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rebeccccccaaa · 10 days

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Poker Face!

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Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

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“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.

“Strip Poker!”

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded.

A five. Fuck.

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.

“Blackjack, baby!”

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.

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hoseoksluna · 2 months

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SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it.

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube.

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too.

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it.

He doesn’t think you could.

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts.

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it.

You don’t say anything.

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately.

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery.

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly.

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head.

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting.

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.”

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view.

Hobi.

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air.

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back.

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you.

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery.

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red.

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage.

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way.

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one.

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you.

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched.

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead.

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip.

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.”

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel.

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name.

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room.

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.”

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin.

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else.

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add.

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away.

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.”

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all.

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands.

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely.

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again.

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.”

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness.

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.”

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod.

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled.

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light.

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty.

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot.

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.”

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin.

His heart jumps.

“I didn’t catch that, baby.”

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.”

Your words tell him a lot of things.

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home.

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are.

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it.

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.”

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters.

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.”

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes.

“Make me forget about tonight, please.”

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you.

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling.

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb.

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can.

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.”

“Let’s go.”

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay.

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night.

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.”

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit.

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body.

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care.

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you.

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you.

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles.

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.”

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit.

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity.

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy.

“Oh my god.”

Serves you fucking right.

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.”

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?”

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.”

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens.

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires.

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes.

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked.

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes.

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over.

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside.

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.”

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more.

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.”

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten.

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough.

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette.

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine.

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.”

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you.

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.”

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before.

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates.

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty.

Wants you to get used to it.

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching.

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you.

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance.

When he penetrates you there, you scream.

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again.

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do.

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want.

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm.

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same.

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart.

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now.

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy.

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is.

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out.

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it.

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in.

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted.

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled.

A dream come true. A desire gratified.

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you.

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much.

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.”

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?”

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair.

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.”

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.”

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore.

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.”

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?”

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.”

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes.

One person. One mind, one heart.

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good.

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies.

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you.

Gives you all of his cock.

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you.

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?”

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy.

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?”

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it.

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs.

“No, feels good.”

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?”

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair.

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe.

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.”

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too.

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead.

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off.

He pounds into you.

You’re no longer smiling.

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard.

Merciless.

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone.

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you.

Who is he to say no to you?

“You just want it bad, don’t you?”

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him.

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.”

The air grows dense.

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has.

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned.

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum.

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning.

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you.

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?”

You sound just like him.

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down.

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in.

With a barrier in between.

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.”

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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rowdyslove · 6 months

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𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃. | jack hughes

꒰ genre: mature ;established!relationship!au | drabble

꒰ word count: 1k

꒰ warnings: 18+ themes !! MDNI ! literally 1k words of just raw sweet filth, pussy drunk!jack, unprotected sex (be safe people), soft sex, swearing, praising.

꒰ author’s note: surpriseeee !! my first ever time trying to write smut, i’d say it went well ? (i really hope it did..) butttt this is also what i chose to write for my 1k follower celly !! (this is part 1 of 3 different drabbles i am writing for this celebration) thank you all so much for getting me to this point, and i’m so excited to put out all of the works i have in my drafts coming soonnnn :DD i hope you all enjoy this !

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it never ever mattered just how many times jack found himself sinking down into the heavenly feeling of your pussy, he knows for a fact that he'll never be able to get used to the intoxicating hug of your walls around his length.

he always felt like you were just silently begging for more of him, luring him in deeper with every needy stutter of yours hips whenever his palms squeezed at your waist as he bucked against you.

"come on, aghh—you gotta stop doing that, love." jack was already so out of it. he had just started, only a few thrusts in and he already felt like he could barely create a single breath when the deep kiss of his cock against your sensitive spot makes you purr his name and clench around him.

his hair is ruffled, a mess of light brown locks on his head and a few long strands hanging down, sticking to the light coat of sweat across his forehead. some other strands fall over his lidded gaze and framing his defined features, but thankfully he can still see you so so clearly; such a pretty sight seeing you underneath him like this, he thinks.

jack believes he’s never had a woman moan for him the way you do. he keeps chasing the intoxicating squeeze of your walls around him as he digs deeper and deeper for more of the sweet sounds that leave your lips—the sounds that are only for only him to hear. your back arches high off of the sheets as he lets his fingertips trace along the path of your skin, taking a slow and gentle handful of your hips with another tight squeeze before he whimpers low, pace slightly stuttering as he presses himself further into you.

he had a long day, dealing with the early morning practice and the tough game that was played just earlier that night—he really needed this; he needed you.

maybe that was why everything felt so good. because he had been imagining the feeling of your skin pressed up close to his all day. and now, through gritted teeth and restless hands just trying to touch every inch of your soft skin, he throbs long with his next withdrawal from you, right before he pushes straight back in.

"j-jack please!" you gasp at the feeling he sends through you, and his lips part to moan sinfully as he lets himself drop to rest on his forearms—just close enough for his lips to graze themselves along your prominent collarbones with tender open-mouthed kisses. he lets his eyes flutter closed, trying not to focus on how perfectly you're hugging around him, small hands grabbing ahold of his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him closer but also keep yourself steady as well.

"i know, baby, i know. s-shit, just be patient with me for a sec." jack feels so drunk on the feeling that is you. his mind and senses blurring all into one big blob as his name continues to fall from your lips between soft pants that make him feel like he's about to pass out right there from how sweet you sound. he starts mouthing his way at your neck, smearing messy and completely fucked out kisses along the expanse of your flesh as his movements slowly become even more desperate. "god, you just feel soo-so fucking—mmph—good baby.”

this feeling is dangerous. the heavy trembles of his hands where they squeeze at your skin, the painfully pleasing throb of his cock as desire begins to warm through all of his nerves, trickling down his spine as he grinds out another low drawled moan of your name.

his skin feels like it’s burning from every touch you give him, but he also thinks you're even hotter when you let him hear the sweet sound of praises and his name rolling off your tongue in rampant mumbles that has his abdomen tightening up.

"d-don’t do that, love. just gonna make me f-fucking cum." jack’s babbling every word, like sex-drunken mantras spurring out of him with every needy roll of his hips into yours. you can feel the blunt head of his cock grazing over ever sensitive and sinful spot inside of you that only have you squeezing him even tighter; just sucking him deeper and deeper down into you.

"jack-a-ahhhh.. doing so so good.” the whimpering praise falling from your lips is like honey as it drips in his ears, making him tilt his head to plunge his mouth right into yours before his body starts to shake, and his lungs continue flaring with every heavy pant of breath he exhales with his thrusts. his sudden orgasm catches him off guard when he feels your tongue tangling with his own, sliding across his top lip as he then cums, hot spurts of him filling you up to the brim.

a low grunt releases itself from jack through your kiss from deep within his throat as his pace starts to slow slightly, kissing at your lips slowly as his next wet withdrawal leaves you, right before he's pushing his load deep down into your cunt. every lewd squelch of your pussy makes him gasp against your lips as he kisses you, inturn making you even more wet for the man that’s fucking you absolutely senseless.

even though jack had already reached his high, he still doesn’t want to stop, not when you just look so pretty in your fucked out and inebriated state, and you’re doing so good for him.

