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taegularities · 8 months

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colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough.

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don��t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription.

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep.

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.”

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But.

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room.

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive.

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything?

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook

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thesturniolos · 23 days

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make you mine ~ m.sturniolo x reader (she/her)

જ⁀➴. summary: i mean you know what they say, keep your friends close but always keep your enemies closer- just how much closer?

જ⁀➴. warnings: filthy smut, fingering, dumbification, degradation, praise, rope bunny, spitting, spanking (i’m sorry), dom!matt and sub!matt, jealousy, brat!reader, a little angsty (cause yk i fw that too much)

જ⁀➴. this is for @annamcdonalds67 challenge!! i will be basing this fic off of madison beer’s ‘make you mine’ !

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

‘i wanna lay you down, i wanna string you up, i wanna make

you mine.’

do you know that feeling when you’re drunk, so drunk that your mind feels like a fog? like a layer of cloud and mist has settled into the crevices of your brain, seeping into your every thought. a fog so powerful that it alters your visions and brings hidden secrets to the tip of your tongue, the kind of secrets that would change something, anything once and for all.

and in that moment, the feeling of freedom outweighs all the consequences of letting that secret out. slowly, my fogged brain pieces together to allow my hands to fiddle with the padlocks of the secret. to untie the tangled chains, to swivel the tiny little key around on the pads of my fingers, to push the blade into the hole in the chest.

and just like that, a secret sworn to never be spread dribbles down the edges of the box and every thought telling me, yelling actually, that what i’m about to do is wrong is etched away by a metaphorical marker and nothing will stop me from what i want to do and what i’m going to do.

the dizzying noise of a thousand people, some my friends, most of them random people you’d find at classic LA parties, is silenced by the sound of my beating heart and the blood pumping viciously around my body.

it’s the kind of passion that comes from envy, that comes from jealousy, that comes from resent so blinding that every step you take feels like it could break the marble floor underneath your feet. or that steam pushing out of your ears could be visible.

it’s the kind of jealousy that comes from seeing a person you care so deeply about in a corner with some bitch who knows nothing about him.

like- she doesn’t know what he likes and doesn’t like, she doesn’t know that he has three books by his bed and that one of them has her initials carved into the fourteenth page. she would never know that his own couch has an imprint from where my fucking ass sits everyday. like she wouldn’t know that their shared ‘hatred’ wasn’t actually real. just like how she doesn’t know that he is not on the market and she has absolutely no fucking place in the world to have her wretched bones on his skin.

you’d assume that in a situation like this time slows like a movie but it doesn’t. it speeds and i can’t keep track of anyone around me or what song is playing or even what drink is sloshing onto my hand from my cup. i just know exactly where it’s going to go though.

before i step foot into the beaming light of the kitchen, two hands grab my hips and swivel me around. two hands that won’t be there in a minute if they don’t leave my body.

im met with a pair of very similar eyes and i suddenly feel very guilty for thinking what i thought a second ago.

‘hey! where have you been all night? me and nick have been looking for you literally everywhere.’ chris’ eyes look concerned but his smile is still in full tact.

‘i’ve been talking to people, catching up-‘

‘did something happen? cause you know, you look like you’re gonna kill somebody’ he laughs, his hands leaving my hips and i brush the area off where he touched, holding my head high to hopefully hide the seeving look on my face.

‘just people liking to get up in my business, you know how it is. ‘ i nod, sipping from cup, immediately regretting because actually wtf is in it.

‘okay, well- me and nick were about to leave, we’re just tryna round you and matt up.’ my teeth clench together at the sound of his name.

‘yeah, i don’t know chris. i might go home later, feels like we only just got here!’

‘it’s literally 2am, we’ve been here 4 and half hours already-‘

“come on, chris! when do you ever get to go to a party as big as this? go find a girl or something- give yourself a good time!’ his eyebrows furrow and he shrugs his shoulders.

“i guess so-“

“you gotta get over that bitch ex of yours anyways, perhaps this could be your perfect time.” and with that, he was fully listening. his shoulders now standing upright and his posture as straight as possible.

“you’re right, y/n. oh, look- there’s matt! guess he’s already a step ahead of me and you.”

my head spirals around is quickly, i think i saw stars. big, white, angry shooting stars. the sight of his hands clenching onto her ass, pushing her against a kitchen counter. her dress slowly riding up her thighs, thanks to his legs prying them open.

and with that, something ticks inside me.

i’ve been jealous before. hell i’ve been the most jealous in the room. but have you ever been so jealous that a rack of knives looked appealing and the bat that hangs above the wall in the living room looked handy dandy to do the exact job you needed to?

why was it always the bitchiest of girls who all the guys hate -but apparently not so because she’s tugging on one of their dicks by saturday.

well guess what? two can play at that game, bitch.

i turn around to find a good looking guy, not so attractive that i could become attached but not ugly enough for me to be gagging when i run my hands along his dick.

‘you. come with me.” i gesture, my fingers curving in to lure him into me.

his brows furrow and he scoffs, “why?”

“cause i fucking said so, come with me.” i drag his hand and he turns back to look at this friends with a sudden bright smile.

our hands are clenched together as i pull him through a small crowd towards the kitchen. the urge to instantly jump on him to rile matt up is incredibly overwhelming but desperation isn’t always the best look on me.

my hand reaches for a red cup, filled with what looks like classic punch and i pour it down the sink to fill it up with straight vodka and hand it to him. “drink up, buttercup.”

his eyes widen but he obeys and i watch as he drinks every last sip, my fists clenching from the idea of what’s going on directly behind me.

“ngh’ matt-“ i hear the girl moan and my head twists to see his eyes glaring into mine whilst sucking red marks onto her neck.

i scoff and drag my guy closer to me, all whilst maintaining eye contact to lick a stripe up his neck and shove my right hand up his shirt to feel his torso. the guy did have toned abs, i could feel from how rock hard he was against my fingers but unlucky for him, i was completely and utterly distracted by the guy i hated so fucking much opposite me.

hate so pure that the sound of his name made goosebumps run down my neck and my blood bubble under my skin. my eyes would sting from the gaze of his eyes, my eyelids burning from refusing to shut. it was hate so pure that seeing a girl on his arm made my throat run dry and my words choke. the rings on my fingers digging into my palms and my teeth scratching against one another as i clenched my jaw to see the hickies scattered on his chest.

my tongue caresses the skin of his neck, latching over what i think is his sweet spot, as he moves his hands down my body. i smirk as i see matt latch onto the bitch’s figure tighter, desperate to outweigh whatever i was doing.

i look up at the guy and say, “do whatever you want to me, right here, right now.” his eyes light up and his breath halts slightly.

“but we’re in here with so many people-“

“i don’t care.” my head turning back to look at matt who is still looking at me, a grimacing smile speaking across my face which makes his brows furrow deeper into his skin.

the guy grabs my leg to push it onto his, my front up against him and he latches our mouths together, his tongue immediately creating a space between my lips to enter.

after a solid minute of awkwardly making out in front of what felt like 30 people, a hand pushes my leg down from the guys hip and grabs my hand to pull me away from the crowd.

i’d be stupid if i said i didn’t know it was matt, of course i knew it was him. after all, he knew i had full control over him even if we were just enemies.

sweating bodies collided with mine and i squeeze my body close together to avoid elbows to the face. my heels making me stumble a little, alcohol still running through my system.

i look down to find a step up a winding staircase, a classic LA mansion.

20 steps felt like half a lifetime as matt still desperately drags me up them, whispering incoherent, angry remarks under his breath. until finally he makes it to the top and barges through the first bedroom he sees.

i enter quickly after him, my hand falling to my side as he slams the door behind us. i didn’t have time to react before he pushes my shoulder into the wall behind me, digging his nails into my skin.

his eyes are practically black with anger, his eyebrows fallen to his eyelids yet a disgusting grin on his face. his tongue slides along his teeth, before he spits, ” what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”

“whatever you’re playing, i mean it’s only fair.” i squeak back, my breath a little taken away from the sudden collide with my back and the brick wall. and of course the incredibly small space between our lips and the fact that our noses are touching.

“that’s not how this works around here.”

“then how does it? you get to go around with every girl in our state and i sit in the background watching?” what was that even supposed to mean?

he removes a hand from my shoulder and shakes his head, “people around here know they can’t touch you. they just know that, sweetheart. i assumed you would too.”

“and you’re allowed to have that bitch all over you? tell me, matt. how is this really fucking fair?” his hand comes up to my throat to clench it, light enough so i’m not choking but hard enough so that i’m gagged, my head lifted up a little.

“because how else am i supposed to get you to fucking take notice that i want you.”

i furrow my eyebrows, i try to speak but he clenches harder and the words don’t form in my mouth.

“every girl i have i imagine it’s you, every time i’m fucking a girl i imagine it’s your pussy im in, i imagine it’s your lips that im sucking on.”

i look dead in his eyes, my lashes blurring my vision slightly, his hooded gaze mesmerising me as i take in his every word

“every mean comment i made and every remark you made back riled me up. i knew it, you knew it, everyone else fucking knew it. im fed up of this bullshit circle we’ve had going on- i need you to see that you’re mine. when i saw you and that bitch in the kitchen, i smiled because i knew i got you. i got you to the point where you fucking admitted to me that im in your brain, you want me just as much as i want you baby.”

his tongue pokes out to lick a strip along my lip, he stands back to look at me in such a vulnerable position. my legs squeezed together in my little black dress and his hand wrapped around my neck as i look up at him with teary eyes and a dumb little smile on my face. it was just all he had ever wanted.

his hand leaves my neck, reaching up to grab my jaw and push my lips against his. a messy, tongue-filled kiss. his tongue sucks onto mine and i moan into his mouth, my legs moving forward to push him backwards.

he hums into the kiss, moving his head to suck on my lips whilst treading towards the bed in which he eventually pulls us onto. my legs scramble to straddle his lap and loop my hands around his neck.

he pulls away to pull the straps of my dress down as i look into his eyes, if somebody had told me two years ago that i was straddling matt’s fucking lap i probably would’ve slapped you around the face.

“do you know how long i’ve wanted you baby?” he says, yanking down my black dress to reveal a lacy, practically see-through bra that pushes up my boobs to accentuate them especially for matt’s eyes.

i shake my head, my hands clasping onto the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“too fucking long.” he rips off my bra, my mouth wide from how easily he broke the fabric, a loud groan leaving his mouth as he launches forward to suck my hard, pointed nipples.

my head thrown back as i grind against his jean pants, desperate to relieve the feeling in between my thighs. the tent of his pants brushing roughly against my region making me pull his head closer into my tits.

he pulls away to stare up at me, already looking a little disheveled, as he chuckles slightly, “you’re so fucking needy, who knew a pretty baby with a mouth as big as yours could be so desperate for my cock?”

i whimper at the sound of his patronising voice, my hips moving faster as he speaks but the loss of the soft pad of his tongue of nipples making my eyes water a little.

he grabs my jaw to force me to look at him, his fore finger and his middle finger squeezing together closely as he pushes them towards my lips. “open up, slut.”

i open my mouth for him and he guides his fingers into my mouth and instinctively i suck on them, my eyes slowly fluttering shut and i hum onto them, wishing it was something else.

the tent underneath me twitching even under all this fabric and the hands looped around his neck untie to slowly run down his torso all the way to the zip on his jeans.

“you want it all don’t you baby? you act so tough but really you’re just a whore for me and my dick. it’s not even been five minutes and you’re already scrambling to undo my pants. that’s it baby, let me use all your pretty parts.” i pull them down to reveal his wet boxers and his huge dick.

this man wasn’t just packing a couple inches, it was enough to bruise the back of my throat and my cervix. my eyes light up as i hold it through the cotton of his underwear, drool begging to leave my mouth.

he leans back slowly, his elbows digging into the plush mattress underneath of us as he guides me closer towards his cock, pushing away stray hairs that curl around the frame of my face.

i pull down his boxers for his dick bounce straight up and hit his stomach, pre cum leaking from his bright red, swollen tip. and i hungrily scramble to grab hold of it, his words replaying in my head, i’m just a whore for him.

my hands smooth the veins along the bottom of his dick, slowly making my way up to kiss his oozing tip and i feel his body shudder underneath me. without a second thought, i shove his tip in my mouth and suck his cum off. my mouth hollows and i move my head up and down, determined to get some noise out of his pretty mouth.

“that’s it pretty girl, just like that- mmm” his head is thrown back and his hands come round to cradle my head, pushing me further onto his dick.

i moan which sends vibrations down his cock, his tip growing in my mouth as i swirl my tongue around it, the gagging sounds echoing in the room, riling matt up more and more.

“fucking take it all baby- oh fuck, i know you can” he winces out, the grip on my hair tightening and i smile against the girth of his dick doing exactly what he says, hollowing my mouth and sucking all the way to his bone. his hips shove up to hit the back of my throat and my eyes flutter shut, the full feeling in my throat overwhelming me.

he guides my head by bobbing my head up and down in time with his hip thrusts, the sounds of my gargling getting progressively louder as he becomes more determined to cum down my throat.

a sudden halt to his erotic sounds, i feel my head being pulled up, a ‘pop’ sound coming from my mouth from the sudden loss of his dick in my throat. he laughs, smoothing my cheek with his thumb before gently slapping it and grabbing my chin so i look at him.

“you gonna let me make you feel good?” i frantically nod my head, the heat between my legs practically burning a hole thru my panties now.

“that’s my girl, you’re mine. aren’t you?” i nod and he tuts, “ use your words.”

“i’m yours.” and that’s all he needed before he picks me up like i’m a fucking feather weighing nothing more than a couple pounds and throws me onto the bed whilst he twists around to stand up off the bed, looking down at me.

“you know it, my little slut.” he pulls down my dress finally, he didn’t get to finish underdressing me cause the idea of finally tasting him was too much. but now that i can feel the cold air hitting the most private of places and his glare blazing up and down my body, i feel shy.

my elbows hover over my boobs as i try and scrunch up a little but matt’s hands pry them away and he spreads my legs before discarding my little black dress on the floor, i’m only left with my matching lace panties.

he licks his lips, his glare fixating on the wet patch created on my underwear, just for him. as he holds my thighs apart, he blows gently onto the fabric making it instantly cold and i shift up the bed a little, whimpering.

“this all for me, baby?” he looks up at me, caressing my thighs gently. the cold metal of his rings making my goosebumps more and more apparent.

“mhm.” my eyes flutter shut and i push against the force of matt’s hands, becoming increasingly desperate for any kind of pressure on my pussy. “please.”

“please what?” he smirks, his touch on my thighs now so light you wouldn’t even believe it was there. it was another level of teasing that made the core of your very stomach fuzzy and the lack of any touch adds to the sick feeling you have.

“just do something, anything.” he snaps when i say that, flipping me around quickly so that my body slaps against the mattress, my ass on full show to him, my thing not doing much too cover my the cheeks of my ass.

“i wanna feel the rush, i wanna taste the crush, i wanna get you going.”

the sharp sting of fabric ripping against my delicate skin and sudden gasp mixed with the breaking of sweet lace makes matt chuckle in the background before placing a harsh slap to my ass, sending me into the air as it was so unexpected.

“you gonna be good for me?” he smooths over where he slapped, secretly wishing it will make a bruise.

“yes, yes i’ll be good.” i beg, wanting literally anything.

as his fingers move closer towards my wetness, he suddenly moves away quickly before getting up and searching the room.

i look up and frown, “what the fuck are you doing?” i whisper a little, upset that he looks like he’s about to leave.

he doesn’t say anything but pauses once he gets to the drawer in the closet and laughs before turning around to reveal a belt.

“what are you doing? this isn’t even your room.” i say, relaxing yet still confused.

he walks over to me and forces my chin up at him, “keep speaking in that bratty fucking tone and i will leave you high and dry”

“well you won’t even let me get high so what effect is that gonna have-“ before i could finish my sentence he covers my mouth with one hand and uses the other to turn me around so my head is shoved into the pillows of the bed. he scrambles to grab my hands, pushing them against my back and fiddling with the belt.

“just you fucking wait and see, little angel.” he twists them around my wrists and tightens them so i can’t get out without any help.

his hands letting going of mine before i feel them suddenly exactly where i need them. a singular finger pressing down onto my bundle of nerves and my whole body jumps with just a simple touch, a pornographic moan leaving my mouth.

“does that feel good baby” i whimper back a desperate ‘yes’ and wriggle against the pad of his finger wanting him to move oh, so badly.

“want me to move my hand, darling?” i nod my head frantically hoping he can see me which i gather he can considering the low laugh that leaves his mouth and the sudden movement of his finger dragging down slowly through my folds.

“you want me here?”

“yes, yes. i want you there. i want you to move.”

“you want me to move?”

“please.”

“there it is.” and with that, the gentle movements turned into quick, hard thrusts. his two fingers sliding through my hole at an insane pace, not letting me readjust for one second, making my whole body lift from the bed, my hands shaking in the belt he tied me up in.

the cold metal of his rings mixing with the warm wetness coating his fingers, the sensation was immense. all before he flips me over and presses his mouth onto my clip sending me into fucking sub space.

“oh my fucking god! matt-“

he licks and kisses at my clit at a gentle pace all while his fingers strum in and out of my hole at an alarming speed, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have arm cramp even after one minute.

my ass doesn’t stay on the bed and my whole body is jittering at the sudden overwhelming sensation. the flicks of his tongue and the curving of his fingers making sure he hits my sweet spots makes the bundle in my stomach tighten up.

“please matt, i’m gonna cum!”

he carries on, his feasting at my pussy getting progressively more intense, like a starved man. he enters another finger into my hole, stretching me perfectly so that i am shaped for him.

he breathes against my heat, “let go, baby.”

and with that, i did. sweat running from my back and forehead, my tied hands desperately grabbing onto the leather and my toes clenching over his shoulders.

he licks me clean, pressing one last kiss to my clit which makes me jolt as he laughs a little to himself seeing my messy figure on the bed.

“you did so well, baby.” i smile at him, his head coming close to mine to kiss my lips.

“now you gonna help me out sweetheart?”

i nod and he turns me around to take me out of the tied belts and he kisses the red marks from where i pulled against the restraint. “you liked these?” i shake my head and he laughs.

i pull myself up from the bed and onto matt’s lap to face him, i latch my lips onto his and hook my hands around his neck pulling him closer to me. my naked body fitting perfectly around his warm body.

he moves his hands down my body, caressing my curves and humming against our kiss as i pull away and look down to stroke his dick to which he kisses and pulls himself into my neck.

i move myself up his body to push myself down onto his hard shaft, as he winces and throws his head backwards, moaning my name.

i pull at his hairs and rock my hips against him and watch his demeanour change as his hips desperately rutt against mine and i forcefully push my hands onto his thighs so that he’s restricted.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he groans as my grinding against him slows.

“taking control.” his eyes widen and i push myself up further so that i can plunge further onto his dick. my nails digging into his thighs as i watch his breathing get faster and moans leave his mouth.

