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hoseoksluna · 2 days

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VAPOR, pt I. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a hint of angst

word count: 10.6k

summary: yoongi never promised his healing time would be easy and when he hurts you enough that you need your other "boyfriend", jungkook is quick to rescue you.

pinterest board: blur | playlist: car playlist

warnings: mentions of a sex toy, jungkook is upset and angry at his hyung, public sex, dirty talk, sexual tension and frustration, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), bruising, cum swallowing, going behind someone's back........

note: HI MY LOVES—MY STEAM DRABBLE IS HERE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED TO POST SOMETHING, OH MY GOSH. OKAY, before i say anything else, i would like to put a disclaimer here: even though all my characters are fictional, they are still human in this world, which means they fuck up, which means they're not perfect whatsoever and never will be. i would like to really put an emphasis on that before you read and if i receive any vulgar and rude asks about this, i assure you that i will not respond to them. OKAY ALL SERIOUSNESS ASIDE—this was fucking AMAZING TO WRITE and i already CANNOT WAIT to start writing another part, this time with yoongi included. i promise to make everything right and—SPOILER—this couple WILL get a happy ending, so don't worry, my loves. ENJOY READING. SPAM MY INBOX. I LOVE YOU.

There’s a mango-scented candle rustling in a bag, resting on the passenger seat, and Jungkook is driving very carefully so as to not knock it over and possibly break it. For a moment, one that reemerges in his headspace as he keeps his foot light on the pedal, he wonders if he should buckle a seatbelt around it and ensure its safety that way, his fear of ruining his surprise for you causing his brain to come up with the strangest of ideas—in the name of the love he carries for you.

Is it love, though?

Jungkook furrows his brows, that thought seizing his sternum enough that he has to turn his music down and let some fresh air in through the window so he doesn’t crash his fucking car. Icy sweat stings his spine, his stomach churning and without sparing a second longer, his eyes take after the sadness of the weather outside his vehicle. His vision blurs and he rubs his eye, one at a time, to focus on the road.

A red light blinks at him and suddenly, there’s fury that he feels deep within chest.

Conceivably because slowing down means he has to face the onrush of emotions sloshing in him. Has to hear the rain not just outside, but inside, too. Has to feel the prick of those raindrops along his waterline. The heft of those clouds outside and inside his clavicles as well, tightening and tightening.

Jungkook sighs, drumming his fingers upon his steering wheel, trying to distract himself from it all. From the invading question that absorbs his body like the vapor rising across the night-clothed street—when did he get so emotional?

Unfortunately, he knows the answer right away.

You’ve been sad. On your own.

It’s been a few weeks since all three of you made a deal to stick together. Yoongi has been brave, his good mood clutching him for a lot longer than Jungkook sadly estimated. You’ve spent these past two Fridays and weekends together, out and about, rolling in bed, rolling in Yoongi’s apartment. It was all fun and games until the boss reached a dead end. Somehow. Jungkook still doesn’t know what it was that Yoongi actually saw—what was that one particular thing that caused him to spiral.

To relapse.

And you didn’t tell him until it was too late.

Perhaps, you did tell him—nonverbally, that is. You stopped adding your signed messages whenever he was texting with Yoongi during the week and even those alone stopped coming in as the days went on. There was something wrong and he knew it. His intuition only proved to be right when another weekend showed its face and it contained no undertone of you. And no suggestion of Yoongi either.

Silence. Dead silence.

And it wasn’t until Jungkook got an incoming call from an unknown number half an hour ago that he realized the gravity of the situation.

It was you who called him up, sobbing into the phone, having stolen his number from Yoongi’s device. As difficult as it was to understand what happened, Jungkook tied all the strings of information you gave him between your broken breaths and blubbering: Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you all day and took a shower alone, the latter being the most devastating of the two.

He felt bad for you, terribly bad for you—but simultaneously, he was upset with you.

Still is.

It’s one of the reasons why he’s driving up to Yoongi’s apartment. With a mango-scented candle and a puffed-up bag of cheese balls. He doesn’t want to think what the other reasons are, not when he’s staring down his gift for you, clicking his tongue at last and reaching over for the seatbelt and sliding it into its buckle. Just in time for the traffic light to turn green.

Now, now he’s speeding down the road, turning up the volume of his car playlist. A slow song by the Arctic Monkeys is playing and it’s a movie—the set of circumstances that are happening in the present. The rain, the tightness in his chest, the but faint adrenaline of the momentum. What is he really doing?

It feels as though he’s following a script, however his eyes haven’t skimmed down the entire thing. He doesn’t know how this is going to end. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s doing the right thing because he’s planning on staying outside of his hyung’s apartment. Like hell he’s going inside when his sweetheart—

Jungkook purses his lips. Moves the shift stick. Kills the engine. Closes his eyes.

His heart thumps. Turbulently. It stirs worry in him. What if he’s going to die?

This is the first time he’s left in the hands of the unknown. He’s always had the sixth sense of knowing tactness like the back of his hand, although this time he doesn’t know shit. Doesn’t know if he’s breaking his best friend’s trust. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen once he sees you, possibly wearing one of your nighttime robes. The last time you touched him was the last time he had his release. His hand doesn’t feel as good as yours does—and his orgasm isn’t as fulfilling as when it’s shared with you. He’s brimming with frustration, with anger so vast that he could explode and he knows it’s unfair to be mad at Yoongi, when he himself said it wasn’t going to be easy, that it was going to take a lot of work. But Jungkook can’t help his feelings. Can’t help to see you.

Only you.

Broken, tear-stained, when it should be blush painting your cheeks red from all the love and happiness your own boyfriend should give you as it’s his duty. Something he’s responsible for. Something he should put above himself.

“Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good and you look like you could,” Alex Turner sings and Jungkook’s chin quivers, his heart gaining tempo, his perturbation rising—owing to the violence of that muscle, owing to the state of your feelings.

He wonders if you’re still crying.

He’s outside of Yoongi’s apartment. Didn’t even realize it, mind too fucked up, too full of you.

Grabbing his phone, he sends you a text.

I’m here. Come outside

A reply pings right away.

SWEETHEART: ?

SWEETHEART: it’s raining

He’s halfway typing his response that he doesn’t want to go inside, but he decides against it. Doesn’t want to make it worse for you. If you knew of the dark corners of his mind that don’t particularly like Yoongi at the moment, you wouldn’t look at him with those pretty eyes of yours as you always do.

He can’t afford that.

I have an umbrella

As his thumb hovers above his phone, waiting for your reply, he can almost hear your sigh. Can feel your breath on his clammy palm as he rubs it on his pants in effort to rid himself of the nerves crawling in his veins. The breath he was favored enough to hold in his grasp the last time he had you to himself—clamping your mouth shut as he spanked your clit for being so beautifully responsive to his touch, rubbing it until your eyes whisked back while Yoongi slept beside you, unaware.

It’s engraved in his brain. It plays on loop before sleep overtakes him at night and it’s his first thought in the morning once consciousness reminds him that you’re not his.

SWEETHEART: is it cold outside?

He figures you’re asking the question in order to decide whether you should change or not. It seems as though warm pajamas don’t exist in your world, for the beginning of September is in the process of blooming. It nudges his anger; provokes it enough to fill it with a lethal dose of a yearning to buy you the warmest pair of pants he could find. He clenches his fist, thumb quick to type a response.

Wear something that covers your legs or stay home.

The same thumb shakes at the expression of his firmness, his anger disturbed, wholly—wholly disturbed. If you come out wearing your little shorts—

A reply pings again.

SWEETHEART: ok ill change

And another one right away.

SWEETHEART: ill text u when i come down

That’s a good girl.

He almost types it right then and there, but something within, despite the slowly calming storm of his feelings, despite his cock tightening in his pants at the swift image of your bare legs, at the lingering perception of you being a good girl and listening to him, drags his thumb to his emojis. A sudden renewal of his sixth sense, and he doesn’t understand how it’s happened as it dawns on him, makes him realize that’s not exactly what you need right now. You didn’t call him for a fuck.

You called him for emotional support.

👍🏻

And like the good girl you are, you merely take five minutes. Stay true to your words, text him as you’re coming down and Jungkook grabs his umbrella from the backseat. Doesn’t forget to unbuckle the seatbelt in the passenger seat. Saves himself from the embarrassment.

The trees sway in his direction, inviting him in, once he takes two steps at the time, coming up the stairs. He watches them through the clear roundness of his shield, beckoning him closer. The rain pelts against it, but softly this time. Merciful as it knows you’re about to emerge from the ocean of such unfathomable sadness. It doesn’t wish to frighten you, rather it desires to soothe your escaping, make it less harrowing. Even the wind that whips at him stills as soon as you open the door, bathed in light.

And Jungkook is struck with the notion that he wants to do the same.

You’re wearing flared leggings. Gray. With sneakers of the same color and a white top that hugs your waist, that seems way smaller than the last time he touched it. He gets a glimpse of it, and it unnerves him, as you lift your hand to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear because otherwise your body is shrouded in a flannel that’s too big for you. Too robust for you and your particular liking of tight, little clothes.

He doesn’t want to know who that garment belongs to. Doesn’t even want to come close to unfolding that thought, to even let it get a taste of his burning blood. Because there’s another matter at hand.

You’ve lost weight.

And he’s going to kill his hyung for it.

You step out and it’s an instinct, the way his arm draws closer to you so you don’t get touched by the rain, even if it means the raindrops get to trace the back of his head and the nape of his neck. Yet even that invigorating, tender liquid doesn’t cool the scorching lividness that takes place beneath his skin, beneath his bones. But then you touch his hand, left to left, drag it away and hide yourself in his chest. Everything changes when you do that.

Jungkook explodes. Silently. Gently. His chin quivers again and he doesn’t care that you can hear the tremor of his heart as you lay your ear against it. Doesn’t care that his grip might hurt you as he hugs you back, thinking he could wrap his arm twice around your much different waist. And he takes you like this. Back to his car. He doesn’t even feel the wetness pooling in his waterline, leading you as you walk backwards. And you laugh, you laugh softly while he inhales your mango scent that has somehow even crept up to your scalp, and he doesn’t believe it’s that easy.

It can’t be that easy to make you feel better.

He opens the door for you, a façade of nothingness plastered on his face as he tries his hardest to remain stoic so you wouldn’t see the turmoil churning within every perimeter of his body. And it’s an instinct, too, the way he catches your little purse when it slips off your shoulder, even though he doesn’t see it, too busy devouring your gaze—afraid, awfully afraid that tonight might be the last time he sees your pretty eyes, considering the contempt he’s now showing his hyung.

If Yoongi finds out about this, it’s over.

His life is over, too.

Anger, frustration, sadness, love—how is he able to feel all of those emotions at once? You purse your lips, your weary eyes skip his features all the way to his mouth, stopping at his lip ring and the question rises again in his brain.

Is it love?

The rain falls harder. And so does he, unfortunately.

“I got you something. It’s right there.” He tips his chin to the passenger seat without taking his gaze off of your busy eyes. They’re still looking at his mouth, watching every word come out. He finds it so endearing that there’s nothing more he wants to do than grab your cheeks and kiss you for it. Maybe his frustration would loosen a little bit if he did it. “Don’t sit on it.”

It’s that addition to his previous sentence that causes you to flick those pretty irises of yours up to his. And he studies it as the double meaning uncoils in your brain, even though it was by accident that it tumbled out of his mouth. The weariness in your orbs parts like clouds upon the heavens, though no sunshine spills through them. There’s still a lingering blankness, something unknown, something foreign. Then, the tiniest of smiles curls your mouth and it jolts through him, his heart thudding harder—to the point that even more profound discomfort settles in.

