#refuse to believe they fucking loved me at all after all those empty promises but hey ^__^ its all gucci

[jina-juhi]

Feels like

you can love again.

Pairing : Johnny × fem!reader

Rating : 18+

warning: smut with plot, protected sex, i tried fluff? fluffy sex? and heart break. and basically all things sex. oh alcoholism. cute sex? plus doggy style plus face sitting:) oral m/f

word count : 4.5k

summary : I could fuck you, right here, right now, but only if you'd ask.

[if you wanna skip to the smut part just go straight down]

Playlist

all too well, Taylor Swift

you heard me, Heather Sommer

1 step forward, 3 steps back, Olivia rodrigo

graveyard, halsey

right where you left me, taylor swift

wouldn't come back, Trousdale

ghost of you, Selena Gomez

company, Justin Bieber

yours, Raiden

crushing, illenium

begin again, Taylor Swift

feels like, Gracie Abraham

link

When all is said and done, and the person you loved is no longer there, what's left to do? How do you cope when you've given your all, only to find yourself empty, a mere shell of your former self? It's like being left with nothing but bones and muscles, a broken machine barely keeping you going.

So, how do you restart? How do you function when they've taken everything and left you with nothing? How do you shift your mindset to believe that this is all for the better? And most daunting of all, how do you open your heart to love again?

It feels like trying to breathe without air, as if the very essence of life has deserted you, leaving behind a jagged landscape of shattered pieces. It's dangerous to get too close to those sharp edges, so you stand alone and don't let anyone close. Trying to find yourself again.

Stand alone and contemplate what you've gotten yourself into and what you've done to yourself. How could you have ignored the warning signs? They were crystal clear. How could you have not predicted it? Too innocent.

Too gullible to let him in.

Thinking about it now feels pointless. "He was a nice guy, but he was too caught up in himself. He never really saw me. He claimed he did, but I never felt truly understood," you confide while he brews your coffee.

"I never felt loved by him," you add, as he sets the mugs on the counter—one for each of you. It's a chilly evening, and the cafe where he works is quieter than usual. You're a regular here; it feels like a safe haven, a place where you can find comfort in familiarity. You accept your coffee in silence, opting not to say more.

"Take a deep breath," he urges, his voice gentle as he nods, trying to seem strong and supportive. "How?" you reply absentmindedly, staring out the window where the fog thickens by the second. The ache in your heart grows, and despair overwhelms you as you fall back into the familiar trap of negative thoughts.

"He wasn't giving you what you needed. You shouldn't have to beg for love. Believe me when I say it's for the best that he's gone." He says.

"I loved him."

"You did, Maybe you still do, but people change," he interjects gently, his gaze fixed on the coffee between you, his words carefully chosen. "In different ways. You may have promised forever, but forever is a long time. Sometimes you grow together, and sometimes... you grow apart. It's nobody's fault in the end. You just drift away, lose that connection, maybe take each other for granted, and before you know it, the fights start."

His voice falters slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. "I know it might not make sense right now, but what I'm trying to say is... you deserved more than what he could give you. Trust me, you're better off without him."

You inhale deeply, shaking your head in resignation. Raindrops cascade down the window, distorting the glow of the city lights outside. His words echo in your mind, and as you take another sip of coffee, its comforting aroma envelops you. Yes, he's right. You're undeniably better off without him, yet the ache lingers.

Why does it still hurt, months after the breakup? Why does the pain persist, stubbornly refusing to fade away? Days blur into months, but the heartache remains a constant companion. People change, move on. But the pain always stays. It gets a little better each day. You learn to accept. You learn to love yourself. Yet, just when you think you've moved on, something triggers that familiar ache, dragging you back to square one.

But life doesn't pause for heartache. Despite the pain, the world keeps spinning, and you move forward, one step forward and three steps back, hating, crying, wanting, but never stopping.

~~~

A year and almost a half have passed since then. Things have been getting better. The clouds are clearing up, leaving behind a little less hurt and a lot more clarity. There's a sense of hold, of something stirring within—gratefulness, perhaps, or hope. Or maybe its the sound of a familiar ring at the door. You turn around to see a familiar face, a smile lighting up your face as you recognize Johnny.

"A latte, please," you say as he approaches, his presence bringing a comforting warmth to the room. Johnny nods, his gentle demeanor never faltering as he starts to brew your coffee. Johnny's a gentleman, and a law student. He works part-time in this cafe, not because he's broke or anything. He simply lives the high life. Gym first, then college, and then in the cafe followed by late nights of studying. He's a quiet guy who keeps to himself. Disciplined and courteous. Doesn't really like to waste his time on the things undeserving of his attention.

Your friendship with Johnny began in this very place. You remember it must have been around 10 o'clock at night, you had just split up with your ex. It was a stormy night, It felt like the world was collapsing around you and someone was sucking the breath out of your lungs, alone and broken, you found this cafe nearby. The rain was pouring nonstop, so you decide to take refuge, sitting in the corner, your tears flow with the raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

Jhonny brings you a cup of coffee and a napkin with words of reassurance, "It'll be okay, just hold on."

He saw you when you felt invisible to the world, and he understood you when no one else could. In Johnny, you found not just a friend, but a shimmer of light in your darkest moments.

You still have that note.

Jhonny could hardly fathom the possibility of falling in love, especially with someone as uniquely eccentric as you. Little did he know, his heart had already been quietly captivated by your presence over the passing months. As you walked through that door, disheveled and drenched from the rain, the only word that echoed in his mind was "beautiful." From that moment on, an unspoken longing stirred within him, urging him to reach out and connect with you. He extended that napkin, not just to offer solace, but as a gesture of his desire to understand you, to unravel the mysteries you hide behind those smiles. There was an enigmatic force pulling him toward you, compelling him to take that first step.

You became a regular at the café, grateful for Johnny's caring nature. It seemed like nobody else noticed you like he did. Unintentionally, Johnny had fallen deeply in love with you over the past few months. He paid attention to everything about you - your likes, dislikes, comfort songs, and movies you could watch a 100 times.

He became your confidance, your best friend, always there when you needed him. Watching you cry over someone unworthy filled him with the desire to show you wat true love actually is. Late at night, he found himself thinking about you, wondering if you were okay, if you had eaten, or if you were thinking of him. He felt your sadness as if it were his own and rejoiced in your happiness. But despite his feelings, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love.

Simply put, Johnny wanted you. He wanted to show you what true love was, and that no girl deserved to be treated the way you were, left alone in the middle of nowhere, weeping in the pouring rain. Hearing about your past hurt him, but it also revealed your strength and resilience, which only made him love you more. He wasn't drawn to the roses and smiles you showed the world; he was captivated by the scars and bruises you tried to hide.

The more Johnny got to know you, the deeper he fell.

However, he made a conscious decision to hold back because he didn't want to become a rebound love. Instead, he wished for you to heal from the wounds of your past relationship, to move forward and see him for who he truly was, not just as a replacement for what your ex lacked.

He longed for the day when you would accept him completely, with no remains of the past clouding your judgment. So, he waited patiently, hoping for your heart to mend. Hoping for you to let go. Hoping for you to see him.

Time passed away, six months turned into a year, yet you still struggled to let go completely. Though it was getting better, the ghost of your past still lingered, haunting your thoughts and emotions.

How could you not feel shattered? Johnny was just too good for you, too kind. But when you've been hurt before, love becomes terrifying. Trying to piece things together while pretending to be okay is exhausting. It's hard to focus on anything when you're struggling to keep it together. Knowing you love someone and they love you back, yet being unable to fully embrace it because you're afraid of losing them, of getting hurt again - it's paralyzing.

And then there's the guilt. Even though your past relationship ended a year ago, the promises made still weigh heavily on your conscience. How do you reconcile having Johnny in your thoughts while someone else occupies a part of your heart? It feels unfair to him, but you can't shake the feeling.

How are you supposed to let go and move forward when your heart is still stuck in the past? People say "move on" like it's easy, it's anything but easy. It feels like an impossible task, especially when nobody seems to understand what you're going through.

Except for him. Johnny. He understands.

It's so damn difficult," you thought to yourself, feeling the weight of your emotions. Letting go seemed like the simplest solution, but in reality, it was anything but easy. As Johnny led you towards his flat, the thought lingered at the back of your mind.

He mentioned the party he was hosting with his friends at him appartment, someone got a job or something. The atmosphere inside was luxurious, yet simple. with crimson sofas exuding a regal aura in the soft golden light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and the sound of champagne being poured, it was cozy.

The gathering was intimate, with only the chosen few invited. Amidst the fancy party, all you could think about was Johnny. You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you'd fallen for him too, about the guilt that shouldn't be feeling. Johnny was the best guy you'd ever met, and you couldn't just let him go because you were scared. Even though your past hasn't been great, you didn't want to hurt him because you knew he loved you too. Since the day you met, he's been there for you. And he still is, always there in every little thing. It feels like you're stuck in between, torn between your feelings for him and the uncertainty.

As Johnny left momentarily, you found yourself walking towards the balcony, away from the small talk and pretense inside, with a bottle of champagne. all you needed was a stunning view of the city's glittering skyscrapers, illuminated by the twinkling lights.

You craved peace of mind, a moment to quiet the storm raging within you. Being around Johnny, even for just an hour, had a profound effect on you, all the thoughts and insecurities on one side, and all the feelings of desire and lust, unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

There was no rush of blood and getting all hot and bothered every time your prior partner looked at you. You would never have felt this shy and nervous in his presence. Yes, there was attraction, but nothing like this, but with Johnny, it is the exact opposite. His mere presence left you weak-kneed and breathless, yearning to surrender to the intoxicating pull between you. He awakens you. He makes you want to succumb to him, give into him.

Yes, you yearn to experience the warmth of love, to be cherished and valued in return. And perhaps, deep down, you crave these feelings from Johnny, who has shown himself to be both kind and breathtakingly amazing. The way he gazes at you speaks volumes about his feelings for you.

It's confusing, isn't it? Frightening even. Because all you've ever known about Love is that it breaks and burns and ends, yet here you are, falling for Johnny despite your fears. It's a terrifying feeling, but there's something about it that makes you want to continue. Makes you want to keep dreaming. But you're afraid to confess your feelings, terrified that you'll only end up hurting Johnny in the process. It's hard to find the words, to admit to yourself, let alone to him, that you're falling for him. But despite the uncertainty and the fear, there's an urge within you, a desire to reach out and claim him for your own. All you want is to grab his face, to feel his lips against yours, and to lose yourself in the sweetness of his embrace.

Hard.

And never let him go. You've been thinking about it, about you. And him. And since, you've been moving on, you've been trying to forget and forgive and embrace and accept. You have come to a conclusion that amidst all the chaos, Johnny was the only one there. And that you have hopelessly fallen in love with him.

~~~

Hey," he says, joining you on the balcony, "you're standing alone?"

"Hey jj," you reply, meeting his gaze.

"You call me 'jj' when you're happy," he remarks, puzzled because your tone isn't cheerful.

"I guess I'm happy, sort of. It's been a while, but it feels good," you admit, looking at him standing beside you. He smiles, his eyes filled with happiness. He's genuinely pleased for you.

"That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

"Nope, I'm having a pretty good time," you say, pulling the glass away from him. He noticed a whole bottle nearby on the floor. "I think you've had enough for the night, darling."

darling.

Even in the dim light, Johnny couldn't miss the blush spreading across your cheeks. He's skilled at noticing your reactions and knows how to tease you.

Trying to steer the conversation away from any awkwardness, you say, "So I was thinking..."

"About?" he interjects playfully, trying to provoke a response.

"Everything that's happened, you know, with my ex, and then with you," you begin, but he interrupts.

"Oh, nothing happened between us, as far as I can remember... unless..." he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarify.

"Okay, okay, just kidding. But I kinda wish you did mean it," he mutters under his breath, a smirk forming on his face.

You feel your thoughts becoming fuzzy as you both dance around the topic. Usually, your brain would shut down any such ideas, but tonight feels different. Instead of being repelled, you feel drawn to him, wanting something you've suppressed for so long.

Despite trying to hold back, you find yourself unable to think of anything else.

As the alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening your desires, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to ask him what has been in your mind for quite a long time, and so you ask "If I were to ask for a kiss, would you kiss me? Right here, right now?"

The intensity in his gaze heightens, his pupils dilating as his demeanor shifts, becoming more serious. "Ask me," he demands, his jaw clenched with anticipation. His eyes linger on your lips before locking onto yours, a silent plea echoing within them.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you turn away, feeling a rush of emotions flooding your senses. With a deep breath, you struggle to compose yourself, but before you can respond, he chuckles softly. "I knew you didn't have the nerve," he remarks, his tone teasing yet tinged with disappointment. Meeting his gaze once more, you're taken aback by his confidence. As he straightens himself and takes a sip of his drink, his words hang heavily in the air. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for you," he confesses, his voice low and filled with longing, "but if you were to ask me to fuck you right here, right now, I wouldn't even think once." With that declaration, practically deadpanned on your face, he goes inside the flat, leaving you to grapple with your miserable self.

~~~

The night after that seemed to stretch endlessly, a void you couldn't escape. Frustration and regret gnawed at your mind, You turned to more alcohol, a fleeting attempt to numb the pain within, but it only amplified the train of thoughts swirling in your head.

As you sat alone on the balcony, the chilly night air enveloped you, matching the coldness you felt inside. Time lost its meaning, slipping through your fingers as you drowned in a sea of overthinking. Every possible scenario played out in your mind like a relentless storm, each outcome more daunting than the last. What could have happened if you could have just said.

Johnny appears through the doorframe. His presence was unexpected, you thought he was mad yet oddly comforting, a reminder that you weren't completely alone in this chaotic night. "Will you spend the whole night here?" he asked, concern etched in his voice. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to fully grasp his words.

Refusing to retreat from your self-imposed exile, you remained rooted to the spot, the numbness spreading through your limbs. Yet Johnny persisted, his care evident as he gently coaxed you back inside. "It's cold. Come inside, everybody left already," he urged, worry evident in his eyes.

Too weary to resist, you allowed him to guide you indoors, his touch grounding you in reality. As he settled you into his bed, a wave of familiarity washed over you, a stark reminder of the times you'd been here before, always on the edge of leaving. You had been here countless times, yet never truly stayed. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to leave, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

As he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, you instinctively reached out, clinging to his shirt. "Kiss me," you implored, your gaze locking with his warm brown eyes, overflowing with affection.

His response came with a gentle sigh, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "You're drunk," he stated softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I am, but I can still make sense of it all," you insisted, determination shining through the haze of intoxication.

"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Johnny reassured, his face drawing closer to yours.

"Please," you exhaled, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I know I'm the worst person alive right now but I- I'm just afraid. Please understand. I want you, I do, but it's so scary."

"Shh, it's okay, I know," he murmured, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. "I know you're trying."

Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingled, each exhalation a testament to the vulnerability you shared in that moment. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of your guilt heavy on your heart.

"You don't have to be," he replied, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture of forgiveness. "Look at me."

As you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Relax, okay? I'm happy that you opened up about it."

"I'm sorry," you repeated, the words a mantra of remorse.He shook his head gently, his touch comforting. "Let's try sleeping now, shall we? Don't think about it." With his reassurance enveloping you like a warm blanket, you allowed yourself to drift into the embrace of sleep, for the first time with him.

As consciousness reluctantly seeped into your foggy mind, a wave of discomfort washed over you, fueled by the repercussions of last night's poor choices. The harsh glare of morning light pierced through your eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache behind your temples.

Attempting to remove yourself from the confines of the bed proved to be a tough task, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and your head swimming with dizziness. Searching for Johnny's presence beside you, you found only an empty space, adding to the disorientation.

Succumbing to defeat, you surrendered to the comfy embrace of the mattress, sinking into its softness as you lay there, gazing blankly at the ceiling above. Dehydration gnawed at your parched throat. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around you faded into a haze of half-formed thoughts and fleeting sensations. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan above served as a lullaby.

In the midst of this surreal feeling, fragments of memories from the night before flickered like distant stars in the night sky. Realization and what-ifs danced at the edges of your mind, their haunting presence a constant reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of possibility that perhaps, despite the mistakes of the past, redemption was still within reach. You clung to this fragile thread of optimism, a lifeline in the midst of the storm.

Minutes stretched into hours, the passage of time marked only by the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the curtains. And then, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps drew near, with a weary sigh, you opened your eyes to find Johnny standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, you nodded sleepily.

As you reluctantly stirred from your sleep, you felt the duvet being tugged away, prompting a sleepy protest. "Erugh, let me sleep," you mumbled, trying to shield yourself from the intruding light.

But his teasing remark about your state of dress snapped you awake, and you jolted up, "You're completely naked," only to realize you were already covered. He pointed out with a playful grin, causing you to blush and scramble for cover.

However, your movements triggered a sharp pain in your head, and you winced, instinctively reaching to soothe it. Before you could fully register the discomfort, another hand joined yours, gently stroking your head. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him sitting close, his concern evident in his gaze.

"Who told you to drink that much? You puked two times," he said softly, his tone filled with worry and care. Giving in to his touch, you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence amidst the pain.

"I... may have overdone it a bit," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for his concern. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage your head as you relaxed against him.

"It's okay. Just drink some water and take it easy," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. With a nod, you reached for the glass he held out to you

He's far too good for you. A voice at the back of your head screams at you.

"Johnny..." you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but you needed to speak your mind.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he listens intently. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his words.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I've been thinking about..." you trail off, unsure of how to articulate the right words.

Johnny reaches out, his hand placing a strand of hair behind your ear,offering silent support. "Go on," he encourages gently.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words heavy with regret. "I know this is complicated, and i am making it even more complicated but I just don't want to hurt you." You could barely manage to say even that.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trail through the loops of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His hum reverberates through you, a sensual melody that ignites a fire deep within. But then, in an instant, his demeanor shifts, catching you off guard.

His hand tightens around your hair, pulling your head back with a swift, yet gentle force. The sudden change in his touch sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses to the electrifying proximity between you.

Your eyes meet his, dark and intense, and you find yourself unable to look away. His breath, warm and fruity, fans over your face, stirring something primal within you. In that moment, you're acutely aware of every sensation, every heartbeat, as you surrender to the magnetic pull of desire that envelops you both.

"Can't you see what you do to me?"

Johnny..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to continue.

"I... I didn't mean..." you stutter, struggling to find the right words as his grip on your hair loosens.

He chuckles softly, his laughter dancing in the air, easing some of the tension between you. "I know, I know," he reassures you, his tone gentle yet teasing.

"But..." you start, only to be cut off by his next words.

"You talk a lot when you're drunk," he says with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns along your skin.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing he's right.

"What did I say?" you ask, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.

His gaze softens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "That you tend to get... aroused whenever I say your name," he says, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head in denial, but deep down, you know he's right.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending tingles of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Johnny..." you breathe out his name, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in your mind as he hovers above you, his presence consuming your senses.

"Say it," he urges, his voice low and demanding, sending a thrill through your body.

"Johnny, listen to m—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a firm command.

"Say it!" he insists, his intensity leaving no room for argument.

"I want you, for fuck's sake, I want you," you finally admit, your voice tinged with both desire and vulnerability.

Closing your eyes, you release the grip you've been holding onto, allowing yourself to surrender to the overwhelming attraction between you.

You lay back, flattening against the bed, pushing your hair away from your face to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes, dark and intense, never waver from yours, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

"I want you, in every way possible, and it's no secret. I'm just afraid," you confess in a small voice, baring your soul to him.

Johnny's smile is reassuring, his touch gentle as he lays on top of you, ensuring he doesn't overwhelm you with his weight. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "You'll love me just fine."

In that moment, as you lay entwined with him, all your fears melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. You know that no matter what lies ahead, you're ready to explore this newfound connection with him by your side.

As Johnny hovers above you, his gaze dark with desire, you feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips brush against yours in a teasing caress, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between you.

"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as he trails kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with an expert touch that leaves you trembling with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck as he takes you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

With each touch, each caress, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by an electric current of desire that pulses through your veins. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

You arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he explores every inch of your skin with a delicate touch that sets your senses ablaze. His fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your lips collided with his in a heated embrace, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through both of your bodies. Crashing into each other, feelings of desire over powering you both. In that moment you knew, it was gonna be a hell of a ride and you couldn't be any more excited than you are right now.

After the kiss, you both laid side by side, "By the way you didn't really say any of that." Johnny gently whispers in your ear, and you both end up laughing, cuddling.