“that’s not - ngh- how it works.” he argues with me which doesn’t last for long when i start to kiss his neck and suck on the lobes of ears in which his thrusts up into me become more persistent.

“i’m gonna cum-“

“not until i cum.” i say, chasing my high with him as i hear him whine into my ear, panting a little too.

“please, just let me.” he hugs me closer, my boobs crushed against his chest as he begins to rocks back and forth with me, moaning and groaning with his head in the air. so much for tough guy, huh?

“cum with me.” i bounce up and down as he thrusts up into me for the last time before releasing his cum, painting my walls as it oozes out of me as i collapse onto the bed next to us.

our heavy breathing and hearts beating is the only thing that can be heard.

matt’s hand slowly moves to bring me closer to him, i smile as i look up at his tired state.

“you changed quickly, mr tough guy to oh please! please, let me cum! “ he shakes his head and covers my mouth.

“shut up, you wouldn’t fucking let me .”

i laugh at him and he picks me up to squeeze me, so much for being enemies, huh?

“so-“

“you’re mine now right? like for real?” he’s not looking at me, rather picking at his nails.

i giggle and press my head against his forehead and nod, “of course.”

hope you all liked !! too many fucking words :)

tags: @wisteral @evieolo @ev3rgreenxtrees @estelleswrld @recklessmatt @recklesssturniolo @realuvrrr @urfavstromboli @obscurechris @poopydroopt @plasticferal @lilasturns @lovingmattysposts @m4ttslvr @mattandmilds @muwapsturniolo @mattsgirlfriendlol @kirby0strombolli @kvtie2 @kikisturnioloo @kqyslyho3 @klarasmith @sturnioloshacker @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @sturniolosstar @sturniolossmut @mattslolita @zooweemamas @chrattenthusiast @chrissgirlsstuff @bernardsbendystraws @ducksturniolo @dsturniolo @deatthmatch @fruitglazed @hearts4sturniolo @hawaiihasmyheart @heartsforchrisandmatt @hoesformatt @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @inlovewchris @ihateeveryone357474 @ilovemattsturn @nicksmainbitch @noellesturniolo @yurtrrrr @mattsgirlfriendlol @mattsfaked

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wint3r-h3art · 1 year

Text

His Sacrificial Offering | Namor

Summary: You were sent to be his, and his you shall be; both body and soul

Word count: 2.0K

Warnings: brain rotting smut ahead. Little plot, just thots. oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex. Breeding kink, cum dumping, slight mention of possessive behavior. Romance undertone if you squint.

18+ ONLY | Minors DNI

A/N: Tenoch Huerta be pulling me out of my writing slump, and here is the result. I hope you liked it. Little plot, but somewhat coherent (I hope). No beta either, so if I do miss anything, I apologize. If you enjoyed this little blurb, comment and reblog is greatly appreciated 💛

Part 2

*** Do not copy, repost, or translate anywhere else.

Your eyes fluttered close as a long shaky breath drew out of you. Pleasure clouded your judgment–perhaps you were too drunk of this ecstasy that at this exact moment you have forgotten that you were no more than his offering.

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin–burned to your very bone. Sweat trickled down your temples while your legs shook from the intensity of it all.

The desirous torture came to a close when Namor pushed his thick fingers inside your sopping pussy. Your body jolted, hips bucked forward as he pushed his digits all the way to his knuckle.

His name fell from your lips like an incantation–breathless and enamored by his touch. Your voice was desperate and eager, hoping it would be enough for him.

Namor’s breath wavered at the way you were squeezing his fingers–so tight, so eager, and oh so perfect for him. His little sacrificial offering.

His, he thought with a smirk etched on his lips, cracking his stern visage in that instant. His heart swelled with pride at the prospect, and suddenly his thought was replaced by his carnal instinct, and the thought of having you round, and heavy with his seeds excited him.

“Mine,” he muttered before his mouth latched onto your nipple. His velvety tongue flicked over the stiff bud. His cheeks hollowed as he was sucking on the soft mound. His eyes stared up at you again, and this time it felt more primal. It felt like you were burned alive while being doused by pure ecstasy all at once. You groaned as your body eagerly responded to his attention.

His lips moved to the valley between your breasts as he kissed his way southward. His tongue grazed on your skin, tasting the salt of your skin and marking you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

His mouth continued to move southward until he settled in between your thighs. His palms smoothed over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. For a man his size, he was surprisingly gentle with you–perhaps, a bit too gentle.

Namor was trying to restrain himself not to be too rough with you. After all, mortals bruise and can get hurt easily. A part of him wanted to do more though, but his conscience said otherwise.

You sucked in your breath when you felt his mouth descend upon your throbbing core. All of your rationality flew right now as his warm, velvety tongue grazed over your swollen heat. It excited him how willing you were to be his.

His tongue swept over your swollen cleft again, this time he made sure to collect the slicked nectar on his tongue. A low moan reverberated from his chest, shooting right through your pussy. He glided his tongue over your opening, rimming it, pushing the tip into it that had you scrambled under his hold.

Namor kept you in place though by that strong, steely grip of his while he worked your swollen clit, reducing you to nothing more than a panting mess.

“My king…”

“Hmmm?” he asked as his mouth was still on your cunt, licking and fucking at your tight hole with shallow penetration.

“My king, please,” you gasped as your hips bucked forward to meet his mouth.

“Please what, my sweet?

You felt almost frustrated by the question, but you were in no position to be mad at him. You were his, and he was free to use you however he saw fit.

“Please let me come,” you pleaded almost pathetically as if he hadn’t let you do just that too many times over.

A gleam in his eyes made your heart shudder as he continued to lick at your fold and thrust his tongue into your tight hole that made you dig your heel into the soft bed. Your pussy was practically aching by the time you hit your first climax, but of course, the king wasn’t done with you yet.

Pulling back, Namor was now seated between your legs. His hand wiped off the gleaming remnant of your juice on his face. His hair was disheveled and messy. Some stuck to his forehead as perspiration dampened his skin. Raking his finger through his hair, he leaned forward and spoke.

“Bring your knees up to your chest. I won’t ask twice” he said in his deep timbre voice that sent a tremor straight through your glistening pussy. You were throbbing and aching to the point where you started clenching at the emptiness, wishing to have more of him. Even just a little bit of him was more than enough–it was more than you deserved.

Trembling, you complied. You felt so exposed and oh so vulnerable, holding your knees open for him. Uncertainty plagued your mind as many thoughts swam through your head, anticipating the treatment that awaited you.

Yet you trust him.

Every molecule in your body shivered with needs as you stared up to meet those beautiful, deep brown sapphire eyes–molten and warm like how he made you feel at the moment. You could have easily used you for his own pleasure–yet his touches had been nothing of that sort. You felt like you were meant to be his from the very beginning. It was expected that you would receive him and serve him as he sees fit, yet–

“Tell me who you belong to.”

It wasn’t a request. His voice was firm while his thick fingers traced your slippery folds. His eyes gleamed between your nether lips and your face. There was an underlying intensity behind his gaze, and it sent your nerves into a frenzy. Your body trembles again as he continues to stroke at your folds, coating them in your essence. You felt lewd in a way as you lay there, baring your most intimate part to him.

“You,” you mumbled as he crashed his lips into yours for the very first time, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your body strained beneath him as he worked you over with his fingers. You were so wet and so slick that he had no issue with adding his third digits. The man was dexterous and oh so talented with his hand that you felt another wave of an orgasm slowly slither its way up your spine.

Your legs shook as your wall fluttered around him as his pace quickened. He was fucking you so hard and so deep with his fingers that his chamber filled with nothing but the sound of your wet, squelching pussy being fucked relentlessly by the king himself.

A string of incoherent begging fell from your lips once more as you neared your release. In a fit of a throe of passion, you came with a shout.

His mouth covered you instantly, swallowing your sound. His tongue flicked over yours, licking and savoring your taste. His lips trailed down along your jawline, kissing whatever skin he found.

With a swift motion, he entered you with a low grunt. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as he began to move, slowly at first. Your fingers dig into his back, feeling the way his muscles strained and cored from the movement.

You clung to him as if he was the only anchor that was holding you down. Your chest ached. Your body throbbed with a need that you’d never thought you had. Your body burns from the feverish pleasure, shattering all of your resolves.

Namor was trying to be gentle at first. Yet the more plunge himself inside your velvety heat, the more he felt like he was being intoxicated, and with every minute he spent inside you, he felt like all of his control and common sense were slowly eroded into nothingness. Every cell in his body screamed for you, and in turn, his movement became erratic. He was fucking you, rutting into you with a ferocity that made your mind scramble.

No sounds came out of your mouth as if all the air had been fucked right out of you. You came with an uncontrollable rush. His name was the only thing you could utter because he didn’t stop. He was still fucking you relentlessly, driving himself into you.

His hands spread your legs wider, and his thick cock sank deeper. His grip on your wrist seemed to tighten, shoving you down into the plush bed. Drooled slipped out of your lips as he continued to pound into you.

Again and again, you came, sobbing with pleasure. You were practically begging him to finish you, to fill you up, and Namor did just that. It felt like hours later when he began to slow down as he rode out his release, pumping his lust into the depth of your body, emptying himself with a deep guttural groan that sounded like the sweetest sin.

You turned to look at him. Your lips parted, panting. Your hand fisted the sheet beneath you to the point where it was aching. Your legs shook as the remnant of his release sputtered out of you and onto the sheet below.

Namor was slowly coming back to his senses. Every part of him was attuned to you as he stared down at your fragile form–so delicate compared to his, yet you were the only thing that somehow made him lose his mind. The fact that you have easily accepted your role as his offering was enough to drive him to the edge once again.

You woke up sometimes later to find him looking at you.

You realized that it was the first time that you were looking at the king right in the eyes. Your face was warmed by the sudden rush of heat. Your eyes quickly averted, casting down to his broad chest.

You knew it was stupid and childish, but the memory of what he had done to you was replaying again, and the distinct ache between your legs was proof of that. The slippery feeling between your thighs was also proof of what he had given you. You wouldn’t be surprised if the seeds had already taken root inside your womb by how frequently he had bedded you.

You’re not complaining though. To be in his good Grace was everything you’ve ever wanted. He had been nothing by spoiling you, adorning you with jewelry from head to toe, dressing you up in whatever fine things he thought would suit you. You were his to play with, you accepted this without any objection.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question puzzled you so that you found yourself frowning slightly. Namor fought the smile that threatened to form on his lips.

“No, my king,” you answered. You realized how weak and hoarse your voice was.

Namor’s gaze softened upon the realization that perhaps you were slowly coming back to your senses. His calloused fingers traced over your soft, delicate skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You shivered, and he felt it. Namor pulled you closer. His heat and scent filled your head, making you feel at ease for the moment.

“Then why are you not looking at me?”

The question was a tease really. He was curious as to how you would react to him. He knew you were well pleased by how many times you had shouted his name, but there was this pleasure of hearing it from your mouth that made him eager to hear.

You chewed on your lips. How do you explain to a god that you were thoroughly fucked and thoroughly satisfied? Indeed such admission was a taboo thing to utter out loud.

“You weren’t too shy that long ago,” he added. Your eyes briefly met with his, and you could feel the heat now completely enveloping your face.

“My king, I–”

“No matter,” he smirked as slowly spread your legs apart again and settled himself between them. “I just have to make you talk.”

He watched you swallow the way you watched his cock come to life. All of your rationality wavered once more between needs and common sense.

But you knew which one won on this one.

Namor took his time again to show you again that you were more than his sacrificial offering.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor #namor smut #tenoch huerta #namor fanfiction #namor imagine

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wintersera · 8 months

Text

forever mine || alpha!karina x omega!reader

notes: AGAIN sorry for the delay anon but here’s the request!! fun fact i wrote this while listening to the super mario galaxy ost 😭

cw: OMEGAVERSE, alpha karina, omega reader (obvs), maybe rina is a little possessive, use of toys, biting, scratching, g!p rina, creampie, breeding kink

wc 2.2k

your alpha girlfriend was so sweet and caring, the best alpha you could ever wish for. unlike other alphas, she was never too aggressive with you, rather, she was too careful with you- biologically she should’ve been treating you like you were her toy for breeding, but i guess not. nonetheless she was still a great alpha girlfriend.

—

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

first of september- the first ever day since you’ve forgotten to buy your heat suppressants since you started dating jimin. your stomach drops as your pheromones begin to waft around your workplace filled with pure blooded alphas.

shit shit shit i’m dead, oh i’m screwed what do i do? ohhh god what do i do?

it was sorta stupid. yeah- an undercover omega in a job filled to the brim with hardworking alphas. you were doing a great job of convincing everyone that you were just a simple beta. that’s how you landed your job in the first place, but now because of this one stupid mistake, you were bound to lose your job.

“guys…” head manager, a very big alpha man in your words, spoke up. his head tilting and nostrils flaring as he’s looking around the office, confusion on his sharp features “…are you smelling that?” with the attention drawn on your floral scent, you begin to panic as the other alphas begin sniffing around too.

ough,, how do you get outta this situation fast “i think i’ll head out early guys. whoever has their heat is driving me insane it might trigger my rut” how bad of a lie was that. it didn’t matter anyways, dashing out the room with your blazer and bag in, hand rummaging around your trouser pockets as soon as you make it out of the building.

“jesus christ jimin pick up please, please” walking, no- sprinting to the direction of your apartment. you knew your heat was gonna hit you badly. you’ve been taking suppressants for years so having a full blown pheromone disaster for the first time in years was going to be crazy. people were looking at you like you were crazy, but you’d rather have many people look at you weird than have your scent imprinted on the damn streets.

“what’s up?” thank the lord, she answered her phone just in time.

fumbling for your keys trying to shove it into the door lock, you sigh with a heavy breath “uh,, um jimin i’m going into heat- i already feel funny” unlocking the door, you fling yourself into the apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“what do you mean going into heat? did you not,,, oh well shit okay give me a few minutes” hanging up the call.

not so much to your surprise, slick was coating your cunt like crazy. to the point where it started to go through your trousers and down your legs. the need you had for your girlfriend was so unbearable.

in a haze, you wobbled to your shared bedroom and grabbed one of her used shirts. her clothes smelt so good, the lingering scent dripping from her clothes was enough to make you keel over and plop onto the bed. you felt yourself getting slicker, your needy cunt needing your alpha to come over and fuck you silly was growing stronger each second she wasn’t in the room with you.

taking matters into your own hands because you couldn’t wait any longer, the feeling of your heat coiling in your stomach was too much. your brain was giving into your biological urges and you needed to get off now or you’d suffer. grabbing a pile of jimin's clothes and making somewhat of a nest on the bed, you surround yourself with the scent of freshly ground coffee. quickly taking off every single piece of clothing, getting right back up to open the box of toys you kept just in case a moment like this ever happened- searching for anything, any toy, that could satisfy you while you wait for your alpha.

whereas jimin on the other hand was worried sick. throughout your two year relationship with her she’d never seen you in a proper heat. like yeah, the heat suppressants and scent blockers helped quite a lot so you were never heavily affected by the symptoms. of course omegas would usually never get this horrible desire to mate this early into their heat, but unfortunately for you, you did have this raging urge to mate so early.

you weren’t so very conscious, you were starting to feel groggy, a feverish high temperature when you touch your head began to appear. this heat was kicking you in the ass and you couldn’t take it anymore- taking the vibrator in your hands and placing it on the highest setting, your hands make there way all the way down to your throbbing clit “a-ah, hnnng jimin come quick…”

so so desperate for her, you pick up your phone hoping that she would answer your calls “please- please pick up jimin”

“i’m almost home baby, do you need something or…”

“just hurry up i’m begging you to come home pleaseee” and who was she to deny your request. stepping on the gas faster knowing that her precious little omega was in need of her alphas presence. she could here your desperation deep within your voice.

“don’t worry i’m about to park soon, just wait for me okay” jimin, knowing how she acted during your very suppressed heats, believed that she could never submit to her instincts since she has never done so when it came to you. that quickly changed as she opened the door, the scent of roses attacking her as she stepped inside. it was a thick scent, it stuck to everywhere and it didn't help that you couldn’t open the windows in time, now your walls were coated in this thick floral scent.

it took jimin a lot of willpower not to give into her urges right there. she felt her rut kicking in and it made her growl in discomfort. never feeling this way in a while, because she took rut suppressants since the two of you started dating, she started growing hazy much like you did. she was a pure blooded alpha which didn’t help either, the intensity of your heat did rounds on her and she had strongest urge to mark you up.

you could hear her footsteps grow louder and louder, her low growls could be heard with the door still shut. quite impressive. she didn’t even say anything when entering, taking off her work clothes only leaving just her boxers on, the line of her hard cock showing through made you whimper out loud. your slick was practically drooling out from your pussy.

in her eyes you were nothing more than a snack to be devoured. her red eyes peered down at you like you were some sort of prey, and you must admit that pure blooded alpha jimin was really arousing to watch. pheromones in the room were strong as hell, your thick sweet floral scent mixing with jimin’s freshly scented coffee smell made a delicious combination. the scent alone driving you two mad.

she went to sit on the bed, still peering at you meek little body. with hunter like eyes she stared you down and licked her lips, “sit up omega” obeying your alpha like the good little omega you are, you sit up from the nest of clothes.

she could hear little puffs of air pour out of your lips, stifling a chuckle as she watches you struggle to sit up straight and look at her straight in the eye. hooking you up with ease, jimin had your body pressed up against hers, sliding one of her hands in between your thighs opening them up with a strong grip “you look so needy for me” a second goes by and she’s shoving you back into the pillow.

“fuck” jimin whispered “how do you smell so good” nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “you smell so tempting, fuck, i can’t-“ she gave your thighs a firm squeeze, exhaling shakily “you need to take me right now, i can’t take it anymore. i need to feel your tight cunt around my cock” her voice low and coarse. in a flash she slipped her cock into your dripping heat, mewls threatening to escape your mouth.

if you weren’t too dazed and horny you would’ve been saying how you’ve waited for this exact moment. jimin didn’t spend anytime fucking around with foreplay, she went straight into pounding your slicked up hole with no mercy. everything she did set your body ablaze, her hands were touching every single inch on your body and it felt so fucking good.

like a ravenous animal she attacked your neck, licking, marking, biting your throat all whilst groaning. her animalistic mind wanting to show that you’re her omega and nobody else’s and by that she had to litter you with marks of any kind, purposely rubbing her scent to mark you as her omega.

every thrust made your back arch slightly off the bed, hitting all the spots you never knew could feel good because of how nice she usually fucked you. you felt how fast and precise her movement was, and it was heavenly.

as your back arched closer to hers, she shifted even more closer to you, practically pinning you onto the bed by hooking both of your legs above her broad shoulders. hitting even deeper then she previously did before, you felt the tip of her cock graze your cervix “mmfh, fuck, fuck- my baby feels so fucking good” saying all that while she’s harshly sinking her teeth into your shoulders.