“Did you get me a dildo? I could use one right now.”

The perplex that seizes him almost causes his legs to give out. And he can’t help it, the way his eyes roll back and his hand, with your purse hanging from his forearm, runs down his face. Jungkook wants to get drenched in the rain—maybe if the raindrops put out the sudden fire licking at his every nerve ending, maybe then he’ll come to understand how you manage to be in the mood when your state of mind can’t possibly let you have dirty thoughts.

His cock tightens again and he calls you by your name, firmly. He can’t have this. Not right now. He needs to be sensible. You need it. “Get in the car.”

You listen, but your smile falters. Grabbing your bag from his forearm, you turn around, bending over to wrap your fist around the bag on the passenger seat. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look at your delicious round cheeks and once he discovers that they’re hidden under that layer of the hideous flannel, he sighs a breath of relief. He can’t look at you that way. Averts his gaze, immediately.

As soon as you’re seated, he clicks the door shut. Considers letting the rain have him. Did he make a mistake, being firm with you?

Inside his car, his favorite song is mellowly playing. In the mere few seconds, you’ve managed to suffuse the entire atmosphere with your mango scent and Jungkook inhales it. It takes him into a whole different world, one filled with eternal sunlight as the song portrays it. He finds himself in a country of spring that has been briskly rained upon and now is being softly seared with those shafts of light and speckles of heat, the details of your beauty.

“For the love of my life, she's got glow on her face…” the singer sings and the lyrics plod into his mind. Jungkook wishes the description applied to you at this very moment like it had before, like it had every single time he stole a glance at you. He misses your glow and your glitter and it pierces his unstable heart that he finds no traces of those particles of shimmer on your cheekbones and eyelids as you’re rummaging through the bag, not even on your cupid’s bow as you gasp, gently, discovering he bought you your favorite things.

You’re looking at him with such smothered joy and it would relieve his feelings if he didn’t feel such guilt, if he didn’t feel as though he was a crumbling pillar, a failure undeserving of your time.

You take the candle into your small hands. Such a stark contrast—his heart aches at the sight of it. You pop the lid open, sniff the aroma and your mouth rounds in a terribly, terribly cute manner. Jungkook is glad for the lack of light in the space of his car, which hides his growing manhood. He props an elbow on the door and pinches his nose, trying to regain his composure—

“It’s mango-scented,” you say in disbelief, pouting and Jungkook can’t breathe. “And cheese balls, are you kidding me?” You open the bag right away, plopping the treat into your mouth. He’s surprised you eat just one—it doesn’t feel right. “Thank you. Honestly. Thank you.” You cradle it into your chest and Jungkook has to look away.

What has Yoongi done to you that you react this way to such silly things? He needs to ask, but he fears your answer. And what’s worse, he fears what he’ll do to him once you tell him.

“What did you tell him?” He needs to get away from this place, but it has to correlate with your plan, if there even is any. If not, he’ll handle it. Figure something out.

You take a sharp breath, loading your gifts back into the bag, keeping it nice and safe on your lap. Then, you lick your lips and look at him with an intention that causes his heart to jump right there onto the wonderfully clothed flesh of your thighs. “I told him I was going home.”

Home. Since the moment he knew of your existence, your home has been the place wherever Yoongi resided. It never mattered where. Jungkook grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Where do you live?”

You tell him your address. He knows that from this day on, he’ll never, ever forget it. He starts the engine, wondering in the meantime about the ordinariest things of your life. Do you live there during the week and spend your weekends at Yoongi’s apartment? Or has he completely overtaken your life that you spend every hour of it in his presence? He wants to know. And he wants to get some food in that slim tummy of yours. “Do you have any food there? When was the last time you were there?”

It’s you who looks away now, staring ahead, playing with your fingers while the rest are still wrapped around the bag. “I don’t live there anymore. Haven’t been there in months.”

Jungkook bites his lip. Too, too many questions are hovering in his brain—he barely has the capacity to think about them, let alone hurl them at you. “What did he say when you told him you were going home?”

You snivel and his heart on your thighs twitches in pain. He has to grip the steering wheel harder in order not to jump out of this car and kick down Yoongi’s door.

“Nothing.”

Jungkook puts the car in drive, wordlessly, seething inside. He’ll invent another plan while yours will remain its prototype. Will keep you safe.

Safe, fed and tearless.

The drive is quiet, save for the euphonious melodies emitting through his never-ending playlist. The rain has become less severe, soft in nature, only adding to the background noise—adding to the process of your mollification that he’s overseeing. He’s put a stop to the questions. Has figured you have enough of them, for the only reason you decided to lie to your own boyfriend and go behind his back was because you needed to get out of his clutches.

A decision he approves of.

The quietness has helped him regain his composure fully, set some things straight in his brain as the anger in him slowly dissipated. Space is good, for both his hyung and you and he’s proud of you for allowing yourself to get to this point that you walked away. Yoongi, evidently, has returned to his hermit tendencies and Jungkook knows very well that it’s something that he needs in his healing time. It’s who he is; who he always has been. He didn’t push him away too many times for him to be possibly wrong about this and while the information he gained from you that Yoongi changed his ways shattered Jungkook’s heart and glued it back together, he knew, somehow, deep within him, that it was just an effort. For you.

He didn’t think it was a façade because Yoongi is certainly not a phony person.

He did it for you. Tried his hardest. And succeeded. With your help, he’s sure—which makes it all the more beautiful—but Yoongi is still Yoongi.

Someone who deals with things on his own.

And although the distance he needs hurts other people, he doesn’t mean it. Jungkook knows this just as well, despite the fact what he truly thinks is that Yoongi should try harder.

For you.

He needs to tell you this. Needs you to know. But he doesn’t think you’re ready to hear it just yet, which is okay. The plan is constructed, he’s here for you and he will make you feel better. He will caress your heart and make your belly full. Will make you forget for a little while before he gently brings you back to reality.

You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through. Because of him. Because of Yoongi.

And because of this, he no longer feels guilty that he has you to himself without Yoongi knowing. Even if that means he risks his brotherhood, even if that means he risks his affection for you seeing the light of day.

You’re more important.

It’s this thought that gets interrupted by a sudden ring of your phone. You jump, zipping your purse open and Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t really want to see the kind of picture you have Yoongi saved under. He has to keep his feelings intact. Remain calm.

Your breath shakes. “He’s video calling me.”

Sparks of electricity nip at his fingertips. A surge of adrenaline, the threatening, false notion that he’s doing the wrong thing. Jungkook almost smirks. It’s so fucking thrilling to him.

He lets you decide on your own what to do, but you grow unsure, nerves burdening you. He feels that heft and it’s quick to sober him up.

“Should I get out of this car? Say I’m taking a walk?” you ask, your pretty, pretty eyes wide, your pupils so tiny. Jungkook wants to take your hand in his, take your fear that makes you think these silly thoughts and crush it.

He’s here. He’s going to take care of this. Of you.

“Let it ring.”

You look back down at your phone, lip between your teeth, but Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, the red of the stoplight pervading you with the danger of your girlish freedom. And it does ring two more times before Yoongi gives up.

Good.

You have the right to need to distance yourself just as much as he does. Give him the same silent treatment like he did to you.

There’s a smug smirk plastered on his face when he catches you putting your phone back into your purse before the light turns green. He speeds down the road, driving with just one hand, ready to unfold his plan.

One he’s already shared with you.

He’s taking you to the mall.

His hand itches to take yours as you walk beside him. Strangers stare you down, but you keep your attention on the myriads of shops lining the side of the promenade. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that there’s so many people wasting their Thursday at such a place like this. At this hour, especially. It kind of makes him regret that he took you here, despite the fact the sole purpose of it was to feed you until you were full. The lights are too bright, children are screaming and running around and it’s giving him a headache, but one look at you changes his mind in an instant. The glow he missed has found its way back to your cheeks and there’s a glint to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long while. The paleness is gone and he’s not really ignorant to the way a bush of roses begins to bloom in his chest at the realization.

You stop dead in your tracks all of a sudden. Your little purse slips off of your shoulder. As attentive as he always is, he slides it back up, a smile tugging his mouth to the side. He thinks it’s just so damn cute. And the fact you don’t pay any attention to it as well. Probably used to it.

Red posters of sale adorn the storefront that has caught your eye. Jungkook is unfamiliar with it, but you seem to be completely enthralled by it.

“Where do you wanna eat?” he provokes. Already knows what restaurant you’ll be feasting at, obviously, but poking you is a matter of enjoyment for him. “There’s so many food courts to choose from.”

You look at him and clutch your stomach, as if the mere mention of food made you hungry. A faint, faded light flashes across that glint in your irises before it dwindles away and Jungkook is ready to throw you over his shoulder and push people off of his path to get you there right now.

“Can we… go here first?” you ask, hesitatingly, grabbing a hold of his elbow, but he feels as though you’re squeezing his heart, wringing it out of all that liquid emotion that he swallowed down earlier in the car. Your touch is warm, like the pond water kissed by the sun back at his cabin, seeping into his skin and languidly streaming through his body.

It’s automatic, primal and right, the way he clasps his other hand across your fingers wrapped around his bicep and the way your body draws closer to his. It should be normal to do this when he’s seen you bare—when he’s seen you feral, needy and disappear into your pleasure, one he’s the creator of. Why does it feel so thrilling? So dangerous?

You can meander through as many stores as you want. And he tells you that, or at least tries to, as he smiles at you, softly, and nods his head, letting you lead him inside the shop that has so vehemently caught your attention.

A trillion styles of jeans, tiny tops, skirts and shorts of the same size, Jungkook understands your fascination as he takes it all in. And he’s pleasantly surprised when you indulge him as you fondle every material of every clothing you like, telling him how pretty you find it. You’re not timid to show him your disappointment either, wrinkling your nose, when the fabric is too frail or too expensive for the price, muttering vulgarities directed to capitalism and leading him away.

It isn’t until your sight stumbles upon a rack of dresses that your breath, audibly, hitches in your throat. And you unlink your arm from his, going straight for your seemingly new obsession.

A red dress. A sheer fabric, more like. With roses sewn in, a split in the middle, one strap covering only a part of the hanger. It’s the only piece of clothing you actually take into both of your hands, putting it against your body, as if to see what it would look like on you. Fuck if he knows what you’re doing—all he knows is that his throat is dry, the image of you wearing something like this making him a living, breathing corpse.

Jungkook clenches his fists. Even more so when you disappointingly click your tongue upon seeing the price tag, putting it back where you found it. The thought of you not having that dress causing his heart to lodge, tightly and disturbingly, in the shriveled walls of his throat.

Not happening. Not under his watch.

That dress was made for you.

Jungkook licks his lips. Doesn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why don’t you try it on?”

You give him a look as if he was a mad man. And he is. That he certainly is. “Please, this costs more than I can afford. I’d only go home crying if I tried it on and had to put it back.”

He stifles a laugh at how ridiculous you sound. Picks up the price tag. Less than two hundred thousand wons. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account.

He grabs the hanger. Hands it to you. “Go try it on, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. Don’t look amused at all. Your brows knit ever so adorably and the corners of your mouth curl downwards, arms crossing over your chest. Oh, he’s going to wipe that expression off of your face. Paint it in pretty, pretty colors. “No, thanks. I think I cried enough today. Let’s go.”

You walk past him, but Jungkook stops you. Grabs your arm. Calls your name, firmly. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

You huff. “Is there something wrong with your ears?” Your brows quirk and he thinks he died again. Might melt into a putty. Just for you.

