#even IF they never meet in ring again.
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🤯 for the fic ask meme?
🤯 What's the coolest thing you learned researching for a fic?
I think one thing that's struck me as interesting is the longevity of certain team-ups in kayfabe and the way they can seem longer even if they aren't? Like here I'm thinking about how KENTA/Shibata as a tag team only ever had three matches together (three!) -- and yet they had these callbacks and backed each other across different promotions so that legacy seemed super important when they ran that story in NJPW. I got into wrestling from the Golden Lovers who tagged a ton and had a reign as tag champs before multiple blow offs(like most tag teams that become iconic, I assumed). So it's just interesting to think about wrestlers that don't spend a ton of time together but really cement a legacy together both by choice and sheer chemistry in the ring.
#thinking a bit about punk and mjf here of course#who while i dont consider myself a cmjf girlie by any stretch they're going to be like. A big Fingerprint over the other's career forever#even IF they never meet in ring again.#anyways!#takeover is awesome dorian. i love them#thank you for the ask!#asks#fic writer asks
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Say what you want about Mary, but nothing makes my heart ache for Arthur more than how fucking much they loved eachother and how much they knew it would never work.
Meeting Mary the second time, she absolutely lit up seeing that Arthur actually came to help her again. Even despite the rough circumstances with her father, they both went and had a wonderful evening at the theatre.
Mary had no idea that would be the last time she'd ever see Arthur alive again.
#and she didn't even say goodbye to him at the trolley#the last letter she wrote to him was about moving on and gave back the ring arthur gave her#I can't even imagine how much the guilt and grief ate at her for that#oh mary arthur loved you so much#he had a dysfunctional family just like you why couldn't you both see that#oh man#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#mick squeaks#mick thinks#arthur morgan#mary linton#mary gillis#red dead redemption 2 spoilers#she probably wanted it to be the last time they'd meet because she wanted to move on#but how was she to know#how was she to know she would never see those blue eyes again
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Listen, I love movie! Aragorn, I really do. But book! Aragron wins out for me by virtue of being objectively more of a fucking weirdo
#lotr#lord of the rings#aragorn#tolkien#l also read the books first having never seen the movies and barely even seen images of them so book aragorn was my first aragorn#again to be clear movie aragorn is fantastic and i don't think they could have possibly made a better choice#but book aragorn is eternally near and dear to my heart#he's a weirdo and he's so stressed#i love him#'why didn't you tell us you're a friend of gandalf's?'#'I guess I just wanted you to like me for who I am regardless of that'#that is a paraphrased version of an actual exchange right shortly after they meet him#like sir#please
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▸ ▸ the longer you keep it up, the harder you’re getting fucked :p - gojo satoru
synopsis: you make a bet, but your boyfriend is the one that needs to fulfill it. catch is, if he succeeds then you'll get half a grand, but if he can manage till his birthday, then you'll get even more. and before he settles on the bet, Satoru warns you with one promise he knows he will fulfill. because the longer the bet goes on, the harder you'll be getting fucked when he succeeds.
content: 11k words (what in the world). afab!/fem!reader, she/her pronouns. minors do not interact. half of gojo's pov mixed with yours, reader calls him baby girl, explicit smut — fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting, unprotected sex but only because reader allows and satoru asks for permission, pet names (sweets, princess, babe), explicit language. Satoru gets morning wood and an erection during his meeting. Megumi and Tsumiki almost catch him in the kitchen, Satoru imagines reader in a dress, mentions of masturbation, satoru has a private album of photos/videos, soft!dom satoru, he cums multiple times — inside and on readers breasts.
happy birthday to my lover boy!!!! 🎉 (i posted this on his actual bday, but it got booted from the tags.... )
Satoru felt his vein pop.
He should’ve known by the way you approached him, called out his name with an unusually cuter ring to his name — the one that left him usually helpless in your palm — to hear it, he’ll sacrifice the world. He should’ve known something was up your sleeves, when you pulled at the bottom of his shirt, playing with the hem as you looked up through your lashes.
Normally, he’ll never reject your advances nor your desires, especially when you were being this cute, but for this?
Sometimes he needs to put his foot down — because you must be out of your mind.
How cruel of you to even ask him. Were the eight years of not being able to fuck each other not enough for you, that you just dared to ask him?
“Absolutely not.” his voice was curt, short of the usual chime whenever he responded to you.
“Why? It’ll make it that much more exciting when December comes around, ‘Toru.” you hugged him tighter, looking up at him in hopes that it’ll get him to give in — it always worked.
He had too, especially when almost half a grand was on the line.
“It’ll perfectly align you know? since it’ll be your birthday then, as well…” you seduced while riding on your toes to have him look at you.
“Do you want me to die?” Satoru cupped your face as he looked straight into your eyes, his large palms pushing your cheeks together, “and we’ve tried it, and guess what happened then?”
“Well no…” your voice muffled through pouted lips, “b-but it’ll be different now! You’re older!” your grip loosened around his shirt, disappointed that he wouldn’t give in.
“If you know, then absolutely not,” he scoffed while letting go of your cheeks, his hands immediately finding your waists, pulling you closer to him, utterly offended you would even dare to pull back from him.
“and no it’s not. I failed then, I’ll fail again now. I’ll probably fail even worse than last time.”
“It’ll be so quick, the month will honestly fly by!” you quickly retorted, leaning your body onto his.
“So you’re a liar now,” he crooked a brow, looking down at you with his jaws clenched from trying to stand his ground. Knowing he didn’t have the guts to really tell you no, especially when you looked so determined to succeed over something that had no means of any health benefits but potentially drive one insane — the experimental group? him — eight years prior when he tried the challenge.
conclusion: no nut november was unapplicable to one named Gojo Satoru.
Groaning into the crook of your neck, his breath gently ticking your skin, “I wanna be inside you all the time.” your boyfriend tended to always such perverse and ludicrous words with ease.
“D-don’t you think you’ll be so proud of yourself? We can do pilates or meditate together instead —” your voice stuttered from the sudden mesh of his lips on your skin and the gentle breeze of his breath coating your neck.
Annoyed that you were continuing with this, Satoru lightly nibbled on your skin, smirking when he felt you jolt in his arms, “I’m perfectly content with who I am now, princess. How much more perfect can I get?” he peppered kisses up your jaws and softly kissed the edge of your lips.
“... we can meditate together, become one soul and mind, through the art of sex. It’s good for you. You know like my cock inside you? How harmonic, how wonderful, how … much more rewarding can that get? Maybe we can finally try some new positions? Like those Kamasutra positions, Suguru sent me. He said that shit works. ”
“But ‘Toru —” you whined, the once animated chirp of your voice dissipated to nothing but disappointment and sadness at your boyfriend’s refusal to comply.
“Why are you pressing this so much?” Satoru furrowed his brows, absolutely confused as to why you would willingly be abstinent for not just one day, nor even a week, but for a goddamn month and a couple of days on top of it?
“B-because…” you lightly bit onto your lips, hesitant to spill the truth.
— flashback to a week prior.
“Say… have you and Satoru ever tried… you know… being abstinent for a bit?” she asked while twirling her straw around the rim of her glass cup.
“Well,” sighing while resting your cheek on the palm of your hand, your body leaning onto the coffee table, “we did try once in college,” humming with a light gleam to your voice, “but he failed within that week.”
“I see…”
“What’s up?” You kindly smiled, questioning her motive of asking, “are you and Suguru okay?”
“Yea, we’re fine! A little too good, I would say,” she laughed, a light glimmer of her eyes sparkling just where the sun radiating above you both, shining down warmth to excite you for the words she was just about to say, “just wanted to fuck with him, a bit you know?”
“How so?” intrigued with her sudden confession, biting your lips in thoughts of maybe – just maybe – you felt the same.
“November is falling soon, wanted to do the classic no nut challenge,” she shrugged before crossing her arms with her elbows resting on the table, “ wanted to see how far he could last…” rolling her eyes with a sigh, “he’s always so… so full of leisure. always teasing me when I know his nuts are about to bust.”
Giggling in response, “Well, if this makes you feel better, I have to get Satoru off me, or else he’ll cry.” Shaking your head, “you know, for being so similar to one another, they are weirdly so different.”
“Hey… do wanna make a bet?” her eyes gleamed, and her face contorted in excitement as she anticipatingly nibbled her lips.
“A bet?”
——
“... I made a bet,” you mumbled while playing with your toes, you couldn’t help but wince at the scoff your boyfriend gave you.
“A bet? Like money? Didn’t know you had a gambling addiction.”
“Satoru, I’m being serious.”
“I am too,” clicking his tongue against his teeth while running his hand over this hair, “So you’re telling me you made a bet… and that has to do with Suguru and his girl because…?
“Well… it was to see who would last the longest,” nervously pursing your lips as you watched his vexed expression.
“...Are you serious?” your boyfriend deadpanned.
“Mhm…” you nodded, “very serious.”
“How much?”
“Five…”
“Five dollars, youre joking —”
“Five hundred for the winner and an extra two hundred if you can last till your birthday…”
“And why is there an extra incentive for me?”
“Because… she didn’t think you’d be able to survive even a week, nor did Suguru when she texted him. Both thought it would be an easy win.”
"that dickhead," deeply sighing with his eyes firmly closed, “did you at least bet that I’ll win?” His fingers wrapped behind your back as he tiredly looked back at you.
“Of course!” you smiled, giggling while snaking your arms around his neck, “I know my boyfriend will win.”
“you're lucky that you're cute,” Satoru crinkled his nose with a smile, “but, do you genuinely want to do this?”
“Mhm, Imma treat my baby girl out,” reciprocating the crinkle while lightly pinching his cheeks, giving him the softest smile as he slowly loses his resolve.
“your baby girl, you say?” Satoru raised a brow while running his fingers against the plush of your lips.
“My own and only,” giggling while lightly prancing on your toes.
Slowly releasing a deep breath before clicking his tongue against his teeth, Satoru accepted your proposal. “Don’t get mad at me when I push you off for being needy,” your boyfriend smirked while pinching your cheeks, “and no more special good morning wake-up calls, even if you beg, I won't give it to —"
Heat immediately radiating to your face, your heart thumping increasingly at the remembrance of Satoru’s cheeky morning relief — in between your thighs, lips kissing your inner skin as he trekked his way to your cunt that looked just so pretty for him.
“I’m the one that always pushes you off, stupid…” you softly murmured, “but yes! I just want us to succeed at least once, and plus… don’t you want to beat Suguru?”
“He’s the least of my worries, princess. Because I’m going to make you regret ever making this bet,” he softly threatened, his smile masked with a hint of depravity in his voice.
“Because the longer I hold on,” giving you a wink as he pushed you towards his room, “the harder you’re getting fucked when I win, angel.”
“W-why are we going to —” your lips were pressed upon his, your voice melting into the dichotomy of urgency but also ease as you drowned in his touch, “ ‘Toru!” moaning his name, chest huffing as you clung onto with your fingers raking his hair as your bodies dropped to the bed, “we s-still have to run errands.”
“Fuck those,” Satoru groaned into your neck, caving his face into the crevice as he pulled down his sweats, the bulge of his cock nodding in his briefs. Kneeling on the edge of his bed, his fingers fastidiously pulled your shorts off, throwing them onto the floor, urgently pulling your cute panties off to the side. Exposing your hardened bud as he placed a tender kiss on your clit, now wet with your juice,
“Your silly bet doesn’t start till tomorrow, so open up, gonna make full use of what’s mine.”
— Day one.
The morning felt oddly nice, a little too nice when the mornings were usually cold and dull. The winter breeze was just right as the leaves swayed by its lead, and Satoru was sleeping soundly following the rhythm of the wind gently blowing outside, with his limbs intertwined with his lover. Without a worry, as he slept with his breath steady, and chest rising and falling in a calm motion, from outside looking in, the view would've simply been a couple soundly sleeping during the early mornings.