“s’too much,, ah- jimin, g-good” her urges began to flare up, the only thing on her mind was to mark you up for good. like she was oh so desperate to keep you as hers.

pulling her cock out, in between breaths she instructs you “turn around. y/n turn over for me.. need to- need to fill you up“ taking your legs of her shoulders and flipping you over with ease, again with her predatory gaze, she stares right at your exposed ass in which tempted her to completely destroy you until you can’t stand anymore, leaving you in a state of vulnerability so that she can take care of you.

her alpha instincts were indeed controlling her every movement, the loving and caring alpha you knew was gone. all was left was a dominating alpha who wanted to fuck you till you were filled up with her cum, even if that means you’ll bear her pups.

returning back into your needy cunt, she moans even louder, louder than you’d ever heard. “omega- omega fuck, i’ll mark you. you’re mine, mine only. mine,,, shit you’re mine forever” relentlessly pushing your head into the pillows, her thrusts became frantic and desperate- her movement erratic and messy, it made you love her even more. her alpha side was making you wetter and wetter, bedsheets were covered with your slick.

your moans were insanely unholy. you were screaming and clawing onto whatever you could grab hold onto. her dick growing larger than before and that's when the both of you knew that she was about to knot into you. grabbing her arm for moral support, you dig your nails harshly into them leaving a few minor scars.

right now you looked so fucked out. you were crying, drooling everywhere all while you were screaming out her name. jimin took her time to place a generous amount of bites and hickeys all over your back too. you know… for extra measures of course.

“aah fuck, pleasepleaseplease alpha cum- cum in me” you sobbed out.

“bout to- gonna,, augh fuck cumming” one final harsh thrust into your cunt and her knot swelled as she spilled every ounce of cum into your hole. your cunt clamping down on her as well, essentially locking the two of you. whilst she knotted into you, she swiftly leaned to the back of your neck and inserted her teeth. it hurt a lot, the feeling of her sharp canines sent your nerves on fire, but only a second later and it felt almost orgasmic.

finally she had marked you, but now you were stuck like this for a while. her knot being large enough to just be stuck in this position. both of you were lowkey back into consciousness, the alpha side of her dying down a little bit and the subby omega side of you dissipating.

after a couple of minutes of basking in your orgasm, her knot went down eventually. it was just enough so that you could move slightly which inevitably caused her semen to seep out of your cunt.

“aaah~ can’t… believe.. i… marked.. you..” catching her breath through each word she managed to muster up “that means you’re mine.. forever, right?”

aww big dom alpha jimin was gone, but your cute puppy of a girlfriend was back. you turn around with her cock still in you and see her smiling right at you, her big puppy eyes beaming with glee.

“yeah.. forever”

#wintersera #omegaverse smut #aespa smut #g!p aespa #karina smut #aespa x reader smut #aespa karina smut #aespa x fem reader smut #g!p karina #yu jimin x reader smut #karina x fem reader smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut #fem!reader

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miirohs · 2 months

Text

kiss me more [c.s]

pairing: Choi San x GN!Reader wc: 0.7k cw: n/a an: i blame nyx (@yangkitties) and choi san for these fuckass ideas haunting my brain… live laugh love ateez yall

“Baby.”

You hummed in response, despite your eyes never straying from your mirror.

Once again you applied the red lipstick, frowning at how it looked on you. It didn’t look quite right.

“Baby?”

“Did you call me-“ You started, pausing for a moment as Sans’ arms curled around your waist, his face settling in the crook of your neck. “San?”

“What’s taking so long? Are you okay?” He questioned, leaning on your back as he gave your bag a curious look, looking at the products littered across your bed.

“I’m fine, Sannie.” You sighed, slightly agitated as you slammed the lid of the lipstick on the bottle.

“No, you’re not,” He murmured, grabbing it from you and turning you around to him. His dark eyes peered into yours, holding all sorts of affection towards you even as you actively shoved him away. You could’ve sworn staring at him forever would’ve solved all your problems.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?” He looked at you, a slight pout forming as his lips. “Nothing is going right for me today,” You sighed, picking up the tube and holding it up to his face, “this little shit isn’t working like it should and i really liked it.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled, taking it from your hand and gently shaking it. “Bad lipstick!”

You gave him a small smile as he handed it back to you, a grin on his face as if he was wholly satisfied with having abused the small object in his hand. “Are you feeling better now?” He asked, leaning into your space once again.

“A little,” You admitted, rolling the tube in your hand, “I can’t quite tell what's going wrong though.”

“Look at me real quick baby?” His hands grabbed your face, bringing you closer to him. You could almost feel his lips on yours, closing your eyes as he ran a thumb over your cheekbone comfortingly.

“I have an idea that could help you fix it.” You gave him a curious look. “Kiss me as many times as it takes and I'll help you reapply if it doesn’t look good in the end?” He offered, head tilted as you opened your eyes in shock, gaping at him.

“San? I’d basically be-” He hushed you, bringing your hand up to his own face, warmth spreading through your fingers. “I said it’s okay, why are you hesitating?”

You nodded weakly, getting up.

Standing between his legs, you leaned into him as he pushed up on his hands, unflinching as you got closer. He tilted his head as you got close, heart squeezing as he looked you square in the eyes.

“I think you look even more beautiful up close,” He cooed, scrunching his nose up as you pressed down on the bridge, leaving a bold red imprint behind. “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” You blushed, looking away as he gave you a mischievous smile. “No, I still think there’s some left… why don't you kiss me a little more baby?”

Cringing, you peppered his face in kisses as he sat there patiently, leaning into your touch with a proud look on his face.

“You… you look ridiculous,” You said, stifling laughter at his puzzled expression once you finally got a good look.

“You were supposed to tell me I look amazing,” A pout settled onto his lips again as he tilted his head at you, lipstick marking up almost every corner of his face. You could see how it lit up his face, happiness in his eyes as he watched you move around him.

“You know, it doesn’t look half bad,” You said, rubbing some of the smudged product away.

He didn’t respond, too busy memorizing the look on your face, taking in everything.

“Hold on,” He said, forcing you to pause as he pulled you into his lap, “You have a little something… right here.”

He ran his thumb over the corner of your lips, leaving a soft kiss where his fingertips had traced, following a path down to the column of your throat.

“Hey Sannie,” You hummed, looking up at him, “Can I have another one?”

“Another what?” He answered in response, acting oblivious.

“You know what it is!” You groaned as he wiggled his eyebrows at you, completely unserious. You’d have to drag it out of him.

“Fine, but it might ruin your-“

“Oh just shut up and kiss me already.”

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knavves · 1 year

Text

HIT MY BRAIN, DGAF ft various bllk men — which of the bllk boys r absolutely mf hung ?

wc: 0.8k ノ cw + tw : nsfw (18+). fem reader. blow jobs. size kink(?). dacryphilia. masturbation. use of pet names. mirror sex. belly/throat bulges. dirty talk. praise. riding. mentions of blood.

shidou is definitely huge and he knows it too. "too big for you, pretty? i know you can take more than that." he's already bulging in your throat even though he's not even fully sheathed inside your mouth, so heavy on your tongue. the stretch of your jaw fucking burns but his groans are so hot that the slight pain doesn't bother you so much. one of your hands wrap around the base of his cock, stroking whatever you couldn't reach with your mouth. the other one is knuckles deep inside your own pussy, wishing he was buried deep somewhere else. "there you go. fuck so good, such a good girl for me." the slurping and gagging noises that ricochet off the walls are downright filthy but he loves it, just as much as he loves your runny and smudged mascara. he places his large hand on the back of your head, shoving you down further on his length as he shoots his load down your throat. hearing you choke and seeing you struggle to swallow the mouthful of his cum has him hard all over again.

you're gonna have to hear me out on karasu, he is absolutely hung i know it. he loves to have you pressed up against the dresser, the wooden furniture rocking and thudding into the floor with each strong thrust of his hips. he places you in front of the mirror too, a firm grip on your jaw to make you ogle at yourself in the reflection. your eyes lock on the way your tits bounce in suite of the loud slapping noises. the drool that escapes from the corners of your opened mouth that spills uncontrollable moans is downright embarrassing but you can't reach up to wipe it, not when you need to stabilize yourself as he brutally pounds into you. but your eyes are especially drawn to where he's bulging in your abdomen. "cryin already?" he coos into your ear, his warm breath fanning your ear. he was right, you noted as you peered back at yourself in the mirror to see fat tears spilling over. you drop your head to look away from your fucked out self making him click his tongue in annoyance, "nuh uh, baby. keep yer eyes on yourself. look so beautiful."

aiku thinks you look so cute right now, cunt fluttering and squeezing him so nicely as he sinks his cock into you. you're trembling where he has you caged beneath him, shaking your head and murmuring variations of "s too big!" and "not gonna fit, oli..". but he only shushes you, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings to soothe you. "you can take it, baby. that's it.. see i knew you could." he stretches you out so so good, its no wonder several women flocked to him before he met you. but now you had him in the palm of your hand, you were the one who he came home to everyday, bending you over and drilling his fat cock into you whenever you ask. like now where he has you bent in half, legs dangling over his broad shoulders as he fucks you dumb. he has you seeing stars, pulling his cock out until just the tip is in before slamming all of his girth back into your weeping pussy.

it takes all of barou's self control to not flip you over and pound into you until you can't utter anything but his name. but regardless of his desires, he uncharacteristically takes it slow with you and lets you take your time lowering yourself onto him. it feels like he's splitting you in half, your bottom lip is tucked in between your teeth, threatening to draw blood. "you can do it. i got you, sweetheart." his voice is still gruff but his words are so unusually sweet. when you finally bottom out, he almost lets out a guttural moan at the imprint of his dick in your stomach. "feel that, baby?" he smirks when you gasp as he cruelly presses down on the bulge in your stomach. he's so deep. it takes you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him, no matter how many times you've fucked you always struggle to take him. "atta girl." he grunts as you start bouncing in his lap, hands sliding up to your waist to dig his rough hands into your flesh. the time it took to prep you was all worth it to feel you squeeze his cock so nicely with each raise of your hips and to hear the cute whimpers that left your lips. your voices tangled with one another as he muttered between moans how tight you were. you'd squeal and curl your toes every time he'd thrust up into you, his cock slamming against your sweet spot. "cum all over my cock, baby. make a mess for me."

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semisgroupie · 1 year

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KUNIGAMI + MATING PRESS

kunigami rensuke x fem. reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: jealous kunigami, possessive kunigami, rough sex, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, clothes ripping (he’s an impatient man, what can I say?), size kink (kinda), mating press, hints at babytrapping, light choking, hint at multiple rounds

synopsis: he just wants everyone to know you’re his

a/n: part of the bllk boys and their favorite position anthology (will make a masterlist soon)

Kunigami would never refer to himself as the jealous type. No, not jealous at all.

He just hates the way other people eye you whenever you two are out. He hates the way people want what’s his. It’s as if the necklace adorning your neck with his initials never really existed or if people couldn’t see how his arm was always around you. It’s not like he could always pull you in to have an intense makeout session (even though he had done it plenty of times). There was just something more that he needed to do, he needed the coup de grâce.

As he sat to really think it over, it finally struck him.

Breeding.

If he fucked you full of his cum and bred you then he wouldn’t have to worry about the lingering eyes, the stupid muttered comments, everything that pissed him off. But after some more thought he had to think of something more.

He had to think of the perfect position where he could breed you. Every time you two had sex, he would fill you with cum but it wasn’t enough. In every position he tried, his cum would just end up on the bed sheets as it leaked out. So he just had to find the perfect position. He looked through all the positions that could be good, missionary was perfect but you leaked out so much cum. Riding him was really good too but by the time you both woke up, there was a puddle of all the cum that ended up leaking out on the sheets. Doggy was one of his go-tos but it posed the same problems as all the other positions.

Then he stumbled upon a position that caught his eye. “Mating press?” He thought it was just a position popularized by all those hentai clips he caught Raichi watching when they used to live together. That would be a great position. He could keep you up and make sure all of his potent seed filled you up. Fuck, he could feel himself getting hard at the thought of it.

You two had just come back from a skillfully planned date night. He decided to wine and dine you and while you two were out he could feel the pit of his stomach churn whenever someone stared at you for too long. It just made him want to ravage you right then and there, make everyone watch as he fucked you full of cum and bred you like you deserved. But he had to wait, just wait until you were in the privacy of your bedroom.

Once you two were inside he pulled you into your shared bedroom and his hands were all over you, almost ripping off the dress you wore for date night. “Ren baby, the zipper is in the back. This is my favorite dress, you don’t want to ruin it do you?” You brought his hand to your back where the zipper was and he quickly brought it down so your dress could pool at your ankles.

He quickly took your bra off and pushed you onto the bed, “takin’ too long.” He mumbled as his hands went to undo his belt and he dropped his slacks so they looked at his ankles then turned his attention to you. He forced your legs open and his hands went straight to your panties, tearing the flimsy fabric in one swift movement. Just as you opened your mouth to protest the air was taken right out of your lungs.

He forced your knees to your chest and lined his cock with your entrance, he dropped his head and spit on it then pushed it inside you. “Fuck!” That was all that could leave you at the moment, not the complaint you quickly pushed to the darkest corners of your mind. He leaned down and kept a bruising grip on the backs of your knees as he bottomed out. “I don’t need you to say a fucking thing besides my name and how good you feel. I want my name to be imprinted in your brain, you don’t need to think of a single thing but that. Hell, I don’t even think you’ll be able to form a coherent thought by the time I’m done with you but you can try.”

He tightened his grip just a little more as he put more of his weight on you, then he started thrusting. His thrusts felt so heavy, his hips snapped into yours and you felt like you could feel the tip of his cock in your throat. You could barely gather your thoughts as he pounded you with animalistic thrusts. He dropped his head and his mouth explored your chest, licking, sucking and biting whatever piece of flesh he could get his mouth on.

The wet and loud smacks of his hips against yours filled your ears, practically animalistic growls and groans left your boyfriend’s mouth. “You’re all mine got that? I’m gonna breed you to prove it. You don’t even understand what builds in my chest whenever I see someone eyeing what’s mine. Once you’re round and full with my seed, no one will question if you’re mine, there will be no second doubts or second guesses. They’ll know I’m the one who fucked you full of cum and if it doesn’t work this time, then I’ll put you right into this position every single day and fuck you full of my cum over and over again. I won’t fucking stop until you’re all round and swollen with my child, whether you like it or not. Got that?”

He moved one hand from the back of your knee to grip your face and forced you to make eye contact with him when he didn’t get the response he wanted. “Answer me.” He snapped his hips into yours harder, the faint jingling of your anklet could be heard with the wet sounds of his cock filling your pussy. You tried to gather your thoughts, trying to understand what he wanted to hear from you so you just did what you thought would be the right thing and nodded. “Good girl.” He loosened his grip on your face and moved his hand down to rub your clit while he thrusted.

“I’ll make sure you’ll never forget who you belong to, you’ll never forget that you’re mine. You’re mine, all fucking mine.” He continued thrusting and soon he felt all the telltale signs that your orgasm was nearing, you gripped his cock in a vice grip and your legs twitched and trembled. “Cmon my love, tell me who you belong to and you can cum. You can make a mess all over my cock and I’ll breed this fertile cunt. Just say who you belong to.”

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears as the coil in your stomach tightened and tightened, getting closer and closer to the point where it was going to snap. “I’m yours Rensuke! I’m all yours! Please breed me!” He rubbed your clit faster which finally let the coil snap inside your belly. You cried out his name and your hands flew to his shoulders, digging your nails into the flesh and leaving your mark on him. He thrusted a few more times but your words were just enough to send him over that blissful edge. He bit down on the plush flesh of your tit and his hot cum flooded your pussy.

He kept his hips pressed against yours as he kept pumping more and more cum into you. His hands moved to under your hips to hold them up as his cock stopped twitching. He slowly pulled out and was very satisfied with the sight in front of him. As his eyes moved to your pussy, he saw how most of his cum stayed inside you while your pussy clenched around nothing, like your body wanted this just as much as he did.

“Fuck baby, you look perfect like this. You’ll need to get used to staying in this position because this is the only way I’ll be fucking you from here on out but for now, catch your breath. I haven’t emptied my balls in you yet and I don’t plan on stopping until I’m 100% sure you’ll be bred.”

Kunigami just reassured himself that he wasn’t a possessive or jealous guy, he just needed to make sure that no one would eye what’s his.

taglist: @litepowee @satmitsuplanet @benkeibear

#blue lock smut #kunigami smut #kunigami rensuke smut #bllk smut #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie #tw:possessiveness #tw:jealousy #tw:choking #tw:breeding

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abibliophobiaa · 8 months

Text

Chapter Five: One Bed

summary: you and eddie have to share a bed, and things start to take a new turn. (7k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

——

“Just a warning, these nights get loud,” Chrissy expressed, maneuvering around where you sat near the kitchen island, bouncing Melody on your thigh. “And just think, in a few months we’ll have another little girl here to add to the chaos.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, already dreading the idea of getting her out once all was said and done. “I miss the days when we thought storks delivered babies to your front step.”

“It’ll be all worth it once she’s here.” Chrissy giggled airily at that, placing bowls of chips around the table, tutting when Melody’s hand reached out to try and grab some. “How are things going with you and Eddie? Living together, sleeping just down the hall from one another…”

“I don’t know what that look is in your eye, but it seems diabolical,” you mused, taking a sip of your water perched on the table beside you. “Him and I are friends.”

“Friends who seem very cozy as of late.”

“We’re living together and…so what if we enjoy the company of one another —” You paused as her lips curled into a devious smirk. “— not in the way you’re thinking. We just spend a lot of time together lately.”

“I think the way he dotes on you is sweet,” she said, reaching her hands out to grab Melody. Hoisted the baby up onto her hip. “You know he talked about you a bunch after Halloween. You must have made a good impression on him.” She sing-songed the latter half, a mischievous little glint in her eye that looked out of place on her sent your way.

Flashes of that night danced across your vision. Those brief introductions at the table. The way you’d spent hours talking and laughing with one another. The moment beneath the awning where you’d almost kissed. Food shopping with him. His fingers on your form as he undressed you, inside you as they drew out your pleasure, mouth hot and fervent against your own. The way he mapped your body later with his lips, how he’d lavished you with his words as he rolled you beneath him that second time, your hands tangled together in bed sheets near your head, eyes locked on yours as his hips rolled into yours.

The night was seared into your brain. Imprinted on your mind. Intimate in a way you’d reeled from, a spark different than anything you’d had with Paul — or anyone for that matter. A complete stranger, and yet something had felt so different that night. So ‘impression’ deemed too insignificant of a word to express what that night signified.

For one, it marked the beginning of something new, now nestled within, just beneath your breast.

“I just think it’s less complicated this way,” you added, glancing down at your midsection. “She’s most important. She needs both of us.”

