cocoshed-blog

[spookiew]

When I started bg3 I couldn’t help but wonder which of these characters was going to make me deranged. I had only gleaned a little bit of information from my dashboard but otherwise had no expectations

I honestly should have expected it to be the weird grouchy alien war criminal. It’s painfully in character for me honestly

[buckyalpine]

DBF Bucky

This turned out more debauched than i intended, my bad. 

No thots just -

Dads best friend Bucky.

“C’mon spread your legs for daddy” He has you straddled on top of him, lining his cock up with your soaked cunt, rubbing the tip through your folds. You whine, sinking down on him, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain at the stretch of his length. “That’s it baby girl, lookin’ so pretty for me, God damn” 

Your nails dug into his thick shoulders, thigh burning from riding him up and down, your breasts bouncing in his face. It didn’t matter how many times he had you spread out like this, it always made him feral; the one person that was off limits to him, naked and riding his cock. 

“Such a good slut for me sugar, my little fuckdoll” He groaned, grabbing your hips, and squeezing your ass in his hands, loving how soft your skin was. “Dirty filthy fuckin’ slut, you love fuckin’ your dads best friend” 

“M’not a slut” you pout, moaning when he thrusted up from under you, nudging against that sensitive spot only he could reach. 

“But you’re my slut princess, look at the creamy mess you’re making all over me, you’re so slutty baby, you’re a dirty girl, so fuckin’ naughty” Bucky couldn’t get enough of your bottom lip jutting out, chewed raw, your skin glistening with sweat, your face twisted from pleasure. He grabbed his phone, guiding you to lean back so he could capture your whole body with his cock sheathed inside you. 

“Daddy, what are y-” 

“Shhh, smile for me pretty baby” Bucky cooed, capturing the way your brows were knitted together, eyes glazed over. He captured another of you looking at him with those doe eyes that drove him insane. Then another of your perfect form, white cream messy on the dark hair at the base of his cock, your thighs spread across him. 

“Lean back and open those legs for me, lemme see that pretty button of yours baby” Bucky murmured, gently maneuvering you till your legs were spread wide apart, your pussy stretched around his shaft. “There it is, s’all swollen huh princess, want daddy to rub it better?”  

Your felt your skin heat up, burning under his gaze while he eyed you up and down, getting more pictures all just for him. 

“Daddy” you whined out, collapsing on his chest, hiding away from him. You kept your face against his neck, needy whimpers slipping past your lips, sucking on his pulse point to keep your moans down. Bucky let out a soft chuckle, stroking your hair and rubbing your back, tossing his phone aside while continuing to fuck up into you. 

“All shy for me, sweets? Use your words pretty girl, you want daddy to play with your clit? Make you feel good?” 

“uh huh” Your voice was muffled against his neck, crying out when he started to speed up. He slammed your hips down to meet his strokes, pulling your body to his and rolling over. He pinned you against the bed, fucking you into the mattress. 

“OH-F-Fuck! Da-Daddy!” Your eyes rolled back, screwed shut from pleasure.  

“Open your eyes” He smacked your cheek, squeezing them together, making your lips pout, “Keep your eyes open while I fuck you, don’t you dare close them baby, look at me when I’m deep in your pussy” 

You clung onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders, taking each of his thrusts, your nails scratching angry red lines down his back.  He let out a growl, snaking a hand down, pressing onto your lower belly, making you feel where his tip was hitting that sensitive spot only he could reach.

“Feel that? Feel my cock in you sweets, s’deep, so deep in you, m’making a mess in there baby, there’s so much precum, m’leaking so much in you” 

You clenched at the thought of his cum filling you up, usually having him pull out and covering your face instead. Your pussy dripped around his shaft at how it would feel to have him give you his full load, his warm seed pumping you up, giving you his kids, feeling him throb-

Fuck-

“Open your mouth” You obeyed instantly, sticking your tongue out, letting him spit in your mouth, humming in satisfaction when you swallowed. “You’re such a good girl for me baby, makin’ it hard for me to pull out” 

Then don’t.

“I gotta pull out, huh? Better ease up sweets, choking my dick, I don’t know how long I’ll last with the way your squeezing and milking me” 

Then give me your milk, daddy. 

You whimpered, clenching your thighs around his waist, not wanting him to pull out. You shook your head while he let out a moan almost as if he was in pain, his body weight dropping on you. 

“S’not fair princess, you know I can’t” 

He couldn’t.

You were his best friends daughter.

Your dad would kill him if he knew.

He couldn't 

“Ease up sweets, you’re gonna make cum in you” Bucky warned as best as he could, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Put a baby in me daddy!” Your legs wrapped tighter around him, your ankles locked at his lower back. You bit your lip, looking at him with desperate doe eyes, clinging around his body, “Wanna have your baby” 

“Oh God” Bucky could feel his cock swell, his balls painfully heavy, the veins running along his shaft throbbing. He worked his hips faster, giving you harsh, slopping thrusts, his feet slipping against the sheets. “You want a baby? You want my baby? I’ll give you a fuckin’ baby” Bucky moaned, pounding into you until the headboard slammed against your wall. 

What the hell was he doing, he couldn’t-

“Get me pregnant daddy” 

Fuck, yes he could. 

“You’re gonna be a good. little. mama, n’I’m gonna be your baby daddy, n’you’re gonna be so gorgeous with that round belly and so much milk for our baby” You cried out, feeling pleasure building higher and higher, just ready to tip over as he slammed into you, his hands fisting the sheets by your head. “You gonna feed me baby?” He sucked your nipple into his mouth, his pace faltering further at the thought of your sweet milk flowing into his mouth, “Gonna give me mommys sweet warm milk?”

“Daddy, m’cumming!!” Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, clenching and squeezing his cock, making his balls tighten. Bucky let out a pornographic moan a the feeling of your scratches, legs locked at his waist not letting him pull out. His cock was rock hard, swollen beyond belief as he finally caved, letting pleasure burst through his cock. 

“FUCKK” He roared against your neck, the sheets tearing under his grip as he started to pump ropes of cum into you, “That’s it, take all of my cum in that pussy, take my kids pretty girl, my filthy little baby” Bucky stilled, still dribbling into you while you panted, your body pliant underneath him. He softly stroked your hair, gently kissing your temple, your eyes growing wide when you felt his cock some how harden again almost instantaneously.

“Better have an excuse for your dad baby, cause I’m not leaving this bed till you make me a daddy” 

[roadkillxd]

What about top!puppy boy humping ghost/soap (or maybe both) like a horny dog, overstimulating them and himself, unable to stop because it feels so good

Thank you for indulging me. Ghost is the main bottom here but Soap is there to guide + comfort him through it since he's taken you before and Ghostie hasn't.

Ghost x Soap x M!Reader  ↪ 686 words — 18+ / SMUT

Content tags — cis male dominant dogboy reader, submissive cis male Ghost, submissive cis male Soap, established relationship, implicit pet play, knotting, breeding kink, licking/saliva kink, overstimulation, unsafe sex, rimming, anal sex and very mild dubious consent.

“Fuckin’ mutt,” Simon growls, hearing how your tail thumps against the bed as you lap messily at his hole. 

You whine at the insult, trying to bury deeper in hopes of pleasing him, Soap chuckling from his place underneath Ghost.

“Play nice, L.T.,” he chides, running his fingers soothingly through Simon’s mussed hair, “He’s being good, isn’t he? Making you feel good?”

Ghost breathes out a curse, rocking back on his knees as your long tongue glides over his sweet spot. 

“God, you should see ‘im, Simon. Lil’ red rocket’s leaking like a faucet. You got ‘im real pent up, huh?”

You whimper again, hindbrain taking over as you move from his hole to lick up his spine, feeling how he shivers beneath you. Your hips are already humping uselessly into the air as you shuffle forward, and Soap laughs again, pulling Simon into a kiss to muffle the shout he knows is coming. He’s more than experienced with the first brutal thrusts of your prick.

Your cock brushes Simon’s thigh, nudging his balls and taint as you lay your weight over his back, legs spread wide over his own. Your tip catches on his rim and you can hear his choked gasp as you finally hit home, pushing in and immediately thrusting—quick, shallow little things that make Ghost’s breath catch in his throat as he buries his face against Soap’s throat, biting and gasping for breath, blunt nails scratching up Soap’s biceps.

Your tail wags excitedly as you lick at Simon’s ear, making him groan in disgust and shift his head away from you.

“Y’feel so good, Simon, oh my god—oh my god, you’re so tight,” you keen, sucking at the pale skin of his neck, marking your claim as your hips thrust bruisingly quick. The wet squelch of his hole stretching around you is sickeningly loud, and you vaguely makeout Soap’s shifting arm through your hazy state as he strokes both his and Simon’s cock in tandem.

“Mmm, I think Si wants your knot, pup,” Soap purrs, grinning up at you, leaning up to let you lick sloppily into his mouth with a small moan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” Simon groans, breath hitching with each rock of your hips. He squeezes you so tight at Soap’s words, and you can feel your knot swelling, catching on Simon’s rim with each brutal thrust—you’re sure Simon can feel it, with the startled moaning gasp that rips from his throat as his muscles tense.

“Relax, Ghostie,” Soap coos sweetly, “gotta stay relaxed for ‘im. It’s gonna feel so good, promise, just let our good boy breed you, huh?”

You swear you hear Ghost whimper underneath the noisy sounds of you panting and wet skin on skin slapping, resounding through the small room. 

“M’gonna fuckin’ cum,” Ghost grits out, clinging to Soap like a life line, his hips mindlessly rocking back onto your cock and forward into Soap’s fist. 

You can feel his hole fluttering around you, adding to the already blissful sensation of his squishy walls sucking your cock in. You growl, fluffy ears flattening back against your head as you bite down on Ghost’s shoulder, your incisors sinking into the flesh, feeling the taut skin snap beneath your hold.

He shouts out at the dual sensation of pain and pleasure as you finally pop your knot into him, his own orgasm ripping through him and milking your cock with each shuddering spurt of cum pulled from him by Soap’s skilled hand. 

It feels so good. Your cock is oversensitive and sore, rubbed raw as it pumps Simon full of cum—but you can’t stop humping, rocking into him desperately.

Ghost chokes, his twitching and spent prick rubbing through the wet and sticky mess they’ve made of Soap’s stomach. 

“Johnny—” he gasps, pushing up onto his hands briefly before collapsing back onto his elbows.

