. The pillow fell to the floor softly.

As he moves, his knees brush against yours, the contact subtle. He glances down at the point where your legs touch before meeting your gaze.

“Work,” he replied, his voice stripped down to a single syllable, delivered with a shrug: careless. But his brown eyes told something completely different, tracking the way your fingers reached for the pink lighter on your desk, the way your nails tapped against its plastic surface before the flick of your thumb coaxed a small flame to life.

You hummed, pressing him to elaborate without words.

But he didn’t, so you let the silence stretch, let his answer settle between you as you brought the blunt to your lips. The glossy shine of your lip gloss caught as you took a slow drag, hollowing your cheeks. You ghosted the smoke, holding it just at the edge of release before drawing it back in, letting it unfurl inside you.

When you finally exhaled, the smoke curled into the air, dissipating into nothing.

Hamzah’s mouth, half open in the middle of speaking, slowly parted wider as his gaze lingered on the way your lips wrapped around the blunt; glossy, plush. For a second, he seemed to forget what he was saying. “Uhm, Martin and Mandy are sick —“

He barely got the words out before you exhaled, sending a stream of smoke straight into his face. The moment it hit him, he choked mid sentence, the burn catching at the back of his throat.

A harsh cough tore through him: once, twice, five times in a row. His chest shook with it, and by the time he managed to stop, his eyes were watering, blinking rapidly as his vision swam at the edges.

“You —” He broke off, still breathless, rubbing at his face as if that would clear the haze. “Okay, stop that.” Hamzah gestured toward the blunt.

You shrugged.

“And my electricity is out,” he went on, exhaling. “I can’t even do anything at home.” his elbow dropped onto his thigh, palm cradling his jaw as he watched you take another slow drag. The blunt rested between your thumb and pointer finger. Smoke curled around your lips before you inhaled it back, letting it sit in your lungs for a second longer than necessary.

“And we need something posted by tomorrow,” Hamzah finished, his eyes never leaving you.

You leaned back, letting your mind drift for a moment, the haze of the blunt loosening the knots of your thoughts just enough for a solution to slip through. And when it did, it felt obvious; so obvious that you almost laughed. Of course. Why hadn’t you thought of it sooner?

“Do like a ‘smoke with us’ or something,” you suggested, exhaling the words along with a slow ribbon of smoke. It was perfect, really. Especially since your sister had just visited a few days ago and left you with more weed than you knew what to do with.

Hamzah sat with it for a moment, eyes flickering in thought before inevitably settling back on the blunt between your fingers.

“That means you’ll share?” he asked, licking his lips slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

No shit. But since he was already stressed, you figured there was no need to add your attitude to the mix. “Yeah,” you said instead, exhaling lightly. “Get your phone out, or whatever you use, and I’ll roll another blunt.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way Hamzah’s face lit up, his grin flashing white. You turned away before he could say anything, swiveling in your chair to face your desk. With ease, you pulled open the top drawer, fingers brushing past scattered papers and lighters until you found what you needed: a fresh wrap and your little white tube of weed.

Popping it open, you pinched a few pieces between your fingertips, the familiar scent filling your senses. You worked the weed between your fingers, breaking it apart, settling you into focus.

Behind you, Hamzah moved, slipping one hand behind your chair while the other pressed flat against the desk; right beside where you worked. His presence loomed, chest nearly brushing your back as he hovered over you.

“Why don’t we just share one?” His voice curled into your ear like smoke. You didn’t pause, rolling your eyes instead. “You complain too much about my lip gloss,” you muttered, pressing the crushed pieces into the wrap. “So, to shut you the fuck up, I’m making your own.”

Hamzah straightened slightly, but his hands stayed where they were: one gripping the back of your chair, the other still pressed against the desk. “I don’t mind,” he said.

Is he serious right now? You turned to look at him, forcing you to tilt your chin just slightly to meet his gaze. He was still leaning over you, close enough that you could catch the faintest trace of his cologne beneath the scent of weed and smoke.

“Oh, you do,” you countered, eyes narrowing. You could count the number of times he had complained, each one irritating you more than the last. Because, hello? You wanted to enjoy your blunt in peace, to feel good with every slow drag, the warmth settling in your chest just right. It was a whole experience; the pull of smoke, the heady ring, a song playing low in the background, setting the perfect mood.

Hamzah didn’t respond, simply reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He and Martin had been losing their minds trying to come up with a new YouTube video, hard to do when one of them was sick and the other’s electricity was completely shot.

But now? Now, he had a plan. Thanks to you and that clever mind.

Excitement twitched beneath his calm act as he powered on his phone, the screen glowing to life. His lock screen flashed up first; a photo of him, Martin, Mandy, and you, all crammed into the frame. With a glance at you, he swiped up on his phone, apps flashing across the screen before he tapped on the messages app and selected Martin’s contact.