~~~

You like it?" Johnny asks, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he watches you take a lick of the ice cream. You nod enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across your face like a child on Christmas morning. His smile widens in response, a soft glow of happiness emanating from him. It's moments like these that make everything feel so right.

Since that unforgettable day when you poured your heart out to him, your life has been like a dream come true. Flowers, date nights, chocolates – you name it, he's made sure to fill your days with joy and love. From cozy movie nights to endless cuddles, it's like you've found the missing piece to your puzzle.

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Like any couple, you have your disagreements. Yet, what sets you apart is the unwavering understanding and support you both offer each other. Johnny never lets you go to bed upset, always there with reassurance and kisses to mend any hurt feelings.

He constantly reminds you that you're doing just fine, and it's true. It's not just about healing from past wounds; it's about the beautiful exchange of giving and receiving love. It's about reciprocating the care and affection you both share, knowing that the more you give, the more you receive.

In a world where it's easy to become complacent, you both choose to love each other every single day. And that, in itself, is the greatest gift of all.

You plead with puppy dog eyes, urging him to let you indulge in more ice cream because, well, why not? 'Pleeease let me have another scoop!' you whine, the anticipation of the creamy goodness making your mouth water. But alas, he declines with a chuckle, warning, 'No way! You'll catch a cold!' You pout, but secretly admire his concern."

Disappointed but not defeated, you pout and playfully stick out your bottom lip, giving Johnny your best puppy-dog eyes. "But Johnny," you protest, "I promise I'll bundle up extra warm tonight! Pretty please?"

Johnny can't help but laugh at your antics, finding your determination to get that extra scoop of ice cream utterly endearing. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and gently takes your hand in his. "As much as I love seeing that adorable pout of yours, I can't risk you getting sick, [Reader]. How about we save the ice cream for tomorrow, hmm?"

You sigh dramatically, but a mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "Fine," you concede, "but only if you promise to share a warm blanket and snuggle with me tonight."

A grin spreads across Johnny's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Deal," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you, my love."

As you both leave the ice cream parlor, the cool evening air wraps around you, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of your intertwined hands. As you both step into the cozy cafe, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, bringing back memories of the first time you met. Johnny's hand tightens around yours, his touch sending a thrill through you that's impossible to ignore.

You find a secluded booth in the corner, and as you settle in, Johnny's eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation sparking between you. "You know," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "this place holds a lot of memories for us."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It feels like just yesterday that we were sitting here, nervously sipping our coffees," you reply, your voice filled with affection.

Johnny leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But this time," he whispers, "we don't have to be nervous." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you meet his gaze with a newfound sense of boldness. "No, this time," you say, your voice steady and sure, "we can just be us."

With a gentle touch, Johnny cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, the world around you fading away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. It's a dance of tongues and teeth, of whispered words and soft sighs, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.

As you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Johnny's eyes meet yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. "I never want to stop kissing you," he confesses, his voice thick with desire.

A smile tugs at your lips as you lean in to press another kiss to his, the promise of countless more moments like this hanging in the air between you.

~~~

As you sit at your desk, textbooks spread out before you and notes scattered across the surface, you're fully immersed in your study session. The material is dense, and you're determined to grasp every concept before the upcoming exam.

Just as you're deep in concentration, Johnny enters the room with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buried in your books. Without a word, he crosses the room and leans against your desk, his presence a distraction you can't ignore.

"Hey there, studious one," he says, his voice low and playful. "Need a break?"

You look up from your books, torn between the desire to keep studying and the temptation of Johnny's irresistible charm. "I really should finish this chapter," you reply, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your stomach at his proximity.

But Johnny has other plans. With a swift movement, he slides your textbooks aside and pulls you to your feet, his hands finding their way to your waist as he draws you close. "I think you've earned a reward for all that hard work," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Before you can protest, Johnny's mouth descends on yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving deeper, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. Lost in the heat of the moment, you abandon all thoughts of studying as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you and the intoxicating rush of desire.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, until finally, you break apart, breathless and flushed, the taste of Johnny still lingering on your lips. "Now that's what I call a study break," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but laugh, the tension of the study session now a distant memory as you bask in the warmth of Johnny's love and the thrill of his touch.

~~~

As you made your way back from college, the skies darkened, and before you knew it, a heavy downpour unleashed its fury upon you. The rain hammered down relentlessly, soaking you up and down. Despite the continuous ringing of your phone from within your backpack, the rain made it impossible to retrieve. With no umbrella in hand, you quickened your pace towards the bus stop, only to witness the last bus pulling away just as you rounded the corner. Desperation set in as you attempted to sprint after it, but the distance between you and the departing vehicle only widened. Defeated, you exhaled heavily, feeling the chill of the rain seeping into your bones. Seeking refuge at the bus stop, you huddled under its shelter, which wasn't helping much.

As you stood there, shivering and dripping, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. The relentless rain seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. With each passing moment, your mind raced with thoughts of your worried boyfriend waiting at home, unaware of your predicament.

As you glanced down at your phone, the screen illuminated with missed calls and frantic messages from him. Frustration bubbled within you, knowing that you were only adding to his worry by being stranded in the storm. You tried to call him back, but the signal was weak, and the connection kept cutting out. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited for the next bus, the minutes ticking by like hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus appeared on the horizon, its headlights piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. With a sigh of relief, you boarded the bus, grateful for the warmth and safety it offered. And soon you were standing in front of his appointment door.

As the bus finally pulled up to a stop, you hurriedly disembarked, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. You practically sprinted the rest of the way home, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally, you arrived at the doorstep of your apartment, soaked and shivering. With trembling hands, you fumbled for your keys, desperate to be inside the safety of your home. But before you could even insert the key into the lock, the door swung open, revealing a worried and furious Johnny.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with anger and concern. "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I-I'm so sorry, Johnny," you stammered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. "I got caught in the storm, and I missed the bus, and...and I couldn't get through to you. I'm so sorry."

Johnny's expression softened as he took in your trembling form, his anger melting away in an instant. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm just glad you're safe," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I was so worried about you. Let's get you inside and warm you up, okay?"

You nod, feeling the weight of your backpack against the wall as you follow Johnny into the bedroom. With a quick movement, you pull your hair up, hoping to keep it from sticking to your clothes. Sensing his hands on your torso, you inhale sharply as they glide around to the front, undoing the button of your jeans. Anticipation mounts as he pulls them down, and then he sits, planting kisses on your damp thigh, eliciting a dissatisfied moan from you.

In a swift motion, your undies join the jeans on the floor. "Nice butt," he remarks, drawing a rhetorical look from you. Stepping closer, he removes the t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin, and with it, your bra disappears too. "Beautiful as always," he murmurs, enveloping you in a warm towel and pulling you close, his lips finding your neck, leaving their mark.

"Johnny," you sigh as his hands slip under the towel, teasingly moving between your legs, knowing just where to stop, leaving you breathless. "I'll be right back, change into dry clothes, okay?" he says, his voice a tantalizing promise hanging in the air.

He returned with a steaming mug of tea, fragrant steam curling upwards in the air. He handed it to you with a tender smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your chilled fingers.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his voice soothing.. "It'll help warm you up."

"I only need you to warm me up."

"Come here then." He motions you to sit with him in the bed he made, warm and cozy. As you lay there in Johnny's arms, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Johnny," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry for worrying you. I never meant to cause you so much distress."

Johnny's arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered back, his voice filled with reassurance. "I was just so scared when I couldn't reach you. All I could think about was making sure you were safe."

You buried your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on," you vowed, your words muffled against his skin. "I never want to put you through that kind of worry again."

Johnny tilted your chin up gently, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. "I know you will," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Johnny's fingers danced along the buttons of your blouse, a spark of desire ignited between you, fueling the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

"How about we finish what we started earlier?"

Your heart raced at his words, the anticipation building with every breath. With a smile, you nodded in agreement, your own desire mirrored in your eyes as you leaned in to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

The heat between you intensified quickly, passion igniting like a wildfire as your bodies melded together in a tangle of desire. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues danced in a feverish rhythm, and hands roamed eagerly, seeking out every inch of skin they could find.

With a swift movement, you straddled Johnny, taking control of the moment as you traced a path of kisses down his neck, relishing in the soft gasps and low growls that escaped his lips. As his shirt fell away, revealing his beautifully toned body beneath, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

Too shy to say anything, you let your actions speak for you. Lingering on his nipples, you teased and tantalized, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Johnny's lips. With each flick of your tongue and gentle nip of your teeth, the tension between you grew, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of desire.

But you weren't done yet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued your exploration, trailing kisses and caresses down Johnny's torso until you reached the waistband of his jeans. With practiced hands, you teased and toyed with him through the fabric, making him harder with every stroke, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath your touch.

As his pleasured groans filled the air, you couldn't resist escalating your actions, eagerly sliding his pants down while he sat up, fixated on your every move. Locking eyes with him, you took him into your mouth, teasingly tracing the tip with your tongue, prompting a soft curse from his lips. Pulling back, you continued to lavish attention on him, savoring every moment as you licked his length, stealing glances up at him. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod.

Returning to him, you gradually took more of him into your mouth, relishing in the way his hands urged you on, guiding you further down. He pulled you up for a heated kiss, expressing his desire to explore your taste. As his lips trailed down your neck, he urged you to sit on his face, igniting nerves and excitement within you. With his encouragement, you straddled his eager mouth, blushing at his sweet words as his lips planted kisses on your thighs.

Feeling his hands on your hips, he drew you closer, his tongue eagerly finding your clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. As his hands explored your body, adding to your arousal, you couldn't help but cry out in bliss as he skillfully pleasured you,

As your pleasure surged, you couldn't contain your cries, feeling the intensity of his actions. "Oh, fuck," escaped your lips as he intensified his efforts, his mouth and tongue working fervently on your clit. His suction grew stronger, his tongue moving with increasing speed, drawing out guttural moans from you. "Oh my god," you exclaimed as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, "fuck," you moaned as he persisted in his ministrations.

His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, he delved deeper into your core, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Oh god, don't stop," you gasped, your breath ragged as you requested his fingers. With a calm demeanor, he complied, easing his fingers into you, eliciting a blissful moan from your lips. As he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving rhythmically inside you, your cries of ecstasy filled the room.

"Oh my god," you moaned aloud as he momentarily paused, only to reposition himself behind you. Bending you slightly, he inserted two fingers, drawing out a soft, pleasurable moan from you. With relentless determination, he showed no mercy, driving you towards another peak of pleasure. The sound of slick noises filled the air as his fingers worked expertly within you, pushing your head gently into the headboard to ensure your stability as you surrendered to his touch.

As his hand pressed you down onto his fingers, a fervent moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming you. "Oh my god," you cried out as he intensified his movements, driving you wild with desire. With increasing speed and force, his fingers plunged into you, eliciting a chorus of ecstatic moans from your lips.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, his command clear. "Turn around," he instructed, guiding you gently as you complied, meeting his intense gaze. Enveloped in his embrace, you shared a deep, passionate kiss, his desire evident in his words as he broke the connection. "I want to fuck you," he declared, and you eagerly nodded in agreement, urgency coursing through your veins.

Pushed onto the bed, your legs spread wide, you watched as he knelt between them, his eyes fixated on your dripping arousal. His finger traced circles on your swollen clit, then slipped inside you, claiming you as his own. "Mine," he whispered, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you nodded in submission, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours," you affirmed, anticipation building in the air.

With a hungry look, he licked his lips before slowly entering you with his cock, causing you to gasp in ecstasy. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he began to move within you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the brink of pleasure.

As he increased the pace, driving into you with fervent desire, your cries of ecstasy filled the room. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he relentlessly fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his declaration of love mingling with the sounds of your pleasure. "I love you," he murmured against your lips, his words igniting a fire within you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reciprocated his declaration, your voice filled with desire. "I love you too," you confessed as he continued to ravish you with his relentless thrusts. With a swift motion, he withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach. "Get on all fours," he commanded, assisting you into position.

Meeting his gaze over your shoulder, you were met with a declaration of your beauty, sending shivers down your spine. As he entered you from behind, a rush of anticipation flooded your senses. His movements became more intense, driving into you harder and faster, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. "Oh my god," you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Feeling his hand reach around to play with your clit, a surge of pleasure washed over you, intensifying the pleasure building within. "Oh my god," you moaned again, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body aching for release.

As he took control, holding both your hands behind your back, you surrendered to him completely. Your petite frame under his dominance, your face buried into the sheets muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. Sensing his impending release, you knew you were on the brink of ecstasy.