"j-jacky. feeling any b-better? mmm" his body continues to clap against yours, speed slowing down ever so slightly before he pulls away from your lips to rest his head in the tight crook of your neck, panting as he grinds steady thrusts into your pussy, despite the way the sensitivity of his cock is hitting straight at his nerves. every thick throb and strained squeeze felt like it was knocking all of the air out of him, but every soft moan from your lips is just enough to remind him how to breathe and he knows for a fact that he's not stopping so soon as he sends you short lustful smirk before he's smearing a wet kiss upon your cheek.

"mmf.. all better, but i gotta take care of my little baby now."

#⋆·˚ ༘ *—rowdyslove’s 1k follower celly !!#—ness writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl x y/n #nhl fluff #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

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𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | raymond leon x reader

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 | since you've managed to outsmart (or, more accurately, seduce) your last four bodyguards, your wealthy father decides it's time to take a new approach: hire a timekeeper to watch you. after all, a man who dedicates his life to the law can withstand the wiles of a spoiled, lonely girl... right?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | dubcon smut (rough sex, daddy kink, choking, slapping, creampie, breeding kink, glove kink, degradation), age gap (raymond is ????, reader is early 20s), slight dd/lg undertones, reader is a bit dark and manipulative hehe

You were rolling your stockings up your legs, one of the final stages in dressing for the party tonight, when your bedroom door opened. “Hey, Ray,” you greeted with a purr as he stepped inside.

“Officer Leon,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you smiled, tilting your head. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

He scoffed, looking away, and you bit your lip— he was getting frustrated, in more than one sense of the word, and you were going to get what you wanted (like always). Boys are simply too easy.

This whole cat-and-mouse thing was starting to drive you a little crazy— none of the other bodyguards had taken this long to crack. But really, the anticipation just added to the fun.

You stood up and turned your back to him, hoping he was eyeing the V-shaped portion of your back he could see with your gown still open.

“Will you help me zip up my dress?” you asked sweetly, making sure your hair was out of the way and looking back over your shoulder at him sweetly. He sighed but stepped closer to you, but tugging on the zipper only lifted the bottom of your dress a bit— so he had to put his other hand on your hip to hold it in place as he pulled the zipper up, and you were thankful he couldn’t see your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His hands were so strong, you could feel it even through the gloves— and those fucking gloves, shiny black leather, he knew damn well what he was doing to you. He just didn't seem to care.

"There," he said when he'd tugged it up to the top, stepping back, and you turned around to face him. The dress was more elegant than you usually went for: you traded in your lace and bows in pastel shades for a dark purple silk that fell to the floor.

"What do you think?" you asked, biting your lip. "Daddy picked it out for me."

"He has expensive taste," Raymond noticed, though he conspicuously didn't comment on your appearance. He was very uptight, especially about professionalism. You sort of got the feeling that if you could just pull one of his strings hard enough, he'd totally unravel: which is why you kept trying.

As he tried not to look at you, you gave him a slow look up and down. "Is that what you're wearing tonight?" you asked incredulously, pointing to his high-neck black sweater and long leather trench.

"I'm working tonight, so yes," he answered.

Everyone thought Raymond stuck out like a sore thumb in your room— his angular, dark form against the soft baby pinks and white laces around your bed, a hardened cop amongst the porcelain baby dolls and fluffy stuffed animals and gold-edged tea sets: but you thought he fit right in, standing there amongst all your playthings.

The party was a bit dull— you were having more fun toying with your bodyguard than anything else. “Try this,” you’d insist as you held up an hors d'oeuvre to feed him; he had to give in, he had to do whatever you said in front of all these people, but he glared at you as he leaned forward and took a bite out of the mini-tart.

You bragged to your father’s guests about your new bodyguard— or toy, as you called him more often. “Daddy bought him for me,” you’d say, “and he has to do whatever I want. Show them your gun, Mr. Leon!”

He only looked at you sternly again, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s sort of grouchy,” you explained to the amused dinner attendees. He didn’t react much, still standing there with his gloved hands held in front of him, but you saw a little tightness in his jaw.

Best of all, you flirted with as many suitors as you could get away with in a night, just to bother him. The tricky thing about a world without aging is men who’ve been around quite some time were still just as eligible for your hand as men closer to your age— you wondered if it would bother him more knowing that one of your father’s wealthy friends who had been alive at least 80 years was doting on you. Didn’t matter either way: you let them all stand a bit too close, put their hand on your lower back— you laughed too hard at their shitty jokes. All to make Ray jealous, but when you glanced over your shoulder at him, you could never catch a reaction.

After the guests had left and the staff had begun cleaning, you went back to your room to change. You’d coyly asked Raymond if he would watch over you during that, too, but he didn’t answer because he knew you were joking.�� It’s not like you were ever really serious… but you did want him. Not just for fun, and not just to prove to your father that there was no use hiring these bodyguards— he was fucking sexy, obviously. Definitely your favorite so far, and exactly your type… for how much he thought you were trying to tease and tempt him, he was the one driving you a little crazy.

Still, you kept your cool as best you could; you needed to keep control over him, and thankfully with him working for you, that was pretty easy to exert. (Well, technically he worked for your father, but it was close enough.)

“Oh, Mister Officer,” you called out to him through the door as you sat on your bed, hearing him step closer.

“Yes?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“I just need your help with something,” you explained, but he still hesitated.

“Are you decent?”

Damn, he wasn’t that gullible anymore. “Enough,” you replied, and he sighed before opening your bedroom door.

You were in your bra and panties now— but with your heels and stockings still on, of course; he lost track of his step for a second when he saw you, then frowned at you. “That’s not what I would consider decent,” he said.

“Well, I need your help and I wasn’t going to put on a turtleneck just for that,” you replied. “You’ve seen me in my bikini by the pool, anyways…”

And you’d made him apply sunscreen on your back as well; you smirked to yourself at the memory. “What do you need my help with?” he reminded you of the original topic.

“Well, these shoes are too small for me now,” you said, “I didn’t realize how much I’d grown since I wore them last…”

You hoped he’d find that a little intriguing, as someone who himself hadn’t grown in… you didn’t even know how long. He obviously never talked about it— for all you knew he could have been alive a hundred years, though he certainly didn’t act like it.

You lifted a stiletto-clad foot forward towards him. “Now they’re stuck. Will you help me take them off?”

He sighed that trademark, frustrated sigh of his, and you fought off a smile. “You can’t do that yourself?”

You shook your head. “I’m not strong enough,” you explained with a shrug.