HAMZAH: Nvm, got it under control 🍃🍃

MARTIN: Zahhh?? 🤑🤑

HAMZAH: Can’t spell Hamzah without that Zah 😛

“I’ve honestly never gotten high with someone on camera before,” Hamzah admitted, glancing at the lens as you adjusted the lighting slightly. The two of you were tucked into the coziest corner of your room, right where your small personal library lined the wall. Two beanbags sat on either side of a low table, and Hamzah was already sinking comfortably into his.

On the table in front of you, the two rolled blunts rested beside the heart shaped ashtray, the camera positioned just beside them, angled perfectly to capture everything. “Is the lighting good?” you asked, stepping back to survey the setup.

Hamzah glanced at the camera and nodded. “That’s actually perfect.” Satisfied, you gave a small nod in return before settling back into your beanbag chair.

The video started with bickering: sharp insults and lazy eye rolls before shifting into something more relaxed. You both sparked up, tapping the glowing red ends of your blunts together in a toast before taking the first slow drags.

From there, the energy shifted into an easy rhythm: attempting ghost challenges, showing off smoke tricks, laughing at failed attempts. Eventually, the blunts burned low, and you put them out, the conversation melting into stories - random memories, inside jokes, moments that had you both grinning through the haze.

At some point, hunger kicked in, and you ordered food. While waiting, the talking didn’t stop, if anything, the high made it even funnier, each topic spiraling into another until only laughter was heard.

And when the food finally arrived? You both absolutely demolished it. You ordered these sandwiches, and the moment you took a bite, it was easily one of the most delicious things you’d ever tasted.

Once you had devoured every last bite, the two of you made your way back to the beanbag setup, sinking into the cushions as you picked up your blunt again. The room was foggy, the conversation flowing as the camera rolled, capturing each lazy inhale, each slow exhale.

“Can I get a hit of yours?” Hamzah asked, reaching out with one hand, his fingers making an impatient grabbing motion.

Without missing a beat, you swatted him away. “You have yours right there.” And he did. His own blunt sat in his other hand, already burned halfway down from the greedy pulls he’d been taking. The ashtray in front of you held the evidence: most of it his.

“Remember what I said earlier?”

Unfortunately, you did. Something about how hitting someone else’s blunt always made the high better for some inexplicable reason. But instead of admitting it, you exhaled slowly and deadpanned, “No.”

Silence pulled. The only sound was the faint crackle of burning paper as you took another slow drag, the smoke curling past your lips before disappearing into nothingness. It was so quiet that you finally glanced over at Hamzah — only to find him already watching you.

Not just watching. Staring.

His gaze was locked onto your mouth, eyes red and all, following every movement like he was trying to learn it. Your brows pulled together slightly, confusion flickering across your face as you studied him in return. “Are you okay—?” “—Wanna try something,” he interrupted at the exact same time, his voice cutting through yours.

You paused. “What?”

Hamzah’s eyes flickered between your blunts before he lifted his own, the slender roll pinched effortlessly between his fingers. He didn’t answer; not with words, at least. Instead, he brought the blunt closer, hovering it right in front of your lips, a silent invitation.

Your gaze shifted between him and the smoldering tip, hesitation flickering for only a second before you leaned in slightly. Lips parted just enough, just the perfect amount to wrap around the end of the blunt.

You took a long, slow drag of the blunt, feeling the rich, earthy smoke fill your lungs as you held Hamzah's gaze. Your eyes remained locked on his, watching as a flicker of something danced in their depths. The smoke curled in your mouth, lingering, but before you could exhale, his voice cut through.

“Don’t exhale it.”

There was something different about the way he said it: almost more like a command than a suggestion. He leaned in, face mere inches from yours. Heavy lidded gaze flickered to your lips before he gave the smallest tilt of his chin.

“Back to me,” he murmured, voice low, almost lost beneath the hum of the room. For a second, you hesitated, mind replaying his words just to make sure you heard him right. Back to me?

But then there were red rimmed eyes, dark and low, like he was sinking into the moment, and you couldn’t tell if it was the high or something else entirely. The messy grown out buzz cut, the way a few strands stuck up slightly, making him look even better in that lazy, effortless kind of way. It did something to you. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

Your mouth went dry — no, worse, it watered, whether you liked it or not.

You leaned in fully, pushing yourself up from the beanbag just enough to close the space between you. Your lips parted, breath warm and slow, and for a second, his mouth; slightly chapped, slightly inviting — grazed yours.

You exhaled.

The smoke poured between you, curling into his mouth as he took it in without hesitation, without flinching.