He smirks, showing his teeth. “It’s no issue for me,” he says, speaking of money, taking your hand in his and enveloping your fingers around the hanger. “So be good and try on this dress for me. Off you go.”

Jungkook turns you around and, with his palms on your shoulders, he leads you towards the dressing rooms, not stopping until he finds one that’s unoccupied. You huff and puff again, but he gently pushes you inside. And when you open your mouth to say something, he drags the curtain to the side. A laughter bubbles in his chest.

“You’re not buying this for me.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Strip.”

There’s no witty remark, no exhales of your exasperated breaths, only the obnoxious music blasting through the speakers and he assumes that you gave in to him. A tendril of proudness, not of his actions but for you and your good behavior, swims in the hot bloodstream of his veins and it’s now, now that he’s almost alone and you’re out of view, save for your feet clad in pink socks under the curtain, that he perceives that he’s coated in sweat. The disorder of his colorful, all kinds of feelings has turned him so numb that he doesn’t even feel grounded in his body. He needs a strong sip of alcohol. And a good meal.

He begins to flutter the sides of his leather jacket, just to alleviate himself of how hot he feels, when he hears you gasp, your footsies shuffling on the carpeted floor. He takes a step towards the dressing room, a trembling hand reaching for the curtain and stopping there—a spasm of nerves zaps his abdomen, spreading iciness to the tips of his fingers. He knows what he’s about to see will make him a dead man for the third time this evening and because of that, he takes a deep, soundless breath, closing his eyes for a mere second before his hand pulls the curtain away.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him.

And nothing is what you’re wearing underneath the dress.

Abruptly, there’s no music. There’s no gasps emitting out of that marvelous mouth of yours. And the film in front of his eyes is in slow motion, accompanied by the winged fuckers going equally mad inside his stomach. You’re twirling. From side to side. Patting down the material tight against your slender body. A grin on your face, one that he’s last seen during that time joy rested in you, bathes you in a glow that he longed to see. The glint, the light in your eyes takes on a whole new intensity and it shoots embers into his bare hands, burning him ferociously and curtly—just for him to find that he likes it and that he wants more. You turn around, facing him, and you swathe him with that flaring, almost raging light. It’s the sole thing he senses amidst the numbness of his headspace.

Except for one thing.

The ruffle of the sorry excuse for a rose beneath the singular strap of the dress is but an inch above your stiffened nipple while the other, just as excited, is left bare for his eyes—as if the principle of being exposed like that awakened your body. But it’s the vast, stitched red buds of that flower across your small waist, stomach, mound and the apex of your thighs that brings his attention to this other thing that he’s aware of.

He’s hard for you.

This image of you will perpetually haunt his dreams. Your little, carmine rose tattoos as if lining your skin, mainly. His throat swallows, dryly.

Jungkook cups himself in an effort to hide his arousal and his bafflement from your stark, astonishing beauty. He thinks you’re unquestionably otherworldly, so far beyond his reach and his league that it aches. As much as the apprehension that if you wore anything else in this fucking dressing room, he’d fall to his knees just the same.

And then you speak and somehow you bring sharpness back into his reality.

“The socks go well with the dress, don’t you think?”

Jungkook glances at your feet and what he sees makes him pinch his eyes and let out a rumble of laughter. There’s a fucking Pikachu on your socks, grinning up at him, mocking him for getting hard for you for the third time.

He can’t look back up and be a witness to the magnificence of your body. If he allows himself to do so, he will combust. Bring the whole building down—

A set of footsteps sound behind him and, with a racing heart, Jungkook steps inside the dressing room, shrouding you with his body without touching you, pulling the curtain shut. You startle, backing away until your spine leans against the mirror and there’s no space, none whatsoever, for him to run from you because when he turns back around, it’s your eyes he meets first. Nose to nose, breath to breath.

When did they start making dressing rooms so fucking small?

His breath picks up speed. He wants to pretend he doesn’t see the thick veil of your feminine carnality shunning out the light in your irises, because he can’t afford this, not when you’re sad, not when you need a friend, not when he needs to be stable for you. But the more you look at him, the more you draw him in and he has very little strength to fight against it.

Averting his gaze, he props a hand on the wall beside your mirror. Notices your clothes, untidy, sprawled on the bench. Finds no traces of you taking off your underwear, which means only one thing.

His heart nearly skips a beat.

“Where’s your underwear?”

Your grin forms into a smirk and you latch both of your hands onto the sides of his jacket. Danger mingles into that carnality in your eyes and Jungkook knows, right at this instant, that he’s fucked. “Didn’t take any.”

His cock hardens even more in his hand. A brief flashback of the way he ripped your panties off at his cabin when you disobeyed him fills his mind, and he grows weak. It’s still a private pleasure of his, one that he likes recollecting, no matter the events that took place after. And the whole escapade has caused him to form a certain attachment to your underwear—or lack thereof. Knowing you didn’t take any on your first, secret night out with him suffuses him with delectation, one that intertwines with a rising question in him.

Did you choose not to wear it for the sake of the old time or did you choose not to wear it because you’re expecting something from him?

He yearns to know. Needs to.

“Why?”

Your fists bunch up his T-shirt underneath the jacket, tip of the tongue darting out to lick across your top lip. Your eyes follow the way you squeeze the fabric and Jungkook catches your long lashes quivering at your discovery of his quite prominent problem. A blush scatters along your nose and cheekbones and he doesn’t have to look down to know that his hand scarcely conceals his imprint. He’s grown harder for you in this close proximity and, peculiarly, light pervades him now that you know about his arousal, even though he doesn’t expect you, nor demand from you, to do anything about it.

“Oh, you know.” Palms flat, you drift them down his stomach. Jungkook stiffens, a forest burned by you. “It would only get in the way.”

He sucks in a breath, pressing his other hand beside your head, caging you in, his cock in full clothed glory for you. His head spins, but paradoxically, he feels himself gaining strength, as if you managed to rejuvenate him by laying out your cards on the table in such a filthy, electrifying manner.

“Get in the way of what?”

You mirror him, sucking in a breath of your own. “Get in the way of you fucking my brains out?”

A quirk of his brow. A twitch of his cock. He can’t breathe—you’ve taken all of the remaining oxygen in his lungs when you sucked in that breath and uttered those dirty, dirty words. How are you capable of this? What has Yoongi done to you? Jungkook drags his teeth up his bottom lip, although it attenuates close to nothing. His arousal only blossoms, the bush of roses in his gut thickening, so akin to your little, feigned tattoos. He yearns to feel them under his palm.

A dead man, for the fourth time.

His knees might give out. His hands are clammy.

Though his mouth acts on its own. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of doing?”

He watches the flashback swim past your irises and it connects to your mouth, expanding it into a coy smile. “I guess I have.”

Bad, bad girl. It’s you who’s fucking his brains out, trembling like a little leaf, longing for his touch, calling out for his hands. He feels them buzz, interwoven with your senses and your desires. Even if you didn’t move an inch, if you remained still as a sculpture, his hands would still know you want them and it drives him to the peak of insanity—enough for him to consider taking you right here and there, in all seriousness. In spite of the fact he still has a mind of his own and is aware that he shouldn’t. For Yoongi’s sake, yes—but mostly for your sake.

The tips of his fingers tingle with the craving to rip that flimsy fabric off of you and make you remember what he did to you, even though you fully remember. Something about that fills him with an onrush of vigorous energy, one that needs a release. It whispers, most intensely, its plea for it within his skin.

“Do I really need to remind you?” Jungkook asks, playing your little game after all, digits clenched into fists on either side of your head. You nod, briefly, seemingly becoming smaller in his captivity, hands drifting lower, rooting by his hips. He’s surprised he’s letting you touch him like this, but then he’d let you do anything you want. He sweeps a glance at your form, just once, before he bores his gaze back into yours. It did something to you and he draws closer, senses you squeezing your thighs together. Such a cute, bad girl. “It would be a pity to rip this dress off of you. What would they think, hm? If you walked out of this dressing room and had to explain to them what happened?”

Jungkook drags a finger down your neck and at the first physical contact, you release a breath that wafts over him, deepens his heat. He traces the line of your strap until he reaches the frilly bud of the rose and tugs at it, just once.

He’s about to continue taunting you, but you catch him off guard.

“I dunno, I’d tell them I wanted you to do it. That I needed the reminder,” you whisper and your low tone of voice curls unfathomably somewhere within his gut, forcing him to double over. You hook your fingers around his belt loops and Jungkook brims with gladness that he didn’t wear a belt. “What was it that you did to me?”

He nearly, nearly rolls his eyes back. The effect you have on him—he craves to bunch your hair in his fist, teach you a lesson regarding what you’re doing to him.

And he just might. Take full responsibility while he’s at it.

Two responses swirl on his tongue, however.

One to scold you for provoking him in public, but he knows it would stall the aroused energy and back it away into a corner. The other to keep going and drive you to his level of insanity.

It’s a crossroad and he’s standing in the middle, a man in charge, his morals questioned and at absolute fucking risk. His blood pumps at full speed and sweat lines his forehead. He’s on the verge of bursting. Time and tension presses against him and with all that energy and strength pulsating in him, it’s scarcely the one he needs to put a stop to this all. It all leads into a far different direction, leading him away from the clearness of his morals.

Fuck.

Then, your chest lifts in desperate staccatos and that’s it for him. That’s the breaking point.

No way out.

Only way in.

For you.

Jungkook wets his lips. “How well can you keep a secret?”

In the same trembling staccatos, you exhale in relief and he’s ready to give you everything. Absolutely fucking everything. “I’m the best in the game.”

A flash of light in his being. He’s immensely pleased with your answer, growing hotter and hotter. He inches closer to you, flush to your body, lips by your ear. Feels your little nubs pressing against his upper abdominal muscles. Craves to sink his teeth into the delicious flesh of your ear. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he starts, mimicking your low tone, speaking of the evident elephant in the room, hoping you catch onto it. “And if they ask, you have to come up with something else. Can you do that?”

He pulls away a tiny bit, just to study your reaction. Your hold tightens on his belt loops while your mouth parts and your head nods in agreement, ever so needy but patient for his next move. He wants to lick you all over just for that, reward you until you lose your voice.

“You teased me with your words, with your little bratty mouth, and even though you listened well when I told you to lick your finger for me, you disobeyed me when I instructed you to not wear panties at my place,” he starts, lips mouthing your ear and he feels the need of your body to stabilize at the memory. Offering you his own, he presses closer to you until he pins you against the mirror, until both pairs of lungs sync in movement, his fingers skimming, barely, over the sides of your hips. Though something resistant takes place in the middle of that entwinement. Something that gives his mouth the aftertaste of copper. “And when I found out, I ripped them off of you. Fingered you so fast you came in seconds and made a mess on my hand. And then…” he pauses, an inkling regarding how to get rid of his uneasiness plaguing his mind. “Then I made you apologize and you did. You did it so sweetly that I made you come so many times until you lost count,” he alters the memory, concluding the reminder finding the aftertaste rapidly increasing, transmitting down to his heart, burdening it with a heavy load that he doesn’t know the contents of.

“Can you show me what you did? I think I might remember better if you do.”

He almost sinks to his knees, but the resistance, the coppery aftertaste in his mouth immobilizes him, keeps him glued on his spot and his hands begin to tremble. An image of Yoongi blazes in the back of his mind and, fleetingly, Jungkook sees a swift movement, a memory of getting hit. If his hyung is in as bad a mental state as he is, it’s inevitable that history will repeat itself. You haven’t received his blessing. Neither has he.