“And what about what you want?”

“I’ve had enough run-ins with love to know it’s likely not in the cards for me,” you told her sourly.

“What if it’s just a matter of you not having met the right person?” Chrissy asked, placing Melody in her high chair. “You know, before I met Steve, I’d been dating someone else. My parents loved him. On the basketball team, town golden boy, involved in his church and charity. Perfect, by their standards. But what they didn’t know was that we fought — almost every day. He didn’t make me happy; or I thought he did, until I met Steve.”

“You never told me how you met Steve.”

“At a roller rink,” she giggled, glancing over your shoulder to where her husband and the father of your own child were drinking beers together in the living room. “He’d bumped into me. Literally crashed into me. We spent the day with me icing my head and him icing his cheek. But we talked for hours. And he was funny and sweet and charming and I just knew it was him. Right away.”

“That’s — that’s really sweet, Chrissy…”

“How does Eddie make you feel?”

And there it was. The question you’d been avoiding, because it meant admitting to the fact you simply weren’t sure. You knew you liked him, but liking him meant putting yourself in a vulnerable situation.

“We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks —”

“Time doesn’t define the importance of something, silly,” Chrissy said, dropping down onto the chair beside you. “Right now, at this very moment, how does he make you feel?”

You glanced his way. And, like he always seemed to, he had this uncanny way of knowing when you needed him. Ever present, with that seemingly constant glowing smile on his face from over Steve’s shoulder where he sat. A question burned behind his gaze, but you shook your head, and he relaxed back against the couch no longer on alert.

“Good. Heard. Seen. Cared for,” you rattled off, wanting to cover your face with your hands. Wanting to hide from the gnawing fear burning in the back of your mind over the reality of it all. “But it doesn’t matter, because what if we try and it doesn’t work and now Elena has two parents who don’t even like one another, or can’t even stand to be in the same room together?”

Chrissy curled a hand around your shoulder, those bright eyes of hers meeting yours sympathetically. “What if we imagined the reverse? What if none of that happens? You won’t know if you don’t try.”

Another time, another place, another day — those had been the words spiraling in your mind the day you left him back in his hotel room. Another person — someone who would offer him the rose-colored glasses, the giddiness of relationship, the joy of love. He was deserving of so much; the world, really.

“I’m not just saying this because he’s my husband’s best friend,” she started, voice lowering into a quieter whisper, “but he’s a good man. The best of the best. What if you opened up to the idea of…simple like? Not even love.”

What if you opened up to the idea…to simple like? Could it really even be simple? It seemed like such a juxtaposition to your current reality. Yet, the words knocked around in your head all the same, wonder already forming in the catacombs of your mind at the mere possibility.

However, before you could give it any life, the thought was disrupted by the doorbell, to be shelved away for later.

——

The arrival of the fondly named “kids” came with an air of chaos. Friends who traveled from near and far to come visit, all wrapped together in one room. Max and Lucas, on holiday here in Hawkins, now residing in California together.

Will and Mike arrived a little later, holding hands and a package of Oreos that you immediately opened and snacked on, much to their shared amusement.

El, who you had previously met, was visiting her step-brother Jonathan and Nancy in the city — the same woman you’d already contacted, thanks to Eddie’s suggestions, and were now waiting to hear back from.

Their initial reactions to finding out about Eddie being Elena’s father were met with amusing degrees of excitement and many questions — but overall, they were all over the moon for him. It made your chest ache to see him so happy, the way he proudly talked about his daughter before them all, the fondness behind his eyes as he spoke.

You remained at his side through it all, overjoyed to simply be there with them, laughing when they’d dove into a story about a time Steve, Robin and Eddie had taken the kids camping, and Eddie and Steve had the not so brilliant idea of trying to spook them before bed.

“To be fair, we were only fifteen at the time,” Mike explained from beside Will. “Which should really show you what these assholes are capable of —”

“Hey, watch what you’re about to say,” Eddie began, waving a finger in Mike’s face. “That is your mother and father you’re talking about.”

“Who’s mother?” you asked, laughing when Steve pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Steve’s mom,” Robin explained, appearing in the doorway with Vickie. “And your guy over there is dad.”

Neither of you bothered to correct Robin on that comment.

“So maybe we’d told them a little campfire story about bears in the woods before bed,” Steve started, curling his arm tighter around Chrissy’s shoulders. “What’s the problem with that?”

“Well,” Dustin interjected, leaning out of his seat from where he sat next to his soon to be bride. “Here’s the thing — we were on high alert. Started stocking up in case we needed to fight off a bear.”

“Wasn’t our fault Eddie is an idiot and started growling outside of our tent and maybe got sprayed in the eyes with hairspray,” Max said, bursting into loud giggling when Eddie cringed beside you, as if recalling the memory like it had happened moments ago instead of years ago.

“That shit hurts, okay?” Eddie grumbled, and you patted his kneecap teasingly.

“The scream he let out,” Lucas added, and the rest of the group laughed in agreement.

“I do not scream.”

“You do, man,” Steve said solemnly, earning a glare from his best friend. “It was so loud. Thought the police were gonna be called.”

“Sorry,” Eddie began, rolling his eyes, “who was it that used Farrah Fawcett spray in the first place? Because that’s where these little asshole gremlins got it.”

“Hey — it works!” Steve shouted. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Steve, my friend, I walk out of the shower and my hair looks like this. I don’t need products to enhance what I was naturally blessed with.”

“Bet you’re doubting your decisions to procreate with him now, aren’t you?” Mike joked, flicking his gaze between the two fighting men.

But you only laughed, because you weren’t doubting it at all, but instead thoroughly enjoying yourself. Especially now as Eddie interrupted their stories meant to embarrass him and suggested they maybe start their game before it got too late and they’d have to call it a night.

Eddie on a normal day was…breathtaking, beguiling, intriguing. Different from most you’d ever encountered in all the best ways imaginable. Appreciated for all he was simply because he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and enjoyed it to its fullest. He never once put on airs, tried to be anyone but his fullest self. Had accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson years ago.

You’d known as much from conversations with Steve, Chrissy and Robin over dinner. Eddie’s face bright red in a blush whenever they recounted stories from their younger years. And over the span of several weeks, you’d gotten to know it for yourself as well.

Eddie was Eddie.

Perfectly, wonderfully atypical.

But seeing him like this — in his element, surrounded by his loved ones, weaving a tale that left you enraptured. Left you leaning out of your seat, as if lured by some unseen vision, his words wrapping around your heart. Your mind.

Chrissy grinned to herself at the sight. A little flash of it you’d seen, twisting those pretty pink lips. But you’d chalked it up to the fact Eddie Munson was a natural born storyteller. Inspired by the many books his mother had read to him as a young boy, even now. Even so, what a lovely thing? To be graced with it so intimately like this, to see his inward love so outwardly on display.

Later, after the campaign had wrapped up and everyone left for the evening, you sat beside Eddie in the passenger seat of his car. Regarded his face illuminated by streetlights as you passed them by. Glimmers of dark eyes, full lips, those freckles cheekbones.

Long, torturous moments passed in silence, fueled by Chrissy’s comments and insinuations. Fueled by the questioning of what would happen if only you played the tape deck forward. Would you crash and burn or take to the wind and soar? Would you risk it all for the sake of your own want, or play things safe for the needs of the third party in this increasingly complicated situation?

“Are you —”

“Can we go somewhere, Eddie?”

You’d both spoken at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you’d done so. Rushed utterances of the first things that stumbled into your minds. Eddie’s ringed fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, shifting onto the side of the road with his right blinker.

Once settling the car into park, he shifted in the seat your way, worried lines marking his forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“I just…” What did you want, though, really? “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Not quite a lie, and yet not also the full truth as to your whirring thoughts.

“Do you want to go for a walk around our neighborhood?” he suggested, turning the car back on when you’d nodded. “I know you mentioned you were having a hard time a little while back, but I didn’t realize how bad. How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of weeks,” you grumbled out, leaning your head against the window. “Doctor said insomnia is another thrilling side effect of all of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffed out, though it was hardly his fault at all and you both knew that, drumming his thumb along the steering wheel. “You could have told me, though. I’d have tried to help you.”

You shrugged, shifting on the seat a bit so you were facing him. Noted the determined line of his lips, his bare arms moving as he steered. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I’m thinking we need dessert for our walk,” he said, the turn signal clicking as you waited to make a left turn into the parking lot. “Chocolate?”

“Mmm Oreo sounds really good right about now.”

“So I have something to ask you and I know it’s kind of out of the blue and last minute and I meant to ask you beforehand but we had Steve’s today and it kind of got pushed to the side.”

“Is this why you’re buttering me up with a milkshake?”

“Maybe.” He said, a little teasing glint in his eyes, the red stop light bathing his skin in the bright glow. “Okay, so, Wayne’s place is getting work done. Something with a burst pipe and he can’t stay there for a couple of days.”

“So you want me to stay with Robin or something —”

“No, no,” he urged with a hand on your forearm. “I just need the guest room for a couple days.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, considering. “I can sleep on the couch for a few days.”

“What? Sweetheart, no. I’m not — I’m not making my pregnant —” He paused, catching himself, swallowing thickly. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, but I’m not taking your bed,” you argued, “so I guess we’ll have to share.”

The words spilled out in a rushed breath. You’d not even really thought about what you said until the words were already there, out in the open, exposed for the taking.

“I mean, we’re adults,” you continued, shrugging. “We can sleep in the same bed without it being weird.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding evenly, mulling over your words, “that was easy then. You’ll sleep in my bed. With me.”

And that — that had your stomach turning. Twisting in that giddy, roller coaster, butterfly type of way. The way that had your fingers curling around the edges of your seat as Eddie parked the car and rushed into the opened diner to grab the two of you your sugary treats.

He returned as your heart settled back into normal rhythm. Opened your door and thrusted your drink into the air, muttering, ‘For the lady’ with a bow that had your cheeks heating up.

It only took another few minutes to pull up in front of Eddie’s home, your door opening so you could hop out as soon as he’d shifted it into park. Tugging your hoodie tighter to your body, you walked along the sidewalk and waited as he hooked his keys onto his belt loop, locked the car, and joined you beneath the street lamp.

“After you,” he said, practically bouncing on his heels as you began your loop around the neighborhood.

“You know, there are so many stars here than back in the city,” you muttered after a while, pausing with your drink outstretched in hand, head tipped back to take in the sky. “It’s just another thing I don’t really miss about back home. I feel so much more…I don’t know, connected? To myself and those around me. Without all the hustle and bustle.”

“Never thought about that,” he breathed out, hand guiding you closer to him on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t stray too far into the road. “I guess it’s easy to take for granted when I see it all the time.”

“Did you know there are two to four hundred billion stars in just our galaxy alone?” You tilted your head over your shoulder, catching the way the moonlight illuminated Eddie’s features. “And there are something like hundreds of billions of galaxies. Fun things you pick up when you work at a high school library.”

“I did not,” he admitted, lowering his head to take you in. His eyes lingered on your face, on the lines of your lips, and you swallowed the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. “Anything else you learned while at my old high school?”

“The worst lunch days are definitely Wednesday,” you sounded off, sipping your drink, “O’Donnell always has mustard on everything while we have lunch and Elena hates it. Which means I hate it. Uhm, they definitely need a wider selection of novels, and their cataloging system could use some major work. Oh — and the vending machine near the nurse’s office has the best snacks.”

He laughed, a bright, happy sound that had you nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Sounds about right.”

“You know, tonight was actually really fun.” You tipped your drink lid into his chest, smirking slightly. “I saw a different side of you tonight.”

He followed as you trailed onward again, the sound of his shoes pounding against concrete to keep up in your ears. “A good side? Come on now, sweetheart. Can’t leave a guy hanging like that.”

Nose wrinkling, you snorted. “I liked it. You had a very…commanding presence. The kids enjoyed it, too.”

“So she likes commanding —”

“Hey —”

“Kidding, kidding.” Eddie held up a hand in surrender, waving his cup in the air with a big flourish as you halted on the sidewalk in front of him to allow him to catch up. “Honestly, I’ve been doing that for so long, it’s become something I look forward to. Back in high school I’d run the club, and that’s when I ended up meeting the guys. Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will. Took them under my wing a little bit — you know how it is, teenagers are shitty.”

“Teenagers are shitty,” you agreed, sounding a little morose. “I was lucky to have Micah at that point. So it never felt like I was alone. But those years can be isolating. I can’t imagine. I’m sure they were so happy to have you there for them.”

“Yeah, well…they’re now attached to Steve and I. Like our own little band of shithead gremlins. But we love them.”

“I can tell you do,” you said, thinking back to when Max had hugged him goodbye and he’d patted her head. Looked up at him like she’d admired him. “They love you too. The way they talk about you is really sweet.”

“Now they’re all grown up,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Which reminds me…Dustin is getting married in a week and he suggested today that I might ask you to come with me.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. A nervous little bounce in his step. Noticed that he’d dragged a hair along his lip, trying to hide himself from you.

A knowing smile creeped along your lips. “Like…as your date for the afternoon?”

A date — you could do a single, solitary date with a friend.

He glanced down at his feet, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I’ll have to buy a dress,” you said quickly, putting the poor man out of his misery, “but I’d love to.”

“Okay.” He nodded, grinning softly to himself. “Ah, awesome. Perfect. Can’t wait.”

You continued like that for a while. Simply walking beside one another, talking about anything and everything beneath the stars. Simply basking in the presence of another person as the moon glowed brightly above.

Eventually, when you’d finished your shakes, you both decided to head back to the house, but neither of you seemed keen to separate for the night.

Eddie spoke with you on your bed, your feet in his lap, his hands rubbing at your sore calves, until you started to doze off against your pillow.

Stayed with you until you finally fell asleep.

——

Wayne was on his way out of the house for the afternoon when you whirled around, Eddie’s apron tied around your waist, your sous chef beside you with his hair pulled back. You’d been working together for an hour now, making penne alla vodka that you couldn’t help but lean over and smell the sauce that was currently simmering in a pot. It should be illegal to smell so good, you thought, hip brushing Eddie’s as you moved around him to grab the shredded cheese.

Tonight was the first night of your arrangement. Sleeping beside Eddie in his bed. Platonically. No funny business to be had by any means. Sure — Wayne would be working the night shift and gone for most of the time you’d be sleeping beside Eddie, but you’d cleaned out the guest room to allow for him to sleep in there, making sure the man knew this was his home as well as yours.

Not that you’d had any say; nor could you quite pinpoint the moment when Eddie’s home had become yours too. Found yourself saying things to him in conversation when out and about from time to time, simple remarks of “let’s go home” and “oh, it’s at our place” and even the night you’d walked under the stars with Eddie, back in the car, when you’d said “this isn’t the way home.”

And even so, here you were, hosting at the place you called home with Eddie.

Weird to think how a few weeks had changed everything. Nearly twenty-three weeks along, and living with Eddie for a little over a month now.

“You two went out of your way to do all of this for me?” Wayne mused, chomping at a piece of garlic bread (that didn’t make you run for the toilet this time, luckily enough), seated across from the two of you when you all finally settled down for dinner. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re going into work,” you said, offering him a grin, “we wanted to make sure you were fed.”

“Thanks little lady. Ed.” He took another bite and picked up his fork, nodding his head your way. “How is my grand baby treatin’ you?”

“Pretty much moving all the time now,” you sighed, Eddie pouring you another glass of water when yours emptied. “Eddie will have to show you her room. He did an amazing job with it.”

“I’d love to,” he agreed, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “And thanks for letting me stay with you two. Sorry to steal your bed.”

“It’s fine, seriously!” you huffed out with an amused snort, pushing your chair back as you finished up your plate, reaching over to grab Eddie’s as well. “Do you want me to put a pot of coffee on?”

“Nah, this here is fine,” Wayne said, polishing off the rest of his plate and adding it to the plates you began running water over. “I’ll grab some when I get to work. You two have a good night now.”

As Wayne slipped out for the night, you raised the dial on the radio Eddie kept in the kitchen. An older Frank Sinatra song was playing, hands buried deep within the sink, when he’d sidled up to you and began drying the dishes you laid into the drying rack.

You hadn’t even asked him to, but it had become a routine of sorts as of late. These little things he’d do, if only to spend a little extra time with you. That foot rub last night as you watched a movie; the lingering hug in the doorway last night before bed; helping you fold laundry on laundry days; the delighted way he’d rubbed the knots out of your shoulder after work simply because he said you deserved it.

You worked in comfortable silence. Each time you finished a dish, you handed it over to Eddie, and he placed them in their proper storage places. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, and the music still played between the two of you, a soft and gentle tune that had you humming to yourself.

Neither spoke as you shut the light after leaving the kitchen. Nor as he offered you the bathroom to change, and you slipped inside the small, dimly lit room with a shaky exhale. Hands rested against your lower back, feet carrying you back and forth along the carpet, eyes catching on your reflection in the mirror.

This was stupid — wasn’t it? He’d seen you fully bare before him before, and he’d enjoyed what he’d seen. And yet, the prospect of slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and a tee shirt had your heart racing. With shaky fingers, you reached down and plucked your sweater up and off your body, pausing at the sight of your form reflected back at you.

He’d liked you before. But you wondered what he thought when he saw you now, every day feeling a little less like yourself, body a home to someone else as of late. Then again, it didn’t matter, you reminded yourself. Just because you’d developed feelings for the metalhead didn’t mean he’d felt the same.

With a deep sigh, you snatched the Corroded Coffin tee you’d plucked from your dresser and pulled it over your head, and then reached down to tug on some pale sleep shorts. Once satisfied, you finished up your normal bedtime routine and slipped back down the hall, knocking on Eddie’s bedroom door for entry.

“Come in,” he called out, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the bare chest that greeted you near his bedside table.

He was tucking away a pair of his socks into the drawer, head turning over his shoulder, eyes widening at your appearance. You mentally cursed, feeling self conscious.

“What are you wearing?”

“A shirt,” you groaned, rushing over to your designated side of the bed, wanting to get the night over and done with.

“Why do you sound upset?” he asked, dropping down onto the bed behind you, palm coming up to curl around your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “What did I say, sweetheart? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

He grimaced as you shoved a pillow over your head. “You just looked at me funny. I know I don’t look the way I did the night we hooked up —”

“Hey hey hey, breathe.” You groaned into your pillow, the sound muffled by Eddie’s laughter. “I looked at you ‘funny’ because there’s a ridiculously pretty woman wearing a shirt with my band’s name on it, who happens to also now be laying in my bed, okay? And remember what I said that night? You’re out of my league — that’s still true now.” He paused, feeling your shoulders relax a bit at his light hearted, if a little self deprecating, joke. “Come on, Buttercup, look at me for a second, okay?”

You rolled over in the bed, pillow falling with it, and he lowered himself down onto an elbow, running a constant and comforting line across your bicep. “Looking.”