It wasn’t until you pulled away, the heat of him still in the space between, when he finally exhaled, the smoke uncurling in soft, ghostly tendrils.

The two of you sat there, unmoving, staring at the camera as if waiting for it to tell you what the hell to do next.

As if pulled by some hidden force, the two of you turned to each other in perfect sync.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, threading through the soft strands as if remembering the texture, while your other hand gripped the firm curve of his bicep. His own hands found you just as quickly: settling at your waist, the other cradling your face in hot dog style. and, as if the moment had been waiting for you both, your mouths met.

His top lip slotted perfectly between yours, a sluggish, passive press that deepened as he drew you in, sucking softly at your lower lip before angling his head just so — nose grazing your cheek in a way that sent a tickle down your spine.

His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the taste of you, and God, you could drown in this. The drag of his lips, the way he kissed. The taste of weed remained on his tongue, a misty thing that made you chase after it. You parted for a breath, only to press back in; once, twice, three times — greedy for more, drunk on the way he melted into you.

It still wasn’t enough.

So you moved, swinging a leg over his lap, settling yourself against him as his hands instinctively found purchase at your hips, steadying you as you adjusted.

And, just like before, he tilted his head, nose brushing your cheek, breath warm against your skin as you found his mouth once more. There was only this: hands, mouth, the heady taste of smoke, pulling you deeper, deeper, deeper.

Your fingers tightened around his bicep, loving in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, a silent response to the squeeze. The sensation sent a quiet thrill through you, a warmth that curled low in your stomach as you hummed softly into the kiss.

As you both began to pull away, Hamzah caught your bottom lip between his teeth, dragging it slightly before letting go, leaving it to swell back into its usual, kiss-bitten fullness. A breath of something unsaid hung between you, thick as smoke.

You stared at each other, the realization of what just happened slowly sinking in, seeping into your skin like. And then, as if some invisible tether between you both had been stretched too tight, you hesitated, pulling back ever so slightly.

Your lips parted, a thought hovering on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came. The words dissolved before they could form, leaving you to press your mouth shut again. From where you still sat on his lap, Hamzah looked up at you, brown eyes glinting. And for the first time, you truly saw them — not just as his eyes, but as something impossibly beautiful. Warm, liquid honey, rich and golden, so sweet, so — fuck.

A beat of silence followed between you. Then, all at once, the tension cracked. A quiet chuckle, hesitant at first, then another. The sound tumbled into laughter, bubbling up from your chests, startled and breathless, like neither of you could quite believe what had just happened.

Because — what the fuck was that?

Hamzah’s laughter softened into a grin as he lazily lifted a hand, pointing past you. You followed his gaze, realization dawning when you turned slightly; your back was to the camera. “can’t post that,” he exhaled, still catching his breath.

You only shrugged, leaning in, your lips a whisper away from his. “Good,” you murmured. “It’s just for us.”

And then you kissed him again, pushing him back into the beanbag, his body sinking into the plush fabric as your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his hoodie.

HAMZAH: Nvm video didn’t work out 🙃

MARTIN: Aw man :(

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[faggotboulevard]

drabble about fucking logan (wolverine) because @embry-garrick implanted it into my brain

synopsis: holy shit u have a big dick n logan is having a field day

cw: riding, size kink, pain kink, reader has a huge dick, anal sex, no prep by choice, unsubstantial lube by choice, unprotected sex by choice, subtop logan dombot reader, established relationship, first time (in the relationship), 2nd person

dni minors, fems/mlm fetishizers, etc

You knew you were massive, that's why way back in high school you were pressured to join sports. You had admirers from both sexes and people would jump at the opportunity to date you in hope that you were as big down there as you were, body wise.

You were, and unfortunately scared off many potential fuck buddies with your size. You vividly remember an ex walking out mid make-out session when they saw your dick, and the situation you were in now was strikingly similar.

That train of thought was bouncing through your head like a pinball machine as you multitasked getting hot and heavy with Logan on the foot of his bed.

"You're distracted. Come on, focus, it's like kissing a brick wall," Logan complained gruffly, hands tangled in your hair as he bit playfully at your jawline to snap you out of whatever thoughts you were in.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Maybe we're going a little fast?" you suggested, meeting his lips again as you attempted to focus on him.

"You're fuckin' kidding me. No, we've been dating for months, I'm ready," Logan disagreed. "You got something you're worried about?"

"No," you muttered, shaking your head to get the thoughts out. You steeled yourself to focus and gripped Logan's waist to pick him up and move him into your lap. He eagerly ground down onto your quickly hardening cock, groaning into your mouth as he felt the pants you were in tighten.