But at this very moment, he thinks knuckles to his cheek will simulate the act of a kiss.

Secrets are secrets and he’s weak.

Awfully, awfully weak.

“Is this what you want me to do?” he asks, looking you dead in the eye, lifting his chin, hoping you see his frailty—hoping you see that he’s hanging by the thread. “Finger you in this dressing room until you ruin that pretty dress?”

A smile. “Well, you didn’t get me a dildo, so your fingers will have to do.”

A sharp inhale of breath. “What about this cock, huh? You don’t want it?”

You drag a finger along his jean-clad length, barely touching him. Jungkook twitches all over.

“It’s too big for me, you know I can’t take it.”

A deep chuckle. He’ll ruin his jeans himself. “If my mind serves me well, you’ve always taken it well. Came around it a lot of times.”

You whine. This, this is your breaking point and all of Jungkook’s muscles tighten at the recognition. He’s gonna give it to you. Say fuck it to it all—his life was damned the moment he set his eyes on you. Knew he was going to die prematurely. Thinks dying in Yoongi’s hands is quite merciful. It’s his best friend after all.

“Please, Jungkook, I—”

He grabs your waist, tightly. His thumbs touch and his stomach drops. “You what?” He’s going to make you say it, he doesn’t care. He needs it. He craves it.

A mewl, one that coils around his length. “I’m so wet. I need you. Please, do something. Anything. Let’s get out of here.”

He turns you around and because you didn’t expect it, you gasp—loudly. Angels must be by his side, for your sounds get instantly swallowed by the blasting music. You can be as loud as you want, as he wants and he makes a mental note to remind you that when the time asks for it.

His fingers gather the flimsy fabric, bunching it at your waist. In the sharp light, shining down at you most perfectly, he has a splendid view of your drenched thighs and swollen clit. He presses you against him, needs you to feel how hard you made him, how rock solid his cock is at the sight of your mouth-watering filthiness. He needs you in his mouth, he needs you.

“Where?” Jungkook asks, staring you down in the mirror, brows furrowed, head tipped to yours, lips in a tight line, parting with every hardened exhale. “Where do you need me? Show me.”

You moan, ever so softly and he can’t help but grind against your ass, fingertips making dents in the flesh of your waist. You take your hand and drift it down to your sweet little cunt and Jungkook holds his breath. You rub your center, your adorable lips wrapping around your small fingers and you show him the thick sheen of your arousal, glistening in the light. Just like you did the first time he set his eyes on you, even though the paradisiacal sight wasn’t meant for him.

Now it is—and he’s nearly about to weep in joy. Such spiritual experience, swathed with gratitude and mercy, healing him through and through. This is for him. You’re willingly giving it to him. He never thought he was ever deserving of it, but now in your hands, at your service, it feels too good to be true. His eyes wet, his arousal taking a new form, becoming something bigger, more profound, something that will change him, cling to him for the rest of his life.

“Here. I want your fingers.”

He takes your palm in his, planning something with it. “Just my fingers?”

You lean your head back against his chest. “All of you, please, please.”

At your service.

Jungkook wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking your dew, swallowing it, needing more. You grow more desperate, watching him in the mirror, and your little index finger grazes his lip ring, smiling sweetly, pleased with yourself. He coos at the sight, but then you turn around, pressing yourself against him, your cunt against his thigh, his cock against your tummy, and you grab the back of his neck and pull him in, harshly, for a kiss.

You eat his mouth. He’s barely able to reciprocate your hungry kisses, the roll of your tongue, your moans at your own taste and he decides he will simply slow you down.

Reaching behind you, his fingers tease your entrance. In response, you lift your ass for him, arching your spine as much as you can. He knows that if he were to pull away, he’d see your juices in the mirror, in the stark light, but your starvation and your craving tastes too good and he physically can’t.

Gathering your slick, he drags his fingers past your parted lips towards your clit and you swirl your hips for him, outrunning him—making the tip of his digit give you the circles you want. He groans into your mouth, out of breath and it isn’t until he rubs your bud rapidly, with deep pressure, and you moan so loud that it alerts him enough to pull away.

The music did not, in fact, swallow that sound.

Jungkook clamps your mouth shut.

Without stopping his movement. Watches your eyes roll back. And he’s greedy, unfortunately so.

Turning you around, he props your leg on the bench and he looks at your pretty cunt. Swollen red clit, like your feigned tattoos, parted lips, dripping hole and equally soaked folds, glistening in the direct light. He swears, can’t help it, fondling your femininity, all four of his fingers gliding with ease, back and forth, everywhere. Down to your other hole, to your inner thighs, back up to your seashell, to your mound and lower tummy. He cakes you with your arousal, one he’s the creator of, bunching your dress higher until he’s holding you right underneath your breasts that spill over his forearm. So full and perky—he’s unhinged. Utterly, utterly unhinged.

He wants to smear your slick over those clothed nipples as well.

Fuck.

Jungkook rubs your clit again, with the same speed as before. Your eyes lid, but keep the eye contact in the mirror, ravaging him through and through. He submits to it, even though he has the upper hand, even though he has the capability to make those eyes go cross. And they do—when he sinks his fingers inside of you, middle and ring, stuffing you full. Your walls suck him in so hard that he almost loses his footing, squeezing you so hard against him that he’s sure he will leave bruises on your tender skin. He silently promises he will kiss them later.

“Is this what you wanted?” He lifts your leg, hoists it up in the air and begins to fuck you speedily, fingers curling in your spot every once in a while. He doesn’t want to make you come fast, but then time is pressing against him and he knows the mall will be closing soon. He still has to fill that belly. Would prefer if you came around his cock. “My fingers fucking your needy little princess parts, hm?”

You moan his name and Jungkook shushes you in your ear, rewarding you regardless by abusing your clit with circles, alternating between those and swiftly fucking you in your tight hole.

“I’m gonna come, Jungkook, I’m gonna come.”

He withdraws his fingers. All of them—even those wrapped around your leg. You sway on your feet, heady, panting, and he stabilizes you with a hand on your arm. He smirks at you in the mirror, fingers in his mouth and you give him a dirty look.

Before you can tell him off, he explains himself. “You’re coming around my cock, I don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”

His words wipe your face off of that scowl and you smile at him. A sunshine personified. Jungkook chuckles, pushing you against the mirror with his hand on your sternum and getting on his knees.

He places your leg on his shoulder. “Hold your dress for me.”

You listen right away, ever so eager. One hand clutches the hem, the other sneaks to his hair. Jungkook likes it so much that he doesn’t waste a second and envelops his mouth around your little clit.

Just briefly. He has your dew to drink.

He swipes his tongue along your slit. Over and over, until his sweat drips in pearls down his temples and he makes new bruises on the sides of your hips. Even goes one step further and fucks you with his tongue, letting out short little breaths and soft moans against you, gone feral by your taste and your fleshiness. He takes your lips in his mouth, plays with them with his tongue. Pulls away, stares lovingly at them and spits on your clit, sucking it inside his mouth and rubbing his face in your dripping juices, licking up everything you’re giving to him.

And when your knee gives out, he catches you in time, standing to his feet. Doesn’t kiss you. Is selfish. Wants your taste perpetually on his tongue. Your eyes sink to his wet chin and you lick your lips, a feral look on your own gracing your features. You resemble a horny little animal, one that he craves to own and make his. But he can’t burden his heart with that thought. Doesn’t have the strength for it, not when he’s still hanging by the thread.

“How do you want my cock?” he asks, his own eyes lidded, darkness consuming him. “Like this or from behind? You decide. I’m giving it to you. It’s yours.”

You’re left speechless. He taps your cheek, gently, to make you talk. If you don’t, it will be his ruination and he will die. At your Pikachu-clad feet. A sweet, sweet death. Ideal.

“I—I can’t take it from behind.” A deer in the headlights, terribly cute.

He chuckles, caressing your hair. “But you have.” He grins, but it’s an answer for him. He’ll take you from behind in the safe confines of your home. “Like this, then. It’s more than perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses you, deeply, but he doesn’t give you his tongue. His heart expands, his affection crawling all around the kiss. He wonders if you can feel it.

Pulling away, he unbuttons his pants and takes out his length. He’s soaked his underwear, but he doesn’t mind. His arousal drips down and he rubs it along his tip to make it as painless for you as he can when he enters you.

And once he does, your eyes roll back and you break into whines, ones that fuck with his brain. Your leg is wrapped around his torso, but he joins the other one, holding you by your splendid little cheeks. Like his fingers, you suck him in, even though he hasn’t given you all of it yet. He’s already losing it. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him once he’s balls deep. He won’t last. He physically can’t.

Jungkook bites your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. “You want all of it?”

You tug at his hair. “Yes, all of you.”

At your fucking service.

He sinks deeper into you, hissing, furrowing his brows, sweat dripping down every perimeter of his body. Your mouth latches onto his neck and he’s gone. Even more so, when you graze your teeth upon his skin before you suck it—like he sucked your lip. He fucks you hard for it, making you let go of his neck and moan against the column. It pleases him so much that he does it again, a warm pressure coiling in his lower belly. It creates a cacophonous sound, your body colliding into the mirror and it mingles, beautifully, with the music playing. As well as the squeaky noises of your slick gliding along his cock every time he draws out.

“Who do you belong to tonight, huh?” Jungkook rasps, filling you balls-deep just like you wanted, driving into you slowly until his pelvis kisses yours. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hear you but me.”

Rapid, whiny moans. He mimics their speed while maintaining eye contact with you and he groans when your eyes go unfocused, mouth parted. You’re just as gone as him. He pecks you for it, so terribly pleased. His orgasm inches closer, enveloping him with even deeper, thicker darkness.

“To you, Daddy,” you cry out and because you called him by the title, he maneuvers you. Hoists you higher on his cock, with your legs now dangling from his forearms. And like this, he drags you up and down his length, his own moans breaking at the feeling of you tightening around him. He’s gonna come now and it’s your fault.

“No, sweetheart, you can’t call me that when we’re here,” he scolds, shaking his head, brushing his lips against yours. “I can’t ruin you the way I’d like. They’d kick us out.” He kisses you, slowing down his tempo, stalling his orgasm. “Now apologize or you’re not coming.”

“I’m so sorry. I won’t call you that in—in public.”

A rewarding kiss to your neck. A hard stroke. One that blankets his vision with colorful stars. “Good girl,” he praises, looks down at you and kisses you without breaking the stare. “Now you need to be the best girl and come around my cock. I can’t fill you up—you didn’t wear your panties. I’d ruin your leggings for everyone to see.” You cry out again, the idea dizzying your mind as much as his and you tug at his hair, scratching your fingernails down his neck, touching him all over. “Can you do that for me? Can you come for me and not make a mess like the last time, hm?”

He pounds into you, the strokes so hard that the sound of skin slapping turns disturbing and he holds his orgasm for your sake, all of his muscles clenched, stars dancing across his vision, pecking your features. And that’s it for you.

You come so hard around him—and you are the bestest girl in the world because you manage to keep your eyes on him throughout the entirety of the wave of your orgasm washing over you, licking up at your body. Mouth parted, his name slipping past, a deep tinge of red, deeper than your dress, flushing your cheeks, eyes dazed, so gone, so fucked out, dark and alluring, so akin to his.

His bestest girl. His sweetheart.

He needs to pull away. He needs to come.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re tired but I need you to take off your dress and get on your knees.”