Clearly not buying it but in no position to accuse you of lying, he knelt down in front of you. Taking the shoe in his hand, he looked at you with annoyance in his eyes as it slipped off easily.

“You’re so strong,” you cooed, wiggling your toes inside the pantyhose, then putting your foot down to hold out the other in front of him. “Now the other one,” you demanded.

He took the shoe off of you, tossing it aside, and you let your foot brush against his thigh as you lowered it down— just long enough to make it not quite believable as an accident.

“Now my stockings,” you continued, and he got up and started to walk away.

“You’ll have to do the rest on your own,” he insisted.

“But who’s gonna help me undress?” you pouted, and he stopped walking halfway to the door, dropping his shoulders a bit.

“I don’t know, how about you ask one of those boys that was sniffing around you all night?” he suggested, and you smiled proudly. Oh, you noticed that?

“I can’t,” you sighed, “you know Daddy doesn’t let me have any boys in my room— except you.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “because I’m the one who keeps the boys out of your room.”

“It’s no fair,” you whined. “It’s so boring up here by myself…”

“Please,” he groaned, finally turning around, “with all these things you have? You shouldn’t have any trouble being entertained.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, “I shouldn’t— but I do. There’s only one thing I really wanna do right now…”

You started to slowly and delicately run your fingers up your legs, spreading them a bit.

“But I don’t wanna have to do it alone…” you continued, blinking up at him as you saw his nostril twitch— could this finally be the moment you caught him?

In an instant, he stormed towards you and grabbed you by the neck. “So fucking spoiled,” he growled, his black leather gloves crinkling softly as you whimpered and held his wrist. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think your father didn’t tell me what happened to the last four bodyguards?”

“I— I didn’t fuck them all,” you defended, voice a little thin from the pressure on your throat, “the third quit on his own—”

“Because he knew what would happen if he gave in to you,” Raymond sneered. “And so do I. You think I’ll give up on a job like this that easily?”

That was one thing that made Ray different than the others before— they were all professional bodyguards, used to working for the elite class. Most of them probably already had plenty of time, or could at least keep getting jobs of this caliber to earn a similar keep. But Timekeepers weren’t especially well compensated, paid daily but only paid just enough to keep going until the next per diem. He’d probably never had more than a couple days on his clock, and now he was earning a month a week just to babysit you. That was why your father hired him for this, you finally realized: he’d said before that he simply hoped a lawman would have a little more integrity and not give in to temptation with you, but it was far more than just that.

Raymond let go of your neck and tossed you back onto the bed, but just when you hoped he’d climb on top of you and pin you down, he scoffed and turned away. “You’re too young, anyways,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“Am not,” you denied.

“Your clock hasn’t even started yet,” he noticed.

“I’ve only got a few more years left,” you frowned, “but I’m still an adult.”

“Then fucking act like one,” he suggested sharply, and left the room with slam of your door.

You sighed, once again left frustrated with another unsuccessful attempt to get him into bed. But, you smiled, too; because you knew this was a step in the right direction.

Your father tried not to travel much, since it was one of the few things that exposed him to the risk of death. Wouldn't it be absurdly ironic, dying in a plane crash after living for hundreds of years and with nearly a millennium left on his clock?

Still, he didn't get all these years by sitting around in his house, he was a busy professional. And his work sometimes required him to leave for as long as a few weeks.

He had you come and see him off at the hangar, Officer Leon not far behind as you kissed your father on the cheek and bid him safe travels.

You loved when he left, it gave you a lot more freedom. But Raymond didn't know that, he just knew you were a billionaire's youngest daughter left alone in a massive mansion, and you'd already had planned for weeks how you could use that to your advantage.

You knew he was outside your door, you could see the shadow of his boots through the crack between the wood and the plush rug. Fighting off a little smile, you whimpered softly— but not too soft, he needed to hear it. The first one didn't seem to work, so you dropped your head and did it again.

He swung open the door a second later, and though he seemed relieved to find you alone and not being kidnapped or something, he still had to ask: "Are you alright?"

You sniffled and wiped at your eye, acting like you were trying to hide your tears as if it all wasn’t a performance in the first place. “Daddy’s gone away,” you pouted, “and left me all by myself… m’so lonely, Mr. Leon.”

“Officer,” he corrected, but his voice faltered when you looked up at him with big, needy eyes.

“I don’t wanna be all alone,” you whimpered, “I need somebody to take care of me… protect me…”

You rubbed your thighs together as you sat on the bed, toying with the lacy hem of your nightgown.

“Somebody big and strong,” you continued as he crossed his arms, “like you.”

His stare was icier than ever, yet those eyes still could’ve melted you if you let them.

“Will you be my new daddy while he’s gone?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip, and he tensed his jaw as he looked away.

“What do you get out of toying with me?” he asked sharply.

“Fucked, hopefully,” you smiled.

“You know, I’ve known a lot of women,” he informed you; you had no idea where he was going with this, but you liked how it started. “Rich, poor— prostitutes, politicians— young, or just young-looking. But I don’t think I’ve ever met such a brainless, insatiable little whore as you.”

You stood up from the bed, stepping closer to him carefully. “Really?” you smiled, taking it as a compliment, and that only angered him further.

“What is it that makes you think you can get whatever you want?” he wondered, his blue eyes like daggers as he glared at you.

“Experience,” you shrugged, reaching up to trace a finger over his lapel, but he batted it away harshly. “Ooh,” you breathed, “you’re a mean daddy, hm? The type that believes in lots of discipline?”

He didn’t respond, even when you stepped so close that your body was nearly touching his.

“I can be a good girl,” you promised sweetly, “for you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he snapped.

“Let me prove it, daddy,” you purred, “just give me a chance…”

You leaned in, wondering if he’d let you kiss him— he hadn’t backed away, but he hadn’t relaxed out of his bodyguard posture, either.

“Just make me yours,” you pleaded under your breath, lips nearly brushing against his.

Before you even realized he’d given in, he slammed you back against the wall with a hand around your neck, the other instantly grabbing you between the legs, and you mewled joyfully. “Fuck,” he snarled, like he was just as frustrated with himself as with you; his gloved hand roughly navigated up under your nightgown and into your panties.

Two leather-covered fingers slid inside you, and you arched your back up off the wall.

“Needy whore,” he grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper into you, making you whimper as your knees almost buckled. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned happily, though he slapped you across the face hard with his other hand right after you said it, and you yelped as you clutched your cheek.

“I’m not your fucking daddy,” he spat at you. “Such a goddamn brat— if I was your daddy, you’d have some fucking manners.”

“Teach me,” you begged, “fuck, please— I need to learn. Teach me right now.”

He let go of you, and pulled his fingers out of you, and stepped back slightly as he shed the gloves and his long coat. “Get on your fucking knees,” he growled, watching you slide along the wall onto the floor.

You didn’t need to be told what to do after that, you simply smiled as you reached up to rub the bulge in his pants. Unbuckling his belt for him, you had to catch your breath when you realized how big he was.