“Christ, he’s really pent up L.T.,” Soap mock whispers, pressing a kiss to the other man’s temple—said man’s mouth agape and eyes wide open as he gasps and spasms from the overstimulation, “don’t think yer coming off that knot anytime soon, love.”

[jaebeomsbitch]

Victorian Wh*re (R.R)

Summary: Roman suggests maybe you can watch each other touch yourselves. Fem reader!

WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, swearing,

A/N: We're bringing back the dildo thing in the next fic! God I just know it would drive him crazy but also he'd feel so insanely bad about himself after. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

“You diddle yourself, I diddle myself come on it’ll be a fuckin’ disgusting fuck fest” Roman says. He’s always the one to initiate any intimate moments between you two because you knew how uncomfortable he was with it all. It’s like his body wants it, craves it but his mind immediately snaps him out of it when things get too far. You hadn’t gotten past phone sex which was even surprising to you. You didn’t know much about Roman’s sexual issues because he isn’t the most emotionally available person.

“Can you even…” you don’t finish the sentence. Your mind immediately travels to the image. The way his mouth hangs open, his hips twitching, that vein on his forehead popping out as he pants for breath. You can always admit that your…boyfriend? Whatever he was, was attractive. And although he has a vulgar personality you can’t help but look at the way his lips move or the way he perfectly quirks his mouth into a smirk. Meeting Roman made you realize you probably had odontophilia, your eyes always trained on his mouth. Something that Roman has picked up on but he’s yet to use as ammunition. Something about the way he has sharp canine teeth turns you on. Maybe it’s some sort of primal urge in you, like in caveman days he’d probably be really good at eating raw meat. 

“Oh fuck off! Yes I can jerk off, I jerk off so much I’m surprised I still have skin,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at his admission. 

“God you sound like a teenage boy,” you shake your head. His hazel eyes narrow at your little chuckle. 

“You want me to prove it to you?” He asks, eyebrow quirked, lips pressed into a slight grin. You look at him for a second.

“Oh you’re serious. Can- can you even get it up?” The words leave your mouth before you can think. As much as you always love your back and forth with Roman you never liked poking fun at his sexual trauma.

“Well…just— just try it with me and you’ll see,” he says, that grin a little wider but his eyes hold a certain vulnerability. 

You sigh, closing your eyes for a second as you press your head into the pillow. Are you really gonna do this? It’d be better than that time he tried to have sex with you and ended up dry humping your thigh for two seconds before just giving up and turning away. He didn’t let you comfort him either which only made it worse. 

A part of you was scared of crossing this line with Roman, you didn’t want to scare him off and create only more bad sexual experiences for him. But, you did feel pent up, would you mind if he just watched you if he couldn’t touch himself? 

“Ugh, fine,” you finally say, deciding to get out of your head. If he felt comfortable enough to do this with you then you’d let him. You didn’t want to deny him that part of himself, especially when you know how much he struggles with intimacy. 

“Throw me some pillows,” you say. Making a pile of them at the foot of the bed. You situate yourself so you’re half sitting half lying down. You have a clear view of him as you lay diagonal from him. He sits leaning against the headboard, you can see the way he gulps down his saliva. Was he expecting you to deny him?

“We can do this another time,” you say, giving him an out to say no. 

“What are you scared?” He taunts but his voice sounds a little broken. 

“I’m serious Rome, if you’re not ready you’re not ready,” you say, actually addressing the problem. 

“Oh fuck off, you got a fuck up vag or something? Oh god it’s fucked up isn’t it? Like a fucking acid explosion down there?” He says. 

You laugh, “on the contrary, all my partners have said I have a ‘pretty pussy’” you say laughing. It wasn’t true but you weren’t ashamed of your vulva, why should you be? Everyone’s look different. 

“Well I’ve gotten quite a few people thirsting over my cock. Said they wanted to make a mold of it or something. Oh those sick fucks probably would make a dildo and fuck themself with it,” he says. 

“Wait, why is that kind of a good idea?” You say. 

“What?” His attention snaps back to you. 

“Well if you can’t fuck me, then give me a replica of your cock. Then I’d at least know what it feels like,” you grin up at him. He’d probably love it, seeing you moan at the feeling of his rubber cock in you. 

“See, I knew you wanted to fuck me,” he says.

“Did I ever deny it?” You bite back. He looks at you for a second almost shocked before he snaps out of it. 

“Well it’ll happen one day,” he says a little sadly. 

“Hmm, one day,” you nod. 

“Okay it’s time to jerk off~” He sing songs, clapping his hands. 

“You want me to touch myself dry? You gotta give me some material to work with,” you grumble. 

“I mean just look at me,” he flexes his muscles. 

“Okay well you’re fully clothed and I don’t think you’re necessarily up for removing them,” you say. 

“You need me to expose an ankle or something. ‘Ooh I’m a baaad Victorian girl’” he says in a faux sexy voice, putting a finger on his lip and pretending to act coy, his leg stretched out dramatically to show off his right ankle.

“Oh yeah, that ankle has got me turned on beyond belief,” You laugh.

“No seriously, I’m gonna need to watch a video or something. I’m not exactly revved up right now,” you ignore the way he wiggles his ankle at you. 

“Okay fucking Toyota calm down,” he says. 

“Well-- maybe you start? It’ll give me some inspiration… hopefully,” you smirk. 

“Not a problem, I’m so fuckin’ hard right now. Ugh your ankle and knees are out? You whore,” his eyes run over the expanse of your legs. You can’t help but flex your feet in response. 

“Oh you’re hard at that? Well I can do so much better. Shit, I think if I flashed you, you’d fuckin cum in your pants,” you laugh.

“That’s a challenge I’m willing to bet on. I’d like to see you try,” he says, eyes half lidded. His hand sliding towards the bulge in his sleep pants. 

“Yeah?” You breathe. Oh this was getting real. He silently nods, the palm of his hand rubbing at the fabric. He tips his head back to lean against the headboard, his eyes trained on your body. They flicker towards different parts quickly like he’s unsure where to look. 

“Just fuck— take ‘em out,” he groans, his voice a little too desperate for his liking. 

“You’re a sick fucking pervert,” you say but the demand certainly sounds intriguing. He’s touching himself as you’re fully clothed, how would he react if he saw something… new? He shudders at your words but you don’t seem to realize it. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t jerked off in a long time or something. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m a sick fuck,” he replies, trying to make it sound like a joke but there’s something there. A new tone you don’t recognize. It’s like you start to see Roman in a different light. Maybe you didn’t see him as a sexual person before but you’re definitely seeing it now, as his hips slowly tip to meet the palm of his hand. Shit why was this kind of hot? You’re definitely wet now, as you look at him, small whines in the back of his throat threatening to spill out. He keeps his mouth shut, embarrassed that he’s already worked up.

If he wants a show you’ll give him a fucking show, you bunch up your baggy sleep shirt. Your nipples perking at the cold air.

“Ooh fuck,” he moans, eyes trained on your chest. You decide to give him a show. If this was your only time doing this you had to make it memorable. Your hands slide up your ribs to cup your breasts, your thumb brushing over the taunt nipples.

“Ooh,” your breath hitches at the sensation, watching as his hand moves faster against his cock. 

“Put it in,” you moan, eyes trained on his hand. 

“What?” He chokes.

“Put your hand in there, you can’t just rub it all day. Touch yourself for real,” you say, eyes flicking up towards his. You notice the way his canines dig into his bottom lip. Fuck… your hand absentmindedly slides into your sleep shorts, your finger slowly circling your clit as you see him put his hand in his pajama pants. The fabric straining against his moving hand. 

Maybe it’s time to try out your new theory. “Fuck, you’re disgusting Roman. Look at you” you groan, finger pressing into yourself. His eyes flick towards yours, he can tell he’s turning you on. You wish you could mean it though, the words come out all breathy as you slide your middle finger in and out. You wish you could say any of your next words with conviction but your breath hitches when you see his mouth hung agape, his eyes closing for a second before looking at you hungrily. His gaze trained on the movement of your shorts. 

Fuck! There wasn’t enough space in them to reach your sweet spot so you quickly slide the fabric down your legs. You bend your knees to give him the perfect view of your finger sliding in and out in your cunt. 

“Oh fuck” He moans, eyes almost staring holes through your flesh. 

“God, you’d fucking love to watch me fuck myself with a dildo of your cock wouldn’t you? It the only way you’d ever fuck me. You’re a fucking sicko,” You whine the last part, your fingers relentlessly hitting the squishy part inside of you. Your other hand slithers around until it finds your clit, your fingers move quickly as you see Roman is close. 

He’s practically fucking his hand, his mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Ooh Fuck, yeah. I’d fuckin’ love it. W-want to see your face stretch around my… F-f-fuck!” He moans. 

His head slamming backwards into the headboard with a loud thud but he’s too caught up in this. Jerking off was something but this? This was so much different. The air crackles with your attraction for one another. You’d felt attracted to Roman in your weak moments sure but now, now you felt like you just opened a can of worms. Like crossing this line is going to make you crave more of him. 

“You’re close aren’t you? One look at me touching myself and you’re cumming in your pants like a fucking virgin,” You taunt, but your words have no real bite. It doesn't matter how harshly you say it, you want this. Want to see him ruin his expensive sleep pants, watch the way his eyes roll back and how his teeth will rip his lip open. 

“F-fuck M’close,” He slurs, his eyes half-closed but he keeps them open. He wants to keep this memory burned into his brain. He never wants to forget the sounds you make and the way your legs slightly shake as you circle your clit. 

“Shiiit me too. Let me see you cum,” You say, your voice higher pitched than normal as you try and stave off your release. Your eyes flutter, threatening to close shut but you force them open. You weren’t losing this experience. It’s almost like the aurora borealis but much more rare and a lot prettier. 

“Oh f-Uck,” He whines, his hips bucking wildly against his hand. Until you see them stutter, his canines digging into his bottom lip to try and keep himself quiet, his chest heaves, stomach twitching violently at the feeling of this new release. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” He groans, his cock twitching in his hand as the spurts of cum paint the inside of his boxers. The sticky mess seeping into the fabric of his pajama pants. He finally lets his cock go, taking his hand out from the waistband. You can see the glistening of his cum coating his hand as you work yourself faster. 