“Just — you’re wearing that,” he repeated, toying with the hem of the shirt to stretch the logo across your chest. “The matter of my attraction to you has never changed, if anything it’s…grown because I don’t think you realize what it does to a man when he looks at the woman carrying his child, and now that same woman is laying in his bed.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, cheeks heating rapidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah — oh, sweetheart. Wanted to make that clear, so there’s no confusion here.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, tops of his cheeks flaming red, moving over to his bathroom. Pleasure swooped low in your belly — curled, tumbled and spread it as you caught him adjusting himself in his pants on the way.

——

“Nancy sent in one of my children’s books,” you said, crawling into bed on the second night, tugging the blankets up and over your shoulders. Eddie slid in beside you, head resting on the pillow, hair spilling in a halo around him. “She said it was really good. She thinks I should hear back soon hopefully.”

“It is really good,” he reassured, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I wish you could see that. I’m so damn proud of you.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, shuffling closer to him. “My ex, Paul, kind of — well, he didn’t think writing was something one could turn into a career. Kind of discouraged it, which is why I’d put it on the back burner for a while. It’s hard to think that it could ever turn into anything. Or it was…until I found out I was pregnant. And suddenly everything changed. I want to do the best for her, be the best for her.”

He thumbed along your bicep, offering you a soft smile as you continued, “One of the things I admire about you is how you’re just…unabashedly you. There’s only one Eddie Munson and he’s just who he is and you’re literally watching your dreams come true. It’s made me realize it can happen for me too.”

“First of all, your ex is an idiot for not encouraging your dreams. I hate how society says if it’s art you’re interested in it’s not practical and not valid. Sometimes I wish I could give a giant fuck you to all the teachers who said I wouldn’t amount to anything because I preferred music over school,” Eddie started, those umber eyes catching yours in the lamplight. “But I’m glad you’re trying because I don’t doubt for one second that you have a gift. I believe in you.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Always, Buttercup.” He shuffled even closer, his stomach pressing into yours, dark eyes glinting with vibrancy. “Looks like there’s some di —”

“Do not finish that sentence!” You laughed, shifting until you were comfortable enough, forehead pressing into the curve of his chest, arms looped tight around his waist.

His eyes softened then, lips settling into a firm line. “Look, I know — I know we didn’t plan for this to happen the way it has, but our little girl really has the best mom.”

“You really think so?” He hated the sound of your voice. The lack of confidence behind the tone. Felt his heart cleave down the middle.

“Absolutely. Why…do you doubt that?” Eddie frowned as you tugged him closer, fingers twined in the back of his shirt.

“I…my parents weren’t around much. Always too busy, too worried about other things than quality time spent with me,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m afraid when she gets here I just won’t know what to do. Won’t know what she needs when she’s crying, or how to change her diaper, or how to tell what she’s thinking. I didn’t have an example of all of that, so what if I’m terrible at it?”

“Can I be honest?” Eddie asked, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“Shoot.”

“I’ve never changed a diaper. Or been around a newborn other than Melody. Even then, I’d kind of waited until she was less fragile to hold her. I’m scared as shit, too,” he said, locking eyes with you. “So we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.” You weren’t alone. Despite everything, you weren’t alone. Eddie and you would figure everything out as a team — two people navigating the unknown.

“Also, we can’t change how we grew up. But we can make sure we try harder for Elena to give her the best.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, pressing your fingertips against his sternum, feeling his pulse race beneath. “Always knowing what to say.”

He chuckled, a low, raspy tired sound. “I'm flattered you think that, but I’m just figuring it out too, you know? All I know is I’ll never be the way my dad was to our daughter, and the rest I’m sure will come along with her just being here.”

He paused, glancing down to where the two of you were connected, saying, “You have me.”

“You have me too, Eddie.”

——

Tossing and turning. Eddie felt you tossing and turning all night, annoyed huffs of breath falling from your lips every time you flipped over onto the opposite side to try and get comfortable. He’d realized quickly you never did, though.

“Hey,” he whispered, testing to see if you were presently awake. A displeased groan fell from your parted lips, body flopping back over so your face was mere inches from his on your separate pillow. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, mouth turning downward in a sour frown. “It’s not even like I’m not tired. I know I’m tired, but my mind feels all restless. And so is she.”

At that, Eddie pulled back the comforter and lowered his head to your middle, palm spreading over the hill of it. “Hey, behave in there, okay? Your mom is trying to get some sleep.” At your laughter, he shifted back onto his pillow. “Turn over.”

“What?”

“Turn over. I’ll rub your back and we can talk until you fall back asleep,” he said, immediately noticing the curve of your brow in confusion. “My mom used to do that all the time when I’d have nightmares. Figure it’ll work the same.”

“But you need sleep,” you argued, knowing he had taken an extra weekend shift tomorrow at the shop that he needed to be up early for.

“I’ll make an extra cup of coffee in the morning. Right now though, we both need sleep,” he stated plainly, “but I won’t be able to if I know you’re unable to.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled back over, hips wiggling very innocently as you got comfortable, and yet in a way that had Eddie swallowing the thick knot in the back of his throat.

The past few days, being so close, sharing a bed — he’d said it would be easy, a simply platonic situation, but he’d felt anything but. Wanted so badly so many times to lean over and kiss you, to see if he nudged that part of your neck he’d discovered on Halloween night you’d make those pretty sounds he’d strum from you over and over again.

But he knew better. Respected your wishes and boundaries. Knew he wouldn’t press the matter unless you decided you wanted to take a leap again. He’d decided it from that moment weeks ago now, where you had suggested the two of you remain friends for the sake of Elena. The ball would remain in your court; forever, if you’d decided that was what you wanted.

With a thick swallow, Eddie raised his fingers up to your trapezius muscles, fingers curling around the breadth of them, thumbs digging into the space below. At the first deep exhale from your lips, he rubbed in circles, watching as your body slowly melted into the blankets further, breathing becoming deeper.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you asked, and his cheek twitched.

It became a game of sorts these few weeks. Various questions intended for getting to know one another. Either him or you would pick a question or a topic and talk. Sometimes for hours a night, simply listening to the other. Eddie could listen to you prattle on for ages — had known as much some weeks ago now.

“Red,” he said, palms sliding down the planes of your back, grin curling upward at the breathy moan that left you. “What about you?”

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted, curling your palm beneath your head. “It kind of changes every day. Lately it’s yellow, but tomorrow it might be cornflower blue.”

“Cornflower blue, huh?” he chuckled, fingers digging into your lower back.

He mentally berated himself when your hips arched backward a bit, nearly falling into the cradle of his lap. Now wasn’t quite the time to get a hard on. It had been bad enough having to slip out of bed before you woke each morning before you realized the effect you had on him — an effect that went far beyond normal morning wood.

“What is one thing you wish you spent more time doing as a child?”

Eddie paused for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. “I…maybe I’d have taken more pictures with my mom. I’d always been an asshole when she tried, especially when I got older. They always came out so blurry. The few pictures left of her I have are like that.”

Your fingers reached backward to circle his wrist, pausing him in his movements. “I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Definitely,” he promised, resuming his massage. “What about you?”

“Mmm, reading more books, probably. Funny, seeing as I’ve worked in a library setting for a few years now.” Your head turned over your shoulder. Eddie’s breath hitched at the softness behind your eyes. “If you could become a superhero, how would you like it to happen? Like…what’s your origin story. I feel like I’d want to have, I don’t know, realized I was impervious to fire or something. Would be pretty cool.”

“Easy,” Eddie said, mouth tipping into a smirk, “I plug into my amp, get a little electrocuted, get electric powers.”

“A true rock god.” You giggled, and it sounded like wind through the chimes you'd installed on the front porch. A swift punch to his gut, a hand wrapped tight around his heart.

You continued like that for another half hour. His fingers dragging long lines over your back, your eyes closed as you tossed question after question into the open air. Eventually, you began to drift. Body pulled further and further into an oncoming rest, yawns spilling from your gently parted lips.

For a while, you remained silent, and Eddie wondered if you’d fallen asleep. But you flipped over to face him, closer now than you had been before, and curled your palm beside your face. Close enough he could reach over and brush his lips along your every knuckle. Wanted to, he realized.

“If you could change that night. Halloween. Would you?”

He watched the worry as it crossed along your features, the fear over his answer to your question plaguing your mind. The question you’d been building up to with all the lighter ones. Exhaling deeply, he reached over and brushed his fingers along the back of your hand, head shaking slowly.

“No, because I’d have never met you. And with Elena, it’s not what we planned, sure. But…in getting to know you, I care about you so damn much, Buttercup. I like waking up to you humming in front of the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing. Or when you yell at me for tossing something colored into the whites. I like cooking with you in the kitchen and I even like our couch talks when I rub your damn feet.” Your eyes, glittering with unshed tears, flickered up to his face, and he brushed the moisture collecting there from your bottom lash line. “You’re one of the most important people in my life now, I hope you realize.”

“You’re one of the most important people in mine,” you whispered back, lacing your fingers with his. “I think the massage worked, by the way.”

He smiled, watching your eyes start to droop a bit. “Tired?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, fingers tightening in his.

A long sigh spilled from you, eyes shutting, and he immediately missed the sight of them. The glow of your irises in the dark, uniquely yours, and strikingly beautiful. Gentle fingers lifted to run along your cheek, your breathing starting to even out a bit, becoming deeper with every passing second.

“Can I ask you one more question?” It was spoken quietly, so softly Eddie had almost nodded off himself when you’d finally asked.

“Anytime.”

“Can you hold me?”

Hesitant, you sounded so hesitant, fear of rejection evident in your voice. Another reason why he hated Paul. Because you’d deserved the world and he’d gone and taken advantage of your heart.

“Always,” he reassured, heart racing as you rolled over and shifted backward a bit, his own body coming to rest along your spine. Like this, your backside rested in the cradle of his hips, your head rested along his bicep tucked beneath a pillow, and his arm swooped low around your belly. “Is this good?”

He ached with the warmth of it. With the way you leaned down and nuzzled your head further into his arm, the way your body fitted perfectly against his, how you felt so relaxed and comforted by simply being near him. Beautiful. You were so damn beautiful, like a fucking angel in his arms, and he realized how lucky he was.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whispered.

With you in his arms, his hand splayed over where his daughter grew, he realized what he really held in that bed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered back, dropping the softest of kisses to your temple.

His family — not the one he’d been born with, and maybe not the perfected image of one, but family all the same.

He’d never take that for granted.

——

please let me know what you think. it quite literally makes my day, as well as other creatives, so just throwing that out there. i also have just loved talking to you all every week. it’s been the best. also, stay tuned for next week, with chapter six titled ‘the date.’ getting closer to the end here. 🩷🥹

#daylight!eddie #lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

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monstersflashlight · 2 days

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Demon's imprint

Demon x fem!reader || breeding, cum-play

Maybe you were a bit of a cumslut for your demon boyfriend, so what? You were always eager to take his load, whichever hole he chose. His favorite was your pussy, but he didn’t discriminate about fucking your ass until you felt it gaping, his cum leaking out slowly as he watched. Or fucking your throat so thoroughly you could taste him for hours afterward, sometimes so much you couldn’t swallow fast enough. But he made sure to feed it back to you, to make you eat every single drop.

“What are those pills you take?” He asked one day.

“Contraceptives.” You answered, trying not to appear as nervous as you felt.

“What are contra-captives?” He mispronounced, making you bite your tongue not to laugh.

“Contraceptives. They are pills that prevent me from getting pregnant.” You explained, trying to sound nonchalant, you could feel the anger rising inside of him, the room around you getting a few degrees hotter.

“They what?” He looked so offended and taken aback that you had to suppress another laugh. You could feel he was mad at you, and laughing wouldn’t be a good idea.

“So I can have babies when I desire. So I can choose.”

“You don’t want babies with me?” He looked sad and you felt bad about it, but it wasn’t the moment yet.

“Of course I do, but not now.” You were new in the underworld, and you needed to settle in your job before you could think about that.

He looked thoughtful for a while, staring at you intensely. You could almost sense the twists and turns his brain was doing. “I can beat those pills.” He finally said.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t stop the giggle to erupt.

“I can fill you so full of my cum you’d get pregnant either way. I can breed you.” He deadpanned. You felt a rush of hot molten arousal pooling at your lower abdomen at his words. Maybe him breeding you was a hotter idea than you thought.

“That’s not how it wo-” You couldn’t finish that thought before he was bending you over and ripping the back of your jeans, impaling you on his dick and coming deep inside.

It didn’t work. Not that time, not the other thousands he tried. You were not sure he understood how the pill worked, or how it made it impossible for him to get you pregnant. He tried and tried and got frustrated every time your period arrived again. But he kept fucking you, filling you like you were his personal cumdump, just a slut ready to take his load every time he desired. And you fucking loved it.

You loved the feel of him filling you so deep, pounding into you until you screamed, and then fucking you again just to feel you squirm against him, overstimulated. It didn’t help that you loved when he filled you to the brim and looked proud as his cum leaked out your pussy. He used you as he pleased, always making sure to cum deep inside of you, pushing his cum right into you again. He was sure it would work eventually.

“I stopped taking the pills.” You announced one afternoon, both of you sitting on the couch watching a movie. He didn’t say anything, just stood there for a few seconds processing your words.

You didn’t have time to react. His response was instantaneous, he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, racing through the apartment until he reached the bedroom. He dropped you onto the mattress and undressed as your body shook up and down, finally settling on your back. You tried to undress, but didn’t have time before his claws were tearing down your favorite dress, your panties flaying over his shoulder at the same time. In seconds, both of you were naked and panting, his wings flapping behind him, like every time he got a bit too excited.

He parted your legs and drove right in. His tongue longer than a human’s could reach every single part of you, playing with your G spot like it was his favorite candy. He pressed, licked, moved and teased until you were groaning and moaning. His claws pinching your hips as he held you down. Those were gonna bruise so prettily. Your hair was probably a mess, and sweat was pooling on your throat as he drove you right till the edge.

And stopped.

You cried out, grabbing and scratching his shoulders, the base of his wings, anything you could reach to try to make him keep going. But he held himself over your pussy, breathing over your clit and making you shiver. He looked up at you, his eyes wild, there was something there that you never saw before. A hunger so primal you felt a shiver of fear run down your back.

“You do it.” He said.

Confusion filled you. “What?” He took your hand and guided it to your pussy, pressing slightly into your opening.

“The claws… I- I can’t control the claws.” You were flabbergasted, since you started seeing each other he never had trouble controlling his powers around you, but his hands were shaking and his claws were leaving red marks over your thighs as he tried to control himself. You shouldn’t find that as hot as you did.

You took charge and started fingering yourself, his eyes hungry as he looked intensely where your fingers disappeared inside of you. You felt self-conscious having him so focused on you, but he was always like that, a bit too intense, a bit too otherworldly. And you loved it.

You went straight in with two fingers, then three, soon four. You knew that wasn’t nearly enough for you to take him.

“I’m ready. I’m ready.” You chanted as he scratched your clit with his claw. The rush of danger and excitement as he toyed with you, your vulnerable areas at his mercy.

You both knew you weren’t fully ready, but the desperation and neediness for each other was so big he didn’t care. You would probably be sore for days, but you needed his dick inside of you. You needed any part of him inside of you ASAP. He pushed inside of you, slowly at first, but you squeezed your muscles trying to drive him in deeper, faster, and with a roar he grave in. He pushed inside of you fully, breaching you as you panted and cried his name. He was so big, so fucking big you could feel it in the back of your throat as he pounded inside your pussy.

It was fast, and raw, and completely phenomenal. He fucked you with abandon. Some primal urge inside of him was making him say all kinds of filthy things, whispering them right next to your ear.

“You are such a slut for my dick, my little human cumdump. You love to take my cock, don’t you? You love to be filled to the brim until you can’t form words, until you can’t stop crying because of how good it feels.” Your brain felt fuzzy, the pleasure so high you could just nod, urging him deeper, faster, rougher. “You want more, little slut? You want to be filled with my cum until it overflows? You want to take it all?” You moaned. He pushed your legs up, your knees next to your ears, he folded you like a pretzel as he pounded into you.

He grabbed your hair roughly, making your neck strain. “Look at that little slut, can you see it?” And then you saw it, the imprint of his cock pushing against your lower abdomen, making it bulge every time he drove in. The pace was frantic, his breath labored as you panted and trashed, unable to move much as he used your hole like a fleshlight.

Your vision blacked out, the sounds around you collapsed as your orgasm took over you. The whole world disappeared as you climaxed. In the distance you could hear him screaming his own release, but you couldn’t focus. You blacked out completely.

Who knew how much time had passed, when you came back to your senses you could hear him whispering. “Such a pretty pussy, all red and puffy.” His fingers, now clawless, were caressing your pussy, pushing back inside every drop of his cum that leaked out of your well used hole. You whimpered. “Aw, little human… So adorable all fucked out.” You couldn’t articulate words, but he didn’t care for a response, he pushed his fingers right back inside of you, hitting your G spot perfectly.

You were overstimulated, unable to speak, but he didn’t care about that either. He kept finger fucking you, playing with his cum inside your pussy until you cried out again, your climax making your body convulse as you cried. He laughed, looking proud of himself as he took a plug out of the box and plugged you right up. “Not a single drop can leave that pretty pussy until I say so.” He ordered. You nodded, too tired to argue, too fucked out to form coherent thoughts.

#monster x human #monster #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster imagine #demon #demon x human #demon x reader #demon smut #monster x reader

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verahella · 24 days

Text

✧˖°. THE SUMMER OF 2007

“are we in heaven?”

you would have agreed with shoko. with the white sun glaring into your retina and the chirping of crickets, it definitely seemed like it.

but then you remember that your friend group consisted of a cigarette addicted alcoholic, a handsome guy who wanted to committed genocide a year ago and the worst of all, gojo satoru.

so, no. you doubt you had access to heaven.

you shift on the field in a futile attempt to get away from the sun, “if i die, tell them that i haven’t decided what poetic thing to put on my grave yet.”

shoko hums in acknowledgment, closing her eyes. orange spots still dance around her vision and she sighs as she hears the footsteps rushing closer.

“no need to worry, your saviour is here!” you jerk awake when ice touches your forehead.

gojo hovers over you, peering at you from over his glasses. “oh, my poor baby.” he pulls you in for a hug, patting your head with an aggressiveness you didn’t need, “i should be the only one who makes you flush red like that.”

“remember it’s out of embarrassment, not infatuation.” suguru drawls, drawing snickers from you both. he tosses a can to shoko before taking a seat next to her, the grass tickling his palms when he leans back on his hands.

the sun’s glares have reduced you all to nothing but a melting pool of sweat and it’s all too hot to be hugging right now but when has mere weather ever stopped gojo satoru from indulging in his desires? still, he reluctantly pulls away when your clawing at his arms starts to hurt a little.