You do it so quickly, without talking back, that even his own flush finds its way to his cheeks, his heart growing even larger and hotter, winged fuckers zapping his stomach. He fucks his fist in your face, loving the way you’re watching what he’s doing for a little while with a lingering hunger before you flick your eyes to his, beckoning his orgasm out of him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, muscles straining, movement quickening. White clothes the colorful stars, the warmth in his stomach on the very brink of exploding. “Open your mouth.”

And he paints your mouth in the same shade of white. You’re so good that you wrap your lips around him, sucking him softly, making popping sounds that prolong his orgasm and he grasps your hair in his fist, gently, despite the violence of his release. He’s not just giving you his cum; he’s giving you all of his affection and when you swallow and smile at him in such a kind, beautiful manner, it wets his eyes in a way that he can’t explain.

He helps you get on your feet and you worsen his state of emotions. Like earlier, you fold into his form, hugging him skin to skin, squeezing him so hard that he stops breathing altogether. And when you begin to weep and smear his chest with your precious tears, he weeps with you.

Never in his life before has he experienced such embrace, such love unraveling in the form of tears and quiet sobs. And he doesn’t want to absolve this again. With you, it’s perfect. And right now, he could die with the utmost certainty that you’re both crying for the same reason.

Love unable to be real, to be fulfilled.

He senses it. Senses it in the way he cradles your head and wipes your tears away. In the way your lips wrap around his, kissing him as if this was the very last time. You don’t have to say a word. He knows. And it’s enough.

Jungkook dresses you. Runs his fingers through your hair in effort to fix it and make it look as nice as it did before he ruined it. And his eyes drench again when you zip him up in the meantime. No one has ever done that for him.

The warmth in his heart heightens. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible.

Taking your hand, purse and your dress, he leads you to check out. Pays for it. Carries the bag. Pretends you’re his; pretends his duties are nonexistent and his morals have different colors—just for this night. Doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he orders a good bowl of soup for you and himself, even as you sit down together and wait for your food. Even as you look at him deep in thought.

“You saved me,” you unravel, a soft, tender, drowsy mien gracing your face and his heart thuds against his ribcage, gratitude surrounding it, eyes wetting again. “Thank you. And for the dress. I’ll only wear it for you.”

The thuds halt. And it’s the only thing that does—a tear rolls down his cheek and he can’t truly believe he’s baring his feelings like that for you, in front of you. He feels as though he was dreaming and he fears he’s going to stir to awakening any moment now.

A waiter brings your food. None of you pay him any kind of attention, though you don’t forget to say your thank you’s.

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, despite the fact no words rise on his tongue, but something interrupts him.

His phone rings.

And it’s none other than his hyung himself.

BACK to masterlist

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

213 notes · View notes

pupyuj · 1 day

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Mean dom wonnie and yujin/ OR MAYBE REI being the mean girl duo, top at their class and just happens to get interested in you, maybe g!p🗣️✨🎀 with an unnie kink✨

gonna do mean girls wony and rei bcs ehehe i don’t write enuff rei 🥺🥺😢💓 plus ya’ll do NOT want me to yap about mean girl yuj or else we’ll end up with a ycs-long rant about me wanting mean girl yuj to make up a horrible rumor about me and ridicule me in front of the entire student body and then break my glasses and laugh in my face about it… THE VOICESSSS 👹👹👹👹

anyways, pardon for the long author’s note but omg i rlly enjoyed this ask for some reason LIKE I HAD SO MUCH FUN WHILE WRITING IT 😵‍💫😵‍💫🤭 i couldn’t incorporate unnie kink at all bcs i completely forgot about it MY APOLOGIES I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND ANON 🥺🙏

mean girls wony and rei who scares everyone except you bcs you always end up being third best at the class bcs of them and so you absolutely hate their guts 😡 never receiving the praises you deserve bcs they hog all the spotlight as well as the top marks.. mean girls wony and rei who took an interest for the feisty academic overachiever you, (y/n), bcs they finally noticed you glaring daggers at them from the top of your book from across the courtyard benches one summer afternoon in the campus… mean girls wony and rei who take it to themselves to teach you a thing or two about respecting your betters 🤭✨✨

them somehow catching you studying alone in an empty classroom.. talking to you with fake smiles with an even faker tone of speaking, offering to help you review for the next week’s assessments which you refused quite rudely… and ofc wony wasn’t going to let that slide! 👿👿 here they were, offering you a nice way to finally beat them in the class and yet reject them?? in such a tone too?? you were just asking to be punished!

wony grabbing your chin harshly.. digging her nails in your skin before she stuffs your mouth with her fingers, daring you to speak to them like that again.. while rei’s off to the side recording all of this with her phone… ykw maybe you were shitting your pants bcs what the fuck??? “well?? you were so brave just a few minutes ago..” wony says, laughing as you gagged and choked on her long fingers 😵‍💫 rei spotting you eyeing down wonyoung’s hard-on.. “wony, i think there’s something else (y/n) would rather have in her mouth.”

“of course! fucking slut. come on, rei-yah. let’s give her what she wants and fill her up.”

ughhfhfhschcbcj rei occupying your mouth while wonyoung keeps one of your hands busy.. you completely forgetting that rei is recording bcs all of a sudden you were their little whore and all you wanted to was to please them?? sucking off rei so good that her normally soft moans are louder, her head thrown back while she uses her free hand to keep your head still, thrusting her cock into your mouth at a comfortable pace… “o-only learning how to.. ahh… cooperate with us when it comes to this, hm? we should’ve fucked you earlier. right, wonyoung?” rei grabbing a fistful of your hair from the back and forcing you to look at her while you sucked her off.. smiling as she looks at your pathetic face back and forth between on her phone and behind the camera 😵‍💫😵‍💫

meanwhile, wonyoung was burning hot—she wants to cum so bad!! she was rock-hard and throbbing, she must’ve wanted this for a while.. ugh she doesn’t know how the fuck you did it but even when you were mostly preoccupied with rei fucking your mouth, you still found ways to please wonyoung with your hand 🫣 more and more of her precum leaking and coating her length as you jerked her off.. toying with the head and making wonyoung whine, nearly making her cum even! and she does merely a few minutes later bcs poor baby couldn’t hold it! 😣 her cum spilling all over your hand and the side of your face.. a much, much better look on you than makeup if you ask wony 🤭 and rei adds to it too! cumming right after wonyoung and making sure to pull out just to decorate your face with her cum…

and then! surprising the two girls with a barrage of questions that they didn’t expect from your mostly polite mouth at all 🫣

“is.. is that it..?”

“y-you’ll.. fuck me, right? i want you both inside me…”

“please..? i-i’m good.. i promise, i am..!”

what the fuck?! who knew you can be such an obedient cockslut! and why would rei and wony say no to that cute face? best believe that they’d fuck you in turns and together for as long as you can take in that classroom! mean girls know how to fuck a good girl’s brains out after all 🤭🤭

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semisolidmind · 3 days

Note

How'd dogday & y/n meet in the slasher au? And what'd y/n do to have him so smitten in such a short time?

monsters, particularly monsters that possess claws and sharp teeth, are taught from a young age that humans find these qualities...unsettling. monster kids are taught to never bare their fangs at or around humans, and to never unsheathe their claws, unless it's for a good reason.

there are federal laws against "threatening displays of power" from monsters against humans. many monsters are considerably larger and much, much stronger than humans. these laws were and still are considered necessary by human (and some monster) authorities.

some humans take advantage of the laws against threat displays and knowingly antagonize or intimidate monsters. emboldened by the knowledge that a monster won't be able to retaliate (without serious repercussions if there's no evidence of human influence), some particularly scummy humans will tease, taunt, and physically harass monsters to try and get them to snarl or swipe.

dogday found himself the target of one such group on a trip back from a mixed race grocery store. he couldn't even raise his voice without fear of one of the humans accusing him of "threatening body language," so he could only quietly seethe and try to walk away when they threw insults (and some rocks) at him. even the bit of blood trickling down his arm from a hard throw didn't break his composure...but it got pretty close.

and then, y/n stepped in.

a bystander, with no reason to get involved. dogday had been sure that they, sitting on a bench and seemingly waiting for someone, would do as many humans would and simply watch. he was glad to be wrong.

while they aren't physically capable of standing up to the bullies, y/n did scare them off by threatening to call the cops. it really wouldn't look good if the aggressors were caught; a group of rough-looking humans against one obviously nervous, noncombatant monster? with y/n's testimony, they'd receive some jailtime and/or hefty fines. the group begrudgingly left, but not without a few last curses spit at the large dog monster.

dogday stood in surprised awe at his rescuer. they were mesmerizing; brave and confident, stepping up to help him, a stranger. there was something about the determined expression on their face, the look in their eyes, something about how the early morning sunlight hit them, giving them a gentle glow...

the thought sprung unbidden from the back of his mind.

"angel."

blinking, he was brought out of his stupor by their gentle voice.

y/n apologized on behalf of their fellow humans, lamenting that the gang sometimes hung around this part of town to take cheap shots at any monsters passing through. they introduced themselves then, reaching a hand out to shake (dogday noted how little hesitation there was in the action; most humans seemed reluctant to even speak to monsters, let alone touch them). their hand was so small in his own...he liked how it felt in his palm.

y/n offered to walk with dogday to his destination, or at least give him their number so they can buy him a coffee or lunch. he accepts the number (given the cold items in his grocery bags), and they part ways that day. they meet up at a mixed race-friendly cafe the very next morning.

the two find themselves in an easily flowing conversation. y/n had just transferred to the same college as dogday. they were in the education department as well, in many of the same classes. a junior, just like him. they were there on a scholarship; something about integrating more humans into a primarily monster-centric institution.

the canid monster felt excitement buzz in his core, and his tail wagged a bit behind him. he'd get to see them every day? he could show them around! he could introduce them to his friends, his brother, help them get to know the school and— he'd get to spend lots of time with such a kind, wonderful human! they have to be, to be accepted to his school, to stand up for him...they must be an angel.

he starts to call them as such the very next time he sees them, on campus. he likes the way they blush and stutter in response. his tail wags at the sight every time their face warms. he loves their smile, their laugh, how quickly they become friends with his friends...they even get his aloof feline brother to open up to them.

he soon finds himself in love with this wonderful human, devoted beyond reason.

#sc college/slasher au #i dont care how unrealistic it is I LOVE when fellas are quick to be smitten #let that man be MUSHY

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werecreature-addicted · 10 hours

Note

Request: Gentle giant type of beast (like a chimera from Beauty & the Beast) who has scary dog privileges, but he just wants to cuddle his cute petite pregnant gf in bed all day and make her cock warm him

I've been thinking about the scene in Beauty and the Beast where they're looking at the mirror and he just very gently touches her hair with his clawed paw and yeah that.

Someone who is very physically imposing, monstrous, and who is strong and capable of hurting people, but who chooses to be sweet and kind, who is always careful and gentle, especially with the ones he loves.

He rarely goes out in public, or anywhere where humans can see him, the reaction he gets is at best shock and horror but it's not uncommon for people to become violent when they see him, not to mention the number of times where he got animal control called on him because people thought he's a bear.

But if you're pregnant he goes into town with you no matter what, he cannot fathom letting you go by yourself, what if you need him? what if something happens to you or the baby? he doesn't care if he gets odd looks or if people scream when they see him, he's out with his cute little human, and he couldn't be happier. it also means there are no strangers brave enough to approach and randomly touch your baby bump you you're happy too.

he talks to the baby for hours on end, he wants to make sure they know his voice once they're born, he's worried that his baby will be scared of him, but you assure him that won't happen, the baby will love him just as much as you do.