But underneath the sheets as both slept peacefully was his cock rudely poking at your inner thigh, his length pressing deeper in as he shifted in his slumber, lips murmuring what he was dreaming.
Usually, it would be routine. Satoru would wake up first, reach over to bring you close as he wrapped his arms around your body, and then he’d take some time to admire you while you peacefully slept in his arms. Ten minutes thereafter, is when the suffocating discomfort of his dick became too unbearable, and the throbbing of his cock would prod him to anticipatingly lick his lips while making his way down the sheets. With his lips pecking small kisses down your body while his hands gently massage your curves, he’ll quickly station himself in between your legs, softly pushing your cotton panties to the side with his index finger.
Hearing you shuffle and innocently moan out in your sleep, he’ll tenderly comfort you with a slight gruff to his morning voice, “shh baby, just sleep… it’ll feel good.” With his vacant finger spreading out your folds, the sticky sounds of your cunt slowly became more viscous the more he played with your pretty clit, the bud hardening with each stroke of his finger in and out of your pulsing hole.
His goal wasn’t to wake you, but for him to taste you just enough so that you’ll wake up in bliss, totally unaware of your boyfriend’s servicing actions. And just before he’ll dive more aggressively to taste your cunt, Satoru always placed a sweet kiss at the base of your pussy before caging your thighs around his arms, softly blowing on your exposed womanhood as he felt you stir in sleep. His voice was soothing as he eagerly licked his lips with a smirk, he cooed, “no need for preworkout if I can eat this every morning.”
But today, despite the morning feeling too nice, Satoru woke up frustrated to the core. He did his usual cuddling session with you in his arms — guess that made him feel better seeing you twitch your nose and softly snore. Cute he thought, would be nice if he could eat —
Instead of anticipation, his cock painfully ached and his mood turned sour the moment he felt the usual nodding of his dick to have some action.
Usually, he was excited to start the day. Not because he was enthusiastic to go to work, slave his life away to his family corporation, attend those god-awful meetings, and sign the mountains of files that his secretary ordered to finish.
No, he woke up solely with the intent of eating you out — end of story, final discussion. If sleeping was the only avenue for him to enjoy having a taste of your morning cunt, he’ll go through mountains and sign those papers if he had to — hell, he’ll even stay overtime if he was guaranteed.
But, he couldn’t. At least for a month, he wouldn’t be able to.
Sex the day before was good — too good. With a balance of carnal urgency as he bullied your abused cunt with his aching length, meshing with some time to wind down in pillow talk or while he sovereigns every ounce of your body with his lips, only to repeat the cycle of fucking like rabbits with the sheets damp and body sore from prolonged sexual intercourse. sex was still so fucking good.
But today? Yea...
“Fuckkk,” Satoru groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow with his arm thrown over his eyes, his hips mindlessly moving upward in a pensive desire to fuck you.
“ ‘Toru?” your voice softly croaked, totally unaware of the frustration your little bet caused him, “you okay?”
“Mhm,” he immediately swallowed you with his arms, his lips pressing delicate kisses on your naked shoulders but keeping a mental note to not have his dick too close to your ass — that was dangerous territory.
“Are you leaving soon? Stay a little longer, I’m cold,” your voice was slurred, while your consciousness slowly slipped into another stage of sleep.
“I can’t sweets,” Satoru grumbled, his hands mounding your innocent breasts, “not when I’m like this,” his breath tickled the edge of your lobes, just fanning against your jaw while the control of his hips was no longer in his jurisdiction but of a mind of their own as he dry fucked your ass, “fuck baby… Are you sure you wanna do this?
“You p-promised, ‘Toru…” you responded with your back snuggled close to his bare chest, the heat of his body making you feel safe despite the raging thoughts that were blaring in your boyfriend’s mind.
Getting out of bed was hard, but getting himself to work out despite his cock stubbornly staying tortuously erect was even harder. The moment he pulled himself out of the sheets, he knew today’s workout wouldn’t be of his fancy as he drank his preworkout making his way down to his basement gym.
And yes, sure as hell, today’s morning workout was a bust.
— Day two.
“They say starting is always the hardest, ‘Toru,” your voice, innocent yet ignorant of the turmoil he was going through, was soothing as you brushed your fingers through his hair, his face plastered on your breasts as he contemplated the existence of his life, “why don’t you join me for some pilates? A lot of couples come together!”
No, it’s not. And whoever came up with such a quote was a complete fuck, because Satoru could rebuttal it to his grave.
First, starting wasn't always the hardest. Getting over your nerves, or mustering up the courage to start wasn't difficult. Maybe it’ll apply to life circumstances like applying for that dream job or starting out a new hobby. But for Satoru, once you’re hooked, absolutely addicted to something, that’s when it’s the hardest.
Because like a dog conditioned to expect food after a stimulus, the same applies to sex. If he sees you blatantly walking around in those shorts that he just loved to watch you prance around the house in, he'll easily break. Where your cheeks just lightly land outside the rim of the fabric – it was adorable when you reached up the cupboard, exposing a hint of your belly and your ass jiggling when you jumped on your tippy toes. Like a starved animal, his cock would answer with its length pooled with blood, his stomach knotting in flames while his azul eyes dilated at the sight of you.
It was so easy — you made it so easy. Pushing you onto the countertop, getting you when least expected as he smashed his lips with yours while muffling your little yelp — your call of surprise but his invitation for more — was so, so easy. It was exciting, thrilling, utterly fulfilling his primal desires to just swallow you entirely as you clung onto him while crying out his name, your nails scratching against his back while his cock pistoled itself into you, nestling deep inside as he pumped out his seeds, shooting straight to your womb.
It was glorious, so divine when he felt his cum leak outside you. The warm clumps of his ejaculation thudded against the kitchen floor while he huffed out deep breaths with his head resting on your shoulder. It sent shivers down his back when you embraced him in his arms. And when he was lucky, you’ll look at him with desperate eyes, pulling more out from him as you whisper in his ears, a voice that almost strips all air from his burning lungs as you palm his length and swirl your thumb over his leaking head,
“I think you’ve got a little more in you, right ‘Toru?”
But instead, currently, with his head leaning against the shower wall, Satoru stood under the cold shower trying to cool off his cock. It’s almost laughable how his dick nods up and down as if it mocked his misery.
“You think it’s funny bastard,” Satoru groaned, voice spiteful that even his own body seemed to have betrayed him.
— Day three.
Kissing shouldn’t hurt. Right?
He was at least allowed to do that, right?
Maybe not when the kids were around. But an innocent kiss to show just how much he loved you, should be good, right?
Or so, that’s what Satoru’s sex-deprived head concluded when he saw you cleaning the dishes, softly humming an unrecognizable tune.
“I was going to do this, baby…” he lowly groaned into your skin while his hands snaked up your shirt, fingers immediately going to unclasp your bra while his lips trailed up your neck, his hand placed around it for eventual better access to your lips.
Oh how he wished to press you down onto the counter, push your cute little skirt up your waists while he measured the length of his cock to see how far he could fit himself inside you before ramming himself in — how admirable would it be to hear the synchronized moans coming out from you both simultaneously.
But he couldn’t. Even if he didn’t agree to this stupid bet, he wouldn’t — no, you wouldn’t allow it, not even dare let him touch you when the kids were around.
Huh? But to his surprise, he could feel you reciprocating back by pushing your ass onto his cock. Soaking in every touch and affection he gave you; just maybe he wasn’t the only one craving, barely surviving through this absurd bet, despite only being the third day.
It was three days too long.
Treating him out? Fuck, that was his job, not yours — well, occasionally he did allow you to buy him some ice cream, but even in that, too, he would rather buy it for you.
“You know we don’t have to continue —” he tempted, softly whispering into your ear, his bulge pressing against the valley of your ass — erection hard enough for you to feel over your clothes.
“But the bet,” you whimpered when his slender finger pinched your nipples, “it’s o-only been a full two days though,” your voice radiated barely of a whisper.
“Shhh, let's fuck the bet,” Satoru’s hand inched its way down your tummy, gliding to satisfy the aroused coil blooming in between your legs, “this is all so silly, princess. We can be fucking like normal? Enjoying each other, come on, let me make you feel good, yea?” your boyfriend’s voice was laced with an amorous note.
“M-maybe we could just call it qu —”
“What are you doing?” Megumi blankly asked, holding his finished plate of food while standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at you both with unimpressed eyes, “are you trying to eat her or suffocate her?"
“Ooo Gojo-kun’s in loveeeeee,” Tsumiki chirped, “that’s what Papa does when he’s with his girlfriend!”
“Fuck, we’re never having kids.”
— Day 12.
“So, you still on that bet?” swirling the fizzling drink, Satoru asked before taking a sip of his sugary mocktail — a drink he confidently orders despite the odd stares he gets from the bartender.
“The bet about not fucking?” Suguru sounded nonchalant about it. It was exactly twelve days since starting and why the hell does he look so smug about it? Fucking bastard… always so full of leisure when he was crawling, begging for scraps to simply survive.
“Yea, I guess,” the raven hair smirked, his tone taunting as he questioned Satoru, “surprised you’re even taking it this far, thought you would fail after the first hour with your horny ass.”
“What’s up with you and your girl both thinking that fucking is all I think about,” Satoru rolled his eyes, pursing his lips offended.
Suguru simply just stared back, the look of his eyes alone sending Satoru a million words as to why he knows fucking is all he thinks about.
“Rude, it’s not always…”
Shrugging, Suguru brushed it off, “Sure, whatever you say.”
“Okay… maybe like 90 percent of the time, no — 80 percent.”
“what an addict, I feel sorry for your girl, gotta tell her to run away when she can,” Suguru teased, pulling out his phone to text you, “like, how do you even concentrate at work?”
“It’s called multi-tasking, a trait only the elite have. clearly, its something you wouldn't know about."
“You know what Satoru?”
“What?”
“it still shocks me how so many entrust their careers with you, slaving their lives away to corporate for an elitely dumbass of a boss,” looking at his bestfriend with the kindest smile while tapping his shoulder, “don’t you think?”
There was no fucking way, he was going to lose to this prick of a best friend.
— Day 14.
Satoru wondered how he ever survived without you. Call it sentimental, call it deprivation, but one thing for sure was that he wanted you — and it very badly.
Shaking his leg, annoyingly biting onto the edge of his pen, it frustrated him that there was nothing else that could fathom to take space in his brain besides you. He exercised a hell lot more than his usual regimen and cut off on caffeine so that he could try and knock out when he got off from work.
He even tried doing those meditative breathing techniques that he searched for on the web. Said it was to calm your mind and soul. But god fucking dammit, being in silence made him even more hyperaware of his circumstance.
He can tell you are struggling, as well. He’s felt your touch linger on his body longer, trailing down to areas that you shouldn’t be trying to touch as your voice entranced him out of his free will.
As much as he wanted to throw in the white flag, and dump this shitty little bet over, he was two weeks in. Despite the last two weeks being an absolute shit show, it gave him an incentive to keep going. Why? Because one, you wanted it; second, because he could prove Suguru wrong that sex is, in fact, not the only thing he thinks about.
Gojo-san, hopefully everyth…
But my god, was waking up in the morning a struggle. It’s almost as if he’s forgotten the taste of your cum coating his lips, droplets dripping down his chin on days when he ate you out a little too hard. The pure ecstasy of being in your arms while your pussy fucked him dry.
The painful yet glorious tug of his hair when you screamed out, “‘Toru right there! D-don’t stop! Ngh fuck harder! Go harder!”