Logan quickly took off his own shirt and hurried to remove yours. Once the clothing was gone, he abandoned kissing your lips to kiss your neck and moved down your collar. He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt both of your hands snake in two different directions; one down to squeeze his ass and the other up to grip his hair.

"Need you. Been waiting long enough, want you in me. Wanna ride you," he whispered into your ear.

"Logan, I'm big," you warned warily, earning a confused pause.

"Big? Damn right you are. What's your point?" he grumbled, trying to get back to imminently fucking.

"My dick is big. I've had people up and leave because of it, so—"

"Well aren't you self-assured? Babe, let me judge if I want to get fucked or not," Logan answered playfully as he pressed tender kisses over your jawline to make up for the bites. "C'mon. You think I'm shy of a big dick?"

As you tugged off his pants, he undid your button to reciprocate and froze as he stared at your half-hard cock straining the fabric of your boxers.

"What's that, six inches? I mean, I can take it," he huffed, his face a mask of bravado. He pulled your pants all the way off and swallowed. "Okay... little more than six inches..."

Logan stroked you to hardness, muttering out quiet curses and "come on, come on... fuck," as he was eager to feel you. You were completely hard in just a few strokes, but his rough hand and the lack of any lubricant made you shy from the touch.

"Logan? Lube?" You reminded, to which he growled.

"Don't need it, bub."

"Yes you do! At the very least, I need it!" You protested.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes and attempted to take you in his mouth, but instead just let some spit dribble down since he'd ravish you with his mouth later. "Happy?"

"Let me prep you."

"Hell no."

Logan pushed your shoulders to the bed and hovered over you, to which you fished in your pants for a condom. "No condom, Lo,"

"Good."

"Go get one."

"Hell no," he repeated.

"You're gonna tear yourself," you said, sitting up.

"I can take it. I can take you. Just lay down," Logan demanded, to which you scoffed.

"Fine. It's not my bed that's getting blood all over, anyways."

Logan perched over you and lined your dick up, hissing as the wet head grazed his hole. "You're gonna be the end of me..."

"Fuck... fuck! Slower!" You demanded, worrying for Logan's poor body despite the fact that he healed instantaneously.

Among the shrill gasps and low groans, Logan uttered out a gravelly, "Please, just let me have this. You're splitting me in half, fuck, [Y/n], you're gonna make me cum like a virgin."

You grabbed Logan's hips and forced him to slow down, he was barely even a third of the way down and already tears were collecting in his eyes. "Easy, Logan," you said, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and forced himself down to the base of your cock, a punched-out moan escaping his throat followed by a series of whimpers and gasps as he caught his breath. A hot stream of cum spurted from his unattended cock and onto your chest.

"Logan? You're bleeding. And you came..."

"I don't care. Fuck me like a man," Logan rasped out as he steeled himself to begin moving his hips.

[adverbally]

Baby, Please Come Home

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt “together” and the @steddiemas prompt “surprise” | wc: 955 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: future fic, established relationship, alone at Christmas, angst with a happy ending | dividers by @popmilky

“All the flights out are grounded and they’re rerouting everyone coming in. We’re just hoping they can get us in a hotel for the night, otherwise we’re sleeping on the floor of the terminal.”

Eddie sounds so far away through the telephone line. He’s with the rest of Corroded Coffin in New York City, where they’re apparently stuck in the blizzard of the century. The airport is completely shut down, just in time for the Christmas travel season.

“How long do they think it’ll take for the storm to pass?” Steve asks, biting at the cuticle of his thumb. He paces back and forth in front of the phone to work off his nervous energy. It might actually be making him feel worse, moving so much but not getting anywhere, but he can’t just sit here.

Eddie sighs. “No clue. But with how many flights need to be rescheduled, it might be a couple days before I can get home.”

Today is December 23rd, which means— “You won’t be here for Christmas,” Steve realizes.

He hasn’t had a Christmas without Eddie in eight years. Even when they were just friends, they spent the holiday together while Wayne was at work and the Harringtons were in Europe somewhere. Then there were Christmases in their first apartment in Chicago, on the road with Corroded Coffin, even a memorable tropical getaway where their drinks were garnished with Santa hats.

Steve won’t get any of that this year. It was supposed to be a quiet holiday, just the two of them. Now he’ll be alone.

Eddie has clearly come to the same conclusion. “I’m sorry, baby. I’d rent a car and start driving right this second if the roads were clear.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries hard to keep his voice level and hide any evidence of the tears he wipes from his cheeks. “We’ll celebrate when you get back. Stay safe and say hi to the boys for me.”

Eddie’s voice goes soft. “Okay, sweetheart. I love you. See you soon.”

“Love you,” Steve manages to croak before the line goes dead.

The dial tone seems to echo in the empty apartment for hours.