With a few final, deep thrusts, you both succumbed to the ecstasy, waves of pleasure washing over you in a euphoric crescendo. As he pulled out, licking you clean, you whimpered from the overstimulation, your body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

a sense of blissful exhaustion washed over you both. Lying tangled together under the sheet, hearts racing and skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. As you caught your breath, he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulders, his touch gentle and tender. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration as he caressed your cheek. You smiled up at him. In his arms, you feel safe and cherished, the weight of the world melting away as sleep begins to claim you. Drifting off with the rhythmic beat of his heart as your lullaby, you rest easy knowing that you are safe. And you finally know, what love actually feels like

~~~

hope you liked it. umh? idk tried, if you want to request anything, please do. (it'll take forever but ill respond)

please check out other works m.list

and enjoy, have a good day, night~

[makethatelevenrings]

Bff!reader finally tell her growing *more than friends* feeling to Jason for Valentine's day please! (Hope my prompt get pick up)

I feel like a love confession with Jason would come on the heels of a fight

You're chewing him out for being a self-sacrificial idiot as he's being all "why do you care so much" and you whip around and snarl out "because I cannot bury the love of my life. I won't survive it."

Silence.

You turn away, both to hide your shame and your tears. You cannot believe you just blurted that out. Jason and you had been friends for years.

He had been there for your shitty exes and you were there for his daddy issues. He had seen you in a clay mask with a glass of apple juice in your hand after a bad day and you had kept his eyes on you as you held his hand as Leslie stitched him up. He was your best fucking friend and you just ruined everything.

"What did you say?" His voice is calm. Careful. Quiet.

"Forget it." You laugh. You laugh because you can't think of any other emotion you're supposed to have at this moment other than pure, unadulterated fear. You just ruined the one good relationship going for you. You just ended your friendship because you couldn't keep your stupid fucking mouth shut.

"No, I won't forget it." You can feel him press up behind you. The scent of gunpowder, grease, and cinnamon invades your nose but you can't. You can't look at him. You can't turn around.

"I love you, Jason Peter Todd." You say his full name with such sorrow and such depth that you feel as though you're free falling from a skyscraper, your outstretched hand grasping for one of their infamous grappling hooks.

"I love the way you dog ear your pages and highlight your favorite quotes. I love how you cook pozole when you're sad because it reminds you of good times. I love how you hum show tunes when you clean and I love how you bring a newspaper to the neighbor at 2B every morning." A hiccupping sob escapes you. "I love how you refuse to be cruel no matter how much the world has hurt you. I love how you see the good in people who don't see that in themselves and I love that you protect those who can't protect themselves and I love you. I have always loved you and I'm terrified that I always will love you. Because someday, maybe today, you're going to leave me, Jason Todd and I don't know if I can handle that so please, if you're going to break my heart, do it now. Walk out before I can embarrass myself anym-"

He cups your cheek and brings your lips up to meet his. He tastes like the strawberries you had cut up earlier to add to your pancakes and he had stolen a few pieces. You savor the lingering sweetness as you turn in his hold so your chest presses against his. Jason's other hand settles on your waist and he keeps you close, impossibly close.

"I'm not going anywhere that you can't follow," he whispers once you pull away. Foreheads pressed together, he presses a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose. "I swear to you."

He can't bring himself to say those three words. He's heard it be repeated too many times followed by empty promises and backstabbings, but you know by the tender way he holds you that night, he feels it too.

[k-dokja]

summary: it's never quiet in the vanrouge's household... wait, what is that you're hearing from the kitchen?

if you're green in the face, then it has nothing to do with the recent trend where makeup with "nature" palettes had gone viral. this far in the briar valley, you are far from the influence of the ever-moving society. while the isolation provides you with some uncertain peace, never have you ever missed the convenience of food delivery this much.

at least, that won't poison you.

"what's wrong, love? dig in!" lilia wipes his hand on a towel, red smeared over his clothes and the fabric he holds. you know it's not blood, you would've smelled blood.

it was the tomato sauce he was making only a moment ago. this has resulted in a dish that reminds you more of your boiling poisonous cauldron than the casserole he promised to make.

vaguely, you feel ill.

you glance at lilia, your expression is stuck between mortification and straight-up fear. you had always done your best to side-step lilia's cooking whenever possible. dear as he is to your heart, you refuse to experience his cooking again.

not even digesting it, even smelling his creations can leave one ill and irrevocably ailed. you know your son shares that sentiment. otherwise, he wouldn't hide behind your chair, unable to stop his shuddering.

your five-year-old can do nothing for you, now. you have to brave the cooking of your husband. alone.

"you must've been so exhausted, love," lilia wears his brightest smile when he sits down on the chair next to yours. "i wanted to treat you something, you've been working so hard at the court, after all.

he props his face on the palm of his hands. his excitement would've been infectious had it not been for the sheer grotesque in front of you. the nausea is drying your throat.

"yes... in fact, i believe i should retire for the night for my fatigue has deprived me of any appetite."

and then, your stomach growls.

fuck. traitorous thing. it dares to oppose you when everything in your body screams at it to stop. had you not needed it to survive you would've ripped it out and cursed it a thousand sufferings. well, at least, you're going down together. you can find some comfort in that.

lilia narrows his eyes even if the smile stays on his lips. "love, you should eat before you fall asleep, it's unwise to sleep on an empty stomach."

it's more unwise to sleep on food poisoning, but you digress. the strained cheer on your face is what is left of your will and strength to fight with him about this. truly, lilia has you cornered with no way out. "aha, a little shouldn't hurt then..."

you try to convince yourself, but none of those words sticks. after so many of those false lies you have fed your mind in your years of marriage, you've never succumbed to believing that his cooking can change.

with much struggle, you pick up your silver spoon. and if your hand shakes the whole time, lilia doesn't pay attention to notice.

lilia's smile brightens with your compliance. he turns to his next victim, your adorable son who has not gone out of his hiding spot. "silver, come out and sit with your mama, the food is getting cold."

after your tumultuous struggle to stick the spoon into the casserole slash unimaginable horror, your son finally speaks up.

"...no."

"come now, silver, your mama has travelled long and far," lilia chimes, "didn't you say you miss your mama every day?"

you raise the spoon, then lower it, then raise the spoon, then lower it again. lilia fails to notice your hesitation in his focus on silver. eventually, the food on your spoon drops back on the dish and makes weird bubbling noises.

this will be your end, you know it. your expertise in hex and curses know it. lilia is your final doom.

you're distracted from the hardest trial of your life only because of your son coming out from where he's hiding. but instead of clambering on his seat as he often does, he goes to lift up the train of your dress and scuttle underneath.

if you are not fighting for your life now, you'd find him immensely adorable. but unfortunately, fear for your own unexpected mortality is more important than the cuteness of your son.

finally, when lilia turns back to you, all smile and cheer, you have no choice but to shove the food into your mouth. to say it's torture would not be an overstatement, you have experienced few agonies greater than eating anything lilia cooks.

who would've known love can be so painful?

you try to swallow it quickly to avoid the taste, but the slimy and convoluted texture and the overwhelming scent which remind you of fermented horse's milk stewed overnight with expired beef. just before it gets swallowed down to your throat, you feel something in your mouth move. but by then, it's already too late.

goodbye sweetworld.

"oh, i almost forgot, i also made this new recipe of tomato juice that i learned online," lilia pushes up in his seat, "let me go get it, you'll love it with this."

as lilia walks away, you feel your soul moving from your body. apparently, even silver can sense that something is wrong from down there because he begins to crawl out from under your dress. it must be how your legs shake. "mama...?" he inquires with his worried eyes when he looks at you. "are you okay?"

"my... little love," you hoarse, your shaking hand reaching out to settle on his head. you can see the light escaping you.

the light! the light! it's fading, you won't have much left. "you need to... look after... your father... once i'm... gone," you utter out those final words, worried about the limited time, "make sure... he never... cooks again..."

and with what strength you retained, you throw your body to the other side, unwilling to collapse face first into that atrocity lilia called food. if you were foaming at the mouth before you passed out, you cannot tell because everything that comes next is blackness.

"mama!"

maybe sweet death won't impose this unfortunate fate on you in the afterlife.

silver immediately runs to his mama's unconscious body, teetering on the verge of tears. foam begins to gather at the corner of her mouth while her eyes turn completely blank, he doesn't need to know much to understand that something is wrong.

he glances up at the dish on the table which his mama previously consumed. ingrained fear borns from past experience scream at him to stay away from that indescribable destruction.

"oh dear."

"papa!"

lilia's muted return almost knocks the soul out of silver, but he tries to stay brave for his mama even if his entire body is quaking with fear.

the corners of silver's eyes burn when he looks up at his father, his distress is clear on his face. "papa! mama is..." whatever goes through silver's mind is immediately interrupted by the sight of lilia's new acquisition. his urge to cry meets a sudden halt.

in his hand is a glass of what his papa called tomato juice, but it oddly reminds silver of those bottles his mama put on the high shelves in her study.

condensed texture which moves and shifts. almost alive. little bubbles of air shimmer at the top, and each pop makes silver faintly hear a distant scream. his mama has always warned him away from them, something about extreme danger and eternal suffering for mortal creatures and words far beyond his current vocabulary.

he cannot comprehend the full of threat in front of him, but he knows he shouldn't go well near it.

"your mother must've been more exhausted than i thought," lilia sighs, "i should've let her rest instead, oh well."

"will mama be okay, papa?'

lilia only shrugs, "your mama will be fine, she's made of tougher stuff than this," then comes a pause, lilia briefly gives his wife a once-over before nodding with satisfaction, "yes, I've seen her survived worse fatigue than this before, your mama'll recover once she gets some sleep. just let me finish this before taking her back to bed."

while silver gives his mama an unconvinced glance, his papa lifts the glass up to his lips and drains the ghastly juice. the horrid howl it makes when the liquid goes down lilia's throat pulls silver back to focus. what terrifies silver further is how he remains animated after that experience.

lilia licks his lips, "ah, i did great with this, the taste is wonderful," with a grin of satisfaction on his face, he adds, "i better save some of these for your mama tomorrow, she'd love to have them."

briefly, silver thinks of opposing that for his mama's sake, but he fears it won't stick. not that there would be a chance, after his papa sets the glass down on the dining table, lilia scoops his wife up from the ground with practised ease. not even her long dress hinders his movement, it would've been awe-inspiring had it not for his previous consumption of horror in liquid form.

"come with papa, silver," lilia hums, "let's put your mama to bed."

silver gets up on his feet from where he sits by his mama's side a moment ago. while he's worried for his mama, his papa has been seldom wrong about her. he'd trust him this time, even if silver doesn't know what he can believe.

as he follows his papa out of the room, silver stops to stare back at the dining table out of a sudden compulsion. his eyes settle on the food left behind on the table.

and then, reb gobs on the table move.

never in his short life has silver ever run so fast. this time, whatever stopped his tears from earlier vanishes, and his sobs come out in full force. "papa!!!"

[noctallawriteheartecanwrite]

Deer Caught in my Headlights Prologue Complete

Della’s Memory April 13th, 11:35 AM

I was beyond excited, despite waking up late and nearly missing my free ride to school. How Schummer managed to party every night and still wake up before me was a mystery but I was in too good of a mood to let it get to me. She kept trying to ask me how things went with Rey, and I refused to tell her. I had to talk to him today. It was the only thing on my mind during classes, all the way until lunch. Except…

“Where is he?” I had been staring at the cafeteria entrance for over fifteen minutes, still no Rey. Alana and her friends had walked in already, even she seemed to be casting a glance or two towards the doors. What happened?

“Della, are you sure he actually agreed to be your friend? I mean you basically professed your love to him.” Aeden was still skeptical after I told him everything that happened though I should have mentioned my hallucinations had also vanished when we talked. I was on cloud 9 though and I did not want to bother him further with my medical bullshit.

“Yes, Aeden I realize that but he did say-” I stopped talking as I watched the cafeteria doors open and Rey walked in wearing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail with wavy side bangs, he seemed to be looking for Alana, and thanks to those glasses it was probably ten times as harder.

“I’m going to talk to him now.”

“What?” Before Aeden could say another word I got up and hurried over to the entrance, Rey was still looking around for Alana and it seemed the mute hadn’t noticed her friend yet. So it was just me approaching the tall pale punk rocker.

“Rey!” He looked at me, and I was unable to read how he felt because of those stupid glasses, yet his mouth curved into a frown before he tilted his head.

“Do I know you?” Those words hit me like a dumpster truck. My heart stopped but I refused to be disappointed. Not when I had been given one of the best nights of my life last night and he was there and he promised to be-

“Yeah! We talked last night remember? We went to your room-” He cut me off with a sound of understanding before speaking.

“Oh! Are you the guy I fucked instead of Nino? Yeah, you see if you think us having sex makes us a thing-” How did he get that from what I said?!

“No no no! I don’t think that-” He cut me off again before I could finish.

“Good. Because I don’t like clingy one night stands. Don’t act like a niño llorón. Act like an adult. If that’s all you wanted, I have to find my sister.” My heart hurt, I felt tears prick at my eyes as I bit my lip and nodded my head.

“Yeah… sorry for bothering you…”

“At least you still have manners, niño.” He pat my head laughing before heading off to find Alana. I didn’t move, if I turned around I’d see Aeden and his look of pity. Maybe even Schummer with her friends with that same look.

“Sure, I mean… I could use another real friend besides Alana.” I wanted to puke so bad. I left the cafeteria and ran for the restroom, finding the first empty stall and dry heaving into it. I tried to ignore the dripping noise that sounded so loud. The way the stall walls blurred in color. I couldn’t go there again. I refused to. I took a deep breath closing my eyes and focusing on the room around me. Replicating it and recreating it in my head. No dripping, no tar, no padded walls. Blue stalls, urinals, and a rickety barely locking door.

When I opened my eyes again, I was still staring at a blurry toilet. Blurry through my tears, as I tried hard to wipe them away. My stomach was doing flips making me feel as if I’d vomit all over again.. I took off my glasses as tears fell down my face. Why did I believe him? Was I such a lovesick idiot, that I let him play with my feelings like that? The worst part? I still loved him. Even now as I replayed that scene in my head I could only focus on how hard he must’ve worked to do his hair or how long it took him to take off the makeup he wore last night. His voice wasn’t even hoarse and he had drank his weight in alcohol-

I paused and ran that last thought through my head again. He drank… a lot last night. Did he black out? Now that I really thought about it, he never once called me Schummer’s brother, just her cousin even though I called her my sister. Plus he had a headache… Oh my god, he blacked out. I wiped at my eyes before putting my glasses back on with a deep breath. Knowing what happened wouldn’t fix things though. He wouldn’t suddenly remember asking to kiss me last night. I wasn’t going to force him to either. I just… would keep pining. Like I’ve been doing since I heard him laugh for the first time.

And that’s what I did, all through the rest of the month up until my sister’s graduation. Rey’s name came up first before Schummer, he had all his piercings taken out and even his hair was flattened instead of its normal curves and waves. The red streaks in his hair had been covered with bleach and new hair dye. I took more pictures of Rey walking the stage than I did of my sister. It was fine though. Because I’d never see him again after this… At least that’s what I thought.

[spilling-s]

I can still smell the khaki shorts you hadn’t washed for weeks

the sweat stains you left on the mattress

those gray sheets covered in pheromones and sex

Tears of sadness and heart ache

that stupid apartment

I hate what you did to me

I hate what I let you turn me in too

I hated that apartment and how unclean and filthy you were

why did it smell like that

why did I try so hard to keep you alive

why did you cause me so much pain and heartache

why did you make me cry like that

and how were you so quick to get over everything

especially with me staring at you in your face

sleeping right next to you

spreading my legs

just to relieve myself and make you happy

You made me feel so safe and heard at first

You made it your goal to make me smile and feel better

you took care of me and gave me hugs and kissed me when I was sad

you made sure I was okay

I hate the way we ended

I hate that I couldn’t grow with you

I wish you were a better person

someone with ambition and back bone

stamina and strength to stand on their two feet

I hate that we turned on each other

that we became enemies after our last encounter

you’re a sick pervert and I hope your future girlfriends find all the nudes you have hidden on your phone if your past girlfriends

I can’t believe I found comfort in those arms

I hate that you still haunt my dreams when I sleep

and every single time it’s you taking advantage of me

I loved you so much and I almost gave you everything

myself, my future, my ambition

I’m so happy I listened to my inner self and took a step back

I think once I realized I was polyamorous that’s when we started having serious problems

especially after I tried telling you I was non-binary

and we had a whole never ending loop conversation about the n word

and you became lazy

If I ever see you again

I hope I slap the shit out of you

You’re so closed minded about things you don’t understand

and refuse to gain knowledge and hear outside opinions

stubborn white man

no that’s too nice

I’ll think of something better