“Shi-it,” you shiver, the heat in your stomach building and building. It feels like you’re an old house caught on fire, your whole body sweating, your legs starting to tremble as you maintain eye contact with Roman. 

“Let me taste it,” You grunt, in between moans. 

“W-what?” Roman says confused. His mind is still on cloud nine as he licks away the drops of blood on his lip. 

“Roman I swear to fucking God I will fucking–” You can’t think of a decent insult, your mind turning to mush as you watch him carefully but enthusiastically crawl over to you. He smears his cum on your lips, his fingers prodding at the seam of your mouth until you relent. You eagerly lick at his hand, the fire builds more, the foundation of the house collapsing as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. 

“Ooh,” He shivers, his voice lower than normal as he moves his fingers in and out of your mouth. The cadence in his voice pushes you over the edge. Your entire body tenses up for a second before everything releases. You moan around his fingers, accidentally biting down on the flesh as your eyes roll backward. Roman watches you, you almost look possessed as you whine around his fingers, your body going completely limp. 

“C-can I?” You hear Roman ask but you aren’t really listening, not that you’d expect it anyway. Roman was one to take and never to ask. You languidly nod your head, the heat of Roman’s thighs pressing into the side of your leg is the only thing keeping you grounded.

That is until you feel him remove his hand from your mouth. His saliva coated fingers wrapping around your wrist as he uses your sticky fingers to dip into your cunt like a dunkaroo and scoop your cum, your eyes widen at the intrusion and boldness of it all. He brings your fingers to his mouth, the sharpness of his canines brushing the pads of your fingers as he cleans your fingers off.

“Oh f-fuck, Rome,” You moan, your eyes barely open watching him commit this obscene act. He knew about your weakness, he noticed the way you stared at him with that far away look when he bit into his thumb. 

Your thighs still twitch in the aftershocks of your intense moment. Your fingers are long clean but the tips of his teeth press into your fingers before he lets your wrist fall. He retreats back to his corner of the bed. You lower your shirt back down over your chest and slide on your underwear leaving your shorts lost somewhere in the sheets. You sigh as you lean your head back into the mound of pillows. 

“So was it as hideous as you thought? Worse than a mangled up ball of rotting flesh?” You joke with a twinkle in your eyes as you look at him.

“Oh definitely fucking worse, I had to stop myself from gagging it was so disgusting,” He says, a small smile on his lips and something different in his eyes. You can’t pinpoint it but something has changed. 

“You know, your ankle had me a lot more aroused than I was expecting,” You laugh. 

“Yeah? I got better ankles than a fucking marathon runner. I could put those victorian whores to shame… really fuck up their business,” He says sinking into the sheets. 

“Oh yeah? How much would you charge?” You ask, staring up at the ceiling. What the fuck was your life?

“I don’t know, like five grand at the minimum. I only want the rich fucks looking at my ankles especially if I’m gonna have to look at old men jerk off” He says, dramatically shuddering in disgust. 

“...I’ve got five grand, when's your next available appointment?” You ask looking back at him. His eyes meet yours. 

“Yeah?” He asks, seeming to speak without actually speaking about it, a big grin on his face. 

“I’m good for the money,” You say, a small smile on your lips. You both lay there in silence, what you just did hanging in the air. Roman somehow feels lighter. Sure he’d still have difficult days, days where he can’t stand to look down at his body or days when you hold him while you sleep and he silently cries but he had this. He was capable of some sort of intimate relationship even if it was unconventional. 

You grab a pillow and crawl over to your side of the bed and lie down. 

“Roman?” You whisper, a little afraid of pissing him off especially after all this. 

“Hmm? Need another look at my ankles, this one’s gonna cost you double,” He says, lazily turning his head to look at you. 

“Only if you throw in a free elbow,” You smile, cuddling into your pillow. 

“That can be arranged, which one though?” He asks, placing his hands underneath his head as he mimics your position. 

Your eyes flick to his already exposed elbows, “Right, definitely the right.”

“Sure, I’ll throw it in only because you’ve been a loyal customer,” He says, hazel eyes searching through yours.

“I’ll continue to be loyal,” You try to reassure him. He doesn’t say anything, no smart quip, just an ever so slight nod as he closes his eyes. You can't help but stare at his face, at the slight stubble, the freckles painted onto the bridge of his nose.

“Stop staring or I’m gonna have to charge you by the second,” He says, his eyes still closed. 

“That’s okay, my boyfriend is a billionaire,” You whisper, scooting closer to him. 

“Boyfriend?” He whispers like the word is foreign. Your fingertips brush his hair out of his face. Everything was okay, you were both okay. He was your Victorian whore and you were all too willing to pay his hefty price. 

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour. 

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.” 

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.” 

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer. 

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?” 

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible. 

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?” 

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who… 

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle. 

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.” 

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.” 

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.” 

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!”  Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.” 

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction..  Damn, the boy can kiss! 

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless. 

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[blistering-typhoons]

BBC SHERLOCK REWATCH - A STUDY IN PINK (REAL TIME NOTES)

From the perspective of someone who watched this show when they were thirteen, made it their whole personality and then stopped being a massive prat.

I thought about organizing this into a cohesive review, and maybe as I go on I'll delve deeper into some of my observations but for now I thought it would be funny to present my findings in raw, mostly unaltered form:

- loud ass opening, my god

- only bit of acting Martin freeman ever does lmao

- dances along to theme against my will

- god the effects and transitions are so shit

- all the shots of the pills are so ugly

- oh yay molly - whoo - yayyy

- the potential withe these two goddamn

- also this sherlock does not drink his respect women juice by god

- fucksake the deduction about john's sister- not only is it translated awfully into this modern setting, it's explicitly a deduction Sherlock is supposed to make once they know eachother a bit better

- THE POTENTIAL

- also sherlock displaying one insecurity when john accidentally insults his stuff- well done moftiss, characterization

- How far away is the crime scene, why it dark

- pls the transitions

- PIPE BOMB, WHOO Phone deductionnnn

- oh my god it's so shit

- uuuuuuuugggghhhh the potential I hate this shooooow

- fuckin deduction as a way for witty one liners and sexism, i hate this place

- 'you were thinking it's annoying' i'm going to send myself off a cliff, CRINGE

- RACHE- moffat, come here a sec- literally putting ACD on par with the police, who are always wrong the sheer audacity- also just a bad change

- these lens flare white lights are so goofy please, you will never be a whole scene of silence with jeremy brett

- benedict cumberbatch is very pretty i will grant

- terrorized by the fact i used to quote this show unironically

- from a writing point of view I understand that John gushing over Sherlock is to show off and emphasize their specialest boy- but, some sincerity is infused into it from an acting standpoint

- 30:02 GIRLIE WHAT IS THAT SOUND EFFECT

- OOH YAY THE PSYCHOPATH/SOCIOPATH STUFF WHOO YEAAAAH

- All the phones calling as john walks past is kinda cool but mostly stupid

- oh anthea, what a rich character lmao

- how long was mycroft posed like that

- First johnlock queerbait whooo

- Where does he fuck off to???

- he just vanishes lmaoooo

- Three patch problem. Bruh.

- I am bored as shit, help

- This music- girl

- Bloated is a very good word to describe some of these scenes

- HERE SHE IS- THE BIG DADDY OF QUEERBAITING

- this scene is insane fucKING INSANE I HATE THIS SHOW

- god how much episode is left fucksake

- the stop/go signs- pick a tone girl

- this episode is so almost good and it's anytime Sherlock makes a mistake lmao

- not the drugs bust :/

- ooh sociopath line- whoo

- "I don't have to [imagine]." OOOH OKAY, WELL, YOU GUYS GET *ONE* POINT FOR THAT SHEESH

- this is so ridiculous- COME WITH ME- girl shut up

- I wanna be done I wanna be doooone.

- lamenting the confrontation we had in the unaired pilot

- The 'Frwhoomp' noise as the light goes out, girl

- 20 Minutes left my christ

- BRO- I forgot that bit of ADR wooooof

- and thus begins the scree of Moriarty

- five years, why is Scotland Yard still doubtful of Sherlock's skills? I know he might have been deep in his addiction during some of that, but they evidently kept him around for crime solving.

- Great man/good man quote has me fumin babes, my god, what a fundamental misunderstanding of Sherlock Holmes

- boring ass back and forth

- this piano is giving me war flashbacks

- is it a five orange pips reference?

- also the pills look like that speckled gum that burns your throat

- when is it oveeer

- falling asleep

- bomb under the table but the table is made of glass and hates gay people

- she tooks the kidssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

- 13 min

- love, or rage, dude, come on Sherlock

- i hate this 'enjoying crime too much' theme they've written

- like watching a stupid play

- once more, the potential

- moriarty he said calmly

- also, so out of character for Sherlock do I even need to say

- peaks of what could have been- FUCK

- this mycroft fake out- lord

- also, mummy, fucksake

- cheesy ending BUT IT'S OVER

[hinamie]

oh my god ok so i know im late I didn't talk about it because it happened during one of my Offline Eras but . but listen ok lisn the new former vandal album sent me THROUgh the FUCKINNG ROOF to be fair i knew it would like i joked about going upstairs to listen to it and cry when it dropped but i didn't think that every fucking song would hit me so hard in the kokoro it made me wail because I too have immense religious guilt ANYWAY im gonna rant incoherently and at length now hope u all missed me

ok first of all gotta shout out the fuckin album title i knew it was gonna be devastating when I saw it . fuckin. divine interference????? music for god's playthings indeed i eat that shit up i was like yoooooo hes also got a bone to pick with jesus go off bestie <333

so former vandal are artists visionaries kings so ofc tracklist is all mythology n religion-inspired (lazarus/goliath/ouroboros etc) and i think its so cool that theyre all in caps until u get to the end and the final song is denial and it's in lowercase and maybe its simple but i was like ART. ARTTTTTT. and it made me go back and look at the tracklist of their previous album and I realized that the whole thing was about vices and unhealthy coping with an overwhelming and forsaken existence but then the final song was Get Right (still my go-to comfort song to this day tbh tbh tbh) and it's like an acknowledgement that ok maybe none of this is the answer and something has to change anyway wrong album oops back 2 divine interference