Christmas Eve passes achingly slowly. Steve spends half the day on the phone, catching up with Dustin visiting his mom back in Hawkins and Robin and Nancy who are snowed in at home in Boston. He waits for Eddie to call, too, maybe with some sort of update on their flight situation.

Eddie doesn’t call.

He stares out the window of their apartment and watches the snow piling up outside. It’s nothing compared to what’s bombarding the east coast, but Steve has always liked the snow. A fresh blanket of white, covering the dirty pavement and muddy slush in the streets with something beautiful. He wishes Eddie were here, complaining about the cold and the ankles of his pants getting wet. Even better, snuggling up with Steve on the couch to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, just like they do every year.

Steve doesn’t try to watch it alone. Instead, he chokes down a frozen dinner and goes to bed at six o’clock so he can have a few hours where he doesn’t have to think about how much he misses Eddie.

It’s very late– or maybe very early– when Steve wakes up to the bed shifting beneath him.

In the dull blue light of the pre-dawn hours, he can only make out shapes. A dark silhouette with messy hair on Eddie’s side of the bed, looking just like Eddie does when he sits to unlace his boots.

Steve thinks he might choke on the wave of emotion that rises in his throat. It’s Eddie, undeniably. He can tell from the exhaustion in his shoulders and his quiet mumbles of frustration when he can’t undo the knot in his shoelaces.

Without thinking, Steve reaches out a hand to settle at the small of Eddie’s back.

Eddie looks at him over his shoulder, an apologetic grimace on his face. “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you up.”

“You—” Steve can barely get a word out before his vision starts to blur and his chest gets tight. The tears he hadn’t let himself shed all day are hitting him hard now, like the shock of Eddie making it home knocked them loose.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry.” Eddie shifts until he’s lying next to Steve, still wearing his jeans and an old henley of Steve’s. He smells like recycled plane air.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to roll into Eddie’s waiting arms. He needs the comfort, the reassurance that Eddie is real and solid and here. “I can’t believe you made it,” he mumbles into Eddie’s shirt.

“Me neither,” Eddie sighs. Already, his fingers are combing through Steve’s hair, trying to soothe both of them at once. “A seat opened up at the very last minute. I didn’t even have a chance to call and tell you I was leaving.”

“Remind me to be mad about that later.” He can feel Eddie’s quiet laugh rumbling through his chest. Steve smiles along with him. “God, I missed you.”

Eddie kisses his temple. “I’m taking you with me next time, I don’t care if it’s only for two shows.”

“Sounds good.”

“And no more holiday concerts.”

“Nuh-uh.” It comes out a little slurred, Steve’s voice feeling as heavy as his eyelids now that he’s comfortable and Eddie is with him.

Eddie is still stroking his hair in long, slow movements. “Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Steve hums in agreement. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Just before Steve drifts off, he thinks that Eddie might be the best Christmas gift he’s ever gotten.

[neeeooon]

I really love your work. Could you please write something about, that you're sick and your boyfriend is taking care of you. I would really like to see Ness or Yukimiya in the role of boyfriend. I don't speak English very well, so I might have written with mistakes.

no dw it’s perfect! thank you for the request <3 (some might be similar to another sick prompt i did a while ago but i hope you enjoy!)

taking care of you when you’re sick

bf bllk x gn!reader. flufffff

alexis ness

-> he’s so concerned about you :(

-> snuggles up next to you in bed, keeping one hand pressed against your forehead and the other to his to measure your temperature

-> sighs worriedly when you feel hot. “you have a fever…” “i’m okay—“ you cut yourself off with a string of coughs, turning away so you don’t spread any germs to him. “‘t’s just a cold.”

-> ness is not convinced! he’s also not about to let you leave the bed until your temperatures lowers at least a little

-> will change your washcloth, make sure you take sips of your water, and try to get you to eat some soup and crackers. “i’ll run a bath for you when you’re feeling up to it.” “i’m so in love with you.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> “you’re warm,” yukimiya murmured with knit brows after placing a kiss to your forehead. you hum and place your head against his chest. “you’re warm.”

-> yukki would gently pull you away to look over your slightly flushed face. “no, i mean… are you feeling okay?” “well, now that you mention it, i do feel a little tired.”

-> say no more. yukimiya has you in bed not a minute later, and he is prepared to make today all about you

-> he becomes such a housewife it makes you laugh. yukki comes into your room every hour on the hour to bring you food, check your temp, or just hang out. he even lets you tease him when he appears wearing a pink apron covered in bows

-> it’s miraculous how quick you feel better, and your boyfriend immediately agrees to snuggle with you once your temperature lowers to normal

karasu tabito

-> does not leave your side, even when you complain about how gross you feel. “i’m literally disgusting. you don’t have to stay, tabi. it’s just a cold.”