I hope you rot and your feelings eat away at you like it did for me this past summer

I hope it feels like something is gnawing at your stomach and you start to cry

I wish you nothing but the worst

Just a deadbeat piece of shit that uses others until they’re on empty

Casting them aside like their a piece of trash

I thought you understood

and could keep your promise

Most of that part of my life has been blacked out

and I’m still healing from you

I can’t get you out of my skin

and I still cry when I think of you

I really can’t stand you

fuck you

[headofocs-inklesspen]

I genuinely miss living alone. For 2 1/2 months last year it was just me and the hedgehog and for the first time in my life, I actually felt like I had my own place in the universe.

But because it was more economically logical and because they were essentially homeless with an infant at the time, my current roommate moved in and it just……

It takes a lot of effort to not be really really judgey some days. And not in a “this harmless little trait annoys me way” but a “hey so you keep making these claims about wanting better and to be better and not become your parents or fuck up your kid but you refuse to change or even admit the patterns of behavior that are actively detrimental to that.”

I can’t stand “messiness” in shared spaces, it genuinely impacts my mood. Things have to have homes and they need to be in those homes when not in use. Baby toys go in the bin or in his play area, hedgehog supplies go in the cabinets under her home, dirty cups do not go on the bookshelves in the living room, etc. I have trauma surrounding literally being kept up until 2 in the morning on a school night frantically cleaning over and over as my step-father screams at us for it “not being good enough”. I also take issue with empty apologies and promises. If you don’t mean it, then don’t bother saying it. If you’re not actually sorry or don’t actually plan on trying to change the problem behavior then your words are meaningless.

We’ve had multiple conversations around the clutter of the living room and kitchen and how it is, most heavily, theirs. The biggest one was in August after they had left for a family trip for a week. While they and the child were gone I deep cleaned the apartment in an entire day. Everything, the cabinets the floors, I rearranged furniture in the main room, bought new storage for art supplies, all of it. It took me some 8 odd hours to do it, partially because I can really only do so much like that before my body demands to sit down or I can’t breathe. For a week the entire apartment baring their room was clean and I was fully comfortable. It took all of two days after their return to destroy it. And they admitted that they noticed how, the more clutter and mess they dragged into the living area the more my mood dropped until I nearly hit a depressive episode because there was so much mess and I just felt hopeless trying to deal with it.

I full on told them afterward, I cannot live in a place like this. I cannot live with clutter and crap and constant stuff we have no place for being dragged in. We have to maintain the house, especially the shared spaces.

I wrote out a shared chore list of everything to be done daily, weekly, monthly, and quarterly/as necessary. They looked at it once. I continued to do 80-90% of the work.

And I can’t bring myself to kick them out because they have no savings, they’re constantly sending and complaining to me about being completely broke, and their parents house is a literal health code violation due in part to 20+ years of untreated hoarding. I refuse to be the reason a 1y/o would have to live in that/spend any more time there than he already does.

But I’m also sick and tired of hearing constant complaints of not wanting to be their mother/inherit their mother’s hoarding habits and general poor living conditions/inability to maintain a clean and livable space while also watching them just open another trash bag and set it on the floor next to the bin instead of taking the full trash outside and bring 2-5 bags of stuff we do not need and do not have space for home every week.

And part of why it bothers me is because I get almost physically ill at the thought of someone coming in and seeing all of the crap and clutter and dishes and food left laying around from them when I don’t have the energy to work all day and then come home and pick up after another fully grown adult. And I’ve told them that, it’s my biggest “please for the love of whatever you believe in do not because it reflects not just on how they view you but how they view me”. But I’ve still come home to find the communal spaces a wreck and a complete stranger on my couch. They once told me “people live here, it’s never going to be showroom spotless” when I said “hey, it does bother me that despite knowing 1) you’d invited someone over and 2) people seeing the apartment like this makes me viscerally ill and upset, you still didn’t bother to pick anything up or even try to clean the area.”

[riddledem0n]

Oh eddie munson and Stu macher he did you so dirty I'm so sorry (break up vent in tags beware)

[manjiroscum]

HOMEWRECKER

Character/s: Bonten

Warnings: f!reader, sexual themes, mature language, heavy cheating/infidelity, unprotected sex, breeding kink (mikey's part), exhibitionism (ran's part), public sex (haruchiyo’s part), just bonten (not including mochi and takeomi) being homewreckers, and hints of angst. Minors do not interact.

S. MANJIRO

SLY AND SECRETIVE. Manjiro Sano was a force to reckon with. A man of few words, but when he wanted something—he will have it. Which why you ended up here, sitting on his lap, bored out of your mind but the promise of him fucking you after the meeting was enough to make you stay. Your husband blissfully unaware his wife has been snatched up by a dangerous criminal. Poor man, whom you’ve been married to for merely three years, was far too deep in his office work to know you’ve been warming up someone else's bed. Thinking your best friend was keeping you from the house to fight your boredom while you were in Manjiro’s bed, screaming and creaming around his cock.

Being Bonten’s leader, he never left a single trace behind after pounding your tight pussy at every single spot in the house your husband bought. Not even the fertile cum he kept stuffing your warm walls with, making sure you either swallowed or a single drop wasn’t wasted. Those onyx irises glinting up at your window, waiting outside in silence every morning for your husband to leave. And even when he was heading out, finished with his daily goal of cumming hard inside you, sometimes those empty eyes would shine a little whenever he crossed paths with your husband on his way home to his unfaithful wife who might be pregnant with Manjiro’s child.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ mind, baby. He’ll never find out about us. And if he does... how unfortunate.”

S. HARUCHIYO

UNBOTHERED AND PROUD. If there was anything Haruchiyo desires to witness, it would be the look on your husband’s face upon knowing you were no longer the innocent little wife he married. Of course, he wasn't the only one to be blamed for this blasphemous relationship. You wanted it in the first place, whining how your stupid husband couldn't fulfill your needs. And really, why do you still insist on staying with the man when you could have Haruchiyo, right? But of course, Haruchiyo loves the thrill of getting caught. Taking every chance he could get to fuck you outdoors where anyone could see, sneaking into your house and railing you against the wall while your husband was in the shower. The latest endeavor being you bent over your husband’s car in the underground parking lot while he was out getting groceries.

Yes, Haruchiyo Sanzu was violent in his ways of torture, but he still had a heart. He didn’t like to hear you sobbing about how you wanted to end the marriage, and hoping to marry Haruchiyo someday. So, Haruchiyo did what he does best—being loud as he fucked you in the living room couch, waiting for your husband to get home and bare witness to your pussy folds splitting apart for another man’s cock.

“This slut of a pussy is mine. And if it isn’t, no one else can have it. Am I right, babe?”

KAKUCHO

IN DENIAL BUT WILLING. Kakucho first refused to believe he was the other man. He didn't mean to ruin your marriage and the trust your husband had for you, but really... Could Kakucho even stay away after he had a taste of nirvana? It wasn't his fault, he tried to convince himself. He never wanted to kiss you, but your lips were too tempting for him to resist. And you, surprised and dazed at the action, returned the favor. Kakucho was instantly hooked.

At this point, he didn't care whether he was the other man, keen on having you all to himself, whatever it took. Bribing the right people to keep your husband busy, too busy to go home and check up on his wife who was bouncing on Kakucho’s thick cock. Begging for his cum to fill your womb. Bonten’s number three was reduced to a whimper, gripping your hips while he thrusted up to meet you halfway.

“Marry me—s-shit, marry me, baby. I’ll keep you satisfied. All you have to do is ask. Just leave the bastard and be mine.”

H. RAN

SHAMELESS AND COCKY. Ran Haitani entered your life like a hurricane out to ruin everything except your heart, which he held like it was glass. A deadly and addicting drug was his love, out to poison your husband's image. Retina burning images of loving lavender irises and smooth words over your husband’s tired expressions and weak smiles. He knew Ran was seeing you, his superior was quite a charmer. If anything, your husband suspected Ran to be wooing you ever since the day you attended the annual party Bonten held where you met the enigmatic executive.

Unsigned divorce papers sat inside the drawer of your husband’s desk. No matter how much he wanted to, he knew Ran Haitani would shoot him in the head if he ever made you cry. Why wouldn’t he just ask you to leave your husband? Why was Ran Haitani so shameless whenever he exited your shared home, knowing your husband was in his car, watching the scene of you kissing the other man goodnight when he just got back from work? How could Ran Haitani be so cocky, arm around your waist whenever he introduced you to one of Bonten’s clients as if your husband wasn’t in the same room, just a few feet away? Why couldn’t Ran Haitani shut the door when he was fucking you in the same bed where your husband sleeps in, fighting back the urge to just shoot his superior who was grinning at your husband standing by the door, silently watching you take Ran’s cock, sobbing his name.

“Your wife is such a good cocksleeve, isn’t she? You’ll be alright if she marries me if you somehow die, right?”

H. RINDOU

DEVIOUS AND UNREMORSEFUL. Rindou Haitani, like his brother, never really pay much attention to consequences. He didn't care about the lives he trampled on or snuffed out. He was selfish indeed, especially when it comes to you. Who was your husband to keep you away from him? Rindou would be damned and be called a coward if he gave a fuck about what your husband said, telling him to stay away or he'll call the cops. Empty threats, they all were. Rindou could do so much more and without remorse. Your husband was a wimp, and you, his pretty angel, deserved better. Him.

Your marriage to the bastard was only good on paper. He never gave you the time nor mind anyway. Rindou, no matter how dark his background was, treated you better than any man could. Kiss you until you were drunk on his lips. Warm the side of your bed because your husband was out on another drinking session with co-workers. Fuck you better than your husband could ever do. You knew Rindou was the better man, regretting that you tied the knot too early.

“He'll never be able to have you cumming like this, doll. Never. Only me. Say it’s only me.”

K. HAJIME

TWO-FACED AND CUNNING. Hajime Kokonoi hates losing. He hated losing more than wasted money. The grim line his lips took upon knowing you were married was almost too hard to ignore, fearing it could be permanent. Because how could he not have you? He should've been the first man—the man whom you should call husband. Not his idiot of a secretary! What did you see in such a man that you did not see in him? But opportunity always comes knocking on his door. So when he found you crying outside his office, having been shooed away by your husband to focus more on work, Hajime Kokonoi was to the rescue.

Spending time together—often eating lunch and talking lead to one thing and another. Soon, you were moaning underneath him, soiling the expensive leather seats of his car as Koko pistoned his hips, almost bruising yours with how powerful his thrusts were. Aiming to carve the shape of his cock inside you, and have you forget the neglectful husband you married, oblivious to his boss fucking you and ruining the marriage behind his back. Too trusting of the smile Koko flashes him whenever he innocently asked about your welfare.

“You should invite your beautiful wife next time to join the party. I’m sure she’ll enjoy all the entertainment I have planned. Wouldn't you agree?”

🎐taglist: @wakaslut @ranilingus @sanzuchi @blueparadis @stffychn @marism @leavemealonebutinpink @cryptred @tobidabio @wakasa-wifey @zuuki @kamisoria @keijisprettygirl @vanikoe @novaresque

[sukirichi]

rude boy

— As the captain of the volleyball team, you have to set a good example of staying firm to your rule of not dating the male players...but perhaps you’re willing to bend the rules a little bit when a rude boy is kind enough to show you why you’re wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. smut, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), hard!dom suna, slight exhibitionism, doggy style, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, cumplay, implied size kink, degradation with praising kink (LOL), soft! aftercare suna

NOTE. oh hell yeah we’re turning into a haikyuu blog. i can’t believe i’m writing for a character i haven’t even met yet but hey SUNA RINTAROU SUPREMACY. I’m in love with him, maybe much more than I like Akaashi, but can you blame? he’s sexy AF. tagging @noritoshiikamo​

SONG INSPOS. Rude Boy, Disturbia, Where Have You Been All My Life (Rihanna)

Win after win, your school is glorious and honourable once more. Not only did the men’s volleyball team, but as the captain of the women’s team, you proudly carried awards just as they did.

You’re on the dance floor, hazily dancing to the beat with your red cup already empty. It’s rare that people organized after parties but you made it Nationals this time around; surely it’s not too bad to let everyone let loose. Besides, the managers weren’t around and everyone seemed to be having fun, bringing in their plus ones or making out with their fellow teammates.

You scowl at the sight. The one thing you hate the most is breaking formalities and relationship autonomies – everyone knows that you have one strict rule: No dating the players for the men’s team.

Naturally, your team members are more than flabbergasted. The male players are gorgeous after all, but you’ve grown up with the Miya twins; you know beauty could never be enough of a reason for your precious teammates to be used for pleasure and dumped to the side once they’ve had their fill. You all have a bright future ahead of you, with goals and dreams to be fulfilled; one that you won’t allow to be trampled upon by these men.

You’re about to head back to the kitchen for another drink when someone holds you in place, large, calloused hands gripping at your hips. You’re about to elbow the intruder when the familiar scent of musky spicy cologne, mixed with sweat and something that was solely him, you relaxed.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself for the whole party, Suna?”

“You’re here,” his bored, deep voice is sultry as it coos in your ear. Unable to help yourself, you shiver at his touch, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. “I don’t see a reason to.”

“You’re a little touchy tonight,” you comment, the glare of your eyes softening as the alcohol loosens the usual composed and strict captain in you, falling back into his touches that tell a promise of something more later. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was because you miss him too – whatever it was, you’re grinding onto his front, the middle blocker humming as a warning in your ear not to tease him too much. You being you though, you only push back harder, allowing him to set the pace by squeezing your waist. “You act like you don’t see me all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I get to feel you all the time,” his voice turns husky, the mere sound of his voice mixing with the party’s music increasing your arousal. You breathe sharply when Suna cups your core experimentally, thankful that his body is big enough to hide what he’s doing. “Upstairs?”

“Here, Suna? In a party?”

“Can you wait until we get home?” he taunts, chuckling when he sees the way your lips press into a thin line. “As I thought.”

Tch, he doesn’t have to be so cocky about it.

Suna leads you upstairs before pushing you inside the closest empty room, his lips hands everywhere on you the moment the back of your knees hit the bed. He’s eager and needy, his arousal evident from how he’s bucking the tent in his pants against your hands. His tongue prods you to open your mouth, and just to tease him, you refuse him access, slipping your hands inside his pants instead to swipe a thumb over his thumb.

He growls at your teasing, retaliating by pinching your boob followed by a flick over your nipple. Suna isn’t only an expert at volleyball; he’s a master of your body too, able to play you and hit the right spots all the fucking time.

He’s aware of this when he finally gets what he wants – a shocked moan from you that nearly makes you fall back on the bed if it wasn’t for his other hand tugging at your wrist to slam you back to his body. Suna doesn’t waste his time in kissing you, sucking on your tongue until you both start fighting for dominance. Just as he’s lost and crazed by the pent up sexual frustration of watching one another play at court today – to see the other so close yet so far away – you swallow his small, little groans into your mouth, your hand eagerly pumping and spreading his pre-cum all over the base of his shaft.

Suna’s cock twitches into your palm, prompting you to squeeze the length at the same time you bite down on his lip. Hard.

His eyes snap open moments before he comes, his touch rough and even bruising when he pushes your arm away from his. As if a switch has been flipped inside him, his eyes have grown darker, his hands running down your form hungry and even animalistic.

Your eyes widen when Suna goes down on his knees, deft fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. “S-Suna, what’re you doing—”

“Shh, I want to taste you,” your hands find home in his hair as he helps you shimmy out of those tight, ass-hugging material that had him rock hard during your whole match. He wants to punish you for it, for nearly distracting him when it was his turn to play; the fact you’re always so unaware of the effect you have over him downright offensive. He has other plans in mind though, plans you’re about to discover when Suna suddenly licks at the swollen nub through your panties, making your thighs shiver. “Haven’t seen this pretty pussy in a long time,” he buries his face in your cunt, taking a huge whiff of the intoxicating scent of your arousal.

It’s almost perverted, you think, the way he’s rolling your hardened clit between his teeth, relishing in the way you’re falling apart for him like this, legs spread wide open.

Suna keeps you steady by squeezing your ass closer to his face until his nose is prodding at your lips, the sounds of your pretty moans and whines erotic enough that he feels like busting a nut right then and there. He holds back though, pulling away to breathe just to bite the lace down your legs. The whole time, he keeps his fox-like eyes on yours that are pooled with lust and something carnal, the grazing of his teeth collecting heat to pool at your core.  

With two long fingers pulling your lips apart just for his eyes, he licks at your blossoming sex, pulling groans from both of you when he dives into your even harder.

Suna’s tongue is lapping at your dripping juices while you look down at him, pupils blown wide just as he smirks, he actually fucking smirks under you, his tongue suddenly plunging inside your sopping hole.

Your scream is muffled at the last moment when you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, the nails digging into his scalp making him hiss.

Nevertheless, Suna doesn’t stop, drinking all you can give him while his tongue laps at your walls. The warm, wet muscle exploring each inch of you has you grinding against his face, shameless as you fuck yourself harder on his tongue. Suna chuckles at your actions, the vibrations pushing you over the edge.