i made a point of listening to the songs that hadnt been released as singles first so the first song i listened to was Lazarus and tbh probably my fav song on the album maybe tied with parables and maaaaybe even icarian. BUT LAZARUS SLAPS SOS SOSOOSO HARD god the theme of not knowing how to leave something behind even when it's bad for you,,, both criticizing but also mirroring the actual story of lazarus in the lyrics being like "wow kinda fucked up of god for resurrecting u without ur consent" but also acknowledging that he himself is guilty of holding onto the things that kill him.,,, GOD ITS SO FUCKING G GOOD I FDFGSADFGDG

salt also !!! BANGER not quite up there with the likes of lazarus but it gets bonus points because a. i lov the idea of starting to recognize that you're coming into yourself n an identity apart from your vices n traumas and b. for having two of the most RAW lines in the entire album imo which is reaaallly saying something: "now that everything's bright I guess I'm fine/but there's an art in the dark that took years to refine" and "the spark of divine intervention/that I'm still terrified I've left behind" (ALBUM TITLE DROP ALBUM TITLE DROP) god these two just dont miss and i love it but i am far too neurodivergent to contain myself they need to give me a break pls i am v i b r a t i n g

ok gonna move into the Chill(tm) tracks I think with goliath as well as shame/rotten I vibe more with the lyrics than the actual songs because i prefer my angsty alt pop to be Upbeat thank u very much but can i just say. the lyrics of these two songs ESPECIALLY SHAME/ROTTEN LIKE ok first of all i love the tonal shift halfway through that manages not to make them feel like completely different songs it's just jarring enough like there's been an acceptance of sorts,, like omg same i too am like 'god i feel like the scum of the earth might as well own it a bit',, "the fear of god/the need for blame" fuckin bullseye ow,, "I starve to feed the parts of me/far from who i oughta be/tell me are you proud of me yet?" FUCKIN BULLSEYE OWW

I know i just said i prefer my angst upbeat but crocodile tears (very upbeat very rock wuaw) is probably my least favourite track if i had to pick but it does have a lyrical BANGER of an opening verse ("holding the hand that's holding me under" g o d) i think i just don't dig the overall melody too much and find the ending a bit repetitive fr my tastes,, who knows though it took a while and many re-listens for ouroboros to grow on me maybe this'll b a similar story ,, but then again ouroboros had the advantage of echoing mine own mental health and self-destructive behaviours shdgj

ok so i was crying from the beginning right but the songs that made me ugly bawl were growing pains (very similar vibes to get right but in a "i know that i'm healing" way rather than a "i need to heal" way) and denial,, but starting w growing pains,, my god idk What they did with the mic/vocals after the bridge but it felt like the music was being injected directly into my ears secret direct path 2 my bloodstream god I hadnt felt chills like that in such a long time and idk just the whole Mood of the song having been hurting for so long and only now starting to recognize the damage you've done but also appreciate the progress youv made,,, i have so so many emotions but DENIAL (its funny saying it in caps bc its the only track in lowercase getit getit) oh my god ths going straight on the list of Songs That Make Me Think About My Relationship With My Dad but also Songs That Make Me Emo About All The People I've Grown Apart From and i think its so powerful to frame a personal transition away from faith as growing apart from an old friend and missing them despite any hard feelings holy shit though holy shit . the first listen by this point i had already been emotionally devastated by the Whole Album so i was like ok surely ill get a break by the last song lol nope sorry i ended up crying so hard i think i gave myself a headache

I think I must have yelled about the songs that they released as singles when they dropped individually but it's been so long that i forget what i said but honestly parables and icarian are still just as good as when i heard them for the first time (when parables dropped i spilled my tea on my fucking notes bc i was vibing too hard),, I love parables' msg of accepting the lessons ur (traumatic) past taught u and how it shaped u as a person even if u recognize that that person is someone hurt and in need of healing and maybe that has to happen alone! and i know for a fact i've gushed about icarian (still one of the most gojocore songs Ever imho dont fight me on this) but now looking at it in the context of the rest of the album i love that it's first cause it really frames the whole icarus thing of having flown too close to the sun or to god and getting burned and that pain essentially being the catalyst for the entire Journey tht the rest of the album outlines (obsessed w the fact that the next song is jaded like fr having these two songs one after the other is literally "fucked around/found out" gsfhjsh)

but all that being said not to b dramatic but this album destroyed me it rearranged something deep in my soul and i don't know who i was before it but i probably wont ever be the same :) i literally love these two so much im so appreciative of them its so rare to feel so Seen by a piece of media so to have an entire album hit so incredibly close to home for me and slap while doing so????? i feel so lucky . this entire album feels like taking the first step to address years of hurt and self destruction it feels like losing a friend it feels like finding yourself and i just . i love it so much

[winstonhenderson]

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑.

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻… 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂?

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

Mick Jagger’s Notebook

Writer’s block. Fuck me! Just as we were beginning to write nice bops, shit, we don’t click for several days and write absolute bullcrap while we're at it. Fuck this problem. And then, I fucking look over there at Parlophone and The goddamn Beatles are doing just swell! Lennon and McCartney lounging away their greedy and prissy asses, writing some new schlop the audience will like. They look like they always click!

“Fuck them.”

“Mick, don’t beat yourself up. They suck, but we could steal a trick or two from ‘em? Whatcha say?”

“Huh, not bad Richards.”

At least we function as friends. Maybe those two aren’t that friendly with each other outside the studio. 

Whenever we visit, they are welcoming. Of course. They always act like they are bigger than us. Currently, yes, but in the future, I hope not.

Paul McCartney was fake one hundred percent of the time. He had that unnatural kindness that didn’t sit right with me. It looked like we were foremost rivals and enemies. Still, he was polite enough. I respect him. Though, he would get irritated by me, which I am extremely proud of, but never seemed to make a fuss about it. Wonder why?

Meanwhile, his more sincere and head in the clouds best friend, John Lennon, always told us where we stand. Sometimes he’d feel like helping us, sometimes he would tell us to “bugger off”, but Keith and I knew he meant it. He was patient with us and had a fascination with our attempts to get information from him. 

The most important fact about them was that they really respected each other and did so many things together. And I need that with Keith, I need that thing that they do!

So I explained the situation to Lennon, because he was easier to talk to. With McCartney, it was much more work. 

“Oh, so you and Keith cucked out-”

And I regretted it immediately.

“Because you are too afraid.”

He winked.

“Me and Paul aren’t afraid of the press that much.”

“Lennon, I don’t know if you’re messing with me! The Beatles are going with the “good boy” aesthetic. We are the “bad boys” here. Of course we have it harder. The press ain’t pretty.”

He chuckled some more.

“Are we really that good?”, he blurted out, “Or…”

“Give me throwaway advice at least. Not this shit.”

“Okay, Jagger, if ya want to!”, he joked.

“Tell me what you and McCartney do when you’re out of sync.”

“We take some time off and do something fun? Drink. Fun with our birds? Then get back to the studio and write. Simple as that. Take a break, Mick.”

I don’t want to take a break, he is saying that because he wants us to fail and for them to have the monopoly.

“Do you have a quicker fix?”

Lennon rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Dunno.”

Then he got extremely serious, checking for something. He got close to my ear.

“Then sleep with each other, what can I say?”

“What the fuck, John?”

“You need that intimacy and truthfulness to yourselves? Then explore.”

He was on the brink of bursting from laughter.

I was dumbfounded.

“You know, only lovers can be in sync most of the time. If you really think Macca and I are trying to undermine you and are in sync all the time, then it could only mean that we’re queer.”

“You git!”,  fuckin’ stupid joke making me laugh.

“And you know Macca, even though you know what rumor goes around for taller people’s peckers, he is packing-”, he said it disproportionately loud.

God, hahhahahaahhaah!

“You. You, Lennon, are getting on me nerves.”

“Oh, boohoo, the princess can’t take one single joke.”, he cracked a smile.

“Oh, I can take one, but can you take my pack?”

OH, FUUUUCK!

“No, Paul didn’t say what I think he did!”, I exploded into giggles. Wish the boys were here to hear this line of dialogue.

Lennon did not take that well. He was full of rage and defeat but… like always Lennon had a trick up his sleeve. 

“Only with frosting and cherry on top.”

Now they were both angry, so in sync.

“Really, I thought you liked it raw?”, McCartney is in a good mood for a joke today. Fun. Their conversation had a clear story. Maybe Keith and I should try something similar.

“No, not really, Paulie, I like it safe and sound.”, he winked, “Whatever, I am not coming in anytime soon.”

Paul chuckled.

“They called you for tuning. Tried to find you, saw you hanging out with our fierce competition.”, and welcome back, McCart, glad to see you are once again barely acknowledging my existence.

“Not even a hello for the rival?”, I joked.

He rolled his eyes.

“Hello, Mick Jagger. Johnny, go.”

He chuckled.

“Go, Johnny, go!”, what an awful pun. Don’t know if Lennon’s or his are worse.

“Alright, princess.”, he disappeared into the studio.

As McCartney was about to tinker with some tech I interrupted him,

“McCartney, do you have some advice for getting in sync? Lennon told me some bull, so I am asking the straightman here.”

Paul laughed.

“The straightman, alright.”, is he willing to share with me some advice? Unusual.

“What did John tell you?”

“To fuck? That is what you two do!”

“Oh, that man is surely getting beaten up today.”, Paul was fuming, “Did he tell you something else or just fucked with you? I know very well how and when he likes to do- I’m setting up myself aren’t I?”

That was worth a chuckle. 

“He told me to take a break.”

“And what great advice he gave you. We always do that.”, Paul looked proud for a second, “And he should’ve stopped fucking there!”

Can’t hear the word normally now.

“GOD! Get that picture out of your head, Jagger!”

“The princess doesn’t want to be stripped further.”, Lennon walks back in and continues the game.

“And you don’t want to be punished further.”, McCartney wasn't letting go. They were stubborn as hell.

“We are going in circles with this thing.”, Lennon noticed, “Mick, the two of us are very grateful for your fun with this topic, and now listen; you don’t need a Lennon or a McCartney to tell you what’s best. You have to, y’know-”

John grabbed me strongly by the shoulders.

“Feel it.”

“And think it through.”, Paul added.

“Concluding stuff in that way.”, John ended.

That’s a nice tip.

“That’s gear, thanks.”

“We’ll be going to the studio now. Got to get some shit recorded. Let’s go Paul, and bye rivaaaal!”, Lennon waved and went.

“Bye.”, McCartney followed him.

“Goodbye, Beat less.”

I heard a small whisper from McCartney, “We just helped our competition.”