He smirked when you whimpered slightly while taking it out, stroking him as he got harder in your grip. “More than you bargained for?” he wondered smugly.

“Nothing a brainless, insatiable little whore can’t handle,” you promised just before leaning forward and taking him into your mouth. He gasped a little before humming in satisfaction, and you suckled as you swirled your tongue around his head, fitting what you could in your mouth and trying to coat the skin with your spit.

His hand suddenly held onto your hair when you started to bob your head, and he groaned when you choked slightly on the tip of him. “Fuck,” he whispered, “yeah— like that, baby…”

You moaned around him, not just for show but a reaction to the satisfying weight of him on your tongue— and the slightly salty taste of leaking precum. Your fingers brushed gently over his balls as you blinked up at him: you were pulling out all the stops, you wanted him to lose his mind over you even more than he already had.

He pushed your hair back, tilting your head further to meet your gaze. You thought he might speak when he opened his mouth, but you gagged on him again and he just sighed.

Your hand wrapped around the rest of his length that you couldn't reach with your lips, stroking him in time with the way you bobbed your head; and your other hand couldn't help but reach down between your bent legs, pressing against your core— bare, as you'd already thought ahead and forgone panties— and making you hum at the smallest hint of friction.

You were just starting to set a rhythm with it, the bobbing of your head and the stroking of your hand and the way you swirled your tongue… but of course he had to throw you off and shove your head down, making you choke again unexpectedly, as he groaned at the feeling. “S’what you wanted,” he reminded you, starting to roughly fuck your mouth. “What you fucking wanted, right, little whore?”

You could only barely nod with him holding your head, and your clit throbbed just from the way he looked down at you with his teeth bared.

“Fuck, just need a cock to choke on,” he growled. “Only way to shut you up, huh?”

He gave your throat a few more aggressive thrusts before pulling back, and you coughed and wiped your chin as you looked up at him. “It’s not all I wanted,” you reminded him when you caught your breath, and he smiled at you in a condescending sort of way.

“Right,” he recalled, tilting his head, “you wanted to be fucked. Poor thing.”

“Please, daddy?” you batted your eyelashes up at him, and he just laughed thinly.

“Nothing’s stopping you, princess,” he replied, holding his hands out, as if to suggest you come and take it. You couldn’t resist an offer like that.

Standing up and grinning at him, you pushed him back by the shoulders and down onto the bed, straddling his lap.

He smirked up at you; “Really need it that bad, huh?” he mocked as you pulled your nightgown up over your head and tossed it aside quickly.

“Uh huh,” you agreed with a nod, “need you so bad— you’ll let me ride your big cock, right, daddy? Please?”

But you were already lining him up to your entrance and sinking down, and you both groaned loudly as he filled you. “God, it’s so wet,” he hissed, watching you gasp as you lowered yourself further. “You get that wet just from sucking cock? Fuckin’ slut.”

Your eyes rolled back as the tip of his cock pressed further than you thought possible. “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, “you’re so deep…”

“Yeah,” he panted in agreement, “can’t believe that little pussy’s taking all of me…”

You started to grind on him right away, holding onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips desperately. “Oh my god, oh my god,” you chanted, “it’s s-so good, it feels so good—”

He bit his lip as he watched you, and you loved how it felt to have those steely eyes looking up and down your body as you moved.

You'd been sort of on edge the whole time, sucking him off and all— not to mention that the foreplay with you and Raymond had started, in your mind, months ago when he was first hired. The satisfaction of finally having him exactly where you wanted him was nearly as good as the physical sensation… but it did feel incredible, the curve of his cock rubbing up against your spot with so much pressure that you shuddered all over.

His hands ran over your body, the strength of them more than apparent even when he was touching you somewhat delicately, and you moaned as his rough fingers punched your nipples.

You shifted from grinding down on him to properly bouncing up and down, arching your back to get the perfect angle as you both groaned. "Fucking tight," he mumbled his praise.

You held on tighter to his shirt, really wishing you could see him without it, but there was something hot about him still being in his uniform… especially when you were totally naked. It probably made him think he had more power over you, which was exactly what you wanted him to think.

Moving faster, you felt the pressure building inside you already, pulsing and swelling as you let your head drop forward to look down at him looking jus perfect underneath you.

He grabbed you by the neck, only to be unexpectedly sweet and pull you down into a kiss— but it was still a hungry, dominating kiss, one that made you whine and tense up inside as he tasted all over your tongue and mouth. And he didn’t let go of your neck, either, in fact he tightened his grip just enough to make you choke out a raspy moan against his lips, which you felt smirk a moment later.

“So good, daddy,” you mumbled into the last moments of the kiss. His hands moved down to your body, following your movements, and you pulled back enough to look at his face closely. “You’re so fucking good, daddy,” you praised again.

He groaned and held your waist tighter, making you hum and smile. "Little slut," he scolded through his teeth as you moved faster. “Show daddy how you make yourself come.”

You beamed as he really accepted the title for the first time. Sitting up higher and bouncing faster, you moaned loudly as you chased your high: shocks of sensation hit inside you, faster and faster the longer you continued.

You grabbed his hands off your hips and pinned them down beside his head, riding him harder while he smirked up at you. "So desperate," he cooed— but you could hear in his voice that he was close, too.

Whimpering at the feeling, you felt your walls bearing down on him as it nearly hit you— it was sort of difficult to come like this, since you could only move so fast, but the way it was drawn out just made you sure it would build up even stronger and hit you harder.

“Fuck, get off,” he warned, “gonna come.”

You grinned, biting your lip, and kept grinding your hips.

“Get up,” he demanded, but you just tightened your grip on his wrists. “Fuck, are you—?”

“Shh, m’close,” you scolded, feeling him try to struggle under you— but he was flexing inside you, too, and you knew he couldn’t hold back forever. He was obviously more than strong enough to fight you off if he really wanted, but it wasn’t about your body overpowering his— it was about you forcing him to give in to his instincts… to temptation.

“I swear to fucking god,” he groaned through his teeth, “if you don’t fucking get off me right now—”

“I’m coming, daddy!” you announced suddenly as you bounced on him even more fervently. “Oh my god, daddy, m’coming on your big cock! Yes!”

It felt great, don’t get me wrong, but you were definitely playing it up and giving him a real show as you tossed your head back, screamed out his name, dug your nails into his wrists— you wanted him to be totally helpless to you for just that moment. “Fuck!” he groaned, and you laughed excitedly as his cock pulsed inside you, heat flooding between your legs and his head falling back onto the mattress with the most gorgeous fucked-out look on his face.

“Oh fuck, come in me, daddy,” you demanded, rocking your hips and squeezing him tight for every drop, “wanna be so fucking full—”

He groaned through his teeth as it all started to die down a bit, scrunching his face up for a second before relaxing under you again; you felt his cock pump just a few more times, weaker than before, and you hummed proudly.