He can tell you’re cumming when you start to clamp down on him, the flowing of your arousal easily cleaned up with tight, consistent sweeps of his tongue.

Your eyes are shut tight as you prolong your orgasm by grinding your pelvic bone shamelessly on his cum-stained face. Then your legs wobble until you’re falling, shaking, but Suna pushes you down completely on the bed.

Your breathing is ragged once you see that he’s crawling above you in the same manner a predator stalks his prey, his smirk nothing but devilish while your juices spread on his cheeks gleam under the dim lights.

Suna uses one hand to discard your shirt before throwing it to other side of the room, one knee to pry your legs apart. Your eyes dart down to the sports bra you wore, not sexy at all especially with the Nike logo, and your cheeks warm at the realization. Arms coming up to hide yourself, you fail when Suna slaps your hands away, glaring at you.

“Stop covering yourself. You don’t have to wear lingerie to for me all the time – you know I’d fuck you either way.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to be shy when he rips the bra apart, mouth latched onto one nipple. You gasp when he plunges three fingers in, definitely different to his usual routine of prepping you, and you’re being stretched open by his fingers a little too fast that you’re clutching on his bicep to catch your breath.

“F-Fuck, Suna, can’t even be a little gentle? What happened to foreplay?”

“I’m tired from winning match by match today, baby. Being gentle is the last thing on my mind when you’re splayed out for me like this,” he pulls away just to release his fingers from you, twisting his hand back to back to grin pervertedly at the way your cum slicks his hand. Using that exact same hand, Suna covers his length with it as he hovers over you, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He immediately notices the way you hitch your breath, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as you struggle to accommodate for him despite already being so wet.

He was just so thick and feels so good – it’s always a challenge not to cum all the while he’s entering you. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve taken me before,” he reminds you, hooking his arm under your knees before he stretches you further, your thighs flat on your chest. You gasp at the new sensation of feeling him so deep inside you, his whole practically atop your calves as he thrusts inside experimentally. “Come on, you’ll take this big cock like a good girl, won’t you?”

“S-Suna.”

“You feel even better than usual,” he praises you, his eyes narrowed and hazy with pleasure as he continues fucking into you. His thrusts are slow yet deep, bottoming out with each time that he knocks the wind off your lungs, successfully hitting that sacred, sweet sensitive spot inside you that only he could ever reach.

Suna smirks at the apparent pleasure written all over your face, teasing you further by grabbing the flesh of your hips while he drives his cock deeper. “You’re just clamping down on me like a bitch in heat,” he notes to mock you, but he wasn’t free of this pleasurable torture as well, not when your walls sucked him in greedily that it took most of his energy just to pull out from your grip. It must be because you’re exerted from today’s match just as he is, and Suna spreads one leg to the side, your knee pressed beside your head. “Muscle cramps? Can’t say I mind.”

“Shut up, Suna.”

“I think you need to shut up,” he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, his chuckles formed in stuttered breaths when you clamp down on him. “Clenching harder on me now? Didn’t peg you for someone who liked this shit,” Suna, having always been perceptive to your smallest reactions, leans over to you to cup your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes a huge contrast to how he’s filling you up to the brim, his hips delirious and delicious with each snap. “You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you? So good for me.”

“S-Suna,” you begin to reach for him, feeling that welcomed tightening of your stomach. You never like to admit it out loud, but you and Suna know you’re always so clingy and starved for touches when you’re about to him.

Your lips are puckered out, arms wrapping around his head to pull him in for a kiss when Suna smirks. He knows exactly what you want – and that’s exactly what you’re not gonna get.

He flips you until you’re flat on your stomach, encircling your waist to pull your ass flat against the ticklish hairs resting at the base of his cock, his pelvic bone snapping against your backside. You cry out at the new position, the need to touch him painfully deprived until you’re sobbing on the pillows, wanting nothing more than to kiss him as you came.

Suna Rintaro really is rude.

You came first before him, drool spilling from your lips when you’re left with no other choice but to fist the sheets. Suna’s groans are guttural, his usual pace of fucking you slowly now turns carnal. Sounds of skin slapping and his balls hitting your ass cheeks echo around the room, the sounds too loud that you both fail to hear the rushed footsteps and giggles until the door opens.

Suna feels you tense under him, the crashing waves of your orgasm dulled by the panic rising in your chest. You know he’s covering you, but your heart absolutely lurches in your chest when Suna only continues, scoffing at whoever entered the room.

You scramble to move yourself off him but Suna only holds you down, his palm flat behind your head, arms pinned at the small of your back until you’re completely incapacitated. Once again, Suna’s proved that he’s a man of control, especially when it comes to your body. He won’t fail to remind you again and again that your body is not yours – it has always been his and will always be his.

Once he starts moving again, deliberately and painfully slow to emphasize the embarrassing shlick coming from your pussy, Suna smirks at the new guests. “Rooms taken, idiot – find someplace else.”

“Fuck, is that the captain for the girl’s team?”

You bite down on your lip upon hearing Atsumu’s voice, desperate to prevent the sinful moans to be heard past your lips. You’ve built quite a reputation for being sharp tongued and even wicked when it comes to being strict – to have him hear of all people that his teammate could easily break you like this would be beyond damaging both to your pride and reputation.

Suna glares at the golden-haired boy who’s now forgotten the girl hanging off his arm, his head tilting past Suna’s uniformed frame fucking deep into you.

He could hear it, could hear the sloppy squelching of your sopping cunt, could even hear the way Suna’s breath sharpens, but he wants to see it, to witness this atrocity. Suna, however, wasn’t having any of it.

His possessive grip is intensified with the nails digging into your wrists when he only fucks into your harder, his feet now planted on the mattress as if to mark his territory. “Don’t look at my bitch. She’s mine,” he growled, pulling you by the hair until your head is splayed all over his shoulder, your breasts bouncing from the speed he’s ramming into you at. “Now leave.”

“Suna, don’t be fucking rude.”

The door closes afterwards, but not free from comments from Atsumu on how you had a pretty ass. This ticks Suna off, licking stripe down your neck and up your jaw, nose buried into the crook of your neck to memorize your scent coated with sex hanging off the air.

“You’d rather have them watch?” he slaps your ass, your moan whiny and pornographic – you were really truly different than what you want people to think of you. “Of course you’d like that, filthy slut,” he nibbles at your ear, reaching forward to rub at your clit until you’re shaking again, your second orgasm just looming around the corner. “But I don’t want to share you, baby. Now fuck yourself on my cock like the whore you are.”

He shoves you flat on the mattress again, your forearms weak as you heave your weight upwards. Your head is thrown to the side, back arched down low as you follow his command like a good whore as he’s called you. You gyrate your hips to swirl your pussy around his thick pole, pushing backwards again and again until you’re gasping, shaking, trembling and utterly fucked out.

Your pace is nothing compared to what Suna is capable off, but he’s tense, jealous even that he wants to assure himself he’s the one who could get you to feel this way, even if it meant giving you all the work alone.

“What’re you gonna do now that everyone knows about us?” he asks through gritted teeth, placing his hands at your hips just to steady yourself. Suna’s eyes are zeroed in on the way his length disappears around your pretty lips, so open and puffy as you use his dick to pleasure you. He takes pride at the way you moan, back arching and little growls on your lips when he finally snaps his hips, meeting you thrust by thrust.

“Are you finally giving into me?” he asks again for what seems like the hundredth time ever since he’s laid his eyes on you, thumb flicking over your clit again. You cry out as he does so, uncaring of the strain when your arms reach out behind him, touching him this time around. Suna allows you to do so, hugging your waist to pull you into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to yours while you moan left and right.

You’re sweating, eyes shut tight and fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball pinching at your own slips. You look so lewd every time you’re thinking of nothing else but the pleasure he’s giving you and Suna grows harder inside you, his thrusts rough along with another slap to your ass.  

“Fuck, yeah, just like that. You look so gorgeous bent over for me, you know, might as well just be officially mine.”

You manage to scoff through the pleasure, ignoring the way your heart flutters when Suna interlaces his fingers with yours above your breast, the both of you caressing the flesh tenderly. “I told you already, I’m never dating you.”

“And why not?” he challenges, the grip on your hips tightening again. “Who do you run to when you’re sad? Who do you bother when you’re happy? Who makes you feel good and fills you to the brim when your fingers just aren’t getting you off?” Unsatisfied with your silence, Suna snaps his hips harder, his grin wicked when you scream again, his name falling off your lips like a prayer – which is ironic, since he’s the one always worshipping you despite his need to be in control. “Isn’t it always me? Just say yes, baby, I’d get to do this to you all the time. You’re already fucking yourself on my cock like you’re my whore – what’s holding you back?”

“You’ll fuck me good if I say yes?”

“Aren’t I already?” To prove a point, Suna thrusts up deep and hard enough that he’s hitting your sweet spot again, a fucked out smile rewarding him afterward.

“But you’re a rude, rude person, Suna, oh, fuck,” Suna pinches your clit that makes you snap your eyes open, a seductive glare sent his way when he teases you. “See what I’m – ugh – talking about?”

“Then I’ll be nice for once,” he promises me, his thrusts growing sloppy as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth hangs open in a silent, breathy sob – hands gripping at his thighs when the mere slipping of his length past your walls and kissing your cervix with each thrust pushes tears out of your eyes. Suna leans down to sloppily kiss away the tears, jaw clenched as he feels you tighten around him.  “Cum for me. I’m allowing you to cum. Maybe I’ll fuck you again when we get home if you’re good enough. Fuck, gonna breed this pussy so good, you’ll be so fucking full.”

Your nails scratches blood moons into his skin, right at the spot that isn’t covered by his shorts anymore. Usually, he’s careful when it comes to markings that could affect his play, but you’re so pretty crying as you cream around his neck that tonight he doesn’t care.

Suna groans as you milk him dry with the way your walls are hallowing and clenching around him, making the tall player fall forward above you on the bed, his cum sputtering inside of you. His groans are deep and so fucking sexy right next to your ear, thumb absentmindedly still rubbing at your clit. You’re both panting as he slowly pulls out, the gush of both your cum dripping all the way down your ass. He snickers at the sight and swoops two fingers down, the heated and hard press of his fingers against your sensitive pussy sending chills everywhere in your body.

You’re about to complain as Suna pushes his cum inside you, but he silences you with a kiss, spreading the cum all around your lips until you’re a complete, sticky mess down there. You grimace at the sensation but Suna is moving beside you the next moment, his arms heavy across your breasts.

You blink when Suna presses affectionate kisses on the blades of your shoulder, wiping the remnants of cum across the sheets before tangling your legs with his. You frown in confusion but turn to him anyway, breathing in that cologne sticking to his skin that you love so much.

“I’m not used to you cuddling me.”

Suna smiles at the crown of your head, shifting lower so he could squish his cheeks at the flesh of your breasts. You watch as his usual bored face lights up happily like a kid with ice cream as he kisses the sides of your breast, hands gentle and delicate in making swirls over your hip. He’s almost...unrecognizable. “You should. This is going to be one of the privileges of dating me.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You will.”

His declaration is so self assured – as he always is – that you roll your eyes, threading your fingers through his sweat-matted hair. “How are you so sure I even like you back, dummy?”

“Because you’ve got no reason not to,” is all he murmurs on your skin, and well...he isn’t wrong about it, but you scoff anyway, thankful that his eyes are closed so he can’t see your smile. “Now shut up. Just hearing your voice makes me hard again and I don’t think I can go for another round. I’m beat.”

Perhaps...Suna Rintaro wasn’t such a rude boy, after all.

[piercingbonez]

gone || thomas shelby x reader oneshot

warnings: angst angst angst! swearing

words: 1.2k

a/n: a more depressing oneshot after the teeth rotting fluff last week. got to keep you all on your toes! please let me know what you think! feedback is extremely appreciated and encouraged.

enjoy!

-

The last words you’d spoken to him hung heavy in the air between the two of you. A question you’d asked with fear in your eyes and terror for the answer.

You couldn’t even look at him, not even vaguely in his direction. Your eyes burned but there were no tears, you felt like your head was going to burst at any moment. His response stinging in your mind, bringing everything to a screaming halt. For a moment you didn’t even believe he’d said those words. You refused to accept that what he was saying was the truth. It couldn’t be.

The room was thick with tension, neither one of you wanting to address the conversation you’d just had. He’d probably just say a simple sorry and leave anyway, he’d never been good with emotions. But you knew that when you got together, and now part of you was regretting even meeting the man before you.

He’d given you the best years of your life but was it worth it for the heartbreak he’d just delivered to you?

With clenched fists and pain on your face you finally lifted your eyes to flick over his form. He was still sat in the same position as he was before, cigarette still perched between his fingers. He didn’t display any emotion, not sadness, not anger, not even guilt. He’d got good at that, hiding how he felt, but now that fact just stung, he’d just ruined everything you’d built up and he didn’t even have the decency to look anything other than bored.

“You’re being serious, aren’t you?” Were the only words you could force out past your gritted teeth. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, maybe remorse, you hoped he felt guilty.

He seemed to pause to think of a response, bringing his cigarette up to his lips to inhale every few moments, a mechanical movement that was second nature for him. On a normal day you’d admire the way his lips curled up in what could be mistaken for a smile when the cigarette made contact with them, or the way his icy blue eyes looked through the smoke. But not today. Not now. Not ever. As you watched him now you saw how he looked more at ease holding a cigarette than he ever did holding you.

He’d never been particularly….affectionate. Maybe on your wedding night, but that was such a distant memory now you refused to allow yourself to think back on it.

After all, your marriage now meant nothing. Years spent with the man you presumed your soulmate came crashing down in a matter of seconds, with one simple word. “Yes.” Which he repeated again in response to your question.

Now yes, in a relationship was typically something positive.

Yes, i’ll be your girlfriend.

Yes, i’ll be your wife.

Yes, i’d love to take the next step.

You’d never dreamed that this conversation would happen, it was so out of your mind it wasn’t even a nightmare or a worry you’d ever had.

But it was real, it was more real than anything else.

“You still love her, don’t you?” You replayed your own words in your head.

“Yes.” Yes. Fucking yes. Not even an i’m sorry, or even a look of guilt. The worst part was, as he uttered those words he almost looked relieved. Relieved that he’d finally stopped lying to you.

You thought about the previous night, and even the morning, now feeling like an age ago when he’d kissed your forehead and told you he loved you.

Lies. All of it. Fucking lies.

“For how long?” You mumbled, but you weren’t sure you even wanted to know the answer. But you had to, you had to know how long this had been happening, how long he’d been lying to you.

“I’m sorry.” He finally muttered, but his words were hollow and meaningless. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t going to fix anything, nothing could repair what had just happened.

“How long?” You repeated, unable to hold back the anger in your tone anymore. His jaw clenched as you pressed further, clearly not wanting to admit that he’d spent fuck knows how long whispering empty words to you.

“She wrote to me a few months ago.” Months. Fucking MONTHS.

You couldn’t stop the way your hands shook, with anger, fear or sadness you didn’t know. Every emotion you felt was negative, drowning you. Everything was way too much all at once.

“Months? Thomas? Months?” You stumbled out in disbelief, glaring at him, hoping he’d understand just how much he hurt you.

“Yes. I met with ‘er once.” As if it couldn’t get worse, the words he spoke packed a bigger punch than any physical action. “Im not going to lie to you.” You couldn’t believe the audacity of this man, the way he so nonchalantly admitted to loving his ex, to lying through months of a marriage.

“You did lie! You have lied! Every time since you’ve told me you loved me was a lie!” Your voice rose with each word, more and more anger bubbling up inside of you. You wished this was just some sick nightmare, that you’d wake up any moment, that he’d hold you close and brush your hair gently before kissing your forehead and telling you to go back to sleep, that you were safe with him.

His face remained stony, practically emotionless as he continued to smoke, almost tauntingly as he watched you. His eyes seemed to analyse every tense and twitch of your body, as if he was trying to sense your next move.

“I need to go sort something out.” He stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray beside him before rising to his feet. His movements were robotic, almost as if he simply wasn’t at all affected by what they’d just discussed. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Days. D a y s.

Typically you’d smile, be a nice loving wife, make him promise to be safe and eat well, ensure he knew just how much you loved him before he left, kisses and hugs and admittance of affection.

But now, when you’d normally reach for his body to wrap around yours, you remained still. It was your turn to be emotionless now.

You had no idea when he would return, and for a moment, somehow that hurt than the knowlege that you no longer occupied his heart.

Because was leaving, but then again, maybe he’d already left. Was he ever really with you when his heart was longing for someone else, when he’d visited the woman he promised you he no longer harboured feelings for. You didn’t know. Nothing made sense as you stared at his now empty chair, feeling the sadness finally begin to well in your eyes.

You didn’t dare to turn to watch him leave, simply listened until his footsteps were a distant echo. And then they were gone. And he was gone.

It was as if nothing mattered, because nothing did, did it? What was life if he wasn’t by your side. You’d built everything up alongside him, planned a future out around him. You’d imagined your entire life with him.