“Let ‘em at it. They need to learn and grow. Then we wouldn’t have fun-”, and I got too far away.

They really look at us in that way, huh.

Keith and I took their advice to heart and it helped us a lot. We did our own thing. Took breaks sometimes. When we felt something we wrote it down. It really was that easy. And of course we “had to” thank the snide buggers for helping us. But, we wanted to add a little twist to it; mostly because of Lennon’s love for a good joke.

We two went into EMI to check on them. Harrison and Starr were in the studio as per usual. Harrison gave us some biscuits. He had three tins. Three tins.

“One is never enough when John or Ringo are near. Especially Johnny.”

“Still three fucking tins?”

“When you mention fucking, my dear Richards, I remember we had a session last night?”

“Who practices at-”, Starr questioned, “Oh, oh!”

Starr chuckled.

“You gits are lying!”, Lennon walked in.

“Why would sugarplum and I lie?”, Keith my brother.

“OH MY GOD, you madmen!”, Lennon giggled.

“Why would you do that?”, Harrison put away his biscuits.

“Him and McCartney do it? We wanted to thank you because of that. Worked like a charm.”

“John is a big goofball, you are fools for trusting his advice.”, Harrison ate a biscuit, “Want one, John?”

“Yeah.”, he bit the biscuit and talked with his mouth full, “Glad that worked out for you.”

“What happened?”, McCartney entered in a hurry, “We need to start recording.”

“Oh, they did it.”

“Richards and Jagger did what?”

“They explored each other.”

“OH MY LORD.”, Paul gasped, “Good for you.”

Thumbs up.

“Are you stupid? We wouldn’t do queer stuff. And you never denied doing that yourself didn’t you Lennon?”

“I don’t know Jagger, why would you want that to be true?”

Ooh, this is a new kind of self centered I haven’t encountered.

“Nice joke.”, McCartney clapped.

“Now, can you please get out and let us practice?”, Lennon panicked?

“Nervous?”, Keith asked.

McCart and Lennon were embarrassed. Starr and Harrison were begging us with their faces to end this mockery. We won!

“Stop that blasphemy, sugar plums and darlings, and tell us why you are here?”, Paul joked with us in a pleasant way.

“It really worked, the advice you gave us. Taking breaks and such. Thanks, Lennon. Had to give you something extra in return.”

“Oh, you nasty cunts!”, Lennon roared at us with glee, “That was fun.”

“Oh, for Lennon to say it was fun, must’ve been something.”, Keith commented.

I agree.

“That fool is quite easily entertained.”, McCartney scoffed.

“Of course, that’s why you are my songwriting partner.”

McCartney chuckled, “Yeah, to take care of your little messes, like this one.”

“No mess here.”, Keith simply said.

“Yeah, we aren’t a mess.”, I added.

“God… Why do I have to deal with you and Decca.”, McCart sighed.

And that was our cue to go. Not really fun when our rivals want to beat us, but literally. I would like to do that someday, but currently for our image, not anytime soon.

“Bye then The Schmeatles.”, I said.

“See you later, The Rooling Bones.”, Lennon greeted us.

Those two really are special in some way. Lenin and McCart. Funny. Two outlandish Liverpudlians writing good sounding pieces in five minutes. Well, we’ll get there faster for sure.

For now we should celebrate that we bested them in something for the time being. Maybe we are in sync but in a different way than them… 

Rest of Sacrifame

[powderblueblood]

Powder, powder oh my God. My God. This was truly breathtaking. Been thinking about it all day non stop. Digging really deep into the psychological aspects of these fictional characters’ well-being actually soothing me but that’s a story for another time. I just want to say that a) I love Wayne in all universes and iterations as he deserves, and b) I can’t get the love making scene out of my head. At any time when people are talking to me today my mind is playing Eddie’s lines on the loop. People make Eddie either a stuttering virgin or this cool super sex god dom and I respect both visions but can I really connect with them? No. This was so raw and real. It really felt like tension breaking, like two people coming together. The vulnerability, the awkwardness, the desire. They feel like real people. I’m so happy for them 🥲 This scene moved me so much. You are terrific ❤️

anon on the psychological deep archeological dig front i AM RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. I’m glad Wayne came across so well to you, I have so many Thoughts and Feelings about him particularly re: his relationship to Al and how complicated it is and re: Lacy (cue guttural screaming)

ANDDDDDD ABOUT THAT SMUT thank you so much, your words actually made me tear up a bit LOL because yeah, as you said, totally up for whatever anyone’s jam is re: writing Eddie in bed but in the context of this story, he’s all nerves and eagerness and knockout in love even if he doesn’t know it yet. It’s so nice to be able to write it because he’s so sweeeeet and he’s so fuckin horny and hungry and full of want and ready to give give give, my sweet panting prince

thanks for the lovely message pal 💕

[commander-snacks]

What do you find most endearing about the Noble? (Physically or generally)

OH!!!! i hope youre prepared for a huge wall of text an images i have so many Thoughts™ abt him

ok reasons why are under the readmore

Generally:

-I love how elegant and strong he is. He moves so quickly and lovely like a dance while also executing a raw strength you can practically feel through the screen

-He and other nobles must have successfully killed a god once, if not many times. His sheer ancientness and power is rly somethin //_//

The nobles possess skill with the sword unmatched by any lowborn. Despite its size, successive attacks from this weapon are swifter than the eye can follow.

----

Once a sign of the gods' wrath, this incantation became a trophy of the Nobles' god hunt.

-His face i feel says a lot about him. his gold-n-grey eyes suggesting he somehow still has some holiness in him, the heavy bags under his eyes, his anger lines, the serious yet forlorn expression

-I quite enjoy spooky culty characters, so it really goes without sayin. The fact that said cult has such fascinating lore also is a plus and reeeally makes me hope we learn more about it (and him)

-The way I headcanon his personality, a dead serious and angry guy but will express gentleness to only certain people(me), is very dreamy IMO. I know it aint canon but it feels so real in my brain ok. I feel he can Protect

-he just looks sooo so tired and god i wanna treat him right

-SLEEPY BOY!!!

ojh so sleepy why you so eepy bby???????? lseepy zzz zz snooze bbbbybybybyby oh my gog

Physically:

-I cannot deny I have a thing for big big boys. and oh BOY is he big big

LOOK AT HIM!!!! His foot is bigger than my torso. His arm is longer than my whole body.

-I like that he isnt quite human, but just a human-shaped monster. It makes him quite mysterious but also hot cuz *holds up monster fucker license*

-While we talking abt his monstery nature pls look at his tail i love love love his tail so much its so pretty and i love how nicely it animates in battle

-HIS BIG BIG HANDS I WISH FOR HIM TO HOLD ME not to mention how he moves them so elegantly

-His face is the most handsome thing I have ever seen in my life idk how to explain it. Its like whoever modeled him was summoning the spirit of an ancient greek sculptor trying to capture the beauty of an angel

-Even if the robes arent part of his body(which I think isnt correct I think its very much a part of his body because he can control it, hitting it hurts him, and the fact that he can assimilate inhuman physiology but iM GETTING OFF TOPIC) he is still a big fuckin guy

-his voice is hot and I hope we hear more of it someday

-His....special abilities. you know what Im talking abt

-DID I MENTION HOW BIG HE IS

[yibennianyaji]

In which I liveblog Beyond Re-Animator so you don’t have to.

Spoilers: this movie is an absolute hoot. You can see the exact moment when I begin realizing I’m actually having a good time

Oh it starts with a fakeout jump scare, that’s fun. And the murder of a babysitter. Cool, cool. 

I mean, I guess, that’s on canon with Herbert not keeping track of his zombies, but even Bride tried to start with some class. 

Please tell me this small, sad child is going to grow up to try to murder Herbs. I feel like that’s where this is going. 

HERBERT WHY ARE YOU EVEN THERE. WHY DID THE POLICE NOT PICK UP THAT OBVIOUSLY GLOWING SYRINGE SO THAT THE SMALL CHILD COULD GET IT. 

TIME SKIP AHOY (go back movie, I demand to know what Herbert was doing in the suburbs, and was this before or after Dan tried to leave him for the umpteenth time)

Oh my God Herbert you can’t just steal peoples’ pet rats, this is how you start prison riots. 

Holy shit is vengeance kid played by BABY EDWARD NORTON?

DOES THAT MEAN THIS MOVIE IS WILL GRAHAM VERSUS HERBERT WEST

Yes this is our DEATH wing of the prison where we bring DEATH down on condemned inmates and they sure do stay DEAD yessir no problems with the DEAD here

Ah, and I see the warden will be playing our Doctor Hill for the evening

To this movie’s credit at least it’s moving at a quick lil pace

Norton are you here to play an angrier Dan. Did they literally just say “okay we still want to do the same thing but we’re scared of having two older dudes in the lead.”

Oh, baby Graham is just dispensing with the backstory aaaaand he is totally on board with Herbert I AM INTRIGUED WITH THIS DEVELOPMENT. 

“Yo I saved this reagent for 13 years and got it past the guard with no trouble so, here you go.”

WHY ARE YOU SURPRISED THAT HE’S TRYING TO USE IT ON THE DEAD PATIENT. 

Herbert “short term memory loss” West doesn’t bother to watch the zombie for longer than a minute

Well at least he learned, don’t approach the violent dead. 

WAITAMINNNUT THIS IS JUST THE MORGUE SCENE AGAIN. I’m on to you movie. 

EYYYYYYY is this lady character actually going to get to have plot agency? NEAT

OH HERBERT NO. YOU REALLY ARE TRYING TO USE HIM AS A REPLACEMENT DAN. This does not end well for you. Just ask James Sunderland.

(And HOW COLD IS THAT, move. Not even flashbacks, just one line about Dan giving testimony for the prosecution. COLD).

Wait, so the zombie that killed bby Norton’s sister was from the Miskatonic morgue…which means it would have to be from the original film because it would take some REAL SWEET TALKING to undo Bride….ARE THEY TRYING TO DECANONIZE THE MIDDLE MOVIE. SHAME. 

Okay I don’t remember either of you you kids’ names but you’ve got some cute chemistry

Herbs do not use the puppy eyes on the kid it’s not the same

Ah, it’s not a ReAnimator movie without some real awkward fuckin. 

“He doesn’t seem human anymore.” Because his precious assistant turned him over and broke his tiny sociopathic heart, baby Will Graham. A future version of you will understand (Imma go down with this ship, internet. Keep spinning in that grave, HP).