“God— oh my god—” he panted out, opening his eyes wide as he started to catch his breath, looking at you like you were crazy. You just laughed and bit your lip as you finally stopped moving. “What the fuck did you just do?” he snapped, but he still whimpered a bit when you deliberately clenched your walls around him.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “I just really needed some come inside me— been really in the mood to get bred lately—”

You giggled as he grabbed you and threw you down onto the bed, turning you both over as he held your arms tight and pulled out— he blinked quickly, his lips slack and still a little stained from your pink gloss, as he watched his come leak out of your pussy. “Fuck,” he snarled, clearly trying to use his anger and panic to hide how much it turned him on. “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you realize what fucking happens if you get—?”

“Pregnant?” you finished for him, licking your lips excitedly. “Doesn’t it sound so hot though? You knocking me up, getting me all nice and full with your baby, ‘cause I’m so young and fertile— and then you can be a real daddy—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he spat, sitting back at little on the bed and running his hands over his face in dismay. “You’re— oh god— I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Calm down, grumpypants,” you scolded with a smile as you sat up and looked at him closer. “I’m on the pill, haven’t missed one in years.”

Ray’s terrified expression fell into relief and frustration simultaneously. “Fucking— you could’ve told me that before,” he frowned, dropping his hands to his sides.

“But then I would’ve missed out on your little meltdown,” you laughed proudly. “You looked cute like that, panicking and thinking you really got me pregnant.”

He watched you get up out of the bed and snag your silk robe from off of a hook on the wall, slipping it on as you walked to the bathroom. You looked over your shoulder at him as you turned the door’s golden handle, smirking when you saw the dumbfounded look on his face.

“I think I could use a bath,” you explained, “care to join me, big boy?”

The look on his face was that sort of incredulous denial— like he couldn’t believe that you’d ask him that, expecting him to ever want to be near you again after pulling that stunt. “Are you serious?!” he choked.

“Of course,” you laughed, “I’m not in a joking mood anymore. Are you coming or not?”

He laughed in bewilderment and looked around for a moment, before sighing in relent. “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, sliding off the bed to come join you. You smirked to yourself; these boys are simply too easy.

#raymond leon x reader #raymond leon smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

3K notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 1 month

Text

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

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Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess.

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x you #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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bratbby333 · 2 days

Text

a proper send off — toji fushiguro

synopsis: step daddy!toji trains ur holes stakes his claim before you go off to college ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content warnings: taboo; step!cest, age gap (over 18!), rough sex, lots of praise, teasing, heavy use of pet names, dom/sub, dd/lg, p in v, cervix-fucking, tummy bulge, buttplug, throat-fucking, edging, overstimulation, mating press, creampie ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ word count: 5.3k...straight filth ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: i was in a very specific mood when i wrote this...i hope you all enjoy!! xx not beta read !

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

"Toji!" you chirped, running toward the buff older man as he exited his vehicle. His arms stretched wide as he met you on the sidewalk, leaning down to catch your small figure as you leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He gripped you tight against his body, rocking the two of you back and forth.

You had only been apart for about four hours, but it might as well had been three months with the way the two of you clung to one another.

"How was orientation, my sweet girl?" Toji asked, lowering you to the ground gently, placing a light peck on the top of your head. Your small hand wrapped around his last two fingers as he guided you toward the car, opening the door and getting you settled in the passenger seat.

"Mmmm, super boring...but I learned a lot!" you beamed, shuffling your feet around the floorboards while he turned the key in the ignition.

The ride home was filled with you telling Toji all about your class schedule, which courses you were excited about, and how your new dorm looked after you had finished decorating it. He smiled kindly, offering the occasional hum or nod in response—he found your aimless ramblings so precious. Your darling voice was like music to his ears. His sweet little girl.

But something plagued his thoughts during the forty-five minute trip. A lingering appetite that he worked so hard to suppress. A dark, elusive feeling that manifested in the pit of his stomach. His grip was tight on the steering wheel, teeth gritted ever so slightly. Worry crept across his face at the realization that the dreaded day rapidly approached him. He was sure he had more time.

He was going to lose you, the inevitability of college now knocking at the door.

He had gotten so used to having you around, falling in love with your sickeningly sweet nature, your tantalizing aura that oozed innocence. He worried that you wouldn't make it out there on your own; even at your grown age you still looked to him for any sort of guidance, big or small. He loved it. Loved how much you depended on him, how you couldn't live without him.

He knew the sudden departure of your mother hurt you more than you let on, so he made it his mission to keep you safe, feeling wholeheartedly responsible for your well-being, even though he had only been in your life for about a year.

It was the most fulfilling year he'd ever experienced, far better than the time he had spent with your mother. It was unexpected, hell, it was even frowned upon, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He loved you more than he ever could have loved her, feeling an odd sense of relief when she had finally left, and feeling elated when you decided to stay with him rather than her. A burning question stirred in the back of his mind; were these feelings reciprocated? He didn’t dare find out the answer, instead hoping it would be presented to him first.

It didn’t take much time for the truth to unfurl right before his eyes; why you really wanted to live with him rather than your mom, the (not so) innocent way you began to cling to him…oh, how you loved your Daddy, and how he loved his little girl, too.

Toji knew there was evil out there, people who would take advantage of your soft heart and overly-trusting nature without a second thought. He couldn't let you get hurt.

He tried his best to convince you not to go to college, or at the very least, just commute to campus each day. He wanted to keep you close, to be there for you, to protect you.

He was successful at getting you to take a gap year, but he could tell his baby girl was getting antsy. Your stubbornness persevered— adamant about furthering your education and staying in the dorms. You were set on going out on your own and he knew he couldn't stop you anymore.

But he couldn't send his pretty girl out into the world without breaking her in first.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon immediate entry to your home, you were ordered to the bedroom, the rough rasp of Toji's voice echoing through your ears as you made your way to his room.

"Daddy, did I do somethin’ wrong," you questioned softly, lips pouted slightly, voice quiet as you fumbled with the hem of your short, pleated skirt. Seated on the edge of the bed, you kicked your feet around anxiously as he stared down at you.

"No, nothin' like that, sweetheart," he soothed, grasping your face in hands, his rough thumbs dragging across your blushed cheeks. Your wide eyes swam with curiosity as you stared back up at him.

"Listen t'me very closely, darlin'," he continued, crouching down to your level. Your neck instinctively relaxed, your head falling into his hands, nuzzling into his grasp. "You're going out into the world alone...I won't be around to keep you outta trouble anymore..." his voice trailed off as his eyes searched yours.

"Mhmm, I know, Daddy," you giggled back, "Y'tell me that everyday." This is why he loved having you to all to himself...in public, he was "Toji"; in private, you only ever called him "Daddy". His little girl was damn good at keeping secrets...it only made things more exciting.