And now it was all gone.

But there was one thing you knew you had to do.

You had to pack, because two can play at that game.

And then you were gone.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Father, dear father | JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: JJ always sees his dad when he least expects it

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Word count: 1096

Warning: Mention of violence/abuse

-

The rumbling of a motorbike resonated outside the chateau as you were piling up empty beer cans into a trash bag to busy yourself - and stop thinking about John B's death penalty sentence. You raised your head up, eyes on the door, knowing who was about to walk in.

''Where were you?''

''I went to see John B,'' JJ replied, the screen door flapping shut behind him. ''Orange doesn't suit him.'' If ithad simply been a joke, you would've laughed, but you knew JJ enough to see through his joke that it was a way to camouflage the emotions he was feeling.

''We're gonna get him out of there,'' you promised.

JJ looked down, nodding. ''I...I saw my dad too.''

You stilled at the mention of the one-who-shall-not-be-named. You hadn't heard from him since the day JJ stole the Phantom. You also hadn't seen his face at the gas station - which you work at - where he usually bought his beer and liquor in a long time.

''I saw him at the prison. He was with other inmates...as in, he is in jail.''

Good. Luke Maybank deserved to rot behind bars of a jail-cell until his last breath for all the shit he did to JJ. He was a thief, drug addict, a drunk and a shitty fucking father.

JJ opened his mouth, but was struggling to get words out. His eyebrows furrowed and water blurred his vision. ''Plumb said I'm gonna end up in jail just like my dad.''

His head hung low and your face twisted into anger. You weren't a violent person, but you wanted to punch her.

JJ had caused a lot of trouble around the island and made himself a name to the local cops. The Pogues often joked that JJ was going to go in jail one day if he kept being so reckless and stupid, but it was all jokes.

Plumb wanted to hurt JJ, she meant those words.

You refused to let him believe her.

Dropping what you had in your hands, you crossed the living room and held JJ's face so he'd look at you. ''You are not your dad, JJ. You're nothing like the shit-head, okay?'' You didn't miss the tears in his eyes as you spoke sternly yet gently. You wanted your words to stick and erase Plumb's. ''You're loving, brave and loyal. You're always looking out for me and your friends, always defending us at any turn. You're all those things your dad will never be.''

You felt his arms wrapping around your middle and you put yours around his neck and shoulders, allowing him to lay his head on your shoulder. JJ's hold was tight, but not so tight you couldn't breathe. You kissed the side of his neck and felt him smile.

When he pulled back, you searched his eyes for signs of tears and wiped it for him. ''You okay?''

JJ nodded. ''Yeah. I just had dust in my eye.''

You rolled your eyes at his bullshit.

He walked back you, heading to the kitchen, and you only now noticed his white shirt - its cuffed sleeves showing his toned arms - and snapback and fucking blue jeans. JJ never wore jeans. He was always in khaki shorts.

Your eyes followed him up and down with thirst. ''Since when do you wear jeans? Did you run out of clothes to wear and stole them from Pope?''

''I had to dress up to see my best friend. It's a special occasion, you know,'' he explained, closing the fridge and cracking open a beer. ''I had sunglasses too. Just wait for the full look.'' JJ put the aviators back on and- Christ.

''Honestly, I don't know if I want you to keep it on or take it off.''

JJ's lips curled at the corner, forgetting about the beer and setting it down. ''I'll make that decision for you.''

.

You heard a honk and looked ahead, seeing Kiara's dad's truck. Fucking finally.

''Oh, and speak of the freaking devil. Look who it is, the tortoise and the tortoise, just a couple hours late,'' John B pointed out, perched on top of the twinkie.

The van had water to its third by now and you had gotten attacked by an alligator - well, John B did.

''Where the hell were you, guys?'' Pope asked.

''Paternal complications,'' Kie briefly explained.

JJ got out of the truck and went to the trunk, grabbing the rope. ''Luke was at the chateau.''

You frowned. What the fuck was he doing at the chateau? Wasn't he in prison? You didn't say anything in front of the others as they didn't know JJ's dad was in prison.

Later, when it was only you and JJ, you decided to ask.

''How come was Luke at the chateau?''

''He was released for good behavior.'' JJ laughed dryly, having difficulty believing it. ''He busted a window in a pharmacy and stole from the pharmacist so the cops were after him. He hid at the chateau and waited for me so I could help him get out of the island - for good.''

Like always, JJ left some parts out. He didn't tell you the part where Luke had grabbed him from the back, hand over his mouth, as if he was going to kidnap him. Or, that he yelled at him and shook him. Or that he played with his feelings and head.

''H-he's not gonna come back, Y/N. I'm never gonna see him again.''

While it was mostly good that his dad was gone, a part of JJ was sad. He was still his dad.

''Now, all I have is you and the Pogues.'' His voice cracked and you reached out and took his hand, holding it between yours.

It pained you to see him like this. Hopefully, it was the last time Luke was causing his son pain.

''You'll always have me, J.'' You were still young and honestly didn’t know if you’d be together forever, but, at the moment, leaving wasn't in your future plans.

''It was hard watching him leave. Despite all the bad things he did, I love him, you know, in a weird twisted way.''

His old man didn't deserve JJ's love - not even a small part. All his life JJ wished to have a good relationship with his father. He forgave him over and over again; he was always hopeful that one day he'll stop taking drugs and drinking and abusing him. But he never did.

''You’re allowed to love him...even if just a little bit.''

''I shouldn’t.''

[stuckybarton]

mafia! bucky finding out someone from his group disrespected you.

Hmmm, protective! bucky is a jam i want to explore!!

Warning: Sexual Harassments. Profanities Character Death. Violence. Guns. A brief description of shooting a gun at someone. Blood. Brief mention of sexual content

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist || Requests Are Open

Bucky had three rules he expects everyone that worked for him should follow

If he wants something done, you don't give excuses, you show results

You want to rat out to the police or to a rival? Expect a rat shoved down your throat when he finds you. if he can't find you? well expect a loved on of yours to be given the treatment in place of you

But the most important among the three was punishable with death; no one fucks with his woman.

But there was one man, who was either too arrogant or too stupid to take this rule seriously.

He was named Brock.

He got on everyone's nerves, including Bucky, Sam, and even the constantly patient Steve.

The only reason Bucky hadn't placed a bullet on his head was because of how good he was at his job.

Brock Rumlow was good with weapons, he knew how to do deals in the Black Market. He know where to find a good deal and what was the best weapon in the current market.

But everyone hated him with a fiery passion. Including you.

It started off harmless. Being called Bucky's old lady.

Then it got worst from there.

The man was ballsy enough to let anyone and everyone that would listen to him know that he could seduce you into betraying Bucky for him--when it was far from the truth.

Sam and Steve had tried convincing you to tell Bucky about it, but you brushed it off. No need to have Bucky ruining business because of you.

But then it got worse...

More than you had ever thought it should be. He started with holding onto your hand, which you were quick to jerk away from him.

Hands that were testing with your hands had somehow made their way around your waist or in your ass, every single time, you jerked away from him. Moved closer to anyone in the room that you trusted your safety more than with Brock.

When his touches--or how he embarrassingly called seduction failed. He did what any misogynist would do call you every name in the book.

From a whore to a slut that gets passed on between Bucky, Steve, and Sam. You had freely heard the man called you every name in the book and every single time, it made you fear the man even more and had you constantly in the presence of your often not-necessary guards.

But among the idiocy he was capable of spewing, never once did he say those words in front of your boyfriend. He didn't have the balls to say it to the man. Even with all the bravado and swagger he had spewed of stealing you away from him. He did not have the balls to tell Bucky those words.

But Bucky wasn't an idiot, unlike what Brock would believe.

He had ears everywhere, especially in the form of his two closes friends and partner.

He was just waiting for you say the words and he can throw caution to the wind and just shoot him in the temple.

But you didn't.

No matter how shitty it was for him to watch you endure it, he wanted you to say the words and he will do it without an ounce of hesitation.

You were, after all, more important that this fucking business of his.

"you alright?"

it had been his daily question every night at the two of you laid naked in your bed.

you were deep in thoughts, most likely finding yet another reason to stay as far away from the asshole as you humanely could without ringing alarm bells.

"yeah." you assured, but it had been so much of a lie at this point. bucky knew it, you knew bucky knew it but you didn't want to ruin his business.

"just say the word."

How often you had heard bucky say those words but never once have you put that power you held to the test.

"i'm fine." you assured once again, kissing him and distracting him with other things for the rest of the night.

famous last words.

hearing Brock scouting for men that could stab Bucky in the back, it had been your time to intervene and cut his bullshit.

"what are you gonna do? tell your sugar daddy about?"

you were seeing red. it was far from the truth, you refused to have bucky give you anything unless it was for a special occasion, but the way he sounded it off, it was as if you were a gold digger.

you rebuked him for it, only earning a laugh from the man.

"why don't you had back to your daddy's office and keep his dick wet with your mouth or your cunt, that's the only thing you're good for anyways."

and you snapped.

in front of a handful of bucky's men, the always calm and collected woman of Bucky Barnes had snapped. Punching brock straight in the nose and breaking it in the process.

your knuckles hurt but it was so satisfying to hear the sound of breaking bones and the scarlet that now painted the man's nose in the process.

who knew bucky's self-defense training would pay off.

"you stupid bitch"

he took hold of your hair in a vice grip making you wince in pain and at the sight of him ready to slap you, you closed your eyes and waited for the hit to come--but it never did.

the bang had echoed in the room and the pained scream from brock.

opening your eyes, you had seen the reason for his screams, a clean bullet hole now passed through his palm. a clean shot, that you knew perfectly well who was capable of firing.

turning to the fury that bucky was known for.

"i had three rules when you work for me."

another bang at directed at the man's knee earning a cry from the fallen man as he grasp at the places he was shot in.

blood was slowly pooling around him.

you didn't feel pity for him like you had been for the rest of the people that bucky had done the same to.

you didn't feel pity for brock he deserved everything he was getting.

"number one rule: when i say jump you say how fucking high"

two more gunshots were heard, both directed at the man's two feet.

you had watched the pain no longer registering in the man's features as he was slowly dying from the lost of blood.

"number two rule; betray me in any shape or form, you will leave to see another day, but you'd have a rat shoved down your throat in the process."

both shoulders were shot and only a gasp could be heard from Brock at this point.

"and number three, by far the most important of all the rules i've given you."

you watched Bucky empty the rest of his bullets onto Brock's groin area until it was nothing more than a mush and you had to turn your attention away from the sight and towards the terror that lingered in the men present.

brock was dead, from the sounds of it. and bucky had placed his point across to everyone else.

"you don't get to look, you don't get to touch, you don't even get to fucking breath the same direction of my girl. hurt her in any way like this piece of shit, i will empty my pistol all over your body for everyone to see."

in the silence of the room, your eyes turned to where Steve and Sam stood. a part of you knew it was there doing, how bucky had been able to save you before you could get hurt at the hands of the dead man.

" i expect this will be the last time i have to remind you of this. the next time i see anyone close to Y/N, expect the bullet in your head."

when no one said a word, it angered bucky more.

"do i make myself clear?" his voice boomed and a chorus of fearful yes from the everyone was heard.

"clean this shit up."

and that was the last thing you heard bucky had said as he had dragged you with him back to your shared bedroom.

blood was painted your cheeks, much more than it had stained his clothes.

"you alright?"

you sighed, no use lying anymore. you shook your head and wrapped your arms around him.

the protection only his arms were capable of giving you. it was all you needed after everything you had just witness.

"no one is ever gonna hurt you, as long as i'm here."

it was a promise you didn't want to test anymore.

everyone got the message and you feared what bucky would go through to make true of his words.

you loved him, more than you will ever love anyone in this world, but the fear had also slowly but surely came at the things he was capable of doing.

for you.

====

tagging:

Bucky Barnes One-Shot / Series

@aami98 @caimann7789 @grumpyashhh @mysticunicorn7 @wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @mysticunicorn7 @curiousershipper @twilightmotion @jgun2001 @livstilinski @morganwilliams @star017 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @dryyoursaltyoceantears @curiousershipper @secretsthathauntus

Everything Else

@wandering-spiritash @emmy626 @star017 @silverrmistt

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 14 - Haunt [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: It’s always difficult to keep secrets.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

Apparently this was how civilians dated.

You couldn’t exactly say you were very familiar with it. Your line of work didn’t exactly allow you to date and do normal couple stuff, let alone with a civilian. Spies were easier, you didn’t trust them and you knew they didn’t trust you.

Except for missions, you didn’t have any date nights unless they included going after targets.

That was why posing as a civilian was almost a relief. It was simpler, more fun, more peaceful-

Even happier.

“What do you mean you can’t give me a clue?” you asked, “It’s date night, you’re supposed to give me a clue. Those are the rules.”

“I don’t remember any rule like that.”

You slurped on the milkshake, dangling your legs back and forth on the high seat you were perched on.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear then?”

Bucky tilted his head, eyeing your uniform with a grin on his face and you slapped at his arm playfully.

“Are you serious?”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “I said nothing.”

“I refuse to believe you find this uniform hot.”

“Why?”

“Bucky, just look at this!”

“Believe it or not I’ve been looking at it for some time now.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”

“Oh trust me darling, I’m completely sincere.”

You raised your brows, “How?”

He heaved a sigh and looked like he was considering whether he should tell you or not while you waited patiently.

“When we were—“ he licked his lips, “When—uh, back in the 40s, one of my buddies, he had this poster on the wall of the barrack we were staying in.”

You gawked at him, “A poster of…?”

“A pin up.”

“In this uniform?”

“Almost the same, yeah.”

You let out a clear laugh, “Oh my God, that’s why you reacted like that when you first saw me in this?”

The tips of his ears went pink before he dragged his gaze from yours and you awwed.

“Then it’s only fair if I ask you to return the favor and dress up from 40s.”

“As if you know any—“

“Clark Gable.” You cut him off and scrunched up your face, “Was that too quick?”

“A little, yeah,” he said, “Do you want to try again?”

“….Yes please.”

“As if you know anyone from those times.”

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, “I’m just pulling this idea out of thin air, but Clark Gable.”

“I don’t think I can pull off that mustache, Y/N.”

“I mean have you tried?” you asked, narrowing your eyes and he shook his head.

“Stop imagining me with that mustache.”

“You would look good!” you insisted, grinning mischievously and he heaved a sigh.

“Clark Gable? Seriously?”

“Bucky, I’m the one who’s dressed up like a pin up your buddies used to fantasize about, so I feel like you should give me some credit here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Why thank you,” you pointed out, “So? Where are we going?”

“You can ask as much as you want,” Bucky grinned, “It’s not going to work.”

You threw your head back, letting out a whine. “But I want to know!” you said, “Okay, is it inside or outside?”

“Outside.”

“A concert!”

“Not a concert.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “…Flea market. You’re taking me to the flea market.”

He pulled his brows together, confusion written all over his face, “You think we used to go to flea markets on a date?”

“Picnic!”

“In the evening?” he asked and you pouted.

“It would be a romantic evening picnic.”

“Do you want to have a romantic evening picnic?”

You shook your head fervently, “I want whatever you have planned!”

“Nah, I’m putting romantic evening picnic on the list.”

“You have a list?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yep.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

You huffed out, making him laugh, “Aw, you’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”

“Bucky!” you whined again, making his smile bigger.

“Yes darling?”

“It’s not fair,” you insisted but before you could say anything else, you heard Tara’s voice.

“Hey lovebirds,” she said, “I hate to interrupt because you two make a beautiful couple, but your break is almost over and I’m going to need some help at the freezer.”

Bucky’s body tensed up beside yours but only for a second, and you pressed your lips together.

Right. Freezer probably didn’t bring up good memories.

“I can help if you want?” Bucky said slowly and you shook your head.

“Nope. Company policy, only staff can go in.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips, “What time will you pick me up?”

“Around 8:30.” He stole another kiss from you and stood up, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight!”

“Have a nice day Tara.”

“You too Romeo,” Tara said as he left the shop and you followed her to the freezer.

“He is so whipped,” she commented, making you grin, “And so are you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Hey!” you said as you helped her with the chocolate milkshake container, “Not nice!”

“I can already picture how cute your children will be.”

You almost dropped the container at the mention but managed to catch it and pull yourself together.

“Oh I don’t think…” you trailed off, trying to ignore the pang at the pit of your stomach, “I don’t think he wants—um, I don’t think we—“

“Aw you really are cute,” Tara said, “Come on now. Are you telling me you never thought about a future with him?”

The image that flashed in front of your eyes was almost taunting you but you bit inside your cheek, then shook your head.

“My last relationship ended really badly,” you explained, “And Bucky has had a rough couple of….”

Decades.

“Years,” you said, “And everything is pretty complicated, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Well, do you want it to be possible?”

You pushed your hair back and grabbed the nearest set of jars to put them on the shelf one by one, just so you could keep yourself busy.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” you heard yourself say, “It won’t make any difference in the future either.”