Reciprocating your needs, he’ll burrow his face into the crook of your neck, the weight of his body pressing your thighs down to your chest as he caved his member fully into you, the weight of his balls slamming against your puffy folds while your nails painted red along his back, “f-fucking shit… c-can I, princess? can I cum inside?”
Gojo-san?
Despite the years, Satoru always asked for permission. He would rather live dickless than know he spilled his seeds without consent.
Your hot breath stingy his ears covered in sweat, you mewled out, “Yes! Yes! ‘Toru hurry —”
Gojo-san… are you okay?
“What?” quickly waking from his daydream, his pen still in his mouth as a table of his subordinates worriedly looked at him with eyes all rounded from shock.
The infamous Gojo Satoru, the heir to Japan’s richest conglomerate, who has a keen eye for detail and business strategies looked like a deer in headlights in front of his staff.
“They’re waiting for your executive decision, sir,” Ijichi whispered, covering his mouth with a file, “you seem awfully pale, sir. Is everything alright?”
“I’m sorry,” Gojo cleared his throat, closing the folder as he prepared himself to make his way out, “ l-let me just read through the presentation once more, and I’ll relay my decision later. Good work everyone.”
Satoru was never one to get annoyed easily. Frustrated? Yes. Even the clicking of his dress shoes tapping against the graphite floor, a sound that he’d never noticed during his career at this office, irked the hell out of him. Hell, even the obnoxious chime of the elevator ticked him off.
“S-should I clear out your schedule, Gojo-san?” Ijichi broke the ice while he followed behind his boss.
“No need,” Satoru’s answer was curt.
“B-but sir, you don’t seem to look —”
Raising his voice, “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ijichi —” only to catch himself with a deep sigh as he brushed his styled hair back, large palms gripping the edge of his table as he leaned forward, “sorry… didn’t mean to sound harsh, guess i’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“My apologies sir, I’ll organize your schedule accordingly.” Ijichi stated before taking a bow and making his leave.
“That’ll be nice, thanks.”
Sitting down on his chair, throwing his head back while closing his eyes, Satoru frustratingly moaned out with his thighs spread out, “I must be going crazy, I’m not some horndog teenager…”
But inside his pants was a bulge, a boner that hadn’t gone down ever since the start of his meeting.
— Day 17
“Fuck,” a lowly growl resonated throughout the room — desperate and sinful — the depth of his chest expanding with each staggered breath that he took. Clenching onto his bed sheets and shoving the wad of saliva down his throat, it burned from the tension of lubricating his dry throat.
Licking his lips, and furrowing his brows, Satoru pulled down his sweats, freeing his restrained manhood. When the tip of his head smacked against his lower abdomen, the pain of the cold air encapsulated his poor cock that lay barren on its own, Satoru’s hiss littered his skin with goosebumps when his groans soon turned into desperate whimpers while he vulnerably lay in bed with an erection.
Before all this, it was easy for him to release. Simply envisioning you while he fucked you senseless, or looked through his private album of photos and videos he’s taken of you. It wasn’t a common occurrence for him to fuck his fist, but hey, when push comes to shove, Satoru wasn’t one to deny masturbating — especially, if he could cum to you in mind.
Normally, he’ll rest his back against the backboard, topless and with gray sweats — that you'll argue was your favorite because it accentuates his cock and makes him look sexy. If his girl likes it, why not flaunt what he has?
Getting himself in the mood didn’t require much. When he felt his cock pooling with blood, constrained in the restraints of his brief, Satoru would pull down his sweat with a grunt while his member sprung forth.
Sweetly palming his length, and applying just the right pressure, he’ll start by going through past photos and eventually ending up with videos. Zooming into your sweet lips, hearing your whimpers while he fucked you from behind, watching you play with his fingers on a date, to seeing your breasts giggle with every force of his cock slamming inside you — he loved it all.
Stroking his cock, while bucking his hips forward, desperately moaning while he envisioned just how adorable you would look trying to palm his member. A grip so easy for him to hold with one hand, while you struggled even with two. How soft your tongue would feel around the edge of his leaking head, while your hands carefully fondled his balls, lightly pulling on the sac as you fisted his length, looking up at him through the whisps of your lashes.
It drove him senseless when you would call his name with a little purr, pulling him closer to you as you spread out your legs to invite him in. It drove him mad when he’ll feverishly press his lips on yours, stifling your cries as he pounded into you. The only sounds resonating from the room were erotic slaps of sweaty skin and your muffled cries.
It didn’t take long for him to cum. give and take fifteen to twenty, but it was nonetheless a euphoric expression because every session made him pulse and huff, desperately desiring more.
If you had asked to abstain from sex, maybe that would've been easier to manage. At least he could relieve himself solo.
But, completely stripping himself of the option to simply cum was cruelty on its own.
And no different from a prepubescent boy, Satoru lay in his bed with his cock raging with his tip a fiery red.
But unlike a teenager, that would get boners out of simply nothing, Satoru couldn’t relieve himself of it.
— Day 19.
Surprisingly, Satoru woke up feeling refreshed. He swore he slept agitated and exhausted especially since this past week you’ve told him, “no more sleeping in one bed together, Satoru.”
But this morning, he felt rejuvenated and light. Maybe not nutting did actually work —
… Did he? No, fucking way.
Quickly shredding off the sheets, his eyes barely adjusting to the brightness of the room, Satoru checked his groin and examined his hands for any signs that he might've masturbated in his sleep.
Nothing — spotless. Miraculously, he didn’t even wake up with morning wood.
With another thought springing to his head, Satoru fastidiously reached for his phone — face id unable to recognize his morning face with the white bird’s nest of hair he had on his head.
Google search history:
Can my dick break from not cumming?
What are the symptoms of a broken dick?
Reading that there was no correlation between not nutting and its health benefits, and receiving the assurance that one’s dick cannot simply “break” from not cumming, Satoru felt reassured that he, in fact, did not have a broken dick and that maybe he was finally getting the hang of it.
Surely, there’s always a light at the end of every tunnel.
And maybe he’s finally found his.
— Day 19 - 11:34 pm
Nope.
Wrong. So so wrong. Most utterly wrong.
Satoru was in fact very wrong of the presumption he had in the morning. Because he was not getting the hang of it. Especially not when his cock was bulging in his sweats, while he was frustratingly lying wide awake during the crack of dawn.
If he could just touch his dick, stroke its length with the perfect pressure, he knew he’ll fold.
Only if he could.
It was arguable that he could.
But the look of disappointment you’ll give him, with the cute pout to your lips when he tells you he’s failed, he would rather die than come to you as a lousy prick that just wanted his dick sucked.
So, sighing while trudging off his bed, guess it was time for another cold shower — fourth one of the week.
— Day 24.
“Sir, it seems to me that’s you’ve lost some weight.”
“I’ve been hitting the gym more lately,” Satoru chuckled, the veins of his forearms angrily bulging, clearly visible on his pale skin.
“There’s been talks…” Ijichi stumbled on his words, unsure how to bring it about to Satoru.
“Talks about?” Satoru questioned, barely taking the time to look at his secretary as he was focused on signing his documents.
“That maybe you’ve broken up with…" Ijichi couldn't even dare say your name in the same sentence, " or —”
“Yea?” Satoru put his file down, a smirk growing on his face as he twirled his pen around his slender fingers — guess those flirty good mornings and looks from his staff made sense.
“I’m no expert…” clearing his throat, hoping he wouldn’t offend his boss, “but I’m here to listen if you have any trouble with your relationship.”
“I’m glad I’ve got such a trusted advisor,” the man pushed back on his seat, resting his arms on the sides of his chair, “but don’t mind me, just haven’t been able to let off some steam, that’s all.”
“Okay…”
“And breaking up? Ijichi you’ve been there when she broke up with me.” The man hummed, reminiscent of the days when he was heartbroken and lifeless, “We’re fine… just trying out something new, I guess.”
— Day 29.
It’s been a little over two weeks of sleeping separately. Dates have been cut to sole dinners, and going over to each other’s places was prohibited — at least til the bet, as per his lovely girlfriend.
And weekends were the hardest for Satoru.
Typically before this all occurred, weekends were his golden days. He was able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted it with you. Whether it be going on a shopping spree, or taking you out of the country for a short getaway, you were always involved — his common denominator.
Surely, he was able to still enjoy those with you, but it was rather difficult for him to keep his hands off you.
He still doesn’t quite understand why committed to this stupid bet in the first place. It wasn’t something he placed for himself, but guess… guess he just wanted to prove to not only you but also himself that sex, carnal lust, wasn’t the only thing that kept him in this relationship. That even though he’s been waking up with blue balls, and his mind driving him insane, you were worth more than that — not that you would ever get disappointed with him for failing, in the first place, but still.
If he’s made it till now, he can survive till the end.
But times like these... damn it was fucking hard.
“You want to come in?” you softly asked, playing with his fingers that were rested on your thighs throughout the drive home.
“You tempting me?” Satoru glanced over at you, cheekily smiling as he pulled towards you to place a tender kiss on your lips.
His lips felt mildly chapped, unusual when normally they were soft and slightly glossy. The warmth of his mouth and the gentle strokes of his thumb rubbing against your jaw eased you into the kiss as he pulled you over to the driver’s side to saddle his lap.
But that was the extent to where his hands would be: cupping your face.
With his car parked on the streets of your apartment complex, and his windows tinted, it wasn’t an unusual rendezvous for him to shamelessly fuck you in it. And that’s what you presumed this make-out session would slowly turn into.
Because fuck it. You’ve missed him.
Missed the way he touched you.
Missed the way he held you in his arms.
Missed the way he just knew the parts of your body that made you squirm, right before pinning you in place with his strength.
Missed the teases and affirmations he gave when he prepped you.
And my fucking god did you miss the way he rammed his cock into you, pistoling his cock inside as he held you down with his weight. Having him cum inside you? That was a bonus.
“Satoru… let’s go inside,” you moaned out in the split second your lips disconnected, only for him to crash his mouth onto yours once more with a deep groan.
Before he wouldn’t hesitate to strip you off your clothes, many times even ripping out the buttons when he was in the rush. He’ll smirk while not meaning his apologizing, “sorry, but i’ll buy you it, focus on me right now.”
It felt unusual to only be making out. You’ve craved him, utterly wanted to devour him. Wanted something more than just his tongue inside your mouth and stagnant touches of his fingers on your face. it felt suffocating to be unable to touch his bare body that was rudely still covered with his clothes.
So without much thought, the burning knot burrowing inside, flaring in the pits of your stomach, had a mind of its own. your hands slowly made their way down his torso, gliding past his stomach. you've noticed he was much more muscularly defined than the last time you touched him.
“H-have you’ve been working out mor — ahhh,” his hands pushed your face slightly to the side so that his tongue could easily access your neck. The padding of his tongue sliding along the valley of your neckline, and his hot breath sticking to your skin.
“Mhm, can you tell?” he whispered in between kisses, mindlessly running his lips to wherever they landed.
“Yeah, I can feel it through your shirt,” your fingers wrap around his belt, slowly unbuckling the leather, “and your chest feels more squishy,” your slight giggle was no more than a moaning mess when he immediately bucked his hips to cause friction against your throbbing cunt.
“Gotta look hot for my baby,” Satoru breathed, “especially when it’s been so long since we’ve fuck… shit, you don’t know how much I want you right now.”
You finally got your hands to free his belt, unbuttoning his pants while unzipping his fly down, “how bad?” you taunted, your lips sneaky up to his soft spot — just under his ear.
Your needy breaths and the sensual overload always set him off. And you were determined to let him succumb to it.
“So so fucking bad,” gulping down his spit, the viscous wad burning his dry throat, “it’s all I think about, oh fuck —” throwing his head back onto the headrest, allowing you to suck at his skin as his hands now firmly held onto your waist.