The look in your eyes drove Toji wild; deep, enticing pools of virtue. It was only right that he got to be the one to ruin you, to give you a proper send-off. He hated the idea of you being with someone that wasn't him, so he hoped, prayed, to mold your pussy perfectly around his cock to ensure no other man could live up to the standard he set in your life.

A slight growl erupted from the back of his throat as he continued to pet you. "There's somethin' we gotta do, baby girl,'' he took a knee in front of you, his hands resting atop your plush thighs, massaging them gently.

"You 'member what we had talked about when you finally decided to go away for college?" he added, working his way up under your skirt. Your breath hitched as you focused on the circles he was drawing on your upper thighs, your head dropping to the side.

"Uh huh...I do, Daddy," you were already breathless as anticipation swirled through your stomach. Toji hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs. Your shirt was removed next, leaving you in only your lacy ankle socks and skirt.

"You ready? Think ya can handle this, angel?" he asked sternly as he strummed around your warm center. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he played with your pussy. "Uh huh..mmm...yes, D-daddy..'m ready," your voice wavered as his thick finger prodded at your needy hole.

He pushed you back onto the bed, dipping his digit into the second knuckle, curling it slightly to toy with your g spot. You were already a moaning mess for him, the high pitched whimpers that fell from your lips sent pangs of arousal straight to his dick. The way you writhed around for him at the smallest stimulation made his skin burn.

Every moment you spent watching him from afar, your innocent daydreams that manifested into dark desires at night, the way you’d hug him for just a bit longer than usual; each time his mind wandered to you, guilt nipping at his spine…it was all worth it.

He was addicted to you well before he ever actually had you— but after that fateful night, a few weeks after the divorce was finalized and your mom moved out, with your unexpected appearance in his room as you crawled into bed with him. The way your arms wrapped so tight around him, how your soft breaths danced so delicately across his bare skin, how perfectly your nestled head fit into the crook of his neck. His appetite became insatiable...his baby girl. The smoothness of your skin as he traced drifting lines around each curve of your precious figure. He couldn't get enough.

Toji dipped down to kiss along your sweet skin as his finger continued to shallowly work into your dripping cunt. He licked and nipped at you, the taste of your flesh overwhelming his senses. His tongue narrowed as he got to your ear, lapping at it feverishly, suckling at your lobe. "Sound so good f'me, baby." You panted at his words, the coils in your tummy beginning to bubble up.

He felt you clench around him and immediately withdrew from you. You whined at his absence, your hole spasming around nothing, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt to quell the pulsing between your legs. He grinned at your anguished huffs as he stood, removing his clothes. Your need for release still churned in your stomach as a small groan left your lips, pouting up at him. Toji only chuckled in response. "Not yet, sweetheart..." he teased, tossing his shirt aside. He was moving in accordance with his deepest, darkest secrets...he needed you to want him, to crave him, to not want to exist without him.

You knew better than to complain, Daddy always came through for you.

"How do you wanna start, princess," he asked while discarding his jeans, his throbbing girth standing proud in front of you. He loved when you asked for what you wanted, when you spoke your mind without shame. That’s a big part of being independent, right? He wanted to teach you, after all.

"Can I suck it, Daddy...love the way you taste," you mewled, your words coated with neediness as you leaned forward to grasp him in your small hands, licking your lips as spit pooled in your mouth. Toji had you right where he wanted you, he worked hard to fine-tune your body to respond to him and only him. You were completely wrapped around his finger. You looked starved, desperate for his cock to pound into your throat.

"Of course, baby, gotta train that mouth of yours, hmm?" he teased, smirking as he positioned himself in front of you. "Already take me so well...let's see how deep you can go." His thick, dripping head pushed past your lips, your tongue swirling around his tip as you worked to take him further, choking on him as he settled in the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as you struggled to breathe around his substantial girth. "Relax, baby girl...breathe through your nose f'me," he soothed, running his fingers through your hair before squeezing the sides of your cheeks. "Look s’pretty like this," he grunted, his hips rocking into your mouth slowly.

He worked his cock in and out, groaning at how tight your throat was constricting around him. "Mouth's so hot n wet f'me..doin so good princess," he muttered, his jaw tight as he watched his dick slide between your taut lips. He grasped at the back of your head firmly, his other hand still squeezing at your hollowed out cheeks. "That’s it…keep it nice n tight."

His pace picked up, the sloppy sounds of Toji fucking into the back of your throat danced around the heady air of the room. You stared up at him, blinking away the tears that poured from your eyes, eager to capture the way his face twisted in pleasure as trails of spit dribbled down your chin. You loved pleasing him…loved the way that even the biggest and strongest men’s composure could waver. You knew Daddy’s tipping point, and you were dead-set on taking him there.

You felt him twitch inside your mouth as you hummed against him, the vibrations running through his cock and straight to his balls, his head thrown back at the added stimulation. "Mmm, there ya go, sweetheart...so fuckin' good. Pretty girl wants my cum, huh?"

You nodded furiously, or as much as you could with his dick in your mouth and his hand still palming the back of your head, his strokes forcing you to take all of him.

You gasped and coughed as Toji abruptly pulled your head off him, smearing a mixture of saliva and pre cum across your cheeks as he rubbed himself around your lips. "Open...tongue out for me, baby girl," he commanded. You obeyed immediately, your wide, pleading eyes staring up at him as Toji smacked his rock-hard girth against your hot tongue.

His hands gripped either side of your head, pulling your hair into makeshift pigtails as he shoved into your mouth again, smirking as you gagged around him, spit running between your tits and pooling in your lap. His eyes went dark at the sight, utterly consumed by how beautiful you looked while you sucked him off. God, how he’d miss his little girl. He pulled you off him again, amused at how much his princess was struggling to take him. "C'mon, doll, I know you can do better than that," he taunted, before ramming himself back in.

Your lungs burned while your mouth stretched wide to accommodate him, his thick head bullying the back of your throat. “Stay with me,” he grunted as he left small smacks against your taut cheeks. You fought against your heavy eyelids, struggling to hold his gaze.

With a rough jut of his hips, your nose was flush against his pelvis while he unloaded down your throat. Tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks at the inundation, heat coursing through you at the carnal sounds that left his chest. He pulled out with a pop, leaving you sputtering and coughing. The savory warmth of his cum coated your tongue, licking your lips to ensure you didn't waste a drop.

You dizzily gazed up at him as you worked to regain your breath. "Open up, show me you swallowed it all," he murmured, his breathing labored as he cupped the underside of your chin. Your lips parted as you stuck your tongue out. Toji hummed in approval as he checked your mouth for any remaining trace of his seed. "Good fucking girl...so needy for Daddy's cum, huh?" You nodded, giggling breathlessly, your throat sore from Toji's intimidating girth.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart," he said firmly, stroking himself as he watched you readjust on the bed. Toji kneeled on the edge, grasping your legs and throwing them around his waist. "So pretty...you know those boys will be all over you, yeah?"