“i got you this.” you practically see his tail wagging as he grins, eager for appreciation. you reach to take the can of soda he offers but gojo clicks his tongue, pulling it away. he taps his cheek, “i need payment first.”

you roll your eyes and his grin widens when you lean forward. he shifts at the last minute, leaving the red shine of your lipgloss to imprint on his lips.

the way your face heats up is always endearing. “you’re the worst.” you snatch the soda can from him and he lets you, leaning back with a smug little smirk on his face.

“can you believe we’ve only got three more months left?” shoko pipes up to distract herself before she vomits at you both. she’s right though.

the year seems to be so long yet went by so fast. you won’t realise it now but maybe a few years later, when you’re older and have settled down, you’ll reminisce about those good old days in high school. maybe, despite going your separate ways, you and shoko will meet up every weekend and gossip about those days and suguru will squint behind his glasses as he tries to recollects this exact moment and capture that joy onto a painting and—

your gaze flits to gojo. it’s a dangerous thought but maybe, just maybe, gojo will be there, criticising suguru about how he couldn’t capture satoru’s handsomeness on the canvas. and you both will get an apartment and you’ll feel the warmth of his hand (and the metal of his ring) around yours every morning.

but that’s too optimistic of a future for jujutsu sorcerers and you know it.

it’s weird, mourning a life you’ve never lived.

your eyes stray to satoru again unconsciously and you find him looking at suguru. you squeeze his hand, like you do every night as he spills all his worries about the past and mostly the future.

gojo meets your eyes and he pushes his glasses up higher, moving closer to you.

shoko clears her throat, if only to stop herself from spiralling as well, “we’ve only got three more months left and i still don’t understand how gojo graduated kindergarten.”

geto smiles faintly at gojo’s indignant huff. there he goes, slipping into character again, so seamlessly. “suguru, tell her that some of us have both beauty and brains.”

geto shakes his head yet the smile doesn’t disappear just yet, “well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. but maybe if you dig through that ego, you can find some semblance of a brain.”

satoru’s face morphs into betrayal, “how could you? after everything we’ve been through?”

geto simply shrugs and you laugh. gojo sighs, standing up slowly and nudging his glasses back up. he stares at suguru with his arms crossed menacingly for about three seconds and you think he might actually tackle him (because that’s definitely not the first time he’s done it) before he shoots off in the direction of the beach, a blur in the distance.

the three of you share looks of confusion before satoru’s faint cry is heard.

“first one there can cut suguru’s bangs!”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #smthing old i found in my drafts #vera’s.jjk.library.✎

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darling-i-read-it · 10 months

Text

Blue Paint

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: spoilers for insidious the red door, spook spook

Author’s Note: my decade old crush on patrick wilson was not expecting to make any movement when i saw this movie. However, the much more age appropriate ty simpkins was there with long hair and brooding smiles and i had a moment of weakness. ig up until this movie in my brain he was still 5 and i didn't realize he's older than me

Summary: You are rooming with Chris and are close friends with her and Dalton when he starts to mentally deteriorate rip

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Dalton? Woah, woah.”

Dalton snapped his head off the table. Your eyes went wide as you watched him wake up, blinking aggressively. His fingers were still dipping in the paint but they had dried as he slept.

“What time is it?” he grumbled. His hair was sticking up. He must’ve been out.

“7. I just got back from dinner. I was gonna ask why you weren’t there but I guess we know the answer to that.” You looked down at the desk. Whatever he had been painting was now a smeared mess. His cheek had imprinted nothing but blue onto whatever the focus was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean…” He shook his head. “Whatever.” He moved the canvas, starting to put things back as they were.

“Your face is blue,” you noted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, now that his brain had caught up to him. You pursed your lips. You lived above him, with Chris. She was the reason the two of you had been introduced and then you ended up going to the same building for your early classes.

“Chris said something happened at that frat party,” you said. “I just wanted to know what went down from a reliable source.” He shook his head. He was still sticky on the face. Whatever he was using to paint didn’t dry as quickly on his face as it did on his fingers. You put down your bag and looked around for something to clean him with.

“Nothing happened.” You turned around, giving him a look. He let out a sigh. “I just mean, she was being dramatic.”

“Chris being dramatic? Now who would’ve thought.” You grabbed a dirty shirt off the ground. “You like this shirt?” you asked. He looked at you, confused. He shook his head. “Cool.” You dipped it in the glass of water on his desk and then cupped his face with your hands. You started to rub off the paint. “I love Chris and I trust her. I just mean, she was saying some weird things.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” You sat on the unoccupied bed and leaned back. “Anyway. Tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head. He looked goofy, smeared with blue. If he didn’t have such a melancholy look on his face you would probably have laughed at him. “She said something about astral projection.” “It’s this whole thing.” His phone rang. It was on the table, beside the paint. He picked it up, looked at the name, and declined.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you answer?” “Listen, you’re asking me a lot of questions right now and I’m not necessarily equipped to answer a single one of them,” he said, exasperated. You nodded, taking the hint. Instead you sat back up and started to clean his face again.

“I have nail polish in my room that would help with this. Or, do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“You sound like my mom,” he muttered. You pursed your lips and narrowed your gaze. “She probably packed something like that.” He looked down at his bag, one of the ones he had left unpacked. You picked it up and put it on your lap. You opened it up and started to look inside.

“If not, we’ll find some. Or you can go to class in the morning all blue. It’ll really let everyone know how you’re feeling.” He laughed gently. Your eyes flicked up at him. There was something about him that you felt a fierce need to protect. There was a puppy dog aspect to his features, in his eyes. “Ah ha. Mrs. Lambert for the win,” you muttered as you pulled out some rubbing alcohol and a towel. You tossed the bag aside otherwise. And dumped some water on it first, then started to scrub.

“I can astral project,” he said slowly. You stopped rubbing, meeting his eyes. He was dead serious. “I think. That’s what Chris said anyway.” You nodded slowly, continuing your work. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No. I just think you stopped your sentence with no more details and I’m waiting for them.”

“I can see myself when I’m asleep and then I’m in this other world. Walking around, except no one can see me,” he said.

“This paint is gonna stain,” you grumbled. You sat back. “You haven’t talked to your parents?”

“No. Why would I talk to my parents about this?”

“I dunno. Maybe it was something you did when you were a kid and they would know about it. Maybe it’s genetic.”

“So what, are you like the astral projection expert now?”

“Dalton,” you said. “I’m just trying to help.” He let out a sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Do you really think it’ll stain?”

“Yes.” You winced. “Can’t imagine you can skip Armagan’s class tomorrow hm?”

“I’d rather face the embarrassment.” You nodded once. “I’ll take a shower. See if it cleans it off.” You nodded.

“Mind if I hang around? Cleaning calms me. For some reason I think I should be stressed.” He shrugged.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Sweet. Thanks D.” He dug around his bag for some clothes while you grabbed some more napkins. The door gently shut behind him as he left, leaving you alone in his room. The night light and his lamp illuminated the desk. You started to take the stuff off the counter, dumping piles of paint into the towel as you did so. You adjusted the light so that you could see everything.

As you went to move it, Dalton’s phone turned on. You glanced at it, seeing the face of a pretty woman who had Dalton’s smile. You would’ve known it was his mom even if there hadn’t been a name to go with her phone call.

You started to put it down, then glanced at the door.

Answering it would be weird.

You had never talked to his mom. Granted, you kind of hardly knew him. But clearly he was going through something and you were a strong believer that a mom could help figure anything out.

After glancing back at the door you swiped the answer on his phone and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi…sorry is this Dalton’s phone?”

“Yeah! Yes, sorry. He’s taking a shower and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t pressing,” you explained, far too quickly. You cleared your throat.

“Oh!” She cleared her throat. “Are you one of Dalton’s college friends?” She paused. “Are you a girlfriend?” You laughed nervously.

“Oh Mrs. Lambert I don’t know-” You started to regret answering the phone. This was definitely too weird.

“No, sorry, that was a weird question.”

“This is a weird conversation.” You cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I was just calling to check in on him, he hasn’t called that much. Would you tell him to call? I worry. He’s a brooding guy and I just wanted to make sure he was making friends out there. I mean, I guess he is making friends, considering you’re close enough to be answering his phone.” She stopped for a moment. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s…” You glanced at the door. “Actually Mrs. Lambert, I did answer for a reason.”

“Renai. Please. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Why did you answer?”

“He’s been a little…off lately. I mean, everyone understands going to a new place and starting school and whatever. But he was at this frat party yesterday-”

“He went to a frat party?”

“I don’t have details, I wasn’t there,” you said, and had the heart to imagine him there and laugh. “He’s been acting kind of weird when he goes to sleep. Something about astral projection. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

Suddenly she was quiet. She was stammering and then she was silent again. You glanced back at the door again. You weren’t sure how long he would be gone.

“Can you tell him to call me Y/N?”

“Yeah. Is there…anything I can do to help him?” She was silent again. You could almost imagine her, biting at her nail, wondering what was going on, what she had done wrong. You wondered what the past had brought with this subject. What happened to earn her silence?

“No, I’ll talk to him. Thank you for answering and letting me know.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Renai.”

“You too Y/N.” She hung up and the silence was more threatening now that the conversation was over. She gave you no real comfort. In fact, now you felt worse.

“This is for sure staining. Do you think Armagan will care? Maybe she’ll think it's an artistic expression.” You jumped at the sound of Dalton’s voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You still had his phone in your hand. He stared at it, confused, his eyebrows knit.

“What’re you doing?”

“I really think you should call your mom D.” He looked even more confused now. His hair was wet and matt against his head.

“Did you talk to my mom?”

“I know that’s super weird,” you admitted. “But she called and you didn’t answer earlier and I just got worried. I’m worried about you.” He narrowed his eyes on you.

“I’m fine.” You handed him the phone.

“She sounded worried when I mentioned you hadn’t been sleeping well. Maybe you should-”

“I appreciate your concern but I’m okay. Really.”

You handed him back his phone. You had managed to clean up the remaining paint but you hadn’t moved around any of his supplies. You bit your lip and gestured to them.

“I didn’t move this stuff, I wasn’t sure where you wanted it.”

“Thanks.”

“I think the blue is a power movement by the way,” you said. He sat down on the bed beside you.

“I think I’ll be okay in the morning,” he admitted. “Though I’ll get some weird looks. It might be a good topic of conversation.”

“For sure! I mean, I’ll for sure talk about it.” He rolled his eyes. “Chris will also talk about it.”

“She likes to talk.”

“She’s extremely funny.”

“She is, isn’t she?” You smiled gently and looked down at your lap.

“I should probably leave you to it then. You probably have to visit some other realm in the night, huh?” He half nodded, running his hand through his hair.

“What did my mom say?” You met his eyes.

“She thought I was your girlfriend.”

“You did answer my phone,” he countered. “That was on my bedside table.” You rolled your eyes.

“Out of concern!” You shook your head. “She wanted to know if you were okay and if you had made any friends.”

“So you told her I couldn’t sleep?”

“Again! Concern!” He chuckled a bit and pulled his legs up onto the bed. He leaned against the wall, looking over at you. You turned around, a playful smile on your face. You wiped it off. “You should call her.”

“I will, I will.” You started to sit up but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. “Where’re you going?”

“Back to my dorm. Leaving you to sleep or walk or whatever it is you do when the lights are out.” He stared at you. You tried to read his expression. Soft, needy, trying to be guarded but doing a bad job at it. “Or I could stay. We could have a slumber party.”

“I like slumber parties.”

“Me too,” you said, smiling. “Do I get to grab my pajamas or am I being held hostage?” He rolled his eyes. “Chris is gonna get jealous. She likes slumber parties too.”

“You can invite her down.”

“There’s only two beds,” you said, gesturing to the two.

“We can share.”

“These are twin beds.” Dalton smiled, a genuine smile. He shrugged.

“We’ll get close.” You wanted to hit him but refrained, just letting yourself blush. You stood up.

“I’ll be back down in a second.” You opened the door and then turned around, leaning against it. “I’m not gonna tell Chris.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath. Boys with long stringy hair were a downfall to the best of humankind. You couldn’t exactly deny the typical college girl butterflies.

You pushed open the door to your room. Chris was sitting on her bed, book open at her legs.

“I’m going out for the night,” you said. You reached for your pajamas.

“Where’re we going?”

“Daltons.”

“Sleep over?”

“Yes ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow. “Watching over him. Doing my duties as a friend.” She watched you as you walked around the room, shutting the door behind you so that you could change.

“In separate beds?”

“Yes Chris,” you said, looking down at her. Her stare remained.

“For how long?”

“Chris!” You threw your shirt at her. She caught it, laughing gently.

“Have fun but not too much fun. Make sure he doesn’t astral walk into this bedroom again while I’m sleeping. That was fucking creepy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for your support. You’re an amazing roomie.”

“Oh I know.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert imagines #insidious imagines #insidious the red door spoilers

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sethsclearwater · 8 months

Note

can you pls do an imagine with any of the polys where they're having super intense sex and reader is hella deep in the subspace but some of the boys or whoever end up coming over in the middle of it and both boys are trying to keep reader from having a sub drop without giving away the fact that they were just fucking her brains out a few minutes ago🙏🙏🙏

these two🥺

...

"keep your legs open you brat-" paul gritted out, tightening his grip on your thigh as he stood at the edge of the bed and pounded into you. you let out a loud whine, sobbing as your brain worked at processing all the pleasure coursing through your body.

"did you hear that?" your other imprinter's soft voice came, forcing paul to still his movements as he listened, unintentionally allowing you a moment to catch your breath. while you anxiously sucked in lungfuls of air, seth quickly tugged his plaid pajama pants on before heading out to see who was at the front door.

paul slid his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing gentle circles against the fatty flesh there while he listened to hear who was interrupting your night. sure enough, you heard the voices of none other than embry call, quil ateara, sam uley, and emily young enter your apartment.

paul let out a loud groan, anxiously running his fingers through his hair as he tried to figure out what to do with you. neither of your imprinters had anticipated having company over tonight so they weren't worried about pushing you deep into the subspace.

unfortunately for you, you three now had company and paul and seth had to figure out what to do with you. "hey princess," paul murmured after a moment of thinking, softening his gaze as he looked down at you. you smiled up at him, "you gonna keep being a good girl for me, yea?" he asked, offering your hips a gentle squeeze that had you giggling softly.

you nodded, "your good girl," you confirmed, reaching your hands up to brush away at the tears that had fallen during your rendez-vous just a few moments prior.

"my good girl," paul cooed, "now i'm gonna pull out of you so we can get dressed, yea? we gotta go talk with quil, embry, sam, and emily for a little bit, okay?" he asked, not waiting for your response before he was pulling his rock hard length out of you, eliciting a loud whine from you as you sat up, quickly grabbing his hand to pull him back to you.

"princess," paul murmured, "promise i'm gonna take care of you in a little bit, okay? need you to be a good girl for me for a little while and then i promise i'll let that pretty little pussy of yours cum on me and seth as much as you want to, yea?" he asked, offering your hand a soft squeeze as he bent down to grab his sweatpants and boxers from the floor, quickly pulling them on as you slowly nodded.

"hey pretty girl," seth's voice pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked over your shoulder to see him stepping over to you, "gonna get you dressed so we can go cuddle on the couch for a little bit," seth cooed as paul pressed a quick kiss to your head before he was heading out into the living room to entertain your surprise guests.

you slowly nodded, anxiously watching seth as you tried to figure out what on earth was going on, "hey, hey, don't go working yourself up on me," seth murmured as he stepped between your thighs, easily catching onto your anxiety, "you're gonna cuddle with me on the couch for a little bit and then we can finish up a little later, okay?" he asked softly, sliding his hands over your own as he patiently waited for you to process his words.

after a moment, you nodded, biting your bottom lip as he grabbed you a fresh pair of panties, one of his t-shirts, and some spandex for you to get changed into, "c'mere pretty girl," he cooed, quickly helping you into your clothes, "do you think you can walk into the living room with me?" he asked, giving your hands a gentle squeeze when you looked up at him hesitantly, "i'll help you, yea?" he suggested, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead when you nodded.

he was quick to help you up, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist as you curled into his side, allowing him to lead the two of you into the living room, "oh there she is!" emily exclaimed when you and seth entered the living room, "we were wondering where you were," she teased and you giggled, blushing as you sat down on the couch with seth, quickly curling into his side.

"she was just sleeping, isn't that right pretty girl?" seth asked teasingly, offering your hip a gentle squeeze to prompt you to respond.

you nodded, "jus' sleeping," you reiterated, smiling over at your friend who laughed softly as she curled into sam's side, content with your response.

"anyways," quil started before dramatically clearing his throat, "we didn't mean to intrude on your precious slumber princess," he teased, eliciting a series of laughs from everyone, "but we needed to talk to your boytoys about what they saw on patrol today." he added, turning his attention back over to paul who rolled his eyes, glancing over at you for a moment before he was looking back at quil.

"it was definitely that rogue vampire you and embry caught the other day," paul explained, leaning back against the chair he was sitting in as you curled further into seth's side.

"you okay pretty girl?" seth murmured as the rest of the group went back to focusing on whatever it was they picked up on in the woods earlier.

you nodded, looking up at him with doe eyes, "promise i'm bein' good?" you whispered back, anxiously watching his expression for any signs of annoyance, the subspace convincing you him and paul were secretly mad at you which is why they ended your session early.

seth was quick to soothe your worries, both him and paul all too aware of how easily upset you could get when you were in such a fragile state, "such a good girl," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "you wanna cuddle under the blanket?" he suggested, knowing you'd feel much better if you were in a spot you could at least somewhat relax in.

you quickly nodded, loving that idea which had seth letting out a breathy laugh as he sat up and quickly grabbed the blanket at the edge of the couch before he sat back and laid it over the two of you, "there you go pretty girl," he cooed, wrapping his arms around you so he could hold you close to him as you threw your legs over his legs, resting your head against his chest.

"seth and i can come over first thing tomorrow then," paul's voice caught your attention and you looked over at him, blushing when he glanced over at you and offered you a soft smile.

"and y/n you'll come with too, right?" emily asked softly, "we have to make those brownies that kim was talking about," she added and you quickly nodded, smiling over at her.

"mhm!" you hummed, giggling when seth offered your hip a soft squeeze as he kissed your hair.

"okay perfect," embry mused as he got up, stretching his arms over his head, "now can we please go? i'm starving," he whined, eliciting laughs from all of you as the rest of the group got up.

"okay we'll see you tomorrow princess!" quil called teasingly as the group waved their goodbyes and headed out.

when they closed the door behind them, seth and paul let out audible sighs of relief, "so proud of you pretty girl," seth murmured after a moment, pulling you tight against his chest as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, "did such a good job," he praised, eliciting a series of giggles from you as your other imprinter got up and came over to the two of you.

"such a good job kitten," paul reiterated, "now you gonna let us make you feel good?"