And just when you were about to feel his pulsating cock, salivating at how warm and sensitive it would be when you could finally get your hands on his member. To swirl your tongue down just under his frenulum while you lathered his length with your spit. Maybe they’ll be time to suck at his ball while you pumped his meaty cock, and run your tongue along the lines of his pretty veins.
“W-wait baby,” his hands placed on your wrists. With his chest heaving, and hair frazzled, he looked at you with worry.
“Yes?” irritated that he would stop you — never had he stopped you.
“I don’t want you to make any decision that’ll you’ll regret tomorrow,” he confessed, softly looking into your eyes, while a small smile formed at his pretty lips, “I-i can take care of this at home,” slightly looking down at your hands just about to touch his groin, “and we have so much time to do it later,” he reassured while pulling your hands out of his pants, bringing them to your lips to kiss.
“B-but Satoru, I want —”
“I know princess, I know,” his voice mildly trembled, “you don’t know how bad I want you, it’s honestly torturous,” Satoru let out a forced chuckle.
“Let’s just break the bet then,” you pouted, sinking into his embrace with your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing yourself deeper into his body.
“Hey,” he gently tapped your bum, teasingly playing with your mounds when he heard you whine, “didn't I say…”
“What?” you annoyingly spat out.
“that when I win this bet,” his hands pulled you away, leaving you at eye level with him as he rubbed his thumb against the heat of your cheeks, “fucking is all we’ll do,” he reminded with a slight chuckle. It was undeniable that your boyfriend did not mean what he said as a simple joke. The tone of his voice could sound comical, but the underlying incentive of his statement was nothing but that.
It was admirable to see your boyfriend set his boundaries, doing his absolute best to honor the bet despite his pupils being dilated and cheeks rosy. The gruff in his voice when he called out your name and while he took his time to dress you up, were telltale signs that he too was at his wits. His wonton look of desperation was plastered over his face, even the slight tremor of his hands as he cupped your cheeks, one last time, to place a kiss on your forehead before leading you up to your apartment door, was nothing short of love.
— Day 35.
Satoru woke up, took a shower, and had a cup of his pre-workout before heading down to his gym. He felt light on his feet, absolutely flying through his sets. the pebbles of sweat on his forehead felt worthwhile, and the strain of his muscles made him feel alive.
He's been feeling good. his body was shaped just right — not too big but finely cut and carved to perfection. He's been putting more effort into his grind, and been more involved and fastidious at work with precision and strategy. while still being your dutiful boyfriend who sent thirst photos, of himself post workout, with a good morning text.
He goes to work sharply dressed, with his shoes freshly oiled. The slight spark of his watch, peeping out of his cuffs, was the definition of the wealth he assessed. With his thin waists but defined chest, it wasn’t hard for people to know just what he had packed under his clothes.
Satoru signed off on all his charts, attending every repetitive meeting, and joined in on important business deals with partnering companies. He made Ijichi’s life easier by working more thoroughly and leaving promptly.
The last couple of days of this newfound routine will soon come to an end. And the old will come again. Hopefully, he’ll be the victor between Suguru and him. Finally, a time when he could rub it in his best friend’s ego, that he was, in fact, the better of the duo.
Sitting alone in his office, signing off his last document before calling it a day, Satoru felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. In only two days, he’ll be able to touch you again, make love, and comfortably be himself with limbs wrapped together under the sheets.
Soon, he’ll be able to enjoy the goodness of love — sex, being the much-added benefit.
As he closed his final folder, leaning back on his chair, reminiscing about the past couple of weeks, it was no lie, the struggle of trying to keep his dick in his pants was no easy feat. Every morning was a mental battlefield of its own. But he’s grown to succumb to his desires and utilize that frustration in other aspects of his life — career, working out, meditating, daydreaming of his future with you and what he hopes to accomplish.
Sure, not being able to nut was tortuous – painful as his cock throbbed in his briefs every morning and with every thought of you. Not being able to even properly kiss you without being tempted to just have you face down on his whatever surface was near and fuck you good was even worse. Nothing has changed in how his dick reacted on its own, his thoughts still lingered in memories of how you would react when he would touch you at your sweet spots, how your body trembled when he inserted himself in, the warmth of your tight walls enveloping his cock. How good you tasted when you came in his mouth, body tense as he massaged your limbs.
But he’s been good, though he wanted to throw this useless bet out the gutter and selfishly act on his own will, you were proud of him — told him every day when he dropped you off. And that to him was enough.
Closing out his office, and walking to his car. Talking the elevator down while the clacks of his shoes echoed in the empty parking stall, where only his and a couple of other cars were present, Satoru couldn’t wait to get home.
To take a warm bath, and decompress while joining you on a Facetime call. These days, those sweet moments are what he looked forward to.
He felt the light vibration of his phone and immediately smiled when he saw the sender.
From: pumpkin <3
Babe have you by chance seen my favorite panties? I think I’ve lost them or left them at your place ):
To: pumpkin <3
I wish I had them But we haven’t fucked at my place in a while … … you sneaking behind my back? 😭
From: pumpkin <3
Awww I see! Those were my favorites You’re ridiculous -_- It’s probably under your carseat or something.
To: pumpkin <3
I’ll get you the same pair (: Let me know when you get home, i’ll be home soon
From: pumpkin <3
Okie dokie sexy
Chuckling as he rolled his eyes, he mindlessly placed his phone on the dashboard and started his car. The rumble of his engine loudly echoed in the dark basement, and the lights of his dash could almost blind a person. He shifted his car to drive, and while he stepped on the gas pedal, his phone slid off the dash and fell onto the carpeted floor.
Grunting as he reached over to grab his phone, he felt a soft fabric brush against the tip of his finger. That was odd. Satoru liked to keep his car clean. So he grabbed the dainty item and hung it on his finger as he registered what it was.
Truly, god liked to fuck with him. Because on his finger was your missing laced panty. A memory of your last car sex with him before you slammed him with the “let’s not fuck, and you can’t cum till blah blah blah.”
“Fuck…” Satoru hissed, letting out a gluttonous rasp as he spread out his thighs in his seat.
And beneath his slacks was his bulge painfully starting to outline, the size of his cock so obvious despite the dim lighting of his car.
Clenching onto your underwear, he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help but unzip his pants and firmly hold his hardened cock, as he unfolded the memory of when he fucked you in his car.
Ten minutes later.
To: pumpkin <3
Ah babe, I think I’m going to get home later than expected. Heavy traffic
traffic was fine. Satoru just has yet to leave the parking lot.
— A couple hours before D-day.
Dinner reservations were set for 7:30 pm, which meant he needed to be at your place by the latest 6:45. There were countless times when you’ve both missed the reserved time because either one, you fucked one too many rounds at home before heading out, or two, you fucked in the car en route to the restaurant.
Satoru hoped he would stay sane tonight. All he had to do was endure a couple more hours and when the clock hit midnight, it was game over.
But when you open your apartment door, it wasn’t a surprise his body moved before his mind could register.
Because when you open the door, giggling while innocently tilting your head to the side as you put on your earrings, the ring on your promised finger sparkling from the backlight, something snapped within him. And despite your lips moving, he couldn’t hear a word you said but the annoying, monotonous ring in his ears as his eyes sharply fixated on you while you made your way to wrap your arms around him.
No, don’t do it. Don’t come.
And in that moment, everything within him exploded.
Before you both even know it, he’s rushing inside your apartment, prying off his shoes while he pushes you onto the wall with his lips desperately smashed on yours. With your wrists caged in one of his larger palms as the other quickly stripped you of your clothes, despite knowing you were on a time crunch, you didn’t necessarily feel compelled to be on time — better, maybe not even make it at all.
“Satoru —” you yelped, only for your voice to morph into wonton moans as his lips suffocated your lungs from the air.
The sound of teeth clashing, hands hunting for more bodily warmth combined with the lewd whines that dissipated from each lips heated your core — just enough to push you onto the edge with your juices pooling in your panties.
His hands expertly slide down your stomach and to the crevice in between your legs. His fingers shove the fabric to the side, exposing your wet cunt that’s just so ready to be played with and touched.
‘Tor —” you barely managed to call his name, his mouth overwhelming with strength as he forced his tongue into yours. With teeth clashing and his hands desperately stripping himself of both your clothes and his, he growled while tugging your lip with his teeth, “I can’t fucking do this anymore.”
“O-our reservation!” you cried out, desperately holding onto him with a leg hooked around his waist, relying on his strength to stand on one foot. With his shirt hanging off his torso, hair now messy and frazzled while he littered your skin with kisses that left you begging for more.
“Fuck that,” he growled, his breath sounding rough as he threw his freshly pressed shirt on the floor — one probably worth more than your rent itself.
“It’s nothing new that we’re always late, princess,” he taunted, with his palm placed at the base of your jaw, cupping your cheeks with his left hand while his right unzipped your dress, smirking when it landed on the floor with a thud.
“I told you, angel,” cocking his head to the side as he swiped his tongue upward on your lips, his eyes piercing straight into yours, “ the longer I kept this up the harder you were getting fucked.”
“It’s not over till tomo — ahhh, ” you moaned when his fingers finally played with your folds, and eventually your clit.
“Sorry, I tried, I really did, baby,” groaning as his lips dragged against your neck, his teeth hungrily nipping at your skin while he rubbed circles against your hardened bud. The erotic sound of your slick swirling against his fingers was a combination of embarrassment but also ease – you shouldn’t so readily give in, but oh you wanted to get fucked so badly.
With his vacant hand quickly unhooking your bra and groping your breasts, Satoru kissed his ways down to harshly suck at your nipples, “ but goddamn, i think you’ll actually kill me with this.”
“From not having sex?” you pulled at his hair, both legs automatically wrapping around his waists as he sloppily kissed your mounds, the slime of his saliva coating your areolas to replicate nature’s greatest gem.
“Yea, because my nut’s seriously about to explode,” unbuckling his pants while shimming them down to his ankles, pulling one of your hands down to stroke his heated member, while he pushed your panties to the side, swirling his finger around your clit.
“Gotta take good care of my future children, you know? This is very dangerous, so so dangerous.”
“You’re being r-ridiculous oh,” you moaned out when he pinched your clit, his darkened eyes watching your every expression as he opened his mouth in unison with wonton looks.
“Shhh pumpkin, aren’t you so cute, ” nibbling on your ears as his sensual breathing made your mind fuzzy and legs wobbly, increasingly more from the soaking sounds of your cunt being played with was ludicrous and naughty, “it’s always over when I say it’s over.”
Humming as he brought his wet fingers up to examine, “god, you’re soaked,” chuckling as he murmurs, “isn’t that fuckin’ cute.” the glimmer of his middle and ring finger enticing him more. “See, you want it too, no? Isn’t my silly girl just ready to be fucked.”
“yes, I want it. want it so, so bad—need it,” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper when he suddenly kissed you, grunting into your mouth.
“but let me release one real quick, ” groaning in between the kiss, "it’s a bit painful," as he palmed at his cock, “where do you want it, sweets?”
“Me…” with cheeks heated, you admitted.
“I asked where,” his words more strained and impatient as the pacing of his palms around his member was getting increasingly faster with more vigor.
And instead of answering, you pointed at the valley of your breasts, pooling your mounds together to catch every drop of his seeds on your skin.
“Fucking god, I love you,” Satoru cock twitches in his hand, “get on your knees for me, princess,” he ordered before slapping his hardened length on your cheek, “ what my girl wants, is what she gets,” hissing while stroking his shaft, looking down at your sweet position — just ready to take his load. It’s not a surprise that Satoru cums fast, and he comes hard.
When he catches you eyes anticipating for his seeds, to cover you with his release, the knot that’s been burning inside him finally starts to snap. The pleasurable, deep coil of his cum shooting through his slit meshed with your desperate desire to have yourself plastered with every essence of him was enough to drive him off the edge.