He doesn't let you so much as lift a finger while he's there, he's there to do anything and everything you might need done, he might even be a prince like in Beauty and the Beast, with the resources and staff to spoil you rotten while you're pregnant.

#monster x reader #monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster x human

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girlokwhatever · 1 day

Note

What about Kate with a girlfriend who does makeup! We’ve seen kate admiring her teammates getting ready so with her gf? Shes hooked.

kate martin x fem!reader that loves makeup

₊˚ෆ⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ kate with a makeup loving gf,,

— UMMM defo admires you and how concentrated you are every time you do your makeup (or someone else’s)

- will just smile and stare sometimes

— she’ll always ask you “what’s this” or “what does this do”

— she lets you test out products on her and she just lets you do her makeup in general

- she’s not really a makeup girly, but she’ll do anything for you

— one time you were using liquid eyeliner and she scared you and made you mess up (oopsies)

- you said it was fine but she knows it wasn’t and apologized for the rest of the day

— she likes to do your setting power and setting spray every. single. time.

- you let her

— one time she got brave enough to ask if she could do your WHOLE FACE.

- afterwards you both went on a grocery run and the cashier complimented your makeup

- kate brags about it now every time she asks to do your makeup

— tells you that you don’t even need makeup

— takes you to sephora and lets you get whatever you want/need (mommy kate)

- oh you ran out of blush? she’s got you.

— did a voiceover of one of your makeup grwm’s and did not know what half of it was

- trust you educated her on the makeup routine

— you’re always asking her what lipgloss/lipstick shade to use

— she listens so carefully when you tell her (in detail) every step of your routine

— she loves to ask questions

- “why do you use the liquid blush and the powder blush?”

— calls you a cutie beauty guru

— all her friends ask you to do their makeup for important days (media days, photoshoots, interviews, etc.)

— the first time she turned on your ring light it literally blinded her

— her ego inflates whenever your mascara smears during 🤭🤭🤭🤭

— “ok guys now it looks likes she’s using the.. i don’t know.. the sponge brush.”

- “it’s a beauty blender babe.”

#kate money martin #i need kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate martin #iowa women’s basketball #iowa wbb #kate martin smut

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rottiens · 1 day

Text

⊹ ˚. RYŌMEN SUKUNA┊ "Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

𖤐 about. being taken away from your village, you have to try to live and survive on your own with the king of curses.

𖤐 cw. mdni. true form sukuna x afab!reader, dubcon (since the reader is forced to be a servant), you ride the mouth on his tummy, choking kink, sadistic sukuna if you squint, dirty talk, overstim, oral ( m -> f ), set in the heian era. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Sukuna is not familiar with giving up power, though it is not surprising, after all a man who has achieved so much power to the point of being revered as a god would not expect anything different. He is not used to being commanded, though not many have tried it and lived to tell the tale anyway, yet when you told him you wanted to do it tonight, without his help (you trying to prepare yourself, stretching yourself before taking it), fiery flames charged with lust and pride covered his devilish eyes, turning them a darker red than you are used to.

Drunk with control, Sukuna is always the one who dictates when and how things happen, ordering around those who serve him, as his word is the word of a king. He doesn't remember the last time someone addressed him with such arrogance and pride in their mouth, he should punish you for speaking before he allows you to but tonight he is feeling benevolent.

"Come here." His husky voice gave off hunger and poured over your limbs like honey. The purr in his timbre brought life to your muscles which tensed and contracted with anticipation.

You rose from the floor where you lay on your stomach with your forehead pressed to the ground in submission, and walked silently to where he is. His chambers are covered by a veil of absolute silence that is interrupted from time to time by barely audible vibrations coming from sukuna who lets them out every time he exhales through his nose, something very similar to the purring of a beast.

Filled with insecurity, you get ready to climb into his lap when you are close enough and it is only at that moment when he speaks again, freezing you on the spot.

"Not on my legs." He clarifies. "On my stomach." You ignore the flutter that lands on your belly and force yourself to concentrate on keeping your legs steady.

You take a long look at his figure and end up on his stomach, where you were ordered to sit. To describe sukuna as big is an adjective that would be too small for him, the houses in your village are big, the horses are big, sukuna… was huge. A monster, was what they called it in your village and even that word might not be enough to describe the creature that stood before you.

His four arms are a wonder to behold face to face, especially up close. Two hold him on his elbows gracefully, semi reclining on the futon where he expands his body further to give you the space you need to climb to his belly; while the other two…there is one holding his jaw and another resting above his hips.

Just like his arms, he possessed four pairs of eyes that don't let a single detail escape; all of these were set on you, you could feel them moving on you, there was no way to escape from him.

And finally, in his belly there was a mouth capable of tearing off the lower half of your body with one bite if he set his mind to it.

For how exposed he was, vulnerable even (bare belly and exposed chest, his arms in a resting position), sukuna was very relaxed and which makes you wonder if perhaps he doesn't think you brave or foolish enough to try to attack him, although it's not the right time or place, you couldn't do much if you were to hurt him sufficiently to try to escape, not with his subjects scattered all over the temple at least. Before you could get to the door his servants would have you imprisoned in one of the cold, dark rooms you've already been in.

Clearly impatient, thanks to being too occupied by your mental wanderings, the hand that lay on his hips gently pushes you into the position he ordered you to. You take a quick glance at your new seat, you find yourself just above the curved line of a smile on his lower abdomen. You look up to observe him, rather than relaxed he is now uneasy, concern is marked on your face as you recheck the mouth on his stomach closed in a tight line.

The posture is awkward thanks to the width of his body, your thighs are stretched to the max and your feet dangle from his body like an uncomfortable horse ride.

The imposing mouth suddenly opens suddenly revealing a thick and grotesque tongue and gives you a quick lick immediately wetting your crotch, the moan of surprise that escapes you makes the pair of cocks tremble under the piece of cloth that holds them captive.

Sukuna licks you again slower this time, taking his time to savor your taste. A murmur of approval makes the mouth on your stomach vibrate along with the purring that seems to increase and you hear clearly now that you are close to him. Then you realize it wasn't some noise he was making or your imagination, it was the natural purr coming from a predator and the contrast terrifies you since it sounds as soft as a lullaby.

"Give me more of that sweet taste." You clench. Your eyes, your thighs, your cunt.

The intruding tongue seems to be all over your slit at the same time, it's feather soft yet has just enough pressure to have you sobbing and dripping from how accurate its lashes are.

Soon you feel unsteady, dizzy, you try to grab hold of something firm but there is one of his hands imprisoning your wrists in your lower back and another firmly squeezes your neck making you unable to escape. "You're not going anywhere, little one," sukuna growls.

The soft muscle, coated with an excess of saliva completely covers your pussy in sweet ecstasy, you feel its edges even wet your trembling thighs, the sensation is crushing. Your whole body is charged with a strange static after the intruder moves imitating a wave, attacking your aching clit, squeezing your pussy lips and spilling your arousal into the monstrous mouth that licks and licks and then swallows.

"I want you to ride it." Four fingers pinch your nipples at the same time. "Ride my tongue, you said you wanted to get ready but I do not see you doing anything but being lazy on me," he reminds you, in that teasing tone that could make you cum right then and there.

It's too much. You want to let him know, your cheeks are about to boil and you don't know how much you can hold back the tears. The sensation of pleasure was overwhelming, the line between pleasure and too much of it causing pain was very thin. You wanted to run away, to ask him that you needed to rest at least for a moment but you know what that could cause.

"I do not want to repeat it, woman."

You don't seek to anger him because his punishments are far worse, so you find the last shred of willpower in you and rotate your hips in weak circles along with a broken gasp. He grunts in response.

You're close. Very, very close. The grip on your wrists increases and you slurp through your nose. You rub it desperately up and down, grinding your sensitive clit in the process, you do small bounces on the fully hanging tongue that reveal sticky clicks that expose how wet you are, your own juices mixed with his saliva spilling down the length of your legs and soaking his hips.

"Cum for me." He commands firmly, manifesting small mouths on his hands that are tasked with torturing your tits, sucking and biting your nipples mercilessly as he delights in watching you squirm under his touch.

"Sukuna!" His name feels sweet on the roof of your mouth and rumbles between the walls of his chamber as your movements descend to gradually fade away.

Then you hear a chuckle, the mouth you just rode, a grotesque cackle that bristles your skin and makes you moan at how sensitive you are as it gives you one last lick and then disappears completely into the cavity, showing you just as it did at first a tight line that could pass as a scar if you weren't paying attention.

Abruptly, his fingers dig into your cheekbones, sinking your cheeks so that your lips can pout adorably. His purr is much louder and harder now.

"If you want to make your king proud you will have to do more than that." Your eyes snap open. "You're ready to take my cocks at the same time, I promise I'm going to use that body of yours tonight until you pass out."

This is a repost! <3

#wr #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna smut #true form sukuna x reader #cw dubcon #cw dark content #cw choking

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leqonsluv3r · 1 day

Note

May i request paying a visit to a hospitalized Leon (after a mission) and bringing a chocolate box for him?

waiting room

—you visit leon in the hospital after a mission despite your hatred for them, a blurb

masterlist taglist

you hated this place.

you’ve always hated hospitals and you don’t know why. especially today, especially now. you hate being here. if you thought about it hard enough it could’ve been all those years you sat by your dads beside praying that the chemotherapy would finally work.

and of course, it didn’t.

but you weren’t here for your dad today, today you were here for leon, your boyfriend. and this only made the hatred stronger, made your uncomfortable feelings rise as you stepped through the wing of the hospital.

you had brought him chocolate, a teddy bear and some flowers. you didn’t do anything sappy like a greeting card or a stupid balloon that said GET WELL SOON!! with silly letters on it.

no, you brought flowers, chocolate and a cute little stuffed bear. you didn’t want to come empty handed, you couldn’t come empty handed. it just didn’t feel right.

you checked in at the front and they guided you to sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside of the many rooms. you tried to hide your discomfort and tried to remember the real and true reason why you were here.

the nurse told you that you could go in, so you get up. the box of chocolates in hand and the teddy bear, flowers in the other. making your way to the room that the nurse is leading you to.

you hate that every step you take is one you’ve taken before years earlier, the noise of the hospital doesn’t help. doesn’t make the thudding in your bones help as you keep walking behind the nurse as she leads you down the long hallway.

you feel like puking, running or just maybe fainting.

but you follow, then you get to the room leon’s in. the nurse opens the door for you and you go in, glancing around the white walls, the tv mounted in the far corner and then him.

he’s got a bandage around his large upper bicep, he’s staring out the window of the hospital from his hospital bed. he seems to be in a deep thought, like maybe he wishes he wasn’t here either.

you clear your throat and his gaze goes to you, those stunning blue eyes snapping to you in an instant. he gazes over you, then the box of chocolates, the teddy bear and then the flowers.