-> but it’s not just a cold. to him, this is a test. to prove to you that he’ll stay by you in sickness and in health (even though neither of you is anywhere close to marriage)

-> “you’re going to get sick,” you warn when he nuzzled his cold nose against the heated flesh of your neck. “don’t care.” “i’ll care when i have to stay here and take care of you.” “you must love me lots.”

-> jokes aside, karasu will regularly check your temperature and give you a little space when it gets too warm. he doesn’t want to cook you with his hugs and will slip away to bring you water or medicine when you need it

-> of course, since it’s just a cold, you get over it pretty quick… and call off of work to stay with him when he can’t get out of bed the next day

michael kaiser

-> oh, he’s so concerned. his brows refuse to even out, and he always materializes next to you whenever you cough a little too hard or breathe a little funny

-> doesn’t crawl into bed with you because you mentioned feeling hot, despite how much he wants to hold you. will instead sit at your bedside, hand in yours, cheek resting against his forearm as he stares almost unblinkingly at you. like if he looks away for even a second, you’ll disappear

-> though you can’t open your sleepy eyes, you drag your thumb over his hand to assure him you’re alright

-> kaiser will only leave your side to get medicine or food for you, and he’s back so fast you can’t tell if you dozed off without him or if he ran all over the house

-> literally (carefully) jumps into bed when you give him the okay. holds you impossibly tight and quietly begs you to never get sick again. “i promise i’ll try,” is your smiley response

[leyavo]

Dad!141 x Dyslexic!kid

Summary: tf141 x their kids struggling with dyslexia at school. Requested by anon [Masterlist]

John’s pissed when he finds out your teachers been making you stand against the wall each time you’ve failed your weekly spelling test. It’s always when they add a new word that you struggle to remember it, mixing the order of letters. You’d just transferred to a new school due his work and being closer to the military base. The last one had more funding, better understanding of your dyslexia. Whereas this one looked like it was stuck in the eighties and didn’t have enough teachers to watch the kids.

“What do you mean they make you stand against the wall?” He asks, fork clanging to his plate at dinner one night.

“They make me stand in front of the wall and read the words so I don’t forget.” You say it like it’s the most logical thing, but John’s chest aches. He’s tried telling you that your brains wired different, that you’re not slow or dumb. Just learn different than others.

He loves the way your mind works. How you pick up on things he’s never thought of or how you’re good with fixing things. Reminds himself that your short term memory isn’t the best, so he’s patient with you and explains again no matter how many times he has before.

“I’ll talk to ya’ teacher,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair. “Eat that broccoli.” He points to your plate, trying to contain the boiling rage burning the back of his throat.

John schedules a meeting with the headmaster, all the little things you told him about the teacher, noted down the day it happened. How many times it happened. Ended up getting you moved to a different class and he was able to talk to your new teacher and make them aware of your dyslexia etc. Checked in a couple weeks later with new teacher and you to see you were okay.

Simon stares at your school report and glances to you. On paper you’re a completely different kid, described as too quiet, need to participate more in the classroom and work on your reading, you’re behind for your age. Given an extra five minutes now for your tests. The teacher had mentioned that your recent dyslexic diagnosis had discouraged to do work and engage with others.

The comic books in your room are the only ones you like to read, complain every time you look at a bigger body of text. You’d been spending most of your time in the library instead of the playground, organising the books on the shelves.

At home Simon can’t get you to shut up, there’s always something coming out of your mouth that he regularly tells you take a breath. So he sits you down before bed and asks you what’s going on.

“Everything’s harder now,” you say, picking at the broken nail in your lap. “I notice it more and it’s so annoying. Why can’t I just be like you.”

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders and tucks you into his side. “You’re just like me,” he says, squeezing you in his hold.

“I am?” You pull away staring up at him in awe.

“Yeah, you’re bloody stubborn…don’t give up most times. Keep at this and ask for help if you need it kid.”

And it’s like he’s lit something, fuelled something inside of you to combat anything in your way. There’s some frustrated tears and shouted tantrums, but he always reminds you to ask for help when you feel like that.

Kyle’s more upset than angry as he sits in the car on the driveway. He’s just picked you up from school for fighting, you haven’t said a word nor have you explained why you punched a kid bigger than you. No your face scrunched up, knuckles scraped and resting in your lap. The teachers didn’t see what happened on the playground, so it’s a case of he said, she said. You won’t talk though, which makes you the bad kid.

“Come on, poppet. Can’t stick up for you if you don’t tell me what happened. I’m on your side.” He says, shifting in the front seat and leaning into the back towards you. “They push you?”

You were a little smaller than some of them, an easy target if they didn’t know who your dad was.