“Fuck ‘mma cum, gonna cum so hard baby,” Satoru made a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp, “gonna cum baby… i —i shit shit…”
And he does, straight on your chest, splattering bits to the floor and some to your chin, barely making its way into your mouth — a whole fucking mess.
Panting while he pulled out every ounce of his seeds, thickly splurting out of his sensitive tip, Satoru murmured under his hitched breath, “sorry baby, i—i don’t know what just happened there, fuck.”
“you made a mess,” you chuckle, smiling with a crinkle on your nose.
“Shit… sorry, let me just,” Satoru grabbed his shirt to help clean you off, “but damn such a waste,” you pouted. Annoyed that he didn't get to cum inside you, but also grieving for the loss of his precious seeds going into the trash.
“It’s your fault,” he murmured, concentrating on cleaning every ounce of his cum off you, “if it wasn’t for that stupid bet, we could’ve done this every day, as much as you wanted,” mimicking your voice with a shake to his head, “but nooo, you had to just bet on my demise.”
“then let me feel you,” you murmur, “let me have you,” cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, his soft lips that you’ve missed so much, “fuck me, ‘Toru, I want you just as bad — so so badly.”
—
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned when he felt the tightness of your hole firmly wrapping a ring around his member. Rhythmically pulsing his hips, slowly gulping down his spit while he closed his eyes, trying his hardest to concentrate so he didn’t pull another quickie and cum prematurely.
It was a couple hours after he came on your breasts, and a few sessions of sex thereafter that. After multiple positions and fucking in different spaces of your apartment, finally, you’ve made it to the bedroom.
Feeling your soft walls pulsing and warming his length, just so tightly embracing his cock, inviting him further inside as he settled into you — his home, a place of refuge as he’s held so carefully not only in your arms but also by your cunt.
He’s eaten you out. Fuck, you tasted so good. His starved appetite satiated with every sucking of your folds, and slobbering of his tongue against your pussy.
He’s watched you squirm and sprinkle the couch, squirting warm liquid while he fingered your cunt.
He’s seen just how far he can enter when he measured the length of his cock magically disappearing inside you, making you relish in his reign as you shuddered with every impact.
And he’s felt the warm gush of your cum coating his cock, making a white ring around his length every time he pulled himself out, only to slam it back in. Bullying your wet folds while he painfully swirled his fingers around your clit, satisfied that your cum meshed in with his prior ejaculations were stuffed deeply — fully — inside you.
Your hips buck in tandem with his, matching his rhythm but barely following his pace as he slams into you. His heavy balls slap against your swollen cunt with every thrust of his hips, mildly splattering remnants of his cum off your pussy. And as he buries his cock into you, going as deep as he can, with every thrust you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the depths of your caverns. your abused cunt continuously sucking him in and hugging around him, tempting him for more, as he groans into your neck, his lips now swollen and red.
You weren’t entirely sure if he noticed, but you sure did. The throbbing of his cock tightly wrapped by your velvet walls, with every move of his body, made your insides churn into a symphony of pleasure, making you desire more for his cock to bully your cunt — especially when his head brushed against your sweet spot.
The friction of your body meshing with his feels sickening. The thick air of the room makes him feel lightheaded as if he’s being baited in between the realms of reality and another infinite dimension, teasing between the boundaries of possibly falling into an unknown abyss or comfortably landing straight home into your arms.
It’s always been like that for him. Through all the years he’s been with you, he’s been the one that loved more, loved harder, loved desperately. He doesn’t hold it against you nor does he find fault in what type of lover he was. He just — just, doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm, his soul flourishing in your sovereignty.
Heart lasciviously yearning for more.
“Right there ‘Toru,” you sob, “right there, give me more more” — of course it’s right there. He’s studied you front and back, but it wasn’t just right there. Because as his thumb finds your clit again, pressing desperate little circles to get you over the edge, he knows it’s actually right there when you squeeze on his cock, your eyes falling to the back of your head while your breaths start to stagger.
That’s — that’s when you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “S-satoru,” you gasp, “fuck, k-keep going."
But that — that was a shocker.
Normally he’ll ride out his orgasm after he’s seen you finish off. But, strange… when he sees the needy glint in your eyes, the tremble of your lips as you used every ounce of your strength to pull him in while you cupped his face, your legs mercilessly bouncing with every thrust of his hips while your thighs were firmly pressed into your chests.
Murmuring under your breath while you encouraged him to keep going, the invitation has him quickly falling into his own — hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, shooting in waves with every twitch of his cock, with every groan pulled from his throat that soon formed into sweet whimpers that he harmonies into your neck, while fucking his load into you and as you held him in your arms, purposefully clenching to edge him off.
But still, it’s almost embarrassing how fast he cums. Even more embarrassing is how he’s currently withering in your arms, trembling from the aftermath of pumping his hot seeds into you, desperately holding onto you with his face planted into the crook of your neck.
The way his cum spills out of you and coats his cock, it’s perfect and feels just right. Despite your eyes about to fall shut, you can’t help but think how perfectly he fits intertwined with your body, his slowly softening cock nestled just perfectly inside you as he slumps on top of you, panting from the prior tumultuous rounds of fucking like rabbits as he cages you in his arms.
It’s warm — not only inside you, feeling the clumps spilling out, but love.
Loving him was warm. Loving him was right.
Groaning on top of your body, “Don’t ever ask me to do this again.” You can feel his cock slowly start to take its shape again inside you, it was quick but the viscous lumps of his fluid quickly slipped out to make more space for his cock to fill you again.
More — he wanted more.
“B-but I could’ve treated you out —” your voice was almost gone. You’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors the next morning.
“babe, the best way you can treat out your baby girl,” Satoru rasped as he fully slipped himself inside you again, eyes rolling to the back of his head for a short moment before carnally staring into your eyes, “is letting him fuck you whenever he wants —”
“Wait wait!” you covered his lips with your hands, cheekily looking up as you then cupped his face, amused as you watched the discontent growl plastered on his expression morph into a pout.
Grumbling, Satoru huffed, “That’s all I've been doing this past month —”
“I said wait!" stifling his whine, pulling him closer to your bosom to place a kiss on his forehead, delighted to hear the small ring of your phone jingle in tune.
“happy birthday loser,” you cooed.
“You’re the worst for making me go through this,” he chuckled while caging you in, his arms surrounding your head as he brushed his finger against your cheek, his thumb lingering against your swollen lips that were softly smudged with lipstick, “but thank you, 'm getting older, but i’ll fuck you even harder,” he proposed with a wink.
“Wow…” unbelievable that he still had energy, “even with a month of no sex, you’ll still so horny.”
“Yea, because we gotta make babies now,” Satoru chirped, his lips making its way to your swollen nipples, sucking on the tips.
“Thought you didn’t want kids?”
“Eh, I figured… having a little gremlin like Megumi or Tsumiki-chan wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Just admit it,” running your hands through his sweaty hair, “you like them a lot more than you’ll admit.”
Suddenly propping his head up like a groundhog, with spit trailing down his chin, he corrected, “False, I like them only to an extent because I get tabs on their dad.”
“Tabs about who he’s dating? Why are you going to sell that to the tabloids?”
“Exactly, Tsumiki-chan always spill the tea, and plus that fart needs some action.”
“Even though you’re my boyfriend, you really are something.”
“Eh, i’ve gotten better compliments,” he shrugged, his attention going straight back to your nipples.
“ ‘Toru… d-do you think Suguru made it?” a moan slipped from your lips while you positioned yourself more comfortably under him, getting yourself ready.
Letting go of your nipples with a sharp pop, “That fucker wouldn’t lie to me — oh fuck” your boyfriend released a gluttonous moan as he furrowed his brows, hissing while clenching his stomach from absolutely losing it right then and there, “d-don’t clench so suddenly like that.”
“Gotta keep up with the pace, baby girl,” licking your lips while cocking a brow. “So… are you going to fuck me,” clenching while you tugged his hips down to your pelvis, hearing him hiss on the impact made your guts tighten while you watched him melt from the pressure surrounding his heated length pulsing inside you.
Using all your strength to turn your bodies around, now saddling your legs against his hips as you watched his stunned expression from above, it felt nice being in control. and fully sinking onto his cock as you started rolling your hips in repeated motions, in between wanting breaths, you asked,
“or am I gonna have to fuck you, pretty?”
— next morning.
Ding!
From: Asshole
so did you succeed?
To: Asshole
nah, fucked last night. you?
From: Asshole
nice. but happy birthday, bro.
To: Asshole
thx so, you pulled through?
From: Asshole (5 hours later)
nah, we fucked the day after making the bet. fucked again just now, too :P
author's note: omg... first sooo sorry for the lack of editing on this. holy smokes, it was way too long and i didn't dare to read through all of this. but if you have, thank you! i greatly appreciate you
#ae.writes#jjk x reader#jjk smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut
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CEO Bucky takes his anger out on his secretary (ft smut)
Imagine CEO!Bucky accidently taking his anger out on his already stressed out secretary. He gets mean and you will deal with it because I wanted this angst turned smut to go from chest itching to stomach fluttering.
-
Your stomach twisted in knots looking at the pile of papers you had stacked on your desk, the phone still ringing while new messages popped up in your email inbox every 5 minutes. The files had to be organized by the next meeting and the number on the phone display was one you couldn’t ignore. The back to back messages were from various investors, each person insisting they were a priority over the others. You kept the receiver between your ear and shoulder, your hands flying around your desk madly between papers and tapping your keyboard.
You quickly added a few more meetings to the calendar before hurrying to your bosses office to remind him of one he had later that afternoon. You hesitated before knocking at the door, the closed doors indicating he was busy, but you knew he’d want a heads up about the meeting.
“Mr. Barnes, you have a meeting with Stark Enterprises at 3:30-
“Didn’t I tell you to move this meeting to next week?” Bucky snapped, blue eyes glaring at you while you blinked in confusion. “Well?”
“N-no” You shook your head, you’d never missed an email before and you’d always been on top of scheduling changes on time. Bucky mumbled something under his breath before waving you off, the shrill sound of his phone going off.
“Barnes” Bucky grunted, answering the phone without looking back at you, leaving to you scramble away and figure out if you could rearrange the date with Tony Stark.
Which was a mess in itself.
You had to argue back and forth, pleading to no end for a different day with Starks assistant only reluctantly agreeing after nearly half an hour.
“You really should be more responsible, can’t believe Barnes has the likes of you working under him” the woman on the phone clicked her tongue before slamming down the receiver, cutting the call. You sighed, taking in a deep breath to calm the tightness you felt in your throat, you didn’t have time to break down now.
You printed the up coming contracts for Bucky to sign, organizing them by name and highlighting the places he had to sign so he didn’t have to bother finding the space for signatures. You scurried back into his office, dreading the tense click of his jaw, your nerves increasing even more.
“Sir, these are your papers-” You stumbled over the corner of the rug, scattering the papers onto the floor, your heart hammering out of your chest when you saw Bucky irritatedly run his fingers through his hair.
“For fucks sake, y/n, I’m already stressed, don’t screw more shit up!” He growled, eyes hardening at the sight of the papers strewn across the floor of his office while you stayed frozen on the spot. Your eyes glossed over, quickly scrambling to the floor to grab the documents, mumbling apologies over and over again, hoping none of your tears stained the paper. The sight of tears streaking down your face broke Bucky out of his frustrated state, instantly regretting the tone he’d used with you.
“Fuck” Bucky cursed under his breath, getting out of his chair to help you but you’d already managed to pick everything up, immediately trying to scramble away.