Ooh, reporter gal is real good at her job

Aw Herbert, you’ve worked your way up to sciencing the soul! I’m very proud

Okay, ngl, the prison yard scene is the most Herbert thing and I love it. 

Aaaaaaand demonic rat. Of course

Whoa. Not-Hill got his ear bit off AND THEN TOOK IT BACK

OH MY GOD THIS POOR GIRL

Ohhhhhhhh Herbs has his “lol ethics” hat on

Okay FUCK YOU MOVIE I LIKED HER. THIS FRIDGING IS BULLSHIT

Also bby Norton’s raw rage is a touch harder to buy than Dan’s was. She was a nice girl, but they’d only had a few dates.

Oh yeah, untie her. Good plan. 

Kuds to this gal, she’s giving it her all. 

THIS RAT FIGHT SCENE DEMANDS A SCREENSHOT HONESTLY

Wow, this prison allows a fuckton of leniency on its mad scientist inmates

I see Herb has learned his - YOU DID NOT JUST SLAP HERBERT WEST. MURDER HIM, Y’ALL. MURDER THIS DUDE GOOD. 

YES GOOD. Cross shot murders

Wow, it seems like opening all the prison cells should be harder than that

DO NOT SCREW THIS UP BBY NORTON THAT DUDE IS A RAPIST AND A SMOL SCIENTIST BEATER. FRY HIM.

Ugh, so hard to get a patient to give good feedback huh West

Aaaaaaand the soul carries the personality of course it does. YOU GAVE THE ASSHOLE DUDE NEW LIFE

Kudos again to this gal though (Elsa Pataky, I see - seems to be known for the Fast and the Furious movies?), she’s getting some fun stuff to play (although as “herself” mostly for the character that means screaming and cowering)

AND NOW WE ARE IN OUTLAST

OH MY GOD DOES THAT MAKE HERBERT DOC TRAEGER. THAT IS A CROSSOVER I NEED.

Vengeful Herbert is my favorite Herbert

Okay I lied, sassy Herbert is my favorite

And ohhhh there’s still half an hour of this left. Hurm. 

Hey where did bby Nor- oh, there he is. Still making poor life decisions I see

HERBERT GUARD YOUR BACK. SERIOUSLY. THIS IS THE SAME THING THAT HAPPENED LAST TIME

Ey, seems like the Warden is a famous giallo actor? That’s neat

Awwwww, I was totally wrong about that being baby Ed Norton, too. I am saddened by this fact. No disrespect to Jason Barry, I just mourn all the Will Graham jokes

Oh bro, bro are you gonna reagent inmates just so you can kill em again? Dude. That’s….dude.

Aaaaaand the addict fellow found the reagent. Well, at least he’s having a good time.

That…is a weird place to include boobs, movie. THIS IS WEIRD ALL OVER

OH MY GOD WITH THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR WEIRD EMOTIONAL HANGUPS. Herbert. Honey

“That dude is DEAD THOUGH.”

“weeeeeell…..”

HERBERT GOT TO DO ANOTHER ONE OF HIS AWKWARD SIDE GLANCES I’M SO GLAD

THEY ARE SHOOTING THE ZOMBIE MAN TO TRIUMPHANT HORN MUSIC I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING HELP

Ohhhhh my God they just pulled an I Spit On Your Grave with the blowjob thing HOLY SHIT. I CAN’T EVEN

Bifurcated hanged man. Of couuuuuuuur he’s swinging it like a dead cat good lord

wait how WHERE DID THAT COSTUME CHANGE COME FROM

“This is mine” Herbert ARE YOU FIVE

I sense more intestine exploding coming

Herbert: holds up flashlight because FUCK IF HE’S GONNA MISS AN OPPORTUNITY

OH MY GOD THE MEAT SACK IS STILL - I CAN’T. I’M CRYING. HELP. 

The rat is rolling the severed penis I’m kind of running out of words what is even

Herbert is done and he has a cane. There is a CROSS CUTTING BEAT DOWN

And the fight choreography is from the UFC WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING BACKFLIP CRAB CRAWL?

Goopy electrocution aaaaaand the rat drops the penis in slow mo because OF COURSE

Herbert’s OH SHIT NOT AGAIN face. I TOLD YOU NOT TO MAKE DAN 2.0

Aaaaaand he just takes his ID card and leaves like NOPE NOT DOIN THIS AGAIN

Everyone’s laughing, CLEARLY A HAPPY END

HERBERT STOP DISCARDING REANIMATED BODY PARTS AT RANDOM

And then he wandered off into the night. To find Dan and have a talk (HUSH it’s the only thing that can make this more perfect)

[tteokdoroki]

imagine if izuku had a breeding kink :o !? that’d suck for us ;(

oh no just imagine how awful that would be :((

‘cause ‘m feelin’ like izuku develops a breeding kink as a way to claim you. he’s never had anything of his own, swiped from under his nose by his childhood demons and bullies— he’s had to fight for everything that belongs to him, fight to keep them precious.

and it starts out as an accident tbh, you’re fluttering walls keeping him locked in, sweet cunt squeezing down on him so good, so hard that deku can’t even physically pull out. “oh baby, y-you gotta let go...think ‘m gonna cum, g’na cum—!” he squeaks out but he can’t stop rolling his hips into yours, can’t stop listening to the sound of your squelching sexes and the slapping skin and you’re barely paying attention, too high off of the pleasure he gives you as his blunt tip mashes against your spongy g-spot.

and then it’s too late and deku’s sobbing as his cum fills up your insides and makes your tummy bulge with how much he unloads into you. it’s sticky but so warm and his cheeks are flushed with how pretty you look down there, white seeping out from between your raw folds. after that first time breeding you up, izuku apologises shyly and you tell him ‘no worries, it felt good,’ and that you wouldn’t mind trying it again.

days go by, the pro hero’s caught up with work and his balls feel so heavy thinking about you and the way you looked— teary eyed and whiny when he unleashed his potent seed against your gummy walls and he realises— he liked it too. maybe this is the solution he’s been looking for, to make it feel like you belong to him and him alone— no one to swipe you out from under him, no competition when you’re filled to the brim with his cum, to the point where his rivals can smell it on you.

so he becomes obsessed with the thought of breeding you and once he starts, he can’t seem to stop. deku can’t stop fucking you whenever or wherever, ending the chase of your highs with thick spurts of white lining your womb, spilling down your thighs in slow rolling droplets— even if it does leak from your abused and ravaged pussy, his scarred fingers work diligently in stuffing his release back into your sweet hole. possession takes over the hero, sinking its fangs into him as izuku pushes your knees into your chest and starts his brutal pace, pounding into at speeds only his quirk allows in order to meet his end goal.

fucking you with the goal to paint your pussy lips white is all deku aspires to do. he’ll go until you’re the one who can’t cum anymore— giving you endless loads because in his mind breeding you good and lining your velvet and fertile walls with his seed means getting you pregnant and getting you pregnant means the likes of someone like kacchan can’t take you away from him. it adds to his satisfaction too, looking at you, folded beneath izuku midoriya— emerald eyes shooting down to watch as your creamy pussy sucks him in, milky with the dirty mix of your arousal. it gives izuku enough energy to fuck you more, breed you more, fill you up until your tummy forms a soft bulge and you’re crying out for more.

“oh god baby, you like that don’t you? when i fuck my cum inside you, keep you plugged up and full? like when ‘zuku breeds you. yes you do, yes you fuckin’ do.”

[kingkatsuki]

Bakugou always manages to overhear the office gossip. Always manages to slip into the hallway down from the top floor lobby in front of his office just as you and Kirishima's assistant start chattering.

Blah blah blah

Most days he pops in and the two of you rush to your desks and shuffle around papers til he's behind his desk only for you to bring him coffee ten minutes later. From then on out it's radio silence.

For some reason, today he decides to lean against the wall just at the mouth of the lobby listening to the two of you gossip. Working as you do and laughing before Kirishima's assistant's voice becomes scandalous.

"Izuku still hasn't eaten you out???"

"omg please hush!" You rasp out looking around the lobby you know no one is in. You have to have special clearance to come upstairs before you sigh and softly say.

"No he hasn't yet. I've gone down on him like three times. He busts so fast it's not even enjoyable..."

"NOOO, girl you're missing out. Kirishima begs for me to sit on his face. Especially when I just get home."

"Ugh so jealous."

Bakugou can't believe that stupid deku has a dime piece like you and hasn't licked you raw yet. Hell Bakugou is begining to think he hasn't fucked you properly either.

A devilish idea comes to mind as a deadly smirk curls on his lips.

"Oi." He says rounding the corner and the two of you startle. Cheeks flushed as you exchange glances wondering just how much he overhead, "Coffee bitch, my office now."

(reckon he eats you out in his office 👀)

🖤

Kitten, it’s always such a pleasure waking up to things from you I swear to god. Imagine Red Riot and Dynamight owning an agency together so it makes sense for them to both have assistants… and imagine how smug Bakugou would be knowing that his assistant is also Pro-Hero Deku’s girlfriend. Screaming.

This got kinda long lemme shove it under a read more.

Warnings: 18+, suggestive, abuse of power if you squint.

Bakugou wants answers to his questions as he sits back in his office chair, waiting for you to come in to give them to him. A slick smirk on his face as you knock politely on the hardwood door, waiting for permission to enter.

So obedient.

“Come in.” His voice booms and you slip inside the room, a warm smile on your face as you look towards Bakugou with questioning eyes.

“Is everything alright, Sir?” Bakugou bites down on his tongue to force back the groan that threatens to spill from his lips. Why were you always so obedient.

“Got a question for ya,” He rumbles, tugging down slightly on the tight fabric of his slacks against his thighs as he tries to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

“Oh, was it the coffee? Because I thought you might need an extra shot today after the attack yesterday, you were brilliant by the way-“ You continue on and it does nothing to help the throb between his thighs, you look so enamoured by him when you’re talking. A huge boost to his ego, he begins to wonder if you look at shitty Deku the same way.

“No, it’s not that.” He brushes you off, nostrils flaring as you suddenly quieten down.

“How’s Deku?” Bakugou grunted.

“Oh, I can call him if you like?” You stepped back towards the door to return to your desk, preparing to connect a line from Deku’s office to Bakugou.

“Oi.” He cut you off, “I’m askin’ you.”