“They called me dumb, said I was slow.” A little pout on your lips and brows furrowed.

And Kyle listens to you as you tell him about how the teacher made you read in front of the whole class - something that had been agreed they wouldn’t force you to do. How you stumbled over the words, the kids muffling their sniggers and making fun of you in the playground. How you warned the one kid to shut up.

“And I hit him, then asked him did I stutter?”

Kyle’s proud of you for sticking up for yourself, you’d warned them and they still stepped over your boundaries so he’s not going to punish you for it. Just going to remind you that violence isn’t always the solution as now you’re the one suspended from school. He’ll talk to your teachers and get it sorted out.

Johnny can’t understand why he’s being called into the headmasters office again for the second time this week. He walks into the reception area and you’re sitting in one of those awkward plastic chairs with your head hung low.

Something about disrupting the class, refusing to read aloud and not handing in your homework. It’s been a rough couple months since your dyslexia diagnosis and you’re too clever using it as an excuse to neglect your school work. The youngest of four it’s easy for you to go under radar, but now Johnny is on your case and checking anything school related.

The headmaster drones on about your three older siblings and how they were a great addition to the school. Eldest even setting a new school record for test results. Johnny can see the sag of your shoulders as it’s said, he knows you’ve got big shoes to fill and knows you’re different, all his kids are.

Johnny drives the long way home, glancing at you in the rearview mirror in the back. “I don’ expect ya’ to be like them,” he says, trying to catch your gaze in the reflection.

“Not smart enough anyways,” you mumbled, arms crossed tightly over your chest and head turned to the trees flitting past the window.

“Eh! Look at me,” Johnny snaps and you do. “You’re smart in other ways, just want you to try. Alright?” And it’s true you’re a whizz at connecting wires with Johnny whenever he’s trying to fix something, you even remember the name of every tool in the garage and its use. There’s just other things you have to work harder at.

“Yeah, Da’. I’ll try.”

🤌 there might be mistakes/errors due to dyslexia lol - Leya

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Sucker For You

a/n: Hello my loves! I think this is the fastest I’ve ever written something, so I guess the motivation was strong. I really wanted to get this out for Day 2 of the Bernthirst Movie Madness, because I think that Braxton is one of Jon’s most iconic characters. He’s witty, he’s strong, he’s capable (competence kink?), he loves his brother. Okay? And everything else aside, that lollipop is a main character in and of itself. When do I get one? Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 💞

pairing: boyfriend!Braxton Wolff x fem!reader

CW +18 SMUT: swearing, oral (f!receiving), food play (if you consider lollipops food; if not, chemical play), sharing of food??? (or chemicals), Braxton is a cornball at the end

word count: 1.5k

Braxton with that fucking lollipop of his.

It drove you mad, the way it was always hanging from his lips as he sucked on it absently, like it was the most natural thing for a grown man to do.

It wasn’t, though, as you tried to assure him time and time again. Your efforts were futile, unfortunately for you, as he brushed off your complaints and simply popped in a new one after you had ripped the first from his clutches.

What a child.

A man-child, at that.

Scratch that; the term man-child made you uncomfortable, and you would not be using it to refer to the boyfriend you adored (as infuriating as he could be).

Eventually, ignoring the fact that you were enabling his behavior, you found yourself even restocking his supply. Fighting the urge to grant him new flavors to try, you stuck to the typical red-40 infused candies and even displayed them in a little bowl on the table by his side of the bed.

He was blessed to have you, truly.

And even when you acted cold and exasperated by his habit, he always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you. And it was always good, always pleasurable, until one night it was better. Braxton should get drunk more often, you had thought.

Scratch that a second time; that sounds like male manipulator behavior, and you would be seen in no connection with that.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“C’mon, baby.” Braxton slurred, stumbling towards you with that damn lollipop protruding from his lips. Even with that godforsaken candy filling his mouth, he was still smirking at you. “Let me show y’how much I love you.” He dragged out the last syllable, reaching his hands out towards you in a grabby fashion. You backed away, earning a pout from him as you shook your head. “Not a chance, Brax. Throw away that damn lollipop first.” He clutched his metaphorical pearls in offense, gasping and nearly choking on his candy in the process. You quickly patted his back to dislodge it from his throat, stepping back when he was breathing normally again and crossing your arms. He cleared his throat once before speaking again.

“Why do I have to throw it away?” Braxton was one of those childish drunks who practically reversed in age whenever they were under the influence. It could be entertaining, but not at times like these.

“Braxton Wolff, either toss the sucker in the trash or you’re getting no sexy times tonight.” His eyes widened as his brows furrowed, clearly hurt by your ultimatum. His eyes left yours momentarily, as if he was considering something. When his gaze returned to yours, you could practically see the gears that had been turning in his head.