                                         ***

“A funfair,” Chloe looked up with a bright smile on her face as soon as you jumped up to sit on her desk. “He’s taking you to a funfair.”

“Wait, really?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s cute.”

“Who knew The Winter Soldier could be romantic?” she said, “I’d probably swoon if someone took me to a funfair.”

You could swear Keith appeared out of thin air behind you, “What?”

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed and pressed a hand over your chest, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Who’s swooning?”

“Barnes is taking Y/N to a funfair,” Chloe said, “Isn’t that romantic?”

“You find funfairs romantic?”

“Yeah!”

“Keith,” you raised your brows, “Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope, General is talking to Julian so I’m not busy at all.”

You heaved a sigh, “My meeting with him lasted like an hour, how did he let you go so fast?”

“Easy. I’m not the team leader.”

You sipped your coffee, crossing your legs and Keith grinned.

“So, did you tell her yet?”

Chloe frowned, “Did she tell me what yet?”

“Why Barnes stayed over at your place until midnight last night?”

“Y/N!” Chloe gasped, “You promised we would go lingerie shopping before you slept with him!”

“First of all, I didn’t sleep with him, and second of all, Keith nosey neighbor much?”

“It’s literally my job Y/N.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked, barely able to sit straight as Julian walked past you three to check his laptop on an empty desk near Chloe’s. You gritted your teeth, and turned to Chloe.

“Hm?”

“You have to tell us!” she said and Keith laughed.

“At least give us a base.”

“Second base?” Chloe offered and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Julian clenching his jaw.

“Nah no way,” Keith said, “The guy hasn’t been getting laid since what? 40s? Third base.”

No bases. None at all, Bucky was a gentleman and seeing that you were quite shaken up last night, he had just held you while you two watched that ridiculous action movie until you could calm down a little.

He hadn’t even asked any questions.

“Do you think he—“

“Y/N,” Julian’s voice cut through Chloe’s, “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

You pulled your brows together, “About what?”

“The mission.”

You eyed him up and down, then shrugged your shoulders and made your way to the nearest empty room, which happened to be a meeting room. He followed you inside and closed the door behind him as you turned around to look at him, already dreading this conversation.

“So?”

“So General agrees with me.”

Your head shot up, “I beg your pardon?”

“He agrees that it was quick thinking on my part when Barnes walked in on us arguing,” he said, making you grit your teeth, “Granted it wasn’t idea, but we can turn it around to work on our advantage—“

“Bullshit,” you cut him off, “Are you serious?”

“To repeat, an ex-boyfriend creates an environment of competition,” he said, making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Unbelievable,” you said, “You know, just because General doesn’t see through this whole façade doesn’t mean you fool everyone else in here.”

“What façade?”

“Oh give me a break!” you let out a humorless laugh, “This whole teammate trying to be helpful bullshit. You don’t think anyone but yourself, you’ve proven you can’t be trusted and you want to take over this mission.”

“I couldn’t take over this mission if I tried,” he pointed out “I’m not Barnes’ type.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh look at you, you got jokes now.”

“Just saying, I wouldn’t look as cute in that uniform.”

“Fuck you.”

“Y/N—“

“You’re not taking over my mission.”

“I’m not trying to take over your mission,” he explained patiently, “I’m trying to help you, is that so hard to believe?”

“I think we both know you couldn’t care less about me,” you said, “As that last mission proved.”

The amused, taunting light in his eyes was dimmed in a second as he gawked at you, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What?” he asked after a beat, “You think I don’t care about you?”

You let out a laugh, “I’m sorry, is that a trick question?” you asked, “You sure as hell didn’t care back then.”

He ran a hand over his face, “I think you and I remember that last mission quite differently,” he said, “I did what I had to do—“

“Uh huh.”

“I thought you would do the same,” he insisted, “Y/N, I was trying to get us out of there, just because I beat you to it—“

“I would never!” you snapped at him and he shook his head.

“Have you ever thought maybe that’s a problem?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think the General put me into this mission?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Are we going to pretend you’re here to do something else other than spying on me and reporting it back?”

“No, that’s not my mission,” he said, “I’m here to make sure you don’t do what you always do.”

“What, nailing the mission?”

“Running headfirst into danger,” he said, “You ran into world’s most dangerous assassin whom you’re playing the honeypot for, and any other spy would get the fuck out of there but what did you do? You taunted him. Twice.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I know Bucky better than you or the General—“

“You mean the Winter Soldier?”

“…Yeah,” you corrected yourself, “Yeah I know the Winter Soldier better than you two do. Better than anyone here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but not your every decision is right on missions. You keep taking unnecessary risks because you think it’s fun.”

“Maybe. But hey, at least I don’t leave people to die.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and he closed his eyes for a moment as if it was way too difficult for him to hear and opened them again.

“I didn’t leave you to die, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “Alright,” you said, walking to the door, “We’re done here—“

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Your hand on the doorknob froze and you looked over your shoulder, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you sleeping with Barnes?”

“Who wants to know?” you asked, “You or the General?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah. If it’s you, I can ask why it’s any of your business.”

He shifted his weight, suddenly dragging his gaze from yours.

“I just…” he murmured, “I don’t like it.”

You paused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around the idea before you clicked your tongue.

“Well that’s a relief,” you stated, “I don’t give a fuck what you like.”

With that, you swung open the door and left the meeting room, not even looking back once.

                                    ***

In your defense, when you went to bed for a nap you didn’t think that 15 minute nap would turn into a whole two hours. You were still groggy by the time you woke up and your hair was a mess and you still had no idea what to wear and—

You were starving and way too thirsty.

You stretched out as you walked to the kitchen, still trying to pull yourself together but it was already dark outside so it was making things even worse. You flipped the switch and opened the fridge to grab the water bottle, uncapping it and taking big gulps. After you were done, you took out two slices of bread and peanut butter and jam, then quickly made a sandwich to take a bite. Leaning back, you let out a sigh and eyed the gun on the table.

You had a feeling the General would send you on another night mission soon.

You took another bite of your sandwich but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring and you almost dropped the water bottle but caught it mid-air.

“Shit…” you whispered and grabbed the gun to put it in the kitchen cabinet, and placed the sandwich on the plate, then made your way to the door to open it.

A fond smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as he took in your disheveled appearance, “Hello there Dracula.”

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to fix your hair, “I…I was taking a nap and then I didn’t hear my alarm and—“

“Don’t worry about it darling,” he said, “You look beautiful.”

“I look like a mess,” you corrected him, scrunching up your nose and stepped aside so that he could walk in. He pulled you closer to peck you on the lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi back,” you smiled up at him and made your way to the kitchen with him following you suit.

“I’m just going to finish this and then I’ll get ready in like ten minutes, promise!”

“Not a problem,” he said as you jumped up to sit on the counter, dangling your legs, “If you want to stay in tonight—“

“No no!” you interrupted him, “I want to go to…um, wherever it is we’re going. Do you want some?” you held up the sandwich, “I could make you one too.”

Bucky stepped closer to you to take a bite of your sandwich, making you giggle.

“I mean do you want your own?”

“You’re not good with sharing?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, still smiling as he put his palms on the counter either side of your legs, caging you in.

“No?”

“Nuh uh.” You said, then leaned in to peck him on the lips again before you pulled back to take a bite out of your sandwich.

“How was your day?” you asked, and he heaved a sigh.

“Mm, uneventful.”

“Uneventful can be a nice change.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah I mean…at least your ex doesn’t show up out of nowhere,” you paused for a moment, “Or in your case, doesn’t escape from nursing home.”

He chuckled, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your legs, making you distracted for a moment as the warmth filled you again.

“Did he visit you again?”

You tried to focus and looked up at him, “Hm?”

“Julian.”

“Oh,” you made a face and shook your head, “No. No but something tells me that wasn’t the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” he said, “I still feel like the next time he shows up you should let me know so that I can—“

“I already know what you’re going to say, and no.”

“What was I going to say?”

“Some macho showdown nonsense,” you said with a laugh, “Seriously. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he said with a sigh, “But the guy said and I quote, he would take you away from me, so forgive me if I want to have a talk with him.”

You rolled your eyes, “No one is taking anyone from anyone,” you said, “Number one, we don’t live in Stone Age. Number two, I’m quite happy with who I am dating now.”

A small smile curled his lips, “Are you?”

“I mean,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “I would be happier if my date told me where we’re going but can’t win ‘em all.”

You pressed a kiss on his cheek and jumped down.

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes, knock yourself out,” you said, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said and you walked to your bedroom to open your closet, then grabbed a dress and put it on. After quickly doing your make up, you found the lipstick you were looking for and started applying it.

“Darling do you have a bottle opener?”

“Yes, it’s in the kitchen cabinet!” you called out and checked your reflection in the mirror before your mind caught up to what you had just said. Panic crashed into you, knocking the breath out of you and you dropped the lipstick to rush to the kitchen.

“Bucky wait—“ you started but as soon as you saw the open cabinet, your stomach dropped. He looked at you over his shoulder with a frown on his face, then turned around and held up your gun, making you swallow thickly.

“So,” he said, his gaze pinning you to your spot. “Anything you would like to tell me?”

Chapter 15

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[the-lonelybarricade]

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; established relationship yoongi x reader

summary: The love of your life, BTS’s very own Min Yoongi, tells you he has a gift for you. But he also says you’re not allowed to refuse. What’s that supposed to mean, hm? Surely not... wild hot sex with the Golden Maknae himself?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (takes place after his surgery); smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, dirty talk, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; it’s self-indulgent and I’m a little ashamed but it’s too late now, whoops

--

Just... just looking through the Twitter tag couldn't hurt, right?

You scrolled through the pictures slowly. They performed really well these past two days. Received all the awards they deserved, because BTS were the best. Still, it depressed you seeing the empty space where Min Yoongi was supposed to be. 

But that was because Yoongi was beside you, propped up in the bed with pillows, scrolling on his phone with his right hand. Occasionally, he would lower it to use both hands, since his left arm was still in the sling. You two had watched the MMA and MAMA 2020 performances together. You knew he wanted to be there. You could hear it in his voice when he called in. 

Oh, that’s right, were you supposed to be in his apartment?

No. 

But you didn't care about rules and neither did Yoongi. 

Were you dating? Well, as much as dating could be when it came to a relationship with the most loved 'lil meow meow' in the whole world. 

Yoongi always gave you this look of disapproval when you called him that, but you would always just smile and say it again, slower. 

It was the kind of thing that simply fell into place and neither of you wanted to convolute it with too many other opinions or thoughts. What happened, happened. You weren't going to make yourself known or ask for impossible things. When he told you that he was getting surgery for his left shoulder and wouldn’t have schedules for a long while, you cashed in on all those sick hours you accumulated at work, stating you had to take care of a loved one. 

No one knew your loved one was Min Yoongi. And that's way you two liked it. 

Yoongi leaned over to the long straw of the water bottle tucked in the crook of your arm. 

"Staring at our maknae again?"

You stiffened. "I'm looking at all their pictures, Yoongi. Just happened to stop on Jungkook."

He took a short sip.

"Mmm-hmm."

A few seconds past. You stared at Jungkook’s intense dark eyes, his long hair flying about from dancing, his clenched jaw as he focused. Looking sinful in all white, tempting you to save the photos.

"You're not changing the screen."

"I'm admiring the stylists' hard work."

Yoongi hummed. "You're a bad liar."

You would have thrown your phone at him if it wasn't the special edition BTS S20+, complete with a Shooky phone case. You swiped past, seeing the image of Jungkook lifting Jimin in the Black Swan performance.

"I should tell him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sick of me?"

"No." He pointed to his left arm. "Can't take care of you either."

"I don't want to be the reason you need more months of physical therapy. I'm fine."

Yoongi placed his phone in his lap and placed his right arm around your shoulders. "We could risk it," he purred. 

You chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "I want to see you preform again."

"But you still want to bang Jungkookie."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. "I'm only looking at the pictures, Yoongi. You know you're the only one for me."

"You wouldn't try? Even if he begged you?"

You turned to Yoongi and his crafty smirk. "No." You stared at his lips and leaned in, kissing him lightly. You smiled against them. "I love you, Yoongi." Your smile turned into a smirk. "I worked too hard to sneak in here. Even outsmarted Dispatch. You can't get rid of me so easily."

Yoongi smiled back. He leaned against the headboard.

"What if I was okay with it?”

You blinked at him. "Why would you be okay with it?”

Yoongi shrugged. "You're mine, no matter what, no? Not even Jungkook's dick is going to change that."

"... Hah?"

Yoongi held up his hand, long fingers spread out. He ticked them down as he spoke. "Pros: my woman gets to satisfy her little crush, gets the fucking she wants, and will be happy."

You felt your ears burn. "Yoongi..."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, wicked smile on his lips. "Cons... none."

You rolled your eyes. "You'd be pissed off."

He tilted his head. "What do I have to be pissed off for? Are you saying there's a reason I should be worried?"

You frowned. "No. Even if it did happen, which it won't, you will always be number one."

Yoongi nodded. "There you go."

You let out a puff of air. "I don't think Jungkook would agree anyway. And I wouldn't do it, because it's not the right thing to do."

"Who decided it's wrong?"

You made a face. "I don't know... society?"

"And we trust that societal rules are just and moral?"

"I mean, no..."

-

Washing your hair was always a pain in the ass.

You had to blow-dry it upside down, add five products at different stages, brush it super carefully with a special brush to avoid breakage, collect the fallen hair and throw it out, blah blah blah.

You shrugged on one of Yoongi's shirts after the shower – the black-and-white checkered one he wore during his VLive. Running your hand through your hair, you finally picked up your phone. Yoongi was at physical therapy, so he wouldn't be back for a while. You had some messages from him, probably before he had to put his phone away.

I sent you a gift. It will arrive today. You are not allowed to refuse.

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

P.S. Merry early Christmas. 

Was it jewelry? You pursed your lips. You always told Yoongi not to buy you things. Firstly, because you felt bad you could never reciprocate the amount he spent. You didn't make the money he made, after all. And secondly, you weren't that interested in owning expensive things. The only expensive items you loved were technology-based. Yoongi and you bonded over the newest Samsung products and always kept an eye on the latest tech. 

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had to collect a package. You mused, brushing your teeth. You were going to borrow Yoongi's pants, but you had to go hunt for some. After the teeth brushing. 

You spat and gargled some water.

The front door opened. 

You frowned. Was physical therapy canceled? Yoongi didn't have people come in and clean the apartment, because he didn't want anyone to find you. You weren't supposed to be here and no one knew you were here – except for his members, of course. But they didn't have the key, so it had to be Yoongi. You waited, in case there was someone outside. You didn't want them to hear your voice. The door closed and relocked.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth before turning off the light and going to the hallway.

"Yoongi, was physical therapy can–"

The head of long black hair lifted and turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his black sneakers. He pulled down his black face mask.

It was not Yoongi. 

"Hey, noona."

Abort.

You backed up. 

"J-J-Jungkook?"

The mischievous maknae grinned. 

"I'm the gift."

Your eyes widened. You whipped your phone to your face, nearly dropping it, juggling it for two seconds before slapping it between your palms and rereading Yoongi's messages. Rereading them way too many times because what? What, what, WHAT?

"D-don't you have p-practice?" Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered. But you never had that conversation with Yoongi until a couple days ago either. 

"I have some time, but I have to go back, yeah," Jungkook replied, far too cheerfully for how flustered you were. He was probably trying not to laugh at you. 

"How did you get in? And what do you mean, y-you're the...?"

You felt like your world was spinning. Did Jeon Jungkook just announce he was the gift? What? You're not allowed to refuse. Of course, you were going to refuse! This was Min Yoongi you were in love with! The cutest in the entire world! 

Jungkook brushed back part of his long hair and tucked it behind his ear, revealing half of his forehead and his silver hoops. Smirk on his pink lips, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. Skin tan and glowing in the hallway light.

...

Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook was very handsome, but it didn't matter because–

"Hyung and I had a talk. He gave me the key," Jungkook said, dangling it. 

"Hahaha, why would be do that?" you laughed nervously, still crab-walking backwards because maybe if you just fused with the wall then you were be spared from those penetrating dark brown eyes.

Jungkook stepped into the apartment, following you. “I was surprised too.” He smiled somewhat apologetically. “I guess he overheard me telling Taehyung that I would totally fuck you if you weren’t hyung’s girlfriend.”

You blinked rapidly. “P-pardon?”