“Y/n”
You didn’t stop, unable to take more of Bucky’s wrath, continuing to hurry towards the door, desperately trying to hold down your sniffles and aggressively wiping your cheeks.
“Y/n”
Bucky sighed, gently reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you to face him, his feeling even worse when you kept your eyes trained on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself.
“I’m sorry, p-please d-on’t yell” You choked out, still trying to hold your composure together, fighting the way your body wanted to break down into sobs
“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry” his heart broke seeing the tears collecting in your lash line, his thumb swiping away the ones that spilled out. “M’sorry baby” he wasn’t sure where the pet name came from but he couldn’t help it, letting it naturally roll off his tongue. You were still rigid, refusing to look at him, nearly flinching when he pulled you closer, tilting your chin up to meet his steel blues.
“Look at me” He spoke softly now, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding, his touch gentle, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”
“It’s okay” you shrugged, slipping out of his hold, quickly wiping your face and going back to work as if nothing had happened. Even though he’d apologized, his words rang through your mind for the rest of the day.
In fact, they stuck with you through the entire week.
Bucky hated the way you didn’t even look at him anymore. He missed your soft good mornings and shy smile whenever he walked into his office. Now all you did was keep your head down, freezing in fear as soon as you heard his footsteps. And it was all his fault.
He despised that he made you feel scared of him, his own anger being the cause of upsetting you when you had been nothing but sweet from the day he’d met you. You were also the best he’d ever had; no one else had ever come close to how brilliantly you worked; you never missed anything. He nearly spat out the coffee that was placed on his table, missing the perfect cup you made for him every morning.
You only spoke 1-2 words, retreating from his office as soon as you got what you needed, your eyes always trained on the floor, looking away from him. He couldn’t take it anymore, feeling more guilty each day; he couldn’t go on any longer without your sweetness.
You blinked at the baby pink roses that sat in a basket on your desk along with a little bear placed on top, a small hand made I’m Sorry heart sitting in its furry hands, clearly in Bucky’s handwriting. You traced over the soft teddy holding it in your hands before going to his office. Before you could say anything, Bucky was up and out of his seat, desperately hoping you’d hear him out.
“M’sorry y/n” His soft eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he reached out to hold your hands in his, not wanting you to run off again, “I’m so sorry angel, there’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”
“It’s fine” You whispered, still avoiding his gaze.
“Hey, it’s not fine” Bucky shook his head, cupping your face to make you look at him, “It’s not baby, I shouldn’t have ever treated you that way. You do everything for me, I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you”
“I shouldn’t have messed u-
“Don’t, absolutely not. You never do sweets, it was me who messed up. Never you. Will you forgive me, doll?” Bucky nervously bit his lip while you gave him a small nod, that adorable shy smile he loved so much making its way to your lips.
“God, I missed this” He whispered, his thumb tracing over your lips, chuckling at the tiny confused pout you gave him after.
“What did you miss”
“This little smile you always have whenever you’re around me” Bucky smirked at the way you grew more bashful, doe eyes darting about, “Do you have any idea how much I love when you look at me like that?”
“Mr-Mr. Barnes” Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands slowly moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands made their way to his chest to ground yourself, forgetting how to breathe as he pressed his lips against yours. It started off soft and slow; his sweet tongue turning sinful as he walked over to his chair, pulling you to straddle him without breaking apart once. You let out a needy whimper feeling him harden under you though Bucky was still focused on kissing your soft skin, his lips fluttering across every inch.
You’d never been this close to Bucky before, the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your heart race, his calloused large hands roaming your body. You hadn’t even realized you were grinding down on his thick bulge until he let out a groan, stilling your hips.
“Keep that up bunny and you’ll make me cum in my pants like a little boy” Bucky let out a strained chuckle, using every bit of his self restraint not to tear your clothes off.
“Please?” You wiggled against him again, needing to be closer, Bucky’s resolve slowly crumbling. How could he hold back when you were practically humping your soaked needy cunt right on his erection.
“Please what, sweets”
“Need you Sir” your voice had melted in a whine and that was all it took. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor caused more arousal to dampen your panties, nearly drooling at the sight of his cock as he pulled it out.
“Are-are you sure?” He checked with you once more, not wasting a second ripping your blouse off as soon as you nodded. He threw your bra off next before lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the, rubbing his fingers through your folds.
“Sir, pleasee”
“I got you, I got you baby. Wanted to make love for our first time angel, give you a bed with rose petals n’ champagne over ice” He whispered, recounting every fantasy he’d thought of from the day he’d met you, “Wanted to make you feel good baby, throw your legs over my shoulders and nurse off this little clit”
He rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing.
“N’ then you’d be my sweet pillow princess. I’d let you lie down all night while I fuck your soul angel. I’d give you my cum all night, pump you full of my cream”
“Need you now” You whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of his blazer, not that you didn’t want everything he was telling you but you couldn't wait.
“Alright baby, c’mere” He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his as he rubbed his swollen cockhead to gather your slick before breeching your tight hole, his hips gently pushing up till he was buried to the hilt, “That’s it, shhh take all of me”
Bucky gave you a second to adjust to his size, his wide hands splayed across your body to hold you in place as he began to thrust up. You gasped in pleasure, your voice melting into a moan as he picked you up and placed you on his desk, pushing your thighs to hit your chest, hitting an even deeper angel.
“OH GOD-MR-BARNES” You wailed as he fucked you harder, his heard thrown back, tie loosened, tightening the grip he had on your legs, keeping you spread out wide open. He groaned at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you while you moaned and sobbed on his desk, taking everything he gave you.
“That’s right baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this good” He grunted through gritted teeth, holding off his orgasm while bringing his thumb to rub your clit again.
“I-I’m gonna-OH-GOD-PLEASEE
“Fuck you sound perfect” Bucky moaned feeling you choke his length, fluttering and pulling him deeper as your orgasm washed over you, his own release dangerously close. “God you feel so fuckin’ good when you cum baby. One more angel, just one more” Bucky practically pleaded with you, speeding up his fingers till he saw your eyes roll back, silent screams leaving your mouth as your juices soaked his balls.
“Fuck m’cumming so hard for you baby” He groaned, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling and spilling ropes of cum into you. He kept his cock inside while bending down to pick you up and sit back in his chair again. He sat with you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, whispering sweet nothings.
“Ready to go?” He whispered, looking down to see if you’d fallen asleep while you snuggled into him with your eyes closed.
“Too tired sir” You pouted, nuzzling into his chest, refusing to move, your body too fucked out to even stand.
“I got you baby” Bucky smiled, shrugging off his blazer and wrapping you up before carrying you away in his arms, ready to take you home, right where you belonged “Gonna make love to my pretty girl”
#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky x you#bucky x smut#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x Female Reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x fluff#James Buchanan Bucky Barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#ceo bucky#ceo!bucky#ceo bucky barnes#ceo bucky smut#ceo bucky barnes smut#ceo bucky x secretary reader#bucky x secretary#bucky barnes imagine#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky barnes fanfiction
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Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??
meet the family
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason has a girlfriend???
warnings: none
The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.
Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.
It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.
“There’s a girl here!”
Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.
Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.
“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.
Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”
“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Obviously.”
Cassandra nods fervently.
“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”
Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”
“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.
Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.
“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”
“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.
“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.
Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.
Knock knock knock knock knock…
Knock knock.
It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.
Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”
He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”
Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.
“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”
“No.”
Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”
Jason shuts the door.
A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.
“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.
“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.
And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.
Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.
“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”
His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”
Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”
He stares at her.
“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.
“Stephanie.”
“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”
“Bye.” He closes the door.
He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.
Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.
Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.
Jason shuts the door in his face.
Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.
It’s Cass.
She stares at him.
He stares at her.
“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.
Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”
She smiles and turns back down the hall.
Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.
“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.
“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”
He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”
“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”
“I’m starting to regret it now.”
“Come on. Please?” You plead.
He picks his head up to look at you.
“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.
“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.
He sighs.
Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.
You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.
“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”
“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”
Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.
You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.
Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.
Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”
“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.
There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.
“Hold on—”
“—my god, she’s so pretty!”
“Oh wow—”
“Wait, what?”
”—You’re real?”
“—didn’t place that bet.”
Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”
“I’m—”
But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.
“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.
“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.
Cass waves and signs something to you.
“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.
Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.
Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”
Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”
Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”
“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.
You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.
Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”
“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.
“No wait!”
You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.
You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”
Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”
You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”
He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.
You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”
“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”
He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.
He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.
The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.
You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.
“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.
You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.
He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.
As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.
“Bruce.”
Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.
“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”
Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.
Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.
Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.
“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.
He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”
Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.
“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.
He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.
“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.
You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”
He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.
“Jason.”
Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.
“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.
“Yes.”
He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”
Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”
Bruce nods. “Good.”
He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.
Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.
He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…
Oh god, you went back to the living room.
As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.
“—long have you been together, anyways?”
“Well—”
Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”
“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.
Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”
Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”
A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.
“What?”
#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x you#jason todd/you#jason todd imagine#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x reader#batfam x you#batfam imagine#batfam fanfiction#batfam fanfic#batfam x reader#batfam dynamics
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“I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.”
Frodo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring pg. 68
#guys this is before he even LEAVES the Shire#before the Old Forest before the Council Meeting before Moria before Amon Hen#This isn’t a make-or-break situation#Frodo just genuinely love the Shire#He shows it a million times#Just by carrying the Ring#But he moves out of his ancestral home just to make sure that the Ring is safe when he first learns about it#And it’s so so devastating re-reading this#It’s such a small quote and easily read over#But it means so much to Frodo#Because he comes back and the Shire /isn’t/ okay#The shire is burning and torn and broken#Just like Frodo feels at that point#But they repair the Shire#not Frodo not in ME#This is so important to the rest of the book too#Whenever they get in a bind in Mordor Sam brings up the Shire to give Frodo hope#And frodo never stands there again#Not really#he can’t go home because he’s been changed on such a fundamental level that he can’t stay#He saved the shire and that’s enough for him#Even though his feet cannot stand there again#frodo baggins#the lord of the rings#kiki re-re-re-reads the lord of the rings#it’s more than that but the point gets across#tolkien quotes#just yelling into the void#quotes
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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Simon Riley! Who technically had the ring picked out as soon as he started babysitting Oliver
Simon Riley! Who nearly jumped out of his skin when you came in from getting the mail with the box from his grandmother, that contained said ring
Simon Riley! Who spent the last two and half years of dating perfectly planning the moment, even had plans B and C on backburner
Simon Riley! who told johnny about the plan and his buddy happily volunteered to take photos (he tried to talk him out of it he swears it)
Simon Riley! Who even asked your son if it would be okay to marry you (the answer was yes duh)
Simon Riley! Who knew knew it would all go perfectly, after all with all that planning-
"Olly said you want to be his dad."
The sound of your voice that would normally send peace and a sense of warmth through him caused his blood to run cold and he slowly turns from where he was currently working on building a dog house (a puppy is what you and he chose to get Olly for his fourth birthday), he looks up at you as you stood on the porch, a confused look upon your face and arms crossed. He had to play this cool, he could do this- "Whaaat?" Shit. "Now why would the lad-"
"Simon."
"Yes, mam."
You walk over to him where he stood in the backyard and you hum, "You get four seconds to tell me why my little boy is getting his hopes up about having a dad again, when you know full well-"
"I'm going to marry you."
To be honest, you were a little taken back, Simon had never seemed like the marrying type and you had spent the last two years trying to convince yourself you were alright with that. So you gulp down and look up at him, "You...what?"
"I have-Fuck- a plan, I have a plan and it was goin to be like tho' movies you make me watch tha' I hate- was gonna make it nice but-I'm goin to marry you an' I wan'a make sure Olly is alright with it."
There came the silence and you bite back the largest smile you swore you would ever have, "Y...you wanna marry me?"
"More than I want to breathe."