“you came.” he says in a raspy voice, defining his exhaustion with just two words. you blink and lick your lips, “why wouldn’t i have? you got some other girl visiting you and bringing you stuff?” you joke lamely as you walk towards the small nightstand beside the hospital bed. the beeping of the monitor and the IVs in his arms making you realize why your really here.

he follows your every movement as you sit down the gifts you brought him, then stand by his bed and look him over. “of course not,” he says as he rests his head against the pillow, “i just know how much you hate hospitals.”

you sigh and grabs his hand, rubbing over his scarred knuckles, looking down into his eyes. “i hate it, yes. but i braved it for you.” you give him a wry smile and squeeze his hand in your own.

he shakes his head, “the things people do for love.” he admits with a small chuckle, you blink at him and swallow. “you love me?” you whisper softly.

almost in astonishment and nervousness for a whole different reason now, besides being in a hospital. his blue eyes meet your own, “was that not obvious when i…asked you to come here?” he says with a nervous laugh.

you squeeze his hand and smile, “it…it was. i just, you haven’t really said that yet.” you blink a little and feel your cheeks heat up. he looks up at you, “well,” he moves closer to you in his hospital bed, “i do love you, honey. i love you so much.” he says with a little bit of water in his eyes.

you nod and smile, a large one that couldn’t even be coaxed out of you by someone with a gun to your head. he loved you, he had suffered on a mission and made it back alive. and he was here, injured, telling you that he loved you. it was not what you expected to happen when you went to the hospital to see him today.

but your glad you did.

you were glad that he was fine, that he only got some minor bruising and injuries. because if anything happened to this man on your watch, while you were in his life. it wouldn’t be easy, he had lived to tell you he loved you.

and deep down, you knew you loved him too.

suddenly, being in a hospital to see him didn’t seem scary anymore. it seemed something that was easy, that you could have no problem doing. what was far scarier were the words slipping out of your mouth as you looked down at him.

“i love you too.” you managed to get out, squeezing his hand so tightly that you were deeply afraid that you could break it. but he was strong, sometimes he seemed indestructible. at the rate of how little damage he took on this last mission, only have a couple bruises and a fractured wrist.

you had both gotten so lucky, so lucky to have found each other. despite your hatred for hospitals and his for admitting his feelings, here you both were. you were both accomplishing your fears today.

you leaned down and pressed your lips to his, carefully and mindful of the strain on his body. the thought of him being in a hospital bed was obsolete and it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. not now, not here with him.

he kissed you back, his uninjured hand still gripping yours tightly. he poured every drop of his love and affection into that kiss as he could muster. wanting to give you something to latch onto, a promise, that he actually meant what he said. that it wasn’t just lip service.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips, breathing in the same oxygen as you, like he would die without it. you let out a breathless laugh that fanned against his lips, “i love you too, so very much.”

love was simple, it was a fear from him that was as easily accomplished like one of his missions. he took what he could get, he faced it.

just like you faced your fear to be here, holding his hand and kissing him. bringing him ridiculously corny gifts, staying with him and not running when he admitted his feelings to you.

you both deserved each other.

fear or no fear, love or no love. you both could do it, this proved that. you both would be okay, he would be the one to absorb all the pain and love he was offered, the same as you.

because he loved you, and that could never be scary.

an: slowly working on all my requests, i hate how long it’s taking me but i work like 40 hours a week now and i only get two days off 🫣 i never get time for anything anymore. it sucks major ass, but at least, im almost done with most of them. but i hope you enjoyed this, hopefully. i hope it met your guy’s expectations lol <333 i love you all, kisses, xx.

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r1nstaaa · 2 days

Text

Mingyu x fem!reader

MDNI!!! this ones for u, maya <3

warnings: uh idk sex? raw sex yes. angst if u squint. smut mostly. childhood bsfs to lovers. happy ending bc im too soft sorry. it's my first time writing smth like this pls be nice

should mingyu feel ashamed? ashamed for thinking about how good those tiny hands of yours would feel around his thick cock, pumping him and stroking him while you’re on your knees looking up at him through those oh so innocent eyes of yours? should he feel ashamed for not focusing on a word you’ve been saying for the past 15 minutes, his eyes being glued only to your chest and lips?

it started when you were in high school. you and mingyu had been inseparable, almost as if your souls were created from the same one. he lived next door to you and you would go to his place every time you wanted to do something together. your mom treated him like her own son and his mother had practically accepted you as family. you could never have imagined a life without him. and frankly, you’re not even sure if you’d want to.

it wasn’t until the day that mingyu broke the news to you that you realised it was time to let go. it was time to let go of all the big warm hugs, or the ‘bear hugs’ as your mingyu liked to call them. it was time to let go of all the cheek kisses, all the lingering gazes that you were both too scared to act on. you wished you could have said it. you wished you were brave enough. but you weren’t. and neither was he.

he was leaving for korea in a week and there was nothing for you to do except let go of him.

you wished you could have gone about your life casually after his leave, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t miss him everywhere. you missed him when you went to the restaurant where you bought him his favourite spicy ramen. you missed him at the park where he made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your soda. you missed the smile on his face every time you told him you hated him for making fun of you. the smile that made you wonder if the stars envied him for the way he could brighten up darkness so effortlessly.

it wasn’t until 6 years later that you finally caught a glimpse of him again.

you were at the airport in korea. you’d managed to fulfill your dream of becoming an architect and had finally gotten a project outside of your country. you saw flashing cameras, paparazzi, and a huge crowd of people surrounding a 6’ something guy wearing a mask and some sweats. you never got the idea of surrounding people as if they’re some god. they’re just people too after all.

you had managed to get through some of the crowd when you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. you pat it several times just to make sure until you realised something. shit. it was missing.

it was right when the realisation hit you that you felt a tap on your shoulder. you turned around and were face to…chest? god, this man was freakishly tall. you looked up to meet his eyes with yours and it was as if the breath had been knocked out of your damn lungs.

mingyu.

it was YOUR mingyu.

“y/n?” he questioned, almost to himself. he couldn’t believe it. it was you. there were so many thoughts trying to rush their way out of his heart into his mouth that they seemed to all get clogged up in his throat. your name was the only thing that felt right on his tongue.

“gyu?” you questioned back, the look of surprise on your face quite evident.

“you dropped your phone.” he said, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second. almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear the second you left his eyesight.

“i- oh yeah. thank you” you managed to sputter out as you took the phone from his hand. “what are you- what are you doing here?” you ask him. oh god. this was such a dumb question. what was he doing? you knew what he was doing. you stalked his account like a thousand times. you knew he was an idol.

he flashed a smile when he heard this question. the smile that you hadn’t seen in at least 6 years. it was almost as if it was reserved only for you. he was about to answer you when his bodyguards notified him about something that made his smile drop.

“i’ll reach out to you later. i promise.” he said as his bodyguards seemed to rush him out of the airport. you were left there alone with your countless thoughts and overflowing emotions, unable to decipher which one was tugging at you more.

and so, here you were, in your new and surprisingly well furnished flat, all thanks to your sister. you had changed into your tank top and shorts while emptying your bags and setting up your closet. your room was fairly clean by now, even though you were only about halfway done. you had never been a fan of messy surroundings anyways.

right as you were about to put the last pile of your shorts into your closet, you heard your phone ring.

“oh. an unknown number? at 9 pm? isn’t it a bit too late for that? or maybe it isn’t?” you thought to yourself. you figured the culture here at korea must be different.

“hello?” you said, hoping for some sort of an explanation as to who it was.

“hi.” the voice on the other side greeted you. it was almost embarrassing how quick you were to realise who it was.

“mingyu… oh, hi. um, wow. hi.” your voice was shaking already. oh god. way to go, y/n.

“yes, hello.” you could hear his honey laced laughter from the other side. it made your heart melt. “how have you been?”

“i- okay. first of all, how the hell did you get my number?” you asked, a hint of bewilderment in your voice.

“i had it memorised.” you could HEAR the love in his voice. this was so bad. you were doomed.

you didn’t really have anything to say, nor did you trust your words at the moment. you were afraid if you said something now, everything else would spill out uncontrollably.

“why didn’t you call earlier?” your voice was getting shaky. oh no. you knew this was a bad idea. “it’s been 6 years gyu. 6 fucking years.”

‘“i know, i know” mingyu cut you off before you could continue, your words shooting daggers at his heart. he’d always hated seeing you cry. but the pain was different when he was the one making you cry. “i’m so, so sorry. god, i have so much to make up for. please trust me when I tell you there hasn’t been a single day when you haven’t crossed my mind. i know 6 years isn’t nothing. ghosting you was a dick move. i- please. don’t cry. no. god, can i come over?” he asked, picking up on your silent sobs just as well as he did back then.

and just like he used to be back then, he was here at your doorstep to make you forget about everything that ever made you sad. except that this time, he was the one making you cry. he couldn’t ever forgive himself for this, but he could try to atone for his sins, as he’d like to call it.

you weren’t exactly crying anymore, since you’d always been pretty good at regaining your composure. but there was a certain emptiness in your heart, one that you knew only gyu could fill.

you were standing face to face, him panting slightly because of the 7 flights of stairs he’d just conquered.

“hey.” you said.

“hi.” he looked down at you. the longing in his eyes too evident for you to ignore.

“no security this time?” you questioned with a smile on your face.

“ah, no. that was airport security. kind of a formality.”

you nodded. “you’ve gotten so big. i can’t even hug you now.” you said while giving him a faint smile, referring to the dozens of fangirls he was surrounded by and not to mention, the security.

“oh bullshit.” he said as he pulled you into the tightest hug you could have ever imagined. his arms fully caging you in as if he never intended to let you go. and you wouldn’t admit it, but you never wanted him to either.

“i missed you.” he whispered into your hair. “god, i missed you so much. i’m so sorry.”

he spent 3 hours explaining why he couldn’t contact you and what he had been upto without you. after a while, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about anything besides the fact that one, he did not have a girlfriend. and two, he had changed a lot. appearance wise, that is. he wasn’t the mingyu who had left for korea anymore. he was taller, stronger and undeniably hotter. little did you know, mingyu had been thinking about the same things as you were. when did you get so fucking irresistible? i mean, sure he did have a thing for you back in high school. hell, he hasn’t even been able to get over it for the past 6 years, but seeing you like this, with barely anything on and a newfound confidence which you certainly did not have back then ignited something in him. he didn't know how long it would be until he finally gave in.

and so, here you were. facing him on your bed, talking about some degree of yours, when all he could focus on was the way you licked your lips before continuing, or the way your tits were almost fully out on display for him due to that sad excuse for a clothing item you were wearing. you noticed too. he wasn’t exactly being subtle. the way his knees were touching yours and the way he kept playing with his fingers was driving you insane.

“well, then yeah. here i am now, i guess.” you finished telling him about your life. you were almost completely caught up on each others’ stories now, or so you’d like to believe.

his stare hadn’t once left your lips. you hadn’t really noticed how close his face was to yours until you had finished talking. “gyu” you questioned, your voice almost a whisper. the space between you could be easily closed with just a lean forward from either of you. it had come down to self control now. and lucky for you, mingyu barely had any when it came to you.

“can i?” he questioned, his lips almost on yours. almost.

you responded by putting your lips on his, and his hands immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his grip on you was so strong, it made you whimper against his lips. you didn’t bother pulling away to breathe, the action seeming a bit too unimportant at the moment. you had other things to do right now. “gyu..” you moaned out as his lips made their way down to your neck. “so sweet. so good. been thinking bout this for so long.” he whispered against your skin, punctuating each sentence with a kiss on different parts of your neck. his hands made their way up your top, making direct contact with your skin. the warmth radiating off of his hands made you melt under his touch.

his hands came up to grasp the hook of your bra as his mouth worked wonders on your sensitive spot. “can i? please?” he asked before unclasping the hooks and discarding the small material of clothing into a small corner of your room. his hands snaked further up your body as he guided your top over your head. he had your tits right in his face now. “fuck… so pretty. shit, all for me?” he asked as he latched onto your right nipple, sucking and licking at the sensitive bud while his hand worked wonders on the left one, pinching at it, making you squirm. “yes.. gyu please. need more. need you.”