Jungkook held up his hands. Oh dear. His pretty, large hands that reminded you of Yoongi’s, but his right hand was tattooed. “But I wasn’t going to do anything though. Promise.” His eyes shifted upwards and then he looked back at you, his rueful expression turning into one of slyness. Shit. “Well, until Yoongi-hyung asked me to, that is.”

You stumbled in the doorframe of the bedroom. To be honest, you kept backing up because Jungkook advancing on you was making you uneasy, hot, and bothered. With emphasis on the latter two. You still couldn’t believe Yoongi would do this to you. This was Yoongi! Mild-mannered, sweetie with swagger, SUGA of BTS!

Then you had a thought.

You were always very good at teasing Yoongi. Either to annoy him or sexually in public situations. You could imagine Yoongi’s smirking face now. Knowing he got the one-up on you. Knowing he’d finally shocked you.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. A hot shiver went up your spine. Jungkook was right in front of you. Black parka, black jeans. Jungkook unzipped the parka, shrugging out of it. Black dress shirt. You knew Jungkook did not like wearing button-ups. Why was he wearing it? He unbuttoned the first one, revealing his collarbone. Then the second one. Open-mouthed smirk completed with his tongue between his teeth, dark eyes on your shaking form.

The maknae was going to fucking striptease you?

You held a hand up. “Hold on a second.”

Jungkook’s fingertips paused above the next button.

“You’re doing this… for fun?”

Jungkook tilted his head. “No. Not really for fun.” His voice was low, deep. His eyes trailed down your body, then back up to your face, lingering all over you. You swallowed. “I’m doing this because this is the only chance I’ll get.”

“What if I say no?”

Jungkook lowered his hand. “Hyung said you weren’t allowed to refuse.” His voice was softer now, almost pouting. Ouch. It actually pained you. You wanted to give in to him just like that. You loved Yoongi with all your heart, but the maknae’s charms definitely worked on you. They worked on everyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and wanted to give him everything.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, trying to reorient yourself, trying to find the right words. “I’m not saying I’m not interested. I definitely am.” He observed you carefully as you groped for the right words. “But this is a little crazy. And… you could get anyone.”

“I couldn’t get you.”

You slowly, slowly made eye contact with him. Jungkook took a step towards you. You didn’t move, transfixed by his chocolate eyes.

“The way you slowly fell in love with Yoongi-hyung,” he whispered, getting closer and closer. “You didn’t even notice. You still don’t notice. The way I stare at you, you and the beautiful shape of your eyes.” His finger came up and traced your eyes, rooting you in place. “Your cute nose. The shape of your lips.” His fingertip brushed against your lower lip. “So full. I watch you kiss him, wishing it was me.” He caressed your cheek. “The dimples that appear when you smile. So cruel.”

Jungkook’s breathing shallowed. His eyes flickered downwards to your hands, still clutching your phone. He reached for it and took it from you. Threw it onto the bed. Then his hands wrapped around yours, clutching them tight. You stopped breathing. Jungkook’s voice dropped several octaves.

“I watch your hands. Touching him, resting on his thigh, tracing up, palming him right in front of us.”

“I didn’t… think anyone would notice.”

Jungkook leaned in even more, still holding your hands tightly, as if they were going to disappear. You could smell his clean scent, like fresh laundry.

“I always notice,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re there, I can’t help but have my eyes on you. I couldn’t touch, but I could look. I thought that was all I could have.”

Jungkook let go of you. Hand dancing up your neck, cupping your cheek. Tilted his head, eyelashes lowering. Breath against your lips. Eyes pleading you, waiting for the heartbreak.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You pressed your lips against Jungkook’s, eyes closing. It was impossible to say no. He was sweet and soft. You could feel his nerves and his fear in his kiss, not trying to ask for more, not wanting to ask for too much. It was you who hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Right, wrong? That didn’t matter right now. The only thing you cared about right now was taking Jungkook’s fear away.

You pulled him onto the bed, arms around his neck, mumbling his name against his lips. His breathing hitched, hands circling your waist, holding onto you.

“Noona…”

“Call me by name, Jungkook.”

He gulped, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He gnawed on his lip anxiously. You smiled, and took his hands, placing them by the buttons of his shirt.

“Weren’t you in the middle of giving me a show?” you teased. “You’re great at putting on a show.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

You settled down into the bed, looking up at him from in between his thighs. You could tell Jungkook was still nervous, but there was something else too. His mischief was creeping back into his sparkling eyes. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. He undid another button. And another. Carefully, playfully pulling the fabric apart, revealing a little of his skin at a time.

“Hyung told me you like staring at my pictures.”

You shrugged, licking your lips. “They’re nice photos.”

“Were you satisfied by just looking at pictures?” he purred, already reaching lower, lower. You could see the contours of his muscular torso, the top of his abs. Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. Scratch that, so fucking hot. He reached the bottom of his shirt and placed two fingers under your chin, pushing it back up to his face.

“My eyes are up here.”

His fingers under your chin made you realize how hard you were breathing.

“Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at you, long hair covering part of his face.

Yoongi’s words came back to you. My woman gets to satisfy her little crush. At the time, you thought those words were referring to your crush in Jungkook. But perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe Yoongi was referring to you satisfying Jungkook.

“Don’t hold back.”

And then you got up from the bed, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and yanking them down Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him again, but harder this time, tongue sliding into his mouth and thrusting into it, taking his breath away. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, gasping against your tongue, struggling to get out of his sleeves before he scrambled for the buttons on your shirt, moaning as you sucked on his tongue, gripping his upper arms.

“N-noona…”

“Call me by name or nothing at all,” you growled dangerously.

His dark eyes bored into you, daring you. You nipped at his lower lip, grinning.

“You think you’re the only one who’s horny here?”

Your hands danced around his arms, reaching around him, and your nails scratched him down his broad back, hissing as he moaned, tipping his head back, Adam’s apple shaking. Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good to drag your nails down that back, seeing Jungkook lose some control, falling more and more into the moment. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, shuddering as his hard body was pressed against you and your half-open shirt.

“I want it all,” you breathed. “I’m so greedy, but I want it all, Jungkook. Give it to me.” Voice dropping, inhaling his delicious scent. “Please.”

He growled deep in his chest and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, yanking up and revealing your bra clasp, undoing it easily. Pushed you back, swiftly pulling your shirt and bra off together, tossing it aside to the floor.

“Fuck, your tits are as pretty as I thought they would be.”

And then Jungkook’s mouth was on you, furiously kissing down your neck, licking your collarbones, biting your shoulder, his hands roughly squeezing your breasts. You moaned, your nipples pressed against his thumbs, pinching them against the side of his hand. His lips travelled down, down and then they latched around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands flew up into his hair, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, they even taste good,” he whined. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your back arched as he began to suck, running your hands through his hair, whimpering his name, telling him how good he was, how nice it felt, lost in the feeling of his tongue and his strong arms around your waist. He switched to the other nipple, saliva dripping. Licking it all over and then breathing on it with his hot breath. Your entire body trembled in his arms from the sensation.

“I’m drooling; that’s how fucking good you taste,” Jungkook mumbled, sucking hard and tight, dark eyes on you as you cried out softly, holding onto his head. Your fingers curled into his long locks, grasping them tightly. He raised his eyebrow, but you began to rock back and forth into his mouth, tugging your nipple with his lips. Jungkook’s fingers dug into you, erotic groans vibrating in his throat as you fucked his face with your tits.

Wetness soaked your panties, the scent of your sex getting stronger and stronger.

Jungkook removed his lips, sucking in a tight breath. Your name slid out of his mouth in a tight hiss, no honorifics. You felt your pussy throb hearing your name come from his lips, saturated with desire. You grinned.

“Took you long enough, Jungkookie.”

He chuckled, grabbing your hips and shoving them up into his jean-covered crotch. You gasped. You could feel his erection straining against the thick fabric, grinding against your soaked panties. Fuck, you couldn’t stop staring at Jungkook, him and his sharp jawline and his beautiful eyes and his playful smirk on his damn lips, infuriating and arousing you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” you whispered, rolling your hips into him hard. It was his turn to gasp, his turn to shudder at your movements. The way you could turn him from smug confidence to those submissive doe eyes was turning you on way too much.

You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. He yelped as you slid down, nails racking down his torso, whimpering in your wake. The front of his jeans was wet with your juices. You undid the button, zipping them down.

“How are you going to explain this?” you smirked, gesturing down to the giant wet sport at the front of his pants.

“They’re black,” Jungkook panted. “It’ll be fine.”

You laughed, pulling them down his legs. Jungkook’s hand flew down, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a condom. You tilted your head.

“Only one?”

He looked down at you, startled. “W-well… I don’t know if you want more….”

You raised an eyebrow and reached over to the nightstand, opening it and taking out the whole damn box.

“Er… I cannot cum that many times. In one sitting, anyway.”

“Ah, well, let���s just see then.”

You peeled his jeans and boxer briefs off, licking your lips as your hungry eyes landed on his cock. Half-hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Jungkook swallowed nervously, but you crawled on top of him, immediately licking a fat stripe down his entire length. You moaned with him, feeling the blood rushing to his cock, pulsing against your lips. You hadn’t had sex in a while, trying not to tempt Yoongi or aggravate his injury. His recovery was too important to not only you, but the nation and the world. So, you kept your need to yourself, but now Jungkook’s cock was right on front of you.

And there was nothing to stop you.

You pressed your lips against his balls, licking them all over, playing with them with your tongue. Jungkook groaned above you, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as you began to suck on them, bobbing your head up and down. He was panting your name breathlessly, helpless as you pulled your head back, his balls slowly slipping out from between your lips.

You kissed up his length, tongue swirling around the head before taking him in, all the way, softly but firmly. If there was anything Yoongi’s tongue technology taught you, it was how to apply his technique to giving head, much to his surprise. You were good at extrapolation. You pressed the head into the roof of your mouth, raking it all the way to the upper part of your throat and tightening. Jungkook gasped, eyelids fluttering as your tongue assaulted the bottom of his cock, from the bottom of the head to the base.

You heard something between the lines of, “Holy fuck”, “What the hell”, and “Oh my fucking God.”

You retreated for a second, wrapped your tongue all the way around the head and teased the thin skin right where the head and length connected, repeatedly rubbing your lips over it before going all the way down again.

Now Jungkook was absolutely incomprehensible as you began to suck him off, fast and tight, lips soft compared to the vacuum of your mouth. Was it unfair? Yes, it was, giving him soft and hard, rough and wet, scraping the head against the back of your throat and choking it with your muscles. Jungkook was whimpering and cursing, his thighs flexing under you, tasting so fucking good that you were dripping between your own thighs.

You didn’t stop.

Faster and faster, holding his hips down, watching Jungkook unravel under you, hands in his long hair and slamming his head back into the pillows, covering his mouth as he screamed your name into his palm. You felt his cock spurt his cum into the back of your throat, your muscles constricting as you drank him up, your moans added vibration along his length.

The first orgasm was always the most and tasted the best. So much, coating the entire inside of your mouth, your tongue swiping around his cock to collect it all. You lapped it all up, encouraging his cock to get hard again. Smirking as you succeeded, popping your mouth off gently.

“What position do you want me in, Jungkook?” you murmured, throat a little hoarse, taking the condom and opening it, rolling it onto his cock.

He moved his palm from his mouth, panting hard, hair all over his face. His intense brown eyes locked with yours and you knew the dynamic was switched.

“On your back. Want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

You could relent, rolling onto your back, removing your soaked panties, chest heaving in anticipation as Jungkook got up, towering over you. His hands gripped your hips, adjusting you to the correct angle. You could play the other part, with one small caveat. His eyes found yours, glaring at you.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook thrust into you, hard, and you kept the smirk on your face as he forcefully stretched you out, pushing your limits.

“Hurts?” he taunted.

You licked your lips. “It’s not good unless it hurts.”

The slight irritation that flashed in his eyes spurred you on. You tightened around his cock, exhaling with a hiss. Fitting him to you, bringing out the dominance in him. Jungkook gritted his teeth and slammed his hips into yours. You had the audacity to chuckle.

“Did you really want me that bad, Jungkook?” you teased. “Or were they only pretty words? Are you a tiger or just a cute little bunny?”

Jungkook snarled low in his chest.

Then he began to fuck you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders and pressing down, smacking your ass with his hips. The position made you tighter, gravity making him pound you harder, forcing you to feel all of him as drove his rock-hard cock into you. Your hands flew up, one pressed against the headboard, the other clutching a pillow for dear life, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness and harshness.

“A-ah, fuck, yes,” you gasped. “So fucking good…”

Jungkook brought his face close to yours, hitting you deeper and just as hard. “Where’s your smirk now? Can’t give me one when you’re being punished by this cock?”

Your heart jerked in your chest at his dirty words, becoming even wetter with the dangerous edge to his voice.

“Listen to you, fucking dripping down my thighs with how wet you are for me,” Jungkook hissed, inhaling sharply as you throbbed hard around him. He groaned, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t help myself, I just have to fuck you like an animal.”

You snickered dryly, jerking your hips up to meet his. Not saying anything, letting your pussy do the talking because you were so close to orgasm that you roughly massaged his entire length, throwing your head back and moaning as you came around him. The squelching sounds between your connected hips got louder, drenching the air with the scent of sex and lust.

Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip, grimacing. “Fucking unfair how good you feel,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, ramming his hips into you, muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. “Can’t even last, fuck.”

He crashed his hips into yours and growled your name in his throat, cock smacking against your walls as he came, swelling the condom full. You whimpered in ecstasy, back arching, clenching around his cock.

“Yes, Jungkook, oh, yeeees…”

It wasn’t enough.

Neither of you had had enough.

Jungkook gripped the end of the condom and pulled out, hissing at the sensitivity as he took it off. You tossed him a spare towel from the nightstand drawer and he cleaned himself, gasping.

“Hands and knees.”

You rolled over, flinging the box of condoms at him, and he caught it, dark eyes glinting.

“Spread that pussy for me.”

You reached back and planted your hands on each ass cheek pulling your wet slit open. Jungkook hissed and you could hear skin on skin of him jacking himself off to get hard again. An idea popped into your head.

You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing your hole for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so damn sexy it’s illegal.”

You heard him get onto his knees. The sound of a condom being ripped open. His groan as he fitted the condom over his aching cock. His strong hands gripped your hips, the head rubbing against your entrance.

“Don’t know how long I can last,” he murmured. “I’m just going to go as hard and as fast as I can.”

“Do it, Jungkook,” you panted. “Make me feel you for days.”

He whimpered at your words and sank into you. Both of you moaning, your hands clutching the sheets, his fingertips bruising your skin, imprints of lust. Jungkook was pure, glorious power that threatened to overtake you, his cock throbbing and digging into your walls as he fucked you hard, muscular thighs slapping into yours. The poor bed could barely take it, but neither of you noticed, lost in the feeling of being filled and doing the filling.

His hand came down on your ass, a sharp, harsh sound that echoed off the walls and made your pussy clench. It barely hurt. You had felt worse before.

“You like that?” he panted.

“Fuck yes I do,” you gasped hotly. “Spank my ass, Jungkook.”

He did, thrusting into you and slapping you repeatedly, making your ass jiggle. You squeezed him each time, now rolling your hips back into him, arching your back as you came with a satisfied sigh. Your skin stung, your pussy was pulsating with abuse, and Jungkook’s cock hit all your deepest spots.

“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so fucking good at fucking me,” you breathed, feeling him wind you up again.

He couldn’t even reply, only loudly moaning through the convulsions of your pussy radiating up and down his length. Good thing the walls were pretty soundproof, because it was a goddamn porno in the bedroom at the moment. It was obscenely lewd with the wet slapping of his hips into yours.

“So close, so close, squeeze me, fuck, choke my damn dick,” Jungkook rambled in between breaths, hissing as you did as you were told, gripping him every time he slammed into you. He came with a half-scream, half-moan of your name, whining at the sensitivity as you pulsed around him, leaking down his thighs and yours. It smelled so strongly of sex that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to clean this up before Yoongi came home.

Your phone buzzed loudly on the bed.

You grunted, clawing for it as Jungkook remained inside you, softening but refusing to leave your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your back.

You checked your messages. From Yoongi.

Your gift needs to get his ass to practice before he gets yelled at.

“Jungkook, you’re gonna be late.”

He groaned in annoyance, squeezing you tighter. Another message popped up.

Tell him there’s plenty of time before I fully recover. If he works hard and does a good job, maybe after I recover too.

You poked Jungkook. He lifted his head, pouting, eyes changing to excitement when he read the message.

-

part ii “You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

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