520 notes · View notes

gangplanksorenji · 6 months

Text

A star illuminates brightly (and then, it collapsed)

Pairing: Kep1er Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 7,987

Part 1

A/N: Hello again, Orenjideul and I'm here for another fic featuring Yujin! Really thought of making the past fic with Yunjin a oneshot but a thought in me really wanted to bridge them together to see where it'll end up and here it is! Hope y'all enjoy this and thanks for reading!<3

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Your mind can’t let everything disappear like a bubble—every moment savored and imprinted onto your brain for a reason. That moment rotted you, damned to your entire existence until the end of time yet it made you feel a certain connection you’ve never felt before—more like an intimate one.

You’ve never felt so good after feeling her walls clenching around your shaft and the absolutely hot mess you’ve made between her legs—it clouded your mind, lightheaded by the thought of everything happening within just minutes.

Such impurities are pulchritude in nature—bound to break limits of defining beauty because you've been enlightened that there’s more than that.

Huh Yunjin and her capabilities… You fell under her spell, lured you into her trap and you absolutely dive into the ocean of lust that you’ve been longing for and now you’re fucked.

Sure, the both of you will be safe from anything since “no one” heard the profanities let out in the puny room yet consequences will be implemented… but not just yet, and you now face the spine-chilling sternness of her visage and the wrath of hers—your class president, the ace of the class and commonly known “The Rabbit Angel” because of her being so down-to-earth and insanely beautiful features.

Yes, as perfect as she looks and she sounds, you can’t deny, everything in you becomes enveloped in fright once she thuds her arms onto the desk and faces you with a serious face, her tone dead-deep and urging you to answer.

“So, both of you really did that? Inside the university’s premises?”

“I’m s-sorry, Yujin. Yunjin is to really b-blame here—”

“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear your excuses, nor what Yunjin’s about to say either. It doesn’t matter if Yunjin’s mother is the president of parent’s organization—I don’t fucking care, alright?”

You nod as you gulp nervously as you never saw this side of Yujin—a complete opposite of her usual sunshine and bright persona but now you can just see the beast taming you.

“Now answer me, what did the both of you think was a good idea to have some sex in a bathroom? Alone near the corridors and the hallway where everybody can hear! You guys—” Yujin punches the desk with a loud thud as she walks away meters from you. A frown becomes evident on your face as you feel the fear in you coursing up your veins because Yujin is infuriated with your own actions. Even if she’s turning back against you, you could tell how furious and serious she looked as you slowly felt the regret of your own sin.

“It was all just an accident, Yujin—I swear—”

“Oh please, will you shut the fuck up? I'm thinking of something…”

That earns a puzzling face from yours, anticipating and unsure on what trick she pulls up on her sleeve. A girl like her is far from readable—possibly, a book nigh-impossible to be deciphered yet possible to know what's in store.

“Also, why am I even here? I need to see my friends—”

She rushes towards you, grabbing your necktie as she faces you, striking daggers towards you as her eyes defy anger as the beast inside her is nearly being unshackled from its restraints.

“You're here so I can discipline you, understand? I'm doing my job as the class president and I'm also protecting your reputation and I can also make it the opposite within just the snap of my fingers… So, will you bear with me and shut your annoying mouth or lose everything, here and here?”

God, those eyes—it's mesmerizing, captivating to say the least yet it's laced with rage. You can't help but gulp nervously yet you won't just sit here and make yourself powerless against her almost-violent approach of “disciplining” you, in which, of course, you didn't like.

Choi Yujin probably doesn't discipline and lead the class like this, or, is there just a beef between the both of you? Or Yunjin? Is she jealous that she didn't—well, those thoughts weren’t going to lead onto something or somewhere… Or is it?

You nod dumbly as an immediate response as she glares at you before squinting her eyes in dismay. You still need more answers on why she needed you here, even though it's obviously for the fact of doing such sinful things inside the university's premises but her invitation is vague, leaving you clueless and perplexed.

“But Yujin, why am I still here? You already taught me about dealing with this and how things may end—”

“What did I just say?”

“But there's no more of a great point of me being here, Yujin! Can't you just—”

Yujin pins you at the wall with her minuscule arm as she glares at you, fuming with anger. She's definitely not liking your immediate retaliation from her advances and proceeds to tame you down but you won't give up a fight like this, not unless you get a valid answer about why she's still making you stay in this empty classroom.

“Shut the fuck up you little prick! I will say when you're leaving and everything will be at my own accord, do you understand?”

Slightly smirking and hitching a breath as an indication of a possible giggle, you lousily approached the situation whimsically in which she didn't like.

“Sucks to hardly decipher a girl like you, Yujin. You're clearly just blinded with power and nothing else. Are you really the class president, Yujin?”

Her fists on her other hand curls like it's about to take up on a fight, getting really irritated with your mocking. You know how you can easily break her, like a fragile twig and there's more tricks up in your sleeve that you can use against her.

“I don't really know why they would elect you as the president if you're just manipulating people under your own “management”. You're such a bad example—”

She tightens her grip onto your chest as she stares daggers towards you, her eyes threatening you and scaring you as she also has more tricks that she plays under your game.

“Say one more thing about me and I'll show the recording to the university dean. Don't try me, asshole.”

Your pupils dilated as you were utterly shocked once Yujin called you an “asshole”. Of course, you exaggerated it as Yujin berates you, swearing at you with a tiny voice that you rather find cute than threatening.

Even when she's fuming and boiling with anger, she's still cute and pretty—well, you can't blame yourself because it's really true.

“Ohoho, wow! Getting bolder are we, Yujin? Now you're just threatening me with your fake evidence and calling me an asshole? Is Yujinnie getting a little mad right now, hm—argh!”

“You're so annoying! Shut up!!! I'm really showing this to the dean and do you think you can stop me? One more mock or any stupid shit and you're reputation and Yunjin's will be fucked.”

“Like you have a true and convincing evidence—tch, you're just making things up, Yujin—come on now—”

While you're mocking her again, Yujin immediately plays the recording of the intense sex sounds uttered by you and Yunjin inside the restroom as you couldn't believe what you're hearing.

As much as you want to deny and claim that the recording is faulty and made just to destroy your ego and reputation, it's more than real and it's really the both of you groaning and screaming the most sinful things possible. From pet names, degradation up to the most intense flesh-clapping sounds of sex, it's really obvious that it's the both of you but a clever idea came into your mind knowing that it's not only Yujin who's playing the game strategically well, but also, you.

“What's wrong, hm? Can't talk cause' you thought the evidence I'm holding isn't real? Yeah, so fucking try me, asshole!”

Your demeanor immediately changed once she mocked you with your own medicine, making you taste it and it’s bitter—it corrupts your brain and it makes you bitter. You hated it but you can’t just give up your reputation like this, not without her being on the same boat as you.

“What’s t-that?”

“Huh, you think you’re the only smart one here, Yujin?”

“Give it to me you stupid bastard!”

Yujin tries to reach for your phone in your pocket as she was deemed unsuccessful, you being too swift with your reflexes. You laugh at her helpless despair, trying to reach for your phone but can't as she gets pissed off, her expression now laced with venom towards you.

“Do you honestly think you're the only one with the trick up on their sleeve?”

“Give it to me you crazy asshole! I swear to god I'll show this to the dean and you can't do anything about this!”

“Oh, it's just fair~ Yujinnie—you show this to her and I'll leak this to social media where everyone here on this campus will hear how you verbally bullied me. Isn't that a great deal, hm?”

Well, at this point, it's just another whole mind game that has been breaking out as they will try and benefit themselves while the other will be utterly ashamed, and their reputation destroyed within a matter of minutes. The both of you glared at each other with Yujin having the fiercer one, obviously as she whimpers and yells in anger, pissed off with your own game as she's the one to break down first.

“God, I hate you! Argh!”

She throws a crumpled paper ball onto you as she kicks the cabinet slightly, frustrated and irritated towards you. She then looks at the window, gazing at the horizon, over the mountains as she crosses her arms, feeling the urge of a deep reflection. You, who's puzzled, decided to not interfere long enough with her own doings as you wanted to leave, knowing that there's probably nothing more to talk about as you start to respect her boundaries, and herself too, not just because she's the class president but as a person.

“Then I shall leave then, Yujin, okay? It seems like our small meeting here is done and don't worry, as long as you keep or better, delete that recording to yourself and no one else, I'm deleting this recording of mine, too, okay?”

You waited for seconds, hoping for a response escaping her lips but there wasn't anything. So, without any time to waste, you reach for the doorknob only to be stopped with a faint, melodical voice that was no other than Yujin.

“No…”

“Uhm—what do you mean, no?

“I'm sorry…”

Yujin then faces you, her eyes glistening with her faint tears as she probably felt bad throwing slurs and swears at you, possibly provoking and hurting you. You know Yujin is so down-to-earth and soft-hearted, her persona of being selfless and caring and her being elected as a president is evident enough to know she's one defined like an angel but you could never be so sure—the other thought in your mind thinking that she's maybe just guilt-tripping you onto making you weak and fall under her spell with her being too pitiful and for you to be gaslit as being the “sorry” one, not her.

“I d-didn't mean to say all of those words to you. Please j-just delete the recording and I won't say anything…”

Still being skeptical, you don't want to be tricked into losing everything so you still wanted to play her game.

“I'll delete it when I get home, Yujin. Don't worry, I will—”

“No, delete it where I can see it. Right here, right now—please… I'm sorry…”

And yeah, your heart isn't stone-cold either to feel the sincerity of her apologies, let alone her pouty, cute face encouraging you to obey what she wants but you know that it's sincere, the saccharine tone of her voice is enough of an evidence

With the built-up guilt of remorse and the feeling of being disrespected by her, you feel hesitant and want to outsmart her but you feel that everything's going downhill because of what sin you've done and you felt the utter guilt that no one could've ever felt.

“Press it, Yujin.”

“Are you for real or are you just—”

“Do you really think I'm playing games with you? Just press it…”

Well, it appears to be that she's hesitant even though it's literally a glowing red button that says “delete” appears on the screen of your phone. Well, you can't blame her as she's in the same boat as you.

With enough persuasion and letting herself be convinced, she pressed the button as a smile slowly appeared curling on her face as she's satisfied that you don't have any evidence of her provocative and verbal behavior towards you. It later followed into a smirk as she faced you and thanked you but of course, you're not the only one leaving in defeat here—Yujin should taste her own wrath.

“Hey, it's just unfair that I deleted mine and not yours.”

Yujin's demeanor quickly changed as the sunshine turned into cloudy mist—a dark, nimbus-filled one. Of course, she's trying to outsmart you as you were to her but there's nothing to play anymore as you wanted to be fair with her. Left with no other choice, she pulled up her phone and went onto the files where she saved it and of course, for a fair and identical ending, she did the same on how you made your evidence get deleted by showing her phone to you and making you press the glowing red button.

“Happy? Now, are we all good?”

“Yeah, Yujin, definitely all good. Thanks for the time though, definitely didn't get wasted.” Your sarcasm was off the roof, making her frown as her lips pouted cutely from the frustration of lacking a big chunk of evidence that she would have shown to the dean to make your world in shambles.

As you reached the doorknob, ready to pull it, Yujin's voice stopped you again as you irritatingly asked her why and what's the catch this time.

“Ugh, why, Yujin? Can you just let me go?”

Yujin smiles, her lips curling up into a smirk as she eyes your body and lastly, looking you dead in the eyes as if she's totally allured to you.

“There's one more thing on why I called you here…”

You're puzzled and confused, unsure of what's about to happen yet you won't let your defenses down in case she does or says something that'll provoke you and wake up your defensive side.

“What, Yujin?”

“Don't be so oblivious now, baby. Can't just leave a girl here with her needs unattended…”

Of course—of fucking course she'll say that and you're not really oblivious about it. For the record, you half-expected her to unleash her slutty side yet this never fails to perplex you in an utmost manner. Yujin, who's known for her caring, serious and selfless persona is now being the total opposite and you don't know if a demon possessed her or it's just the animalistic urges inside her that wants to give in to her carnal desires.

If this is a bait for another trap, you wouldn't fall for it but it doesn't help when Yujin strips off her uniform jacket slowly, teasing you and luring you into the point of no-return.

“Please, baby—do I need to say more?”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. When she stripped the stupid jacket off, it tested your temptation on ruining her there and there yet you hold it in—it doesn't help that what lies underneath it is a white, long sleeve crop top with her necktie even longer than the top itself and her milky, slender midriff being the cherry on top—in which, you drooled all over the sight of it and thank god Yujin is oblivious about it otherwise you’re utterly done. As much as you want to turn it down as you don't have enough time to waste, this may even be the opposite of a waste as her invitingly hot figure turns you on.

“I see you looking at my waist, baby. Do you like it—”

Catching her off-guard, you went up and pinned her to the wall with your face inches close to hers as she gasped with your sudden aggression, her eyes encapsulating the emotion of fear and anticipation while yours ignited with anger and lust.

“Listen here you little shit—if you're playing with me right now and I absolutely know you are, I'm not the guy to fool with, okay, Yujin? Stop testing me because you don't want to see what's coming next.”

Your hot breath brushes on her lips which invites her to even convince you into her game. You know that you're definitely losing and once you give in, there's no turning back.

“Playing hard to get, hm?” Yujin doesn't give up as she pulls your necktie towards her and whispers seductively onto your ear, in which you don't retaliate as you involuntarily give in to your own lustful desires. “I know you want this so stop acting like a hypocrite, daddy.”

God, she knows how to turn you on—and it's not even a challenge for her right now. The pet name she used just sets your last string of defense into an absolute mess, breaking it.

As much as you wanted to say about not wanting her now, you can't lie straight to your teeth about it and you're just proving yourself a hypocrite if you do—the dilation of your pupils and the flush on your cheeks is enough evidence to know that you're already feeling the heat onto your flaccid member.

“So, what is it going to be, daddy? Play the game until you last or admit it to yourself that you want to ruin me—”

“Okay, Yujin! You fucking got me…” You yelled as invisible fumes came out of your nostrils, exaggerating how irritated you are with this girl . “God, this girl…” Another backfire is directed to her as you were annoyed to her attempts of picking your locks, but this time, your voice is almost inaudible and glad to god that she didn’t even hear you saying it.

“Okay, okay—but it’ll just be quick, okay? Just five minutes.”

A pouty Yujin meets your eyes, almost if she begs for something she can’t resist about that she needs to allure you with her signature adorable expression but you won’t fall for that because you—

“I said what I said, Yujin. Five. Minutes. Only.”

“Ughhh—why can’t it be longer than that? Is it because you can’t last longer than five mi—”

She’s really testing you—testing your limits beyond your possible breaking point as you raise your arm, pinning her forcefully onto the wall as she smirks in anticipation and delight, delighted about provoking the hibernating beast inside you.

“Shut your slutty, little mouth, Yujin! I said what I said, okay? Hah, I even think you’re the one who can’t last that long and you’re probably dripping thinking about my dick destroying your insides, hm?”

Once again, her demeanor changed as the neediness on her face became evident, slowly giving in to her carnal desires as she’s a few steps away from her desires being fulfilled.

“Hey, I was—gahh, oh my god—hah…”

“What was it, Yujin?”

A simple swipe onto her clothed crotch makes her weak, on her knees and it couldn’t be any better. You’re unfazed with her attempts to slow you down as you leisurely teased her until you felt the wetness of her core in which she whimpered as she wanted more but knows that there isn’t in any world you’re giving anything more than that.

Everything’s on your own accord now because you’re in control, not her, and you’ll let her know that.

“Sucks to be the one who isn’t in control, right, Yujin? Not the one with the higher authority?”

“Fuck—I want more! P-please, I want more…”

Of course, you didn’t fulfill her wants because you wanted to and it’s like she can do something about it—

“B-but, I’m the president—your president, so this is is unfair and—”

You snarl as the sound fazes Yujin, her eyes gleaming unbeknownst of what emotion it can underlie but all you know is that it encapsulates fear and anticipation, like right from the start. You know how stubborn she can get and how she’ll use her authority against your own accord yet you won’t give up just like that—you can outpower her and let her taste her own medicine.

“Well, do you want to get fucked or no? I can just leave here pretty easily, Yujin.”

“Wait!” Her tone is high-pitched and in full need as she doesn’t want this moment to be wasted, let alone with you as much as she despises you—in which, according to her and to you, is one-hundred percent hypocrisy.

You can feel her need, the need in her eyes—like how she wants it so bad to do it with you as those precious orbs tells you to ruin her to the fullest.

There goes the foreplay off and on is your desires, and hers, of course.

“Okay, daddy. Do whatever you want to me…”

And she let her defenses down, submerge into the abyss of submission.

There goes the heat of both bodies, slowly getting used to each other as both lips clashed of a sudden, with the message to convey to “fuck-like-you-meant-it” and the utmost urge of giving in to your animalistic urges until the miasmic smell of sex steams all over the classroom—and may the people using that classroom on their class may prepare their own noses.

Oh god, she's so ruinable—that thought lingers on your mind once you've saw her impeccably perfect figure: her tiny, little waist; her silken, porcelain skin; her luscious, succulent lips—in which, by the way, you're feasting upon right now_and lastly her beautiful face that's sculpted by the gods.

And as pure as she looks, it's such a great time to let her impurities out—such purities sullied by lust is the best way to break it.

Both of your tongues battle for dominance as if both are deprived for the taste of oneself and you love it as much as she loves it too. You ignored the sheen of saliva messing up your mouth as your deft hands course its way onto her waist and caresses the smooth skin.

“Love the way I kiss you, Yujin?”

“I do, but please—I need my pussy filled right now…”

The normal instinct is the utter dissatisfaction permeating all over her and letting her feel the sudden urge of not fulfilling her needs yet you can't help yourself right now because you want her.

“Well, that'll be just in a minute, Yujin…” You unbuckle your belt and give her a stern look which puts a chill down her spine. “For starters, you’ll be on your knees ready to obey daddy’s orders, okay?”

It’s partly rhetorical yet she nods and it doesn’t matter, she understands what’s going on and where this will go, as she should, the brilliant and clever Choi Yujin.

“And… help me out undress myself—the bottom one—and that’s two and lastly…” Even without being taught and with her swift movements, she already had your boxers down to your ankles as she was met with your already-erect rod that she instantly admired. “...you probably know where this is going since you’ve done this already, isn’t it right, Yujin?”

Another nod and there’s no breath escaping her beautiful lips knowing that it’s already all over your swollen head—

“Already thirsty for this, huh? Don’t worry, Yujin—they’ll be more than this later…”

Such an idyllic visage masks a sluttiness that can never be topped off, and with those eyes glistening with lust, you can't hold yourself from containing your profanities as a single touch from hers is enough to melt your heart yet someone stands tall and firm, and it's not anywhere beside you—

“There you go... Getting a little excited, hm?”

Such a sight to behold, her adorable façade contradicts the possible sins that'll unfold at any given moment and just herself on her knees, maintaining eye contact with you pushes you further at the edge—at the edge of no-return.