"Oh, then I guess I better say yes so you don't die, huh?" Your words were to distract yourself from crying and you pull him down for a brief kiss, "I still want the pretty proposal and the getting down on one knee."
Simon, who reasonably was a bit confused, blinked and then meets your gaze, his hands going to yours, "Are you sayin' Yes?" When he saw your nod he happily moved his hand to your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "You'll get your pretty proposal, the flowers, and the photos, and I'll make it perfect, love, I'll make it perfect."
Here's what Johnny's photos looked like BTW (he tried)
#simon riley imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost imagine#cod x you#cod fluff#coco’s chaos <3#simon x reader#simon fluff#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x you#simon riley x female reader#x female!reader#coco’s pre-k universe! <3
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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk
pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
"Sorry, what the fuck?!"
#byholly#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook ff#jk ff#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#bangtan fic#jungkook fluff#college!jungkook#non idol au#bts fanfic#bangtan ff#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook x reader#college au
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König & his demonic back shots are plaguing my thoughts 😣😣
Warnings: 18+, this is pure filth so like yeah🤨 König x female reader, p in v, just a short blurb ୨୧
Cause I know damn well this man would give the FILTHIEST back shots. Like you feel like your being resurrected every time he slams you onto his cock.
“Maus- oh fuuuuck…” He groaned, drilling into you with so much force the bed shook.
You were moaning and screaming into the pillow, your backside being held up completely by him. He manhandled you on his cock like a doll, mindlessly slamming into your cunt over and over like he was trying to fuck the demons right out of his body.
He reached down and circled your waist, holding you up with just one arm. With his free hand he rubbed at your clit, always making sure you feel good no matter how pussy-drunk he is. The man is just so big—it feels like he’s everywhere. If you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was reaching all the way down to your throat. The slight pain of him slamming into your cervix overwhelmed your senses and heightened the pleasure along with the feeling of him playing with your clit. You doubted either of you were making it there after this but you could have swore you saw a flash of heavens gates every time he plunged into you.
He spread your legs wider and angled his thrusts to meet that spongey spot inside you every time his pelvis met your ass with an audible slap ! Even the sound of the headboard slamming into the wall wasn’t enough to drown out both your noises. This was definitely gonna earn you a noise complaint—tho it was worth it for the mind blowing orgasm that washed over you when that coil in your stomach finally snapped.
You came all over his cock, leaving a sticky white ring around the base of it that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of every time he slid his thick cock in and out again. With a pathetic whimper you never thought you’d hear come out of a man of his size, he pressed into you as deep as your body would let him and came hard.
So much of his seed was stuffed inside you that it began to flow out, dripping all over both of your thighs. Before you could complain, he collapsed on top of you, crushing you with his weight. It felt like being stuck under a city bus, but you just sighed and let him have this one.
#König bb come home#the kids miss you#I would literally tattoo his name on my forehead if he asked#konig#konig x you#konig x reader#konig x reader smut#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig mwii#mw2 x reader#cod smut#cod x reader smut#cod x female reader#cod fanfic#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#konig smut#cod konig#konig fic#blurb#cod blurb#melo!writes
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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( fifth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.
୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro
୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , mommy kink , drug + alcohol usage , smut drabble , submissive toji , soft sex , profanity
୨୧˚ an; guys… i don’t know what took over me when i wrote this one….im sorry ,, also yes drabble time, you all knew this would happen eventually don’t act surprised 🙄🙄🙄
come over and show me then
The last message Toji had sent you. He was bold, heart racing just the slightest bit when he thumbed that frightening, little arrow icon to send a text that would most likely change his whole relationship chemistry with you. You, the kind hearted woman who graced him with your undying benevolence and wealth.
You, the woman Toji called mommy not even twelve hours ago during an idiotic, drunken stupor.
You, the woman who graced his bed, peering up to him with the softest gaze Toji’d ever been observed with. It was an odd sight–you splayed on his mattress. Dawning a lavish top; silken, Toji absentmindedly recognizes the fabric ( then proceeds to grimace at the fact that he can actually discern between different breeds of fabric. Your lifestyle was rubbing off on him ) and thinks you look out of place. An expensive jewel among the dank cave of his shoddy bedroom.
Toji crawls in after you, winding up your side, clinging akin to a baby koala bear. Still, he doesn’t speak, preferring to let the sounds of sheets sliding against each other fill the gaps of silence. You take his hulking body in those loving arms and break the quiet. “I’m not buying you for the night.” You cradle his cheek; you make him look up to you and Toji nods under your hand. “You know that, right?”
He nods again. “Sure,” and for once, it comes out without a modicum of sarcasm. Because Toji believes it when you tell him that you’re not looking to gain access to his body through flimsy transactions. Your sincerity is displayed through the months of torturous anticipation. Months of him on the cusp of begging–and Toji Fushiguro has never begged for anything in his goddamned miserable life. Your sincerity is displayed through the gingerness in which you hold his face. Because how could someone with such gentle hands ever tell a lie? And your sincerity is displayed through your words. You tell Toji things that nobody has ever told him before. Nice things, reassuring things despite his insistence on being an asshole to you.
Toji pushes his torso to be propped up on an elbow before he leans in. It’s not a tame first kiss by any means; Toji is mammalian in the way his teeth gnash yours and his tongue laves your cupid’s bow. “Slow,” you whisper in the short absence of his lips. “Slowly.” A command that he feels inclined to follow like some kept mutt, swapping out the animalistic pace with a more refined, controlled tempo. Your face was swallowed by two massive hands; they clamped on either side of your jaw, calloused and dry and forcefully pulling you closer. “Just like that, Toji.”
The way you say his name… Fuck. Toji grunts, swinging a heavy thigh over your own to situate between your legs. “I’ve never,” there's a pause when he leans in to suck the tip of your tongue, “been so desperate to be inside a woman.” His thick tongue worms back into your mouth, pushing smoky saliva down your throat. You were writhing; your hand slides over his, the one still tending to your cheek, and you guide it lower. He let you drag his hand down the smooth slope of your neck, over the hill of your delicate chest, across the plain of your soft tummy to meet the waistband of your designer pants.
Your head tilts, something devious glinting in the colored rings of your eyes that have Toji so enchanted. He plucks at the brass button of your pants, nudging the point of his nose to the high of your cheekbone. Breathing in the luxury branded perfume that overpowered the cigarette stench still lingering in his room from his morning smoke; evidenced by the stub crumbled in the glass tray on his wobbly nightstand. “What about the girl…Girl from last night?”
Toji smiles at the breathy question. “What girl?” He hums cheekily against your mouth, letting his tongue slip back through the seam of your delicious lips. You slap his face rather playful, but his breath hitches all the same.
“Dick.”
At last, he pops the button. The acrylic of your nails sink into the meat of his forearm, legs widening, ass shifting; all of the signs that Toji hyperfixated on. The way you tell him to keep going without so much as saying a word has him hotter than anytime another woman has begged for his touch in bed. Toji kisses you as he dips beneath the ajar slacks, then those sheer panties, slipping down to where you needed him most. You’re wet, he notes to himself. Wet, squelching and red hot when his thick middle finger sandwiches itself between the labia.
Both pairs of legs tangled together amidst the desperation. While Toji touches you, you’re hiking your leg up–the one snuggled between two of the man’s built thighs. It presses to his clothed crotch, and you reach around grab a handful of his ass. “Hump it,” you dictate, using his ass cheek as leverage to pull his hips down against your awaiting thigh. Toji jolts; never had his ass been grabbed like that, but he thinks he likes it.
So he grinds. His groin crashes against your leg with rough enthusiasm, so rough that it should be a threat to your poor femur bone. But he doesn’t let up. Toji’s arm tenses and shakes with exertion as he fingers you, forearm burning from the intensity at which he moves. But he doesn’t let up.
“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fuck.”
What is he, some kind of dog? Chasing his high against a leg, licking your neck, barking obscenities into existence. Had you been anyone else, Toji would have had them bent at the waist over his bed, forcing their face into his lonesome pillow and taking what he needed. But you had this certain authority–you’d always had–as if you owned him. Not that you would ever admit that, nor did you believe it, but Toji did. You pay for his living quarters, his meals, his clothes, his car, hell, his time. The leash was cuffed at his throat, leather digging into his flesh, and he fucking loved it. Toji would wait for your instructions like a well behaved puppy.
“Take my pants off,” you utter, and it’s only then does Toji realize that the both of you hadn’t bothered shedding any layers, taking favor in rutting clothed bodies together like a couple of immature teens. His hips pause their humping, and his tongue finds one long, last lick to your jugular before pulling back.
Two thumbs hook beneath both layers of material at your hips. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he mutters offhandedly, dragging your pants down.
You’re bare. His mouth waters at the sight of glistening moisture between your legs, encapsulated by a dusting of hair. Toji stares, nestled on his knees, straddling your thigh. He just stares.
“I told you my reasons,” you say.
He doesn’t respond to that. “I want to fuck you.”
Your chest rises. Are you arching for him? “Ask me.” When he cocks a confused brow, you lightly elaborate. “Show me some of that respect I taught you and ask me nicely.”
The sole of your foot caresses his pec over the black tee shirt he sports, a gentle notion that he is allowed to take his time. Toji doesn’t need time though; he’s got your twisted little request all figured out. It’s funny, he shouldn’t have expected any less. To him, respect didn’t exist in the bedroom, but Toji would make an exception. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?” You’re not letting him get off that easy, your pointed eyes say it all. So, in an uncharacteristically piteous voice, the man adds “please, ma’am” and strokes your calf for good measure.
That does it.
Your legs spread, arms racing up to coil around the thick post of his neck. He lets you pull him down, lets you kiss him tenderly, lets your tongue curl behind his teeth. Toji groans, reaching a sticky hand down to clumsily shove his sweatpants around his ass. “You have no–” kiss “idea what you–” kiss “you do to me–” kiss, kiss “when you call me that.”
His length drags over your core, hot and heavy and thick and raw. He doesn’t move to grab a condom knowing damn well there’s a box that sits in his nightstand to the left of them. A box that has been forgotten, left untouched in the waking months of his realization that he doesn’t want to fuck other people. Why would he? When you take such good fucking care of him, what’s the point in sleeping around anymore?
“Be grateful,” Toji husks, rubbing up against the warmth beneath him. “‘M never this nice in bed.”
“I’m not, either.”
He throbs at that. A small hand snakes behind his head, weaving into the raven shag of his hair, and tugs. “I really never meant for this to happen.” Toji narrows those steely eyes at you. “To end up in your bed, I mean. I thought I had more resolve than this.”
Too bad money can’t buy resolve, he thinks inwardly. Hand still between bodies, Toji jerks himself slowly, soaking his tip in your entrance. His gaze is glued to your face, flitting amidst all the gorgeous features it had to offer. “I knew I’d get you here eventually,” he speaks with a lilt of confidence, prodding the point of his nose to yours. And then he pushes inside without warning. You’re gooey; a hot, wet heat encasing his body from head to toe. He feels you shudder, feels nails in his nape. He feels your sticky breaths on his cheek, feels your pillowy thighs squish against his hip bones. Toji serves you the entire length in one slow thrust, holding himself inside. “Fuck.”
“Slow,” you warn once more in a broken voice. His hair was grabbed again, you used it as a makeshift handlebar to yank Toji’s head down. His handsome face plummeted into the divot between your breasts, still gift wrapped in that undoubtedly overpriced shirt. His nose pressed to your sternum, taking deep inhales.
Slow.
Slow sex was unfamiliar territory to Toji, one among the list of foreign concepts you had introduced to him during your time together. Fucking was animalistic practice between two people, fast-paced and greedy and surprisingly lonely. Toji fucked with the intention of climaxing; intimacy is irrelevant. Was irrelevant.