You shook your head furiously, pouting at the thought of being with anyone but Toji. "N-no, no daddy...only wan' you," you huffed, locking your feet behind his back. Your hands splayed across his abdomen, tracing lines around his prominent muscles. He leaned forward to position himself at your soaked core. "Mm..I know, doll," he cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as his other arm propped himself up. "But I gotta get you good n ready just in case. I can't have you embarrassing me out there...I did raise you, after all," he spoke low, the rasp of his voice sending chills to your core.

“Some of 'em will be gentle with ya,” he murmured, inching deeper and deeper into you. His face was kind, a small smile twitching on his lips. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with adoration and arousal, the o-shape of your swollen, parted lips and flushed cheeks pulled a raspy groan from his chest.

He sunk into your warmth, his thick cock dragging in and out gently, his head brushing against your sweet spot with merciful thrusts.

You fussed at his teasingly slow pace, his girth stretching you out perfectly. It took every ounce of his willpower to not break you in half right then and there, driving himself into you with fervor, the jealousy biting at his spine fueling each rough jut of his hips at the thought of you with someone else. He maintained his leisurely rhythm, working you up until you reached your breaking point. "Need more..ahh...p-please Daddy...give m'more," you begged.

“Mmm, I know you do...but I gotta show you what you're gonna get when you mess with boys." His unhurried strokes antagonized your milky cunt that ached to be pounded properly. You writhed around underneath him, bucking your hips in hopes that he’d give you more, but you knew your efforts were all in vain. Toji smiled down at you with a raise of his brow, still inadequately sliding into you. Oh how he loved how needy you were for him, how easy it was to make you squirm. You were close to breaking down, tears beginning to surface as you begged for him to go faster, harder…anything.

“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” he taunted, his palms on either side of your cheeks, rubbing away your tears with a quick flick of his thumbs. “Uh uh…need more, please,” you whined, pressing your head against his hands.

Toji stared down at you with a coy smile as he watched you unravel, how hungry your sopping walls were for a good pounding. He wanted to play with you some more, to have you crying over how badly you need him. "Ya like it rough, isn’t that right, my sweet girl?” He toyed with your puffy clit as his tempo remained steady. “Love when I use you as my pretty little fleshlight, yeah?”

You nodded furiously. He grinned down at you, pulling your hips up toward him as his tempo suddenly changed, the new angle pounding directly into your g spot.

“A…ahh!! F-fuckkk, Daddy,” you cried out, your head bouncing around to match his forceful rhythm. His hips were mercilessly rutting into you, every jolt bringing you closer and closer to your release as he continued to thumb at your swollen clit. You clenched around him, eyes locked on his as short pants left your lips.

"No, baby...not yet." He pulled out immediately, flipping you, lifting your hips as he shoved a pillow under your stomach. His hands rubbed circles into the flesh of your ass as he prodded himself against your cunt. You moaned, ready to complain to him as your body ached for release. His palm found the back of your head, pushing your face into the mattress, successfully silencing you. “Shh…let me play with you, princess.”

Toji flipped up your skirt to reveal the pink rhinestone nestled perfectly between your cheeks. "That's my girl, kept it in all day f'me, hmm?" He gripped the plug and pulled it out, spitting a fat glob of saliva onto the hole before circling the sensitive ring and shoving it back in, plunging the toy in and out of your tightness.

Your hips pushed toward him, your already broken resolve absolutely crumbling from the prodding sensation in your ass. You prayed he'd let you cum soon. An unbearable ache coursed through you; a dull, evil reminder of your denied orgasms.

"M-mmhm..wanna be so good f'you, Daddy.” Your head spun, the static sobs that ripped though your sore throat bounced through the room, echoing through Toji's ribcage and ricocheting around his heart.

He couldn't help the twisted smile that cracked across his face, his precious little girl, how obsessed you were with his cock, how gluttonous you were to have him nestled within your gummy walls.

Truth be told, he was ravenous for your warmth. He loved how quickly he could wind you up and how easy it was to make you snap. He adored the way you shook when he'd bottomed out against you, the precious sounds that you made only for him.

His chest tightened at the gnawing thought of not having you anymore. He couldn't let you know that...couldn't show you how badly he needed you, how much he loved you and your perfect pussy. He gritted his teeth at his insecurities; his nagging fear of losing you, how he dreaded letting you go. How desperate he was to make this last forever.

He prodded himself in and out... in and out... iiin and ooout, only giving you about an inch each time before he removed himself again, his brows furrowed with a hungered expression, wanting to savor the way you sucked him in with greed. Your hole clenched down on him in a pitiful attempt to keep him inside, only for him to leave you empty once more. "P-plea..se, Daddy," your voice trembled, "Need you so so bad," your head thrashed around as you babbled, your thighs shaking as Toji tormented your gushing cunt. He smirked down at your twitching frame, getting off on how needy you were, how your back arched so deeply in hopes that he'd push all the way in.

"Already cock drunk and I've barely fucked you, hmm?" His aching cock teased at your spasming entrance some more, his fingers pushing and pulling the plug in and out of your ass. Your soft whines circled around his head, his chin tucked into his clavicle as he watched your holes stretch at the intrusions. “My dirty fuckin’ girl…you love when I tease you, don’t ya?”

“I–” your words caught in your throat as he shoved all the way, the head of his cock caressing the deepest parts of you with ease, the delicious girth of his member stretching you out so fucking perfectly. Your cheek pressed firm against the mattress, hands pulling at the sheets, your fists balled up tight around the fabric as overstimulating pleasure raked through you. Relishing in sinful bliss as Daddy finally gave you what you so pitifully longed for, the rough jerk of his hips smacking into the fat of your ass.

Toji was unraveling. His darkened gaze raked up and down your figure, reveling in the way your flesh rippled at the strength of his unrelenting strokes. He leaned over, one hand pressed into your lower back, the other grabbing hold of your bunched up skirt, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

“S-so–ungh–so deep, Daddy,” you mewled. Toji smirked, reaching around to press a firm palm against your tummy, growling as he felt himself deep in your gushy walls. “Mmm, I know, princess, but you’re taking me so well.” His brutal pace was splitting you in half. It felt unreal, impossible even, that nirvana had begun to manifest within your reality in the form of Toji’s thick cock absolutely destroying you, your gushing cunt greedily sucking him in, yearning to savor your little slice of paradise.

“God, this pussy was made for me, huh? So fuckin’ perfect.” His filthy words sent undulations of ecstasy through you, making you constrict around him, the coils in your stomach forming once again.

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t ya,” he huffed out, his fingers trailing lower to rub your clit. You clenched down on him, a tell-tale sign of affirmation. His thick tip brushed against your cervix, making you cry out, relishing in bliss on the steps toward heaven’s gates.

“Ahhh! Y-yes!…oh, Daddy, yes!” You were a blubbering mess, the tightening sensation in your stomach increasing tenfold at his added stimulation.