“Oh, he’s good.” You give a small smile that almost looks sorrowful as you look up at him with pretty doe-like eyes, “Just busy with work lately, you know.”

No, Bakugou didn’t know. There was no way that Deku was so busy he didn’t have five minutes to worship that beautiful Angel cunt that he knew you had to have. Certain that it would in reality only take him three at the most to have you coming undone on his tongue.

“Has he fucked you yet?”

The question is quick to spill from his lips and it’s worded like a HR nightmare, not that Bakugou cares. He watches the way you swallow thickly, eyes darting around as though you’re unsure how to answer.

“I’ll take that as a no, fuckin’ idiot.” He mutters beneath his breath.

“He’s just really busy right now, he got that big job with Uravity and he’s trying to keep up with everything-“

“That why he hasn’t eaten you out either?”

This is a question he can tell you’re not prepared for, and you don’t have an answer. Awkwardly shuffling as you play with your fingers, avoiding eye contact with your boss at all costs. Deku had tried to get you to come and work for him weeks ago, a request that you’d politely declined. Stating that you were happy at the agency here with Dynamight and Red Riot. A conversation that you thought was between you and your boyfriend, one you had no idea that your current boss knew about and was ecstatic about.

“You know how much real men love eating pussy?” Bakugou grinned.

You felt lightheaded hearing the words coming from your boss, but it was even more surprising to hear that he was actively trying to do it. Unlike your boyfriend who hadn’t so much as touched you down there in weeks.

“I- uh-“ How did you even respond to a question like that from your boss?

“C’mere,” Bakugou beckons you over and you obediently follow. Watching his finger motion for you to come round the large oak desk until you’re standing at his side. Even seated his height almost rivals your own, a sheer display of his size as his large palms reach out to grip your waist. Fingertips gently pressing into the pliant skin as he tests the waters, “You wanna feel how good it feels to be eaten out by a pro, don’t you?”

You nod, you couldn’t deny the amount of times you’d been left disappointed when Deku told you he was going to bed early, hoping that he’d stay up and do the same for you. And he was your boss, you didn’t want to upset him and lose the job you loved.

“Then let me show you,”

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

kinktober 2022

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Fave x Fem Reader ɞ

Day 13: Phone Sex

❥ CW: male fave (he/him pronouns, fave has a dick), fem reader (reader has a vagina and tits), smut, nudes, dirty talk, masturbation

"Fuck… I miss you, baby."

You hummed into the phone, one hand holding it to your ear while the other rubbed your stomach soothingly. You could hear his desperation through the line, your cunt leaking when you heard slick sounds in the background. Jesus, you'd barely started this sexy conversation and he was already jerking off? Poor little puppy.

"I miss you too, babe. Miss you sooo much." You heard him curse quietly on the other end, causing you to bite your lip, holding back a giggle.

"Shit… Would it be cliche if I asked what you were wearing?" You did giggle at that, rolling over onto your stomach and kicking your legs.

"No, it's not cliche. I'm wearing one of your shirts, a really big one, and I've got some thigh highs on cause it's a little cold."

"Fuck—a-and panties?"

"No panties."

"Fuuuuck—that's so fuckin hot, baby. Wish I was there to see you." You hummed, getting up and sitting on your calves.

"Gimme a sec," you mumbled, putting him on speaker and pulling up your camera. You faced it towards you, propping your phone up so that your whole body was in frame. You set a timer, posing with your hands pulling his shirt down, hiding your pussy from view. You took another where you lifted the shirt, holding it with your teeth, squishing your breasts. You captured a few more as he patiently waited on the line, his strokes slow and lazy. You pulled your shirt back down, plopping down on the bed and going through the ones you had taken. You chose a couple that you were proud of, sending them off to your boyfriend, taking him off speaker and returning the phone to your ear.

"...Aw, fuck." You giggled, listening to his more distant moans, imagining him putting the phone on speaker so he could admire your pictures and still jerk off. "Oh, you look so good, baby."

"Awww, thank you," you sang, clenching your thighs when he groaned loudly, his hand moving faster.

"Fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad. Miss that tight little cunt. Gonna fuckin ruin you when I get back."

"Oh yeah?" you egged him on, smirking to yourself. "What're you gonna do to me?"

"God—I'm g-gonna fuck you with my fingers. Gonna make you squirt all over my arm. Gonna lick you clean—shit. Fuck, I wanna—wanna fuck you raw. Wanna feel how wet you are for me, wanna feel you drip down my balls." You moaned softly, giggling when he moaned in response to hearing you.

"That's so fucking hot, baby. How're you gonna fuck me, hm? You gonna be gentle, or are you gonna fuck me hard?" He let out a guttural groan, slick sounds getting faster.

"Fuck—I don't know. I wanna rail your ass into the bed until you pass out… but I wanna make you feel good, baby. Wanna make that pussy cream all over my cock. Wanna treat you right."

"...Sooo?"

"So… so I guess I'd do whatever you asked me to." You whimpered when you heard that, your hand darting down between your legs, quickly fumbling with your clit. "Sh-Shit, are you touchin yourself too?"

"Y-Yeah, I am." He moaned again, making your pussy clench.

"Fuck, that's so hot baby, that's so fuckin hot. Tell me what yer doin."

"I'm… I'm touching my clit. Rubbing it just how I like," you mewled, your voice sending him into a frenzy.

"Shit, wish I was there touchin it for ya. I'd do whatever you told me to, baby. You wanna go fast? I'll make you cum faster than you can blink. You want me to be all sweet and sensual? I'll take my time makin ya feel good before I make you cum."

"Mmm—I miss your fingers," you moaned, pinching your clit and rolling the hardened nub.

"Yeah? You miss my fingers? You just can't reach that spot without me, huh? Those itty bitty fingers are too small for that pretty pussy, huh?"

"Yeah… They're not big enough. Need more." Your wet pussy was so loud now; surely he could hear it on the other side of the phone.

"Yeah, I bet you do. You need somethin big and thick and hard, dontcha?"

"Mm-hm!" you whined, flicking your clit faster, getting closer to your climax.

"Shit, are you gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me? Let me hear it, baby. Wanna hear my pretty girl make a mess."

You were panting now, moaning unabashedly, your hips grinding up into your hand. Your cunt was clenching with each buck of your hips, your mind wandering, imagining that your boyfriend was right there with you, pounding away at your cunt, making you see stars. You could practically feel him hitting your g-spot over and over, bullying that sensitive spot deep inside you as you rubbed your clit. You cried out for him, your voice dying out before you tumbled over the edge, moaning loudly into the phone.

"Oh fuck, that's it, baby. Keep going, I'm almost there—fuck, I wanna cum in you—"

"P-Please! Cum in me, cum in me!" Your boyfriend cursed loudly, slick, rapid sounds decorating the background for a moment before he came with a loud groan. He cursed under his breath, mumbling praises as he slowed down, panting into the phone. You pulled your hand away from your cunt, whining quietly from the overstimulation you experienced. The two of you stayed quiet for a minute, steadying your breathing.

"You okay?" he asked, making you smile softly.

"Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"I'm good. Didn't feel as good as you, though." You giggled, humming sympathetically.

"Well, you'll just have to settle for that until you come back home." He sighed in exasperation, frustrated but accepting of his situation. "When are you coming back, again?"

"Two more days. You'll have to suffer without me for just a little under fourty eight hours."

"Oh dear, however will I survive?"

"Bitch," he spit teasingly, making you laugh again. He sighed, humming quietly. "Thank you for helping me, baby. I really appreciate it."

"Of course, bubby. I'm glad I could make you feel better."

"Yeah, you made me feel a lot better. Almost makes up for the shitty day I had." He huffed, grunting quietly. "I don't wanna hang up, but I really have to go to bed. Gotta wake up early to get all this stupid shit done. Sorry."

"No, I understand," you muttered. "You can make it up to me once you get home."

"Oh, don't worry. I plan to." Another sigh, this one tired and content. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too. Sleep well, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll try. Take a picture of your pussy for me before you clean up."

"Yeah, sure. I guess I'll grace you with a picture of my pretty little cunt."

"You better. It's the only thing keeping me going." You laughed, hearing him chuckle quietly on the other end. "Alright, baby. Sleep tight. I love you."

"Love you too, bub. Goodnight."

"Night, baby. Bye."

"Bye~"

[shorkbrian]

Plzzz for the love of god I need more bully Bakugo

Prelude - here have some food. Part 1

Pairing - Bully Bakugou X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, degradation, spanking, noncon, dub con, all the cons. Dead dove.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4VezGgvwNY3mtTbAEkmRMY?si=NxDxEMfERc-3flSDuq8kpQ

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“You’re such a fucking tease.”

Another slap to your ass, and you’re sure that if Bakugou’s hand wasn’t covering your mouth, you’d be wailing so loud that it could be heard across campus.

You’d been avoiding him after that weekend, after he’d tied you down and edged you for hours, laughing at you, occasionally pulling the vibrating dildo out of you just so he could push his cock into you, make you gush around his length. It had been torture, and scarring, and traumatizing, and you couldn’t even think about going to class for the first few days after he had sent you out of his dorm with a smack on the cheek and a “See you around, little bitch.”

There had been no way you were going to the classes you had with Bakugou. You were avoiding him like the plague, blowing off those classes, only creeping out of your dorm when you absolutely had to.

But you couldn’t avoid him forever, and he had told you as such when he grabbed you, shoving you sideways and into a family bathroom as you walked to one of your classes, head held low, feet hurrying.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” The blonde slapped your ass again, the flesh already raw and bruised. “I have the best weekend of my entire life, and then you fuck off and hide. “

Bakugou had you bent over at the sink, face half-squished against the dirty mirror, his hand clamped over your mouth, the other hand abusing your ass. You had been wearing sweatpants, but they were somewhere by the door, thrown there along with your underwear.

“Keep crying bitch,  you know it just turns me on.” Bakugou chuckled darkly, noticing your tearstained face in the mirror.  “Fuck, you look good like that. You’re so pretty, you made me do this.”

He was so volatile, mood unsteady and often changing for the worse. You couldn’t keep up, just openly sob into his hand.

“How does that make you feel, huh?” He asked, and if you weren’t about to be actively raped, you might’ve laughed. He sounded like a therapist, a fucked-in-the-head, psycho-the-rapist type thing. 