Toji slips a hand beneath your back, locking a grip on the underside of your shoulder to weld your chest to his face. Slow, timely thrusts met your cunt, watery squelches filled the room. “Oh, fuck.”
Your hands wander. Crawling down the base of his spine, breezing over his tail bone, clutching his bare ass. Guiding him in a way, and he doesn’t entirely mind. “My boy,” you moan in the throes of pleasure, a free hand blindly feeling for the back of his sweaty neck. Fingers stroke the precious skin there, sensitive flesh that nobody has ever paid attention to, not even himself. Toji trembles.
“Take it,” he whispers back, as if he still had any semblance of control. But you let him, and he thinks you’re too fucking nice for sparing his pride like that. “Take it, goddamn it.”
“Yes, my sweet boy.”
Idiotic. He is no longer a boy, nor does he even slightly compare to anything sweet. God, if you knew him. If you knew what he did for work… How many people he’s gutted and bled like livestock for quick cash… You would leave. He knows this to be a fact of life, you’re simply too moralistic and caring and selfless to keep in contact with a monster like him.
“Let mommy take care of you.”
Oh Jesus Christ, he’s done for. You wax praises so sincere that Toji starts to let himself believe he’s good. He pretends he’s worthy of being here with you right now in this bed, with your lithe fingers petting his damp hair and your breasts against his cheek, and fucks you harder. The toes of two socked feet bury into the mattress.
You successfully conquered his flimsy pride. “Mom… my…,” Toji breathes out, stifling down the impending whine caught at the back of his esophagus. He bucks deep inside, pubic bone to pubic bone, and grabs a handful of tit. So fucking soft even under this stupid shirt.
The sex plays out this way until the very end. A gentle tango that reminds Toji he hadn’t actually fucked in missionary position for some time. But at last, you came around him. “Toji, baby I’m here.” As if you were charged with electricity, you twitched and jumped beneath him. Toji fucked you through it, grinding his hips in a trajectory that caught your clit with his pubic hair. The friction was passionate, and you came with your jaw unhinged on a silent yelp.
“Give it to me,” he rasped, tongue lolling out to lick at your cleavage through your shirt. Drool rolled down the palate, collecting into a small puddle and dampening the fabric. A messy puppy, drooling all over you like that. Toji fucked harder, much too hard to be considered ‘slow’ anymore, but you didn’t stop him.
“Come on.” A hand dips beneath the collar of Toji’s tight shirt, scratching the ever loving fuck out of his upper back. “Cum baby boy.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck.” The thrusts halt abruptly; Toji rams himself deep inside and holds onto you for dear life. There’s a brief pause before he empties himself into the deepest depths of your pussy, twitching as he does so. You coo, talking him through it with an inoffensive hand raking his bangs back. They stick, his sweat acting like a sort of natural gel, and Toji’s forehead is on display. You drag him up and press your lips to it—he flushes and drops back onto you, hiding in your neck.
Toji gasps on his come down, gulping in air through his nose. He’s weak and it’s strange. Despite the stupid amount of strength trapped within that Herculean body, Toji cannot find it in him to hover anymore. His entire weight drops onto your much tinier frame, but he hears no objections so he keeps himself there.
“Worth the buildup?” You ask at last, rubbing soothing circles into the plates of his shoulder blades. Your voice is a little strained, no doubt the effects of a two-hundred-and-something-pound man crushing your lungs, but Toji likes the funny grate of it in his ears.
“You already know the answer.” It’s written in the way your cum mixes together and wets the crease of his inner thighs. He’s not exactly going to say that was the most intimate and passionate sex i’ve ever had, but he’ll show you how much it meant to him by letting you cradle him to your chest.
likes and reblogs are appreciated !
tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni
#❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ❞#jjk smau#jjk texts#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji smut#toji fushigro x reader#toji smau#toji drabbles#toji fluff#toji fushiguro#fushiguro smut#toji zenin#zenin smut#geto smut#choso smut#gojo smut#nanami smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu sorcerer
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Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.
“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.
It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.
He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.
Mrs. Riley.
If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.
Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.
“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.
“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.
“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.
“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.
He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.
“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.
“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.
“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.
#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#dad!ghost#dad!simon riley#ghost x fem!reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley imagine#simon riley cod#ghost call of duty#mw2 ghost#simon riley x you#mw2 angst#mw2 hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#cod mw3#cod#modern warfare ii#modern warfare 2#mw2#ghost mw3
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Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed
UPDATE: Part 2
I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:
DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.
It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.
You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.
He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?
Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.
Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.
You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.
Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x female reader#potchy-writes#potchy-thoughts#spiderman 2099 x reader#dbf!miguel
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Never going back
Alastor x Angel Reader
Synopsis: You were turned to an Angel trapped in heaven trying to go back to your one true love while Alastor was livid and was turning crazy without you
“Let me tell about a story between two humans, One was a bad person protecting the one and only person he truly loves, the other? Was too good for the world almost perfect and kind. They were soulmates maybe that’s why heaven would think it would be to difficult to separate them. Separate her”
She died first and not long after he died too but in separate places. Separate Afterlives.
You heard of the Angel and human but this was about a Demon and a Seraphim Angel. Both higher ups.
You were the main reason for Alastor to help Charlie with the hotel. Just to see you and make sure you’re okay, to hold you, to be with you again forever this time. But you knew better to wish to far.
Adam wasn’t gonna let you out of heaven, and Sera was just as bad on not letting you go.
Back in hell.
Alastor sigh looking up high hoping to see you, his Wife. He was sane for now, today was the day Charlie and Vaggie would go to heaven to convince the higher up Angels. He was gonna give Charlie your ring to give back to you and that says everything on what’s going to happen.
You appeared during a meeting introducing yourself to Charlie and Vaggie with Adam on your left and another angel to your left.
“Hello I’m ____ a Seraphim Angel as well” You saiding bowing down to the two demons.
“___ don’t bow to these cunt” Adam mumbled making you chuckle nervously before trying to fly towards your seat. Charlie eyes were wide open the whole time. You were an Angel? What did Alastor had to do with an Angel?
She took your hand before you could go to your seat and place the diamond ring in your hand making you look at it hiding your shock. You took her hand back hiding the ring before smiling sadly “Tell me why I'm waiting for someone, That couldn't give a fuck about me? No, you can’t” You whispered to her before flying towards Adam to your seat.
You never argued with Adam, you knew about the extermination in hell. You weren’t apart of it but you couldn’t argue with Sera or Adam.
You weren’t gonna wait for him no more, Heaven was all you need right now to follow behind Sera or even your favorite Archangels. After the whole argument Charlie and Vaggie were sent back to hell and another thing that Charlie wanted to avoid was Alastor.
“My dear, How was it in Heaven? Any news about my Darling?” Alaster questions with her sinister smile making Charlie sweat in nervousness.
“W-Well you see ___ gave me back the ring and said she was done” Charlie blurted out making Alaster smile slowly turn into a frown focusing on those words.
That’s when he started glitching his smile became more scarier and sinister. Vaggie pulled Charlie back standing in front of her. “No she wouldn’t reject being back together, You must be mistaken my dear” Alaster demonic voice came out.
“No” “No” “No”
She wasn’t coming back but when the extermination starts he’ll make sure to get you. Where you can never go back, just like in their human lives he’ll keep you back in your cage.
⏩
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x angel reader#alastor x listener#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel imagine
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[tentacle] The monster under the shower
tentacle!monster x human!Reader
Good to know: slightly dub-con
Summary: The resort is full of surprises.
White puffs of steam follow your way out of the cabin until you close the wooden door with a soft click. Your grip on the white towel around your body tightens as you look around. The pool is calm but busy, not far from where you are standing. Humans and monsters enjoy the pleasant water of the pools while others lay on their towels or chairs, sunbathing. The sun is bright and warm at the top of the clear blue sky, and despite the hot temperature, you feel almost cold after spending a few minutes in the sauna. A thin layer of sweat shines on your heated skin.
Soon, you tear your gaze away from the others to make your way to the small stalls of showers at the back. As you step into one of them, you let the thin curtain separate you from the outside world. The towel gets loose around your body, and you hang it over the white-tiled wall.
Pouring some soap into your hands, you start lathering yourself up, covering your body in small bubbles. You rub the citrus-smelling lotion over your skin, rubbing your muscles and washing away the sweat and sand. Your hair sticks to your back in wet strands. Drops of water run down your face, cooling you down after being under the sun and in the sauna most of the day.
You keep your eyes closed as you slowly relax with a hum in your throat. Your fingers brush through your hair, drawing small circles on your skin to massage your scalp. Small goosebumps run over your body at the feeling.
The quiet melody coming from your closed lips soon gets interrupted by the sudden noise at your feet. A frown tugs your brows together as you look down. You feel the still running water washing away the shampoo from the top of your head. The foam follows the line of your spine. The sound comes from the drain. It gets louder and louder until the metallic noise stops, and you meet silence.
"Okay," you hum, unsure. You will inform someone about the noise later.
Just as you look down again, something black emerges from the drain. Your heart jumps up to your throat, and you are ready to grab your towel and leave as fast as you can when the thing shoots out and curls around your ankles. The thick tentacle slams against your skin, keeping you in place. The sudden force is almost enough to make you lose your balance.
"Fuck!" You cry out, trying to shake off the thing, but it only tightens around you. "Hey!" You gasp out again, bracing yourself against the wall when your legs part without your consent. It creeps up on your legs, not letting you move even for an inch. The thing is soft and slimy on your wet skin. As it moves, it feels like a gentle caress.
"It's enough!" You break the silence again. "Let me go!"
To be honest, you are more annoyed than afraid. You know the reputation of the resort. Things can happen here. That's why people come here in the first place.
Despite your attempts to get free from the monster, you feel yourself getting wetter with every centimeter as the tentacles slip closer and closer to your center. You can feel the tips grazing your folds. One of them rubs your clit while the other teases your center.
Gasping, you tug on your leg again, but this time, you try to find a more comfortable position. Annoyance still bubbles in your chest, but the desire in your lower stomach is stronger. You feel the familiar cramp of need jerking your muscles with anticipation. Every flick on your clit radiates through your nerve, running up your spine and twisting your world. The tentacle on your other leg is at your entrance, teasing but never pushing into you.
"What are you waiting for?" You grunt, groaning. Impatience shimmers in your voice which soon turns into a startled scream. The thing does as you want. It pushes inside you, stretching you out and filling you up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs, and the rings of the curtain pop under the tug as you try to stay on your feet. The fabric barely hides you anymore, but this is the last thing you worry about. The tentacles wrap tighter around your legs, leaving red marks on your skin. Meanwhile, your pussy is still fucked and filled. Loud grunts and moans escape your lips with every thrust. The forceful motions burn your walls and push you higher and higher. Stars dance behind your eyelids whenever you blink. Your cunt throbs with pleasure. It sears through your veins. Your orgasm is fast and ravishing. The tentacles fucking your pussy and teasing your clit are the only things that keep you from falling. Your walls flutter and pulse as you make a mess on the already slimy limb.
When you win back your senses, the tentacles are already gone, and the water is still running, drumming on your sensitive skin. Your legs shake, and you need a few minutes to wash yourself down again and wrap the towel around your body. Your heart still throbs in your throat, and for a second, you aren't even sure if you only imagined the whole thing or it really happened.
When you pull the curtain out of the way, the young woman who greeted you at the reception when you arrived a few days ago is a few meters away from you with fresh towels in her arms and a knowing smirk on her face.
-
Masterlist
Mirage Resort Masterlist
Patreon
#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster x reader#monster x human#monster smut#tentacle monster#tentacle smut#tentacle boyfriend#monsterfucker#mirage resort#kinktober 2023
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