Toji’s mind was in shambles as he battled his own filthy conscience, torn between denying your pleasure once more or redirecting his attention toward his new goal: make you fall apart on him over and over again. He struggled to weigh his options as your cock-drunk cries echoed through the room, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin clouding his mind.

“Grippin’ me s’tight, princess. Fuuuck– wanna cum, baby girl?” His jaw locked as his fingers dug into your soft skin. “Mhm…,” your voice was airy as you nodded vigorously, trying your hardest to form coherent sentences as his heavy balls slapped against you, “...pleasepleaseplease, Daddy–ugnhh–wanna cum s’bad…wan’ cum f’you,” you rambled, drunk off the way he was splitting you in half. The squelching sounds of your greedy little cunt coupled with your staggered whimpers and filthy begging finalized his desicion; Fuck breaking you in, Daddy was going to break you.

“That’s it…c’mon, baby,” his mean, persistent thrusts made your head spin, his fingers rubbing quick circles against your throbbing clit. “Cum. Now. Make a mess on Daddy,” he growled. Your eyes screwed shut, his permission ringing through your ears as you felt the tension in your stomach finally snap. Your face contorted as you squirted, painting your sweet juices onto his strong thighs. An animalistic growl broke through Toji’s chest as he worked you through your blinding orgasm, spurred on by the warm spray beading down his lower half and onto the mattress below you.

He pumped into you a few more times before pulling out. You nearly sobbed at the emptiness. As overstimulating as Daddy’s cock was, you couldn’t help but revel in the way he stuffed you. Your head spun while he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back, his strong hands pressing against your thighs. “Hold your legs there f’me, pretty girl,” he rasped. You diligently obeyed, your shaking hands anchoring into the pits of your knee, pulling your legs deeper into your sides as he rubbed himself against your drenched folds, the firm pressure of his shaft against your clit sending chills through your exhausted body.

You stared at him with a low-lidded expression.Your mouth fell agape while he smacked his member against your clit. A trail of spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth as he sunk back into you, your eyes shooting open as you cried out for him. He returned to his harsh pace immediately, giving you no time to recover from your orgasm. His hands replaced yours against the back of your legs. You clawed down his taut abdomen as he used his new found leverage to bury himself deeper inside you with every rough bump of his hips.

“D-daddy–ahhh!– ‘s too much,” you cried out, your palms pressing into his torso in hopes he’d slow down a bit.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he growled, “Be good…play with your pussy f’me,” his cock colliding with the furthest wall of your gushing cunt. His palm pressed against your tummy, nasty groans falling from his lips as the added pressure made you even tighter. “You jus’ feel too good, princess.” His breathing staggered as he reveled in your warmth.

“So deep…oh, fuuuck! Daddy you’re so f-fucking deep,” you babbled, your words drawn out as electricity shot to your core, your fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. Your walls fluttered, the churning in your stomach returning with urgency. You clenched down around him, guiding the head of his cock to drive straight into your sweet spot.

“Fuckin’ milkin’ me…gonna come again, baby girl?” You nodded profusely, ears ringing as your eyes rolled back. Your brain was numb—he was all you could feel, the only thing that made sense; Daddy. You were delirious, dickmatised, even. Oh how badly you wanted to marinate in this bliss, to make it last forever.

“Gimme another one…c’mon,” Toji’s foundation wavered as he stared down at you, pure, unadulterated lust swirling around his irises. He was about to break, utterly consumed by all things you. The sweet sounds you made for him, how perfectly your cunt molded around him, the way your sloppy walls hugged him so tight as you came around him once more. You were made for him and vice versa.

“That’s it baby–Good…Fucking…Girl.” You cried out as his thrusts emphasized his praise, burying himself impossibly deep, his head kissing your womb.

Every neuron in your body fired off at once as his strokes persisted. You were beyond saving, your entire existence orbiting around the man that was actively breaking you in half. He was the driving force in your life, the sole reason your atoms continued to vibrate and your heart pumped crimson through you. He was everything.

Toji watched as you fell apart, expelling all the air from his lungs as he released a deep, guttural moan. The sight of your trembling body and the feeling of your quivering cunt around him made his heart beat with such fervor it practically slammed into his ribs. But it wasn’t enough, not right now. Not in the state of vulnerability, of fear, that he found himself in. He wasn’t ready for this to end. And it wasn’t going to, not if he could help it.

He grinned down at you, his words bouncing around your skull as you attempted to wrap your head around his request: “Again.”

You wanted to give up, knowing damn well it would break you if you came any more. But when Daddy demanded another orgasm from his sweet little girl, you delivered. You’d be foolish not to.

“One more…just give me one more,” he coaxed, his fingers replacing yours, thrumming viciously at your clit. “C’mon, baby girl…Make me proud,” his head cocked to the side as he watched your pleading eyes shut once more, succumbing to the waves you had no choice but to ride.

Another soul-crushing orgasm raked its way through you. Every sense in your body dulled and heightened simultaneously. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out in delight, your body drowning in a lethal dose of euphoria.

After a few more pumps, he leaned down to press his chest against yours. Your shaking legs locked behind his back as he bottomed out, tugging your hips up as he shot a thick load deep inside you. You were breathless, light-headed, stuck in a state of ecstasy. Even with an empty head, you knew one thing for certain– triumph. The sounds he was making told you everything you needed to know. You were so good for Daddy. Your nails dragged across his back while you wrapped him up in your arms, desperate to feel as much of him as you could.

Toji sat back up, pulling out of you as he crouched down at your core, spreading your puffy lips with his thumbs, beaming with pride as he watched his cum dribble out. You were his. “Did so good for me, princess.” He placed a gentle kiss on your clit as he realigned his face with yours, “Made me so proud.”

You offered only a small smile in response, reeling in enlightenment. You laid still while he cleaned you up, though you didn’t really have a choice. Your legs were numb and your back ached with a dull, constant reminder of who you truly belonged to. No one could fill the space that Toji held in your life. You weren’t going anywhere.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your tired bodies laid intertwined, the sound of synchronized breaths drifted through the room as the two of you relished in post-coital bliss. The love that pulsed from his chest into yours solidified your decision. There was nowhere else you wanted to be.

“Daddy?” you hummed while he rubbed deep circles into your lower back.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I…I think I’m gonna take another gap year.” You could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that fell between the two of you as your words hung in the still air. Your heart thrummed as you waited for his response, anxiety running rampant in your body in hopes that he wouldn’t be angry with you. But you needed him. You knew where you belonged.

Your admission rang through Toji’s ears. His breath quickened every so slightly as his calloused hands dragged up and down your body, his lips pressing into the top of your head. It took every fiber of his being to keep his composure, to not jump from his skin at his victory. He did it.

“If that’s what you want, princess. I support you.” His voice was steady, but his nonchalance was insincere. He was elated. He got to keep his little girl around, and he had no intention of letting go.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: the need i have for this man is insatiable... this was my first fic for toji so i had to do it up

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