“Knowing that I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t such a pretty little cocksucker. If you weren’t so weak and pathetic, you could fight back. You could even tell someone.” Bakugou laughed again, voice rasping in your ear “But you never do. I bet you secretly enjoy this shit, huh - want someone to fuck you up and make you their little bitch?”

You shake your head, or, at least try to, but Bakugou doesn’t let you. He’s keeping your legs spread with his feet inside of yours, his crotch now pressed against your burning ass, his hand wrapped around your hip to slap quickly at your pussy.

“Yeah, you’re a sick littler fucker, I knew from the second I saw you. Looked like a bitchy little slut, only good for keeping a cock warm. This is all your fault, stupid whore.”

Logically, you knew that what he was saying wasn’t true. This wasn’t your fault, bakugou was just a rapist, a horrible man, this wasn’t your fault at all. But some nasty little part of you reared back at that statement, whispering that maybe it was.

Maybe you had encouraged him by excusing his behavior at first, when the man had first started pushing you around. Maybe it was because you had worn something a bit too revealing, or had done something suggestive while he was looking? You didn’t know what you had done to catch his attention, but you wished on everything holy (and everything unholy too) that you hadn’t. 

You jerked away from his touch as he began groping at your cunt, palming over your mound, slipping his fingers through your pussy lips roughly. Your movements only served to push you back into his crotch, and Bakugou rutted forward, trapping you between his fingers and his cock.

“Tch, you’re a piece of work. Crying like that, almost fuckin’ pissin’ yourself like a little girl. Can’t believe I actually fucking like you.”

All movement stopped. 

Wait, did Bakugou just say he liked you?

Before you had time to even consider that thought (why would he do any of this if he liked you?), Bakugou was swearing, retracting the hand molesting your pussy so he could work on unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, pulling his cock free.

He was having trouble trying to achieve all of that one-handed, so he leaned forward, hissing a threat into your ear before taking his other hand away from your mouth. The second he did that, you sucked in a real breath, nose too stuffy with snot and mucus to be able to take in much oxygen.

“B-bakugou, ple-please... “

“Ple-ple-please what?” He cooed sweetly, mocking you as he worked his cock free of his boxers.

“I don’t wanna do - I don’t want to, I don’t wanna do-“

“I don’t fuckin’ care, ain’t that clear? But keep beggin’, I like that shit.”

His cock was pushing through your folds now, hips roughly rocking you forward against the sink, which you grabbed onto the edges to steady yourself. 

“No, no no no no, no, no-“ you sobbed, unable to say much else. You couldn’t do this, it was too much! His cocked was nudging against your clit on each thrust, and it was sending shocks of pleasure into your belly, making it draw tight. You felt disgusted with yourself.

Bakugou’s hands were on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as his hips worked his cock against you. He was grunting softly, breathing heavily already. And his cock was so hot pressing against your flesh,  and you could feel his precum getting smeared everywhere down there, it was so dirty, you wanted to throw up. 

The family bathroom was dirty too; it smelled weird, and  the mirror had smudges and what looked like a lipstick stain on the bottom edge. There was some kind of crusty buildup around the sink drain, not to mention the discoloration around the toilet. 

The state of the bathroom reflected how you felt inside - tainted, disgusting, used.

“Mmh, You gonna cry harder if I put it in?” Bakugou had his hand wrapped around his cock, tapping it upwards against your pussy, laughing as her flinched with each messy slap.

The man didn’t actually care about getting an answer, or maybe the way you burst into another round of tears was enough of an answer for him. He was leaning forward, draping his weight across your back, pushing his mouth right up against your ear.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna pound your little hole, and you’re gonna watch every second of it in that mirror, understand?”

You looked up at your reflection in the mirror, puffy eyes, puffy lips, top askew, bottom half bare. You tried to pretend that you couldn’t see Bakugou’s cock starting to slide through your folds again. You couldn’t stand this, couldn’t look, so you closed your eyes, bowing your head.

“Ah, ah, ah babe - if you don’t look-“  You heard the sound of the impact before you felt it. But when your bruised ass registered the hit, you screeched, almost crumbling atop the sink. It hurt so much, oh god, it hurt. “-that’s gonna happen. So I suggest you open your fucking eyes, and watch.”

Blearily, you opened your eyes, staring numbly at yourself in the mirror.

Bakugou grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading it roughly before spreading your cheeks apart, hand guiding his cock to line up with your entrance. It felt so awful, all of it. There was pain, and shame, and disgust, and you were mortified that the little candle of pleasure in your stomach was turning into a bonfire. At least Bakugou wasn’t a savage, or at least not interested in seeing you bleed (this time, he’d kneed you in the face once when you tried to refuse to suck his dick and given you a nosebleed) because he went slow. Well, as slow as a guy like him could go.

It was still entirely too fast, the way he entered you, pushing his hips forward easily and filling you up in one rough thrust. 

You watched from the mirror, legs spread apart far enough that you could easily see when Bakugou was balls deep, his hip bones jutting against your ass. Your poor ass, you don’t think you’d be able to sit for a while after this.

The man paused when he bottomed out, breathing heavily, chuckling almost maniacally as he made eye contact with you through the dirty mirror.

“Fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Mmh-“ he jostled his hips, his cock rubbing against your walls deliciously “-So wet too. You’re such a fucking slut, bet you’d gag on any dick you could find.”

You shook your head “No-no, I don’ - don’ do that!”  You wept, but any further argument you were about to make was cut off by Bakugou pulling out, then thrusting into you as deep as he could.

Eyes still focused on where his cock was forcing you open, your jaw relaxed, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You hated it, you hated it so much, but Bakugou was good at this. He was ramming into you, not fast, not slow, but hard and deep. Every few strokes he would shimmy his hips, and his cockhead hit something inside of you, something that made your legs weak and your pulse jump.

An excruciating pain bloomed across your ass, and your eyes snapped open - when had you closed them? You caught Bakugou’s gaze, and shivered. He was sweating, brows furrowed, intensely focused on watching your face in the mirror. 

The intensity he was exhibiting scared you, honestly. Of course, Bakugou was pretty much always intense in everything he did, from playing football to studying (you’d seen him once in the library, hunched over his books with a scowl that could wilt weeds), but you’d never seen him look at something, at someone, like that.

He noticed you looking back at him, which made his cheeks color, and then another slap was delivered to your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward from the pain.

“Ba-akugo! I didn’ - please, I didn’t do anythingggg.” You openly wept. 

You were ignored, Bakugou choosing to pound you harder rather than respond.

  “Fucking look at yourself, damn. You’re nothing more than a stupid cockslut, a little whore. No one’s ever gonna want you, you’re absolutely worthless.” He spat, threading a hand through your hair, pulling your head back. You had to follow his hand or else he’d rip your hair out, an unspoken threat, so you did, until your back was flush against his chest.  He wrapped a hand under your thigh, hiking it up into the air, forcing you to go on your tiptoes as he hooked your knee over his elbow, spreading you open.

“Look at that. See how wet you are? I can hear it.” He growls in your air, breathing heavily.

He was right, the slick sounds of him messing up your cunt reverberating in the bathroom. You could only watch as his cock hammered into you, his pace picking up quickly. 

You started to cry, really cry. Ugly, heaving sobs, where you couldn’t breath, your head throbbing towards a horrific headache, hands uselessly grabbing at Bakugou’s arms, not to stop him, there was no way you could - but to steady yourself from the brutality of his thrusts.

“Oh fuck, fucking christ, ‘m close, shit.” Bakugou gasped, and you wiggled in his hold, hyperventilating. You knew it just turned him on more, made him fuck you harder, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to dislodge his cock. He couldn’t cum inside, please.

“Not-not inside! Please please please not inside, Bakugou ple-ase!”

Bakugou didn’t respond, just panted in your ear, low groans rumbling through his chest as his hips humped against you, driving his cock into your cunt with a sloppy squelch on each rapid thrust.

You felt him cum.

You felt the first few ropes of warmth shoot inside you, but then the blonde was pulling out, jacking his cock onto your pussy, striping the rest of his cum over the outside of your cunt. It was humiliating. 

But you figured it was better than inside.

“Mmm, fuck bitch. You always know how to get me off. Good little pussy.” He finished humming, giving his wet cock one last tug, before messily slapping his hand over your cunt, rubbing his cum into your skin. It felt disgusting. 

You let him do what he wanted, let him rub circles over your clit, let him abandon the little nub in favor of sticking two of his cum-covered fingers inside of you, rubbing at your walls quickly. It felt good, but you were tired, and you didn’t want it to.

“Alright, I got class. Wanna suck me clean?”

His hands retracted from your body, and he let your leg down, pushing you away from him as gently as he could (which wasn’t very gently). A side step, then he was in front of you, washing his hands underneath the sink. You watched him blankly. 

“Well? You gonna suck me off? Or just stand there like a goddamn fish?”

You slowly dropped to your knees, cringing at the bathroom floor. It was nasty, dirty, probably covered in piss and maybe shit an-

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, I’m gonna be late.” Bakugou was looking at his phone, before his eyes flicked to you. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, dabbing at the mess covering his dick.

“How ‘bout you meet me after my class, and we’ll both get a little treat? Would you like that, stupid bitch?” He crouched down in front of you, pinching your cheek as he talked to you in a cutesy baby voice. 

When you didn’t respond, he grabbed your chin, yanking you forward until you were inches from his face. “Say yes, or you’re not gonna like the shit I’ll do to you.”

“Ye-yes, yes Bakugou.” You spluttered, trying to stop hiccuping on sobs, but failing pathetically. 

Bakugou nodded to himself, before pausing, as if appraising you. His eyes wandered over your face, and the next thing you knew he was kissing you, lips soft, passionate.

When he pulled away, you were left dazed, still kneeling on the ground. The man rose to his feet, stomping over to where his backpack hung on the door. He stopped to pick up your underwear from your sweatpants, pocketing the fabric as he grinned at you.

“Don’t forgot about meetin’ me after class, got it? Make me wait and I’ll beat your ass.” He paused, cocking his head to glance at your backside, before laughing. “Eh, or maybe I’ll just fuck it.” His eyes gleamed as he straightened his head. “So don’t be late.”

And with that warning he was shouldering his backpack, kicking your sweatpants towards you, slipping out the door.

Belatedly, you realized that your clit was still buzzing, that the pleasure clenching up your stomach hadn’t crested. 

With a sob, you let your fingers find their way to your pussy.