“Please, baby—I've been longing for this for a long while now.” Yujin's tone makes you hitch a breath and a shiver as she's way too submissive and you're loving it. Well, if nothing can bring her down as she's at the paramount authority, then maybe the hard rod between your legs can deem her powerless, against your own accord.

“I wa-want it, baby. P-please... I'll be your good girl and treat me like no one can…”

A kiss on the tip and a shudder is your response, her alluring action almost brings you down on your knees, breaking your dominant demeanor but you stand strong, letting her know who's in control and it's definitely not her—Anymore? For now? You'll see where this will go…

You caress her impeccable features that captivates your very eyes up to the silken strands of her hair to her pillowy cheeks as you feel those soft flesh hollow around your cockhead, the suction definitely making you think the most unimaginable things possible.

Even with her caustic demeanor and her so-called bitchy attitude that made you almost boil you in anger, you can't help but adore it as it spices things up to the maximum extent, further arousing you.

Maybe taming such brats will be your speciality, who would have known that?

“God—choke on it, you pathetic slut—you planned this all along, don't you? Fucking call me here to discipline me about having sex inside the campus' restroom when you yourself gives in to choke on some dick? What a hypocrite you are—”

Tug your hand onto that makeshift ponytail as she sinfully gags onto your whole length, forcing her immediately to take it whole just for you to fulfill your desires of making a mess on someone. A forceful gag makes a forceful cough in return as she ejects herself onto your throbbing length with strings of saliva still connected onto the mushroom tip.

“Wha—what t-the fuck? Aren't y-you supposed to—”

“Just shut up and take—this—cock like a good girl, Yujin. Your—ooh—throat is a toy after all…”

As much as her voice is soothing and angelic to your ears, you rather want your ears to be blessed with such an unholy sin: gagging, which it is called.

She eagerly reciprocates your aggression as her clever mind lets itself do the work by giving you the utmost pleasure with her frantic bobbing alongside your frenzied thrust onto her heavenly tight cavern.

The caldera must leak copious amounts of that saliva and you will do just that, making her a complete mess of a girl and this is only just the beginning of the numerous profanities you'd love to do with this girl.

As much as you love to last longer, the tightness in your loins is free to speak up, opposing your wants.

“G-gonna paint my f-face, daddy? Oh! Please, please, please paint my slutty, cute face, daddy! Don't y-you wanna add to the mess you did on my face?”

And god she talks so dirty and it puts you in a chokehold of madness and the paramount battle of temptation. She knows how to pick your locks but you won't let it out just for this moment as you wanted something hotter than what she expected.

“Nu-uh, Yujin. Girls like you need to be filled real fucking good.” You tilt her chin as her gleaming orbs ignite with lust, anticipating what's coming next and ready to embrace all of it. “My seed belongs inside your tight, little cunt, do you understand?”

She's silent and muted, way too allured to the musky scent of your cock as she continues stroking it leisurely—

“Answer my goddamn question and don't touch me, brat!”

“I d-do, daddy…”

“Elaborate it, you slut—come on!” You raise her up with her firm grip of both her wrists, leveling her face onto yours as you look at her laced with disappointment and venom deadlier than any snake.

“I d-do understand e-ever—everything you've s-said, daddy. I w-won't touch you unless you want me too and—”

“Shh, I already heard everything I wanted to hear, Yujin.”

Without any time to waste, you command her to stand beside the nearby desk and undress herself, curious about what she's packing.

Of course, she follows your orders now she's learnt her lesson but will it be enough?

“Actually, don't undress, Yujin. I will fuck you senseless with this so-called of yours “uniform” until you could only think about my cock only—hah, I can do it, Yujin. ”

Another disagreement on Yujin's side but before finishing her sentence, you glared at her as she instantly shutted her mouth, silencing herself from her possible disobedient advances. Sliding her white garment off with the help of her dainty fingers, it’s just hypnotizing to see the cloth go down to her ankles, letting gravity do the rest as she gets it from there, keeping it on her hands. It’s inviting to see her sexiest look yet but there’s probably another thing in mind that you wanted to do with her.

“Now turn around and rest your stomach on the desk—also, give me your panties, Yujin.”

“B-but, daddy—”

“Do you want to get fucked or no?” Your tone is straightforward, stern and hunted with a bit of fury, and again, it scares her, not wanting this opportunity to be wasted just because of her own, silly actions of selfishness. She scoffs, rolls her eyes as the inevitable permeates: Yujin giving her little souvenir to you.

“That’s what I thought, Yujin. Everybody’s gonna know how much of a slut you are after this—hah, gonna walk out with white dripping down your thighs… Hm, I see this as an absolute win—”

“Please, d-daddy—ahh—gahh!”

An earth-thudding spank reverberates around the classroom as your hand lets Yujin know its wrath. A familiar rosy hue appears onto that porcelain skin of hers as a needy moan is a response from your proactive actions.

“That’s what I want to hear, Yujin—your beautiful moans… Fuck, it’s music to my ears—hah.”

Another spank almost brings her to her knees. You can tell that she’s already loving it considering how her pussy’s already dripping wet and the quivering of her thighs in every spank you do says a lot. Her breaths are ragged and tremble as every strike of your palm invigorates the pleasure she's feeling and she's loving it. You didn't stop until that tickle in your head said “It's probably a minute now…” and it just ended the beginning of a spectacular show.

“Not a single word will come out of your mouth except your beautiful moans, alright?”

It’s obligatory to say that, knowing that in any second now, the disobedience of this girl may actually prevail, and an eager response of punishment will await her if she does misbehave.

“But daddy, at least—”

Another smack onto her pillowy buttcheeks earns the finest moans escaping her mouth. You’re near on the brink of distraught from multiple acts of misconduct by hers and you’re absolutely not having it. She knows it and you taught yourself that she’s just unlocking the absolute dominative trait you have and you’re going to give into it until…

“Trying to behave like this for what, Yujin?” Another smack and an audible whimper is her response. “For more punishment?” Another harsh spank and this time, her earlier smooth, milky skin is now printed with your handprints red (redder than a tomato). She can’t help but utter a moan that’s music in your ears—

“Don’t worry, Yujin. I’ll use you like no one can.”

And that’s the thought of the devil, the carnal desires within you being unleashed—its full potential. You can’t wait anymore and neither does she and you wanted to do the most lustful profanities imaginable and you’re absolutely going to give in—

And there lies the collapse of the wall of temptation: you can only grunt and wince in pain as you engulf your member into her. It’s a whole, different story when it comes to the tightness of her walls—it’s too tight and way too pleasurable, as expected. Even the subtle oscillation of your hips earns the guttural grunts and lewdest moans escaping your very lips.

Rearrange my insides please, daddy—probably the main thought you’re thinking that has been clouding Yujin’s head since the minute you filled her slutty cunt up. It feels like a linked connection between both parties, sharing and speculating such thoughts that have been lingering on one’s mind and that’s no other than the thought of sex itself.

You’re surprised as she acts like the total opposite of her earlier bratty behavior but nonetheless, she cavorted with her primal desires with you. You could tell the delight on her countenance even though you can't really get a sight on it—it's not like she's hiding it inside as the rivulet of her nectar slowly flows within the ring of your cock.

“God, what a good girl you are, Yujin—look at you, a whimpering mess because of my cock. You're such a pathetic little slut that gives in whenever there's someone—fucking—willing—to—fuck—dominate her!”

And it also turns her on—degrading someone, oh, such a classic one. Regardless of it, you may speak the truth considering how her heavenly moans and silent whimpers denote her as such a slut but it isn't like that, really. In a wider perspective, you made her like this and it's not even the climax of the show you're putting in her.

No other thought can avert your focus on solely fucking her mercilessly—not even the thought of someone eavesdropping and catching you can faze you to be hesitant and someone really did catch you, it won't end in a good note: Yujin will be besmirched and ashamed and so are you.

The pace you're exerting is wild and you know she loves it. You keep hearing her moans blessing your ears and it never fails to fuel your hips in full-throttle, hammering her hole like you have something to prove. Grabbing her hips for a greater leverage onto pistoning her very cunt, you let out the most vigorous thrusts possible as you didn't care if the desk will give up due to your actions because you need to prove her something. A broken cry can be heard, a silent shout of her inner self because of pleasure, breaking her slowly and slowly and this is only just the beginning.

This almost feels like a fever dream, like a déjà vu right from the start of just your mushroom tip being hugged with her walls, then slowly, the inchmeal of your length as time tells writes the books of the better profanities—

It's just a repetitive process of actions of a mind-boggling intercourse as every leverage and positions from the both of you are evident as it acts as a retaliation from pleasure and that what makes this session such an unique act of sin.

You weren't far off on your own climax and you can feel it rushing down your veins, invigorating the libido inside you on more than a hundred-percent. On the way her pussy grips around your rod like there's no tomorrow and the pulsation of it tells you that she isn't far from her own high either. Wanting to make her cum with you, you took the initiative by informing her and of course, adding up the harshness and the pace of your already-ruthless actions inside her tight, velvety cunt.

“I'm near—so fucking close, Yujin. Are y-you gonna cum too?”

She's silent yet loud with her lustful moans. Her mind is probably so clouded with pleasure that she can't think straight or formulate such a single, coherent sentence.

“Use your fucking mouth, Yujin—answer me!”

You need to spank her in order to get that desired answer escaping from her beautiful lips and it won't be very long—

“Y-yes, daddy—I'm super close! I'm—go-nna cum all—ahh—fuck—your c-cock—ahh!”

With the green light, you won't let yourself be stopped as you let it all out and everything went euphoric: your whole length buried into her cunt, filling her up to the hilt and as the cherry on top, your semen painting every inch of her velvety walls white. It’s historic and monumental that everything happened all in just minutes, let alone cumming inside to one of the popular girls in the university—Choi Yujin, you’re a fucking goddess, an insatiable one, you say to yourself. The ecstasy didn’t last very long but enough to cloud your mind—twenty seconds of an orgasmic rhapsody is probably enough to determine the highest of highs yet you’re still not done because you deemed yourself to ruin her, totally.

You’re only getting started and she knows it all too well…

“Stand up, Yujin. Help yourself and go beside that wall.” Your tone is commanding and enough to send a chill down her spine. She struggles a little due to the exertive force your hips maintained for over five minutes earlier. She doesn’t need help because after all, she’s just a toy to be used—your cocksleeve that’s just a reminder of pleasure (she didn’t want any help either).

Instantly, you pin her, earning a small thud on her as you place your arms around her thighs and then catching her off-guard by your sudden lift on her small, slender figure. She is light and it’s not even close to discomfort on carrying her with her back rested against the wall.

“Oh—daddy! Getting t-too rough, are we?”

“Shut up, Yujin—” You brush your tip against the waiting, dripping slick of her pussy as you can see small samples of your seed leaking out of her heat, and onto the swollen slit of your cockhead. “—I just wanna hear your moans, okay?”

She nods and eagerly moans (almost screams) as you plunge your whole length into her again. The visceral and almost ear-deafening moan of hers just fuels you to draw another onslaught of thrusts into her already-filled cunt and her lewd and ahegao countenance just puts gasoline on the fire of lust and it just arouses you so much. You didn’t bother to start slow as you hammer her hole like there’s no tomorrow, the sweat of her midriff and to her face that adds up the mess you’ve made earlier is the cherry on top. Still ensuing a relentless pace, you commanded her to unbutton her top and eagerly, she does it with her left hand slowly as the other holds your muscular arms for leverage as she struggles because of her body being ragdolled like never before.

Now with more of her exposed skin on your sight (with the long nectktie still on your way), you quickly latch your lips onto her neck and collarbones, suckling onto the soft, porcelain skin and almost leaving a mark. Even with your animalistic urges taking over, there’s still heart in you and you chose not to mark her but rather, just leave a small reddish hue due to the harsh lipwork you’ve done.

“God, you taste so good—you feel s-so fucking good—aren’t you just the perfect sex toy, Yujin?”

Still with a relentless pursuit on her hole, you make her unable to respond too by latching your lips onto hers, tasting the sweet, sugary flavor of her lips as she eagerly reciprocated alongside her angelic moans. Enough of the another lustful act, you quickly smack her backside with you palm (thank god you’re strong that you’re still able to carryfuck her after that) and wanted an answer—

“Right, Yujin?”

She nodded and screamed a loud “Yes, d-daddy!” as every thrust you do makes her unable to be understood and even to formulate such articulate sentences. With on how much you’re giving everything to her, the stream of her juices leaking around your shaft and dripping down to your balls is inevitable and it prints a smile on your face as you know that she’s more than loving this—you swear to god she won’t forget this until her last breath; this steamy session also going to cloud her mind for a week like what you did with Yunjin.

Ignoring the sensitivity and the painfully tight clenches of her velvety walls, you continue what you’re best at as Yujin announces her near orgasmic eruption around your length as you glared onto her, the two of you making a straight eye contact at long last as the last time you did that with her was before this merciless fucking you’ve done on her hole—

“Don’t you fucking dare cum yet, Yujin!”

“B-but, I c-can’t hold it i-in, daddy—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you cockhungry slut! I’ll tell you when you’re—fuck—going t-to fucking cum!”

It’s obvious that she’s near, and so are you. You wanted her to reach your high with her—making a puddle of mess down the classroom and you swear to god, the janitor won’t be a big fan to clean this up—and you’re definitely a mere seconds away to the promised land—

Another thrust, another scream, another moan reverberates all over the classroom—

“Inside please, daddy.”

And you erupt, and so did she.

Releasing every single drop inside her tight walls is peak ecstasy, let alone seeing her beautiful façade become a ruined mess and of course, her pussy, mixed in a concoction of indistinguishable liquids. You let out everything including the moans you’ve been holding in since from the start—you absolutely gave in and unshackled everything, causing for another euphoric high. You buried yourself up to the hilt while she cries in delight and overstimulation, her pussy creaming all over your raging, twitching length is the cherry on top. After of almost half a minute of a hot orgasm, you slowly pull out of her and sat down, fully exasperated and drained while Yujin did the same, leaning down the wall as she slowly sits down, her legs weak and wobbly and you're the one to blame here.

“That was—”

“Good. Yeah, Yujin, you took me so w-well, too…” A small compliment made her blush as she slightly smiled, her mind still clouded with lust but mostly, delight.

“Y-you—hah, f-fucked me well, too… Hah, thanks for this.”

Yujin pointed to her freshly-creampied pussy, full of your semen as it leaks and she didn’t let her chances go to waste, her dainty, slender fingers drawing a small sample as she squirms is a hint of satisfaction, herself fulfilled with the taste of your semen.

“It’s very delicious, I must say that—fuck, I don’t think I can walk straight after this…”

And now she’s back to her sophisticated self—but the pool of mess between her thighs, the disheveled mess on her face and uniform contradicts the adjective—whereas she’s stern, cute and focused but there’s nothing to be near that you just gave her the time of her life.

“Need some help, Yujin—”

“I’m f-fine, thanks though. Also, give me my panties back! I can’t leave here without it on!”

As much as she’s stubborn and so are you, and it’s way worse than her. Knowing that her attempts are futile at the very end, she doesn't even bother to try and lets you keep it.

“Argh, you’re so annoying! Just keep it to yourself, you pervert!”

“Wow, like she isn’t one herself—”

“Shut up!” She lightly punched your shoulder, causing you to overreact by wincing in that so-called “pain”, earning that cute, grumpy look from Yujin.

“Well, we should clean this up…”

“Yeah, I think so…”

And that ends another dreamlike moment in your life—everything flashed and felt like a movie that you didn't want to end but it did…

—

A week has passed and yes, that moment with Yujin has been clouding your mind since day one…

“It flew like the wind—so dreamlike…” You whisper to yourself while writing something in your notebook—call it a diary, sort of. “It felt enchanting and weird, at first but… it was a different story once I’m—”

“You’re inside me, hm?”

You got slightly startled as Yujin caught you off-guard. You didn’t even know how she had time to get into your spot—your little sanctuary on the campus grounds—as you know how busy she is but you guess she’s not.

“W-what are you d-doing here, Yujin?”

“Nothing… just hanging around—you, what are you doing here?”

You hitch a breath, fidget your fingers onto the hem of your shirt and stutter until you finally come up on an answer. “I’m just chilling around here doing my own stuff.”

Yujin’s radiating smile meets you and it is contagious but your demeanor is still what it was earlier—confused, stern and uneasy.

“Uhm, I just want to apologize, about myself a week ago… I—it, hah… It was really good but I’m sorry I lured you into my stupidity…”

Now you become fazed with her sincerity, your face changing into an expression of guilt and pity, blaming yourself to for succumbing onto your vile of need and lust yet you reassure her, telling her that it’s your fault—

“No, no, no, it’s definitely onto me…” Yujin sits down with you as she looks deep into your eyes full of sincerity, the look where it’s so endearing and alluring that you can’t help yourself to fall under her spell but you hold yourself back, getting serious and wanting to let her know your side.

“I think we both just—became so horny and yeah… Very sorry about probably hurting you—”

“No, it’s my own fault making you like this. I guess I was just full of anger and lust that day that everything felt eerie… So, I’m sorry…”

Within the duration of the conversation, you kept your eyes off of her attention but with a deft move, she placed her finger onto your chin, making you face her and avert your attention towards her only. Suddenly, an unanticipated move was made proactively by her and all you can feel is the lusciousness and the softness of her lips: she’s kissing you. It didn’t last very long and you’re not asking for more and any, yet you’re just grateful nonetheless. You’re also frozen because of her sudden affection and it took you almost four seconds to react as her eyes anticipated something.

“I guess that’s enough for an apology?”

You blush, cheeks rosy pink and ears redder than a tomato as she softly chuckled, finding it adorable rather than shameful.

“You d-don’t need t-to do that, Yujin…”

“But I did…” Yujin proposes her hand to you, and you instantly knew she wanted you to shake her hand but she utters a breath, wanting to say something. “Friends?”

You complete the handshake and then smile at her gleefully, accepting her proposal as she smiles back too, feeling the genuine feeling of bliss.

“I’ve always wanted to have male one…”

“Well, welcome, I guess.”

Another light punch to your chest due to your teasing as the day still ensues as normal. Everything feels like it’s straight up on a goddamn plot of a movie but you’re not complaining. You’re still in a state of doubt as you’re not sure why Yujin wanted to be suddenly friends with you but I guess she just wanted another. The president becomes friends with the class trampoline—that’s fuckign ironic, isn’t it.

“Well, wanna see you at my place tonight. Gotta get to know you more and probably help me with this assignment, too…”

Well, it can end in a lot of ways as you could imagine this ending all on a good note. You’re not the man to turn that down as you’re just completely falling into the pit of her charms and you’re absolutely into this.

Well, you don’t see why not—maybe just don’t let Yunjin know you’re sneaky plan—

#kep1er #choi yujin #kep1er smut #choi yujin smut #choi yujin x male reader

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