“What if…” He began, slipping the lollipop from his lips with a soft ‘pop’ as he took a step closer. “What if instead of throwing this away-” He paused again, placing a finger over your lips as you parted them to protest. “We put it to good use.” His voice lowered an octave as he made his filthy suggestion, causing heat to rise in your lower belly. You weren’t even sure what exactly he had in mind, but the way he said those words was all you needed to hear.

God, drunk Braxton was horny as hell.

Not that you were complaining.

Tucking your bottom lip under your top teeth, you gave him a small nod, almost embarrassed that you had conceded so quickly. He must have been too aroused to notice, though, as he sucked the lollipop back between his lips and shrugged his jacket onto a nearby chair.

Lord help you, those shoulders.

After kicking off his heavy boots, he took your wrist in his hand with a gentle grip, guiding you to lay back on the couch. He undressed you slowly, tenderly, his own clothes joining yours on the floor in immediate succession. It wasn’t until his muscular body settled between your open thighs and the lollipop escaped his mouth again that you gathered what he had meant before.

Oh.

Oh.

Now, the little white stick was clamped between his teeth, the red ball pointing in your direction. Any thoughts you may have had regarding the sanitariness of this situation were long behind you, your mind only fixated on the man above you with darkened eyes.

“This okay?” Brax mumbled through his teeth. Your lips slightly parted, you nodded in agreement, swallowing thickly. One corner of his mouth cocked up in a smirk as he leaned closer, his eyes shifting to your collarbone. Not two seconds after the glance, the slick orb made contact with your skin, and a pathetic whine left your lips at the vileness of it all.

And it truly was filthy, but it only aroused you that much more. Your fingers dug into the couch cushions as the candy moved down your torso at a torturous pace, leaving a trail of red-tinted saliva between the valley of your breasts, all the way to your navel. Your thighs twitched in anticipation, and you ached to thread your trembling fingers through his perfectly quiffed hair.

“Brax…” You whined impatiently, digging your heels into the couch so you wouldn’t buck your hips. You’d rather he didn’t choke again, after all. He looked up from the place he had been staring at between your thighs, tilting his head just slightly as he ran a thumb over the sensitive skin.

“What’s that, baby? You need somethin’?” Jesus, kinkiness sobered him up quick.

“St-stop teasing.” You forced out, looking down at him with a pout. He merely smirked, taking out the lollipop again as he considered your plea. He must have been desperate too, though, because what he did next surprised you.

“Hold this for me, baby.” When you opened your mouth to question his words, you were silenced with the last thing you would have expected.

The fucking lollipop.

The artificial cherry flavoring coated your tongue almost instantly, the red-40 surely staining your tongue in a way that would last. Amidst your confusion, you barely registered the way Brax’s mouth was now centimeters from the apex between your thighs, not until he spoke.

“Try not to choke while I do this.” Your head fell back against the armrest as he dove between your legs, lips and tongue working in tandem to bring you to pieces. He moaned against you as the taste of you and the candy melded together, the heady flavor making his vision spin. His calloused hands pressed your thighs apart, mercifully letting you buck your hips as needed.

You sucked on his lollipop to muffle your moans, quite sure the rest of the apartment complex didn’t sign up for audio-porn when they woke up this morning.

“Taste so damn good, baby.” He growled between kisses and sucks, unable to keep his hips from rutting against the couch at the sounds you were making for him. “Shit, we have to do this more often.” You let out a particularly loud and pathetic moan in response, your hips stuttering as you felt yourself reach the precipice.

You were so close, practically right there, and it was utterly torturous. Braxton felt the way you clenched around his tongue sporadically, and he intensified his ministrations, wanting to push you over the edge more than anything.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go f’me.” And with only two or three more thrusts of his tongue, you were gone. Arching off the couch as you moaned around his lollipop. Kissing you through your high, Brax finally climbed back up your body, smiling sweetly as he swiped the slick off his chin. He pulled the lollipop from your mouth with a soft ‘pop,’ throwing the nearly finished candy into the nearby trash can.

“You feel alright, pretty girl?” He hummed, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. You were panting, barely able to string together a cohesive thought, let alone an intelligible sentence.

“We will be doing that again, just give me a few minutes.” He let out a low, gravelly laugh at your decisiveness, pressing a couple of soft kisses to the crook of your neck.

“You wanna know somethin’, baby?” You tilted your head a little, nodding in response. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “I’m a sucker for you.” You rolled your eyes at his corny statement, giggling at the butterflies it gave you all the same.

“You’re a cornball.” You said with a smile, pushing some hair off of his forehead. He smiled back, pressing a teasing kiss to your nose.

“Only for you, my sweet girl. Only for you.”