“patience baby. been wanting this for so long. gonna make it worth it.” he said as he took his shirt off. god, it was a sight to see. he was gorgeous. the toned abs, the huge biceps, and not to mention, that beautiful face, he was going to be the death of you. “like what you see?” he questioned teasingly, but your brain was too focused on the way his hands were squeezing your tits while he used his mouth to suck and nibble at your collarbones. he stopped all of it to grab your attention, and you whined at the loss of contact. “gonna need answers baby. be a good girl and use your words, hmm?” you moaned out a weak ‘yes’ as a response, but he accepted it out of mercy.

“lie down for me, pretty girl. on your back, thats it” he said as he helped you get off his lap and onto the mattress. his lips travelled all the way from your neck to your breasts, down to your tummy. he placed several wet, sloppy kisses all over your tummy, making sure to mark you as his on any part of your skin that was visible. your neck had already served its purpose as his canvas, his art on full display for any man who’d even dare to look at you. he wouldn’t admit it, but he was completely obsessed with the idea of making you his. god, he wanted you so bad.

his hands found their way to the waistband of your shorts, which he tugged at as a way of asking for your permission yet again. you pulled them off yourself making him let out a groan at your compliance. he was facing your clothed cunt, the wet spot on it embarrassingly evident. he kissed it once, looking up to see your reaction. “does that feel good, love?” he asked as his hand made its way to your core, rubbing light circles on it through your underwear. he was such a tease.

you couldn’t find it in yourself so speak, so you just nodded. this made him stop again. “please baby, i’m gonna need you to use your words, yeah? tell me how good i’m making you feel.” he said as he spat on that damp spot on your underwear, teasing you even further. “mingyu… feels so good.” you managed to moan out, earning a chuckle from him. “see, it wasn’t that hard baby.”

he pulled your panties off, spreading your legs even further and getting down on his knees on the floor as he pulled you towards the edge of the bed. “such a pretty pussy. can’t wait to taste you baby.”

his fingers danced against your clit, tapping slightly in an attempt to tease you. this made you let out a whine. “shh baby. i’m gonna take my time with you.” he said, as he tapped his fingers against your lips, signalling you to take them in. you wasted no time in sucking on his fingers and coating them with your saliva. “such a good girl.”

his hands slid against your folds, the coldness of your saliva mixed with your slick making you shiver. he rubbed on your clit while his other hand was busy playing with your tits. he inserted one finger into your hole, making you gasp.

“shit, you’re so fucking tight. need you wrapped around me.” you felt his tongue lapping against your cunt, the feeling sending you into overdrive. you had your hands in his air, tugging at it for some sort of control. “ah- gyu, please. fuck.” he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations reaching straight to your core. just as you felt your high approaching, he gave your clit one last kiss before pulling away. you felt tears well up in your eyes as you let out a whine at the loss of contact.

“aww baby. ‘m sorry. but if you’re gonna cum, it’ll be around my cock.” such a fucking tease.

he pulled his pants off, revealing his deliciously prominent bulge in his boxers. he was palming his cock while staring at your cunt. fuck.

“shit baby. you’re so beautiful. you want me to fuck you?” he knew the answer. of course he did. he could see you how you clenched around the nothing at the sight of his cock being freed from his boxers. lord have mercy. “yes min. please fuck me.” you managed to choke out. that was all he needed.

he stood between your legs, teasing your entrance with his cock. he slowly rubbed against it, gathering your wetness before slipping it in. the stretch you felt made you moan out loud. the sound was music to his ears. once he was buried inside fully, he waited for you to let him know it was okay to move.

“shit, you feel so good baby.” he groaned, holding back the urge to thrust hard into you and absolutely ruin you for anyone else. but he knew it was too soon. he wanted to savour this moment, feeling your warmth surrounding his cock. he leaned down to kiss you as he began to move steadily, swallowing up all the sounds you were making. “f-fuck gyu, feels so good” you whined against his lips. his hips rocked into you, building up a rhythm. each powerful stroke made your breath hitch, as your nails were busy creating their own masterpiece on his back. he was proud of it too.

his hands were on your waist, gripping it tightly as he thrust into you. he was picking up his pace. he pressed down on your abdomen, making you gasp loudly. “you feel that baby? feel my cock against your tummy? does that feel good?” he asked, his voice hoarse and laced with ecstasy. “y-yes min. i’m close, fuck.” he knew from the way your pussy clenched around his cock that you were close. his rhythm was starting to falter as he approached his own high.

“where’d you want it baby? want me to come on your pussy? gonna look so pretty.” you nodded, barely registering his words. you were so close. “please.” was all you could let out. your breathless plea was enough to convince him.

your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself come undone around his cock. a few more thrusts and he pulled out, spilling his seed all over your pussy. he collapsed onto you, placing feather light kisses all over your neck and collarbones.

“i’m never letting you go again, you know?”

“i know.”

“i love you, y/n.”

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #seventeen #kpop #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #mingyu x reader angst

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thinkingotherwise · 2 days

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what's your headcanons on the windbreaker characters and their ideal types?

Oof that's a tough one, because I like to believe that you can fall in love with someone that isn't your type, but you find this certain connection with them. But I'll try my best 🤞🤞

Wind Breaker characters' "ideal type"

Haruka Sakura - sporty and passionate; because of his drive for fighting it would need to be someone who understands the passions and even better if they share it; someone ready to throw anything at any moment and run to you if needed, really dependable that you can tell all your secrets to;

Akihiko Nirei - nice and confident; someone who'd pump him up, his personal cheerleader, being the sweetest and nicest person known in town with such a lovable voice and words coming out of you, but when he is self-hating knowing just the way to change their words to firm and confident making sure he knows how loved he is;

Hayato Suou - kinda tsundere; someone not keen on PDA and easily flustered by it, and someone who likes discussing things - able to talk with Suou for hours on end about the topics that are interesting to both of them;

Kyotaro Sugishita - "big sibling" type; taking care of everyone and making sure he's part of the group, always making him feel included and sometimes making him socialize with others, even people he seems to hate (Sakura);

Mitsuki Kiryu - gamer; confident in skills and ready to throw hands if someone insults them or boyfriend, someone who looks sweet but in reality has a sharp tongue and can win any argument;

Taiga Tsugeura - someone who likes to take care of themselves; doesn't necessarily mean thin, but someone who likes to spend time making sure they are healthy, maybe someone having these daily trackers that they prepare to have better time management;

Kotoha Tachibana - playful but responsible; someone who gets shit done but is so playful about it, teasing and laughing every second they can, easily convinced to help and sometimes taking too much on their shoulders, struggling to finish things;

Hajime Umemiya - caring and extroverted; giving pieces of advice to everyone and surprisingly ready to help others with school work, touchy - meaning they love PDA and hugging, they would be the perfect duo, to help each other whenever the other one struggles or has some bad days;

Toma Hiiragi - street smart and brave; being tangled in enough trouble to elevate some stress off him, when they help other students solve issues, but also to be able to make his blood pumping and belly ache while causing just enough of the aforementioned trouble;

Ren Kaji - understanding and music fan; someone who would understand his issues and help him through them, being very supportive, also someone who likes different kinds of music to talk to him about it;

Takeshi Enomoto - stylish and a fan of Japanese history; someone who readers too much mafia/yakuza au!, or stories and would like to spend evenings watching action movies, someone who likes fashion and can spend too much time trying to find the perfect outfit for the two of them;

Yuto Kusumi - animal lover; someone who loves animals and loves taking care of them, maybe someone trying to become a veterinary or someone spending their time helping neighbours and shelters with animals, very empathetic and emotional;

Tasuku Tsubakino - open-minded and friendly; someone who gains trust easily and is friendly with everyone they meet, someone that has no problem with the different hobbies of Tasuku and easily supports their every move;

Seiryu Sakaki - pretty/handsome and popular, someone interested in skincare and makeup, very eye-catching and bringing others' attention to them, someone who easily follows along his pranks;

Uryu Sakaki - curious and someone who likes to eat and try new dishes; spending time searching through internet looking for new restaurants and food booths maybe even recipes to try with him;

Choji Tomiyama - complete opposite of him, meaning looks like they could kill you is a cinnamon roll; someone who people could mistake as the leader, like with Togame, but really they are all smiles and ready for cuddles, probably couldn't hurt anyone, only if they were really angry;

Jo Togame - kuudere- popular and disinterested; surprisingly very popular because of their "cool" behaviour, but they are simply disinterested in most things, when others talk to them or while others ask for help, but their loving boyfriend, that can make smile bloom on their face and somehow can interest them in anything he likes;

Kota Sako - someone who has sweet tooth; with his love for sweets it would need to be someone who also doesn't mind going to try sweets every now and then, maybe even someone who takes photos of said food and shows it off on their social media;

Minoru Kanuma - teasing and confident; being the 'comedic relief character' for everyone when they are annoyed by teasing the shit out of them in funny way but also not hurting their feeling in the process;

Yukinari Arima - loving and easily flustered; someone who adores being his centre of attention, even seeking it out, but also being easily flushed the moment he touches them or calls them with endearment;

Teruomi Inugami - equally joyful but more calm; someone who loves the puppy energy of his and hypes him up even more, although they look calm they are excited to spend every minute with him;

Tags: @misticbullet

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redfoxwritesstuff · 22 hours

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A Taste of Sugar, Part 2 (18+)

Here be the smut- proceed with caution if you're over 18 Alastor x reader Rated: E Chapter warnings: Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Tentacles, Dom Alastor, Restrained Reader, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex. Part 1

AN: Here lies spitesmut, 11k fucking words born out of spite. Nonny, do not tell me what I will and will not do. Enjoy the cartoon smut you didn't want to see. The blood drinking you didn't want to read. The shadow tentacles you didn't want to see. The demon you didn't want to fuck. Cuz, I know you're going to read this- After all, scrolling on is far too fucking complicated for you. Welcome to my "I'll fuck a cartoon serial killer era" Love, Kit. (PS. 3 things published in 48 hours is *never* going to happen again)

~~~~~<3

You were pretty sure he was no longer talking about desserts. You were pretty sure he was talking about another appetite that you’d heard speculation that he didn’t partake in. You were pretty sure you were losing your mind.

“What circumstances?” You whisper as he dragged his thumb out of your mouth, dragging the pad against your lip again.

“Should someone catch my eye and sufficiently hold my attention,” Someone, not something. There was no doubt in your mind what you were discussing now. “I may partake.”

“Do,” You hesitated, before asking the question you hadn’t ever considered yourself. “Do you wish to partake tonight?”

You hadn’t thought about Alastor in this way before and yet, it was like you were seeing him now, truly for the first time. He was a handsome man in his own terrifying way. Tall and lean, quiet confidence and sheer power radiated off of him. He was chaotic, driving those around him mad.

“You make me wish to partake,” Alastor said, leaning into your space as you puzzled over what that could mean. Surely it was just for tonight. But if it was just for tonight, why would he have been sending you treats with the hope that you’d share? That you’d think of him?

What did it all mean?

“Oh?” You whispered as you finally braved meeting his red eyes only to instantly find yourself captured by the way he looked at you, lids heavy and pupils blown.

“May I?” Alastor’s other hand snaked around your waist, hovering, not quite touching but painfully close to doing so. “Partake, that is?”

“Okay?”

As soon as the whispered word left your mouth, his thumb dragged down your lip and chin. His fingers gripped your chin and pulled your face up as he stepped into the last of your space and leaned down.

His smile never faltered, even as his lips closed and met yours. The miniscule distance between his arm and your waist disappeared in an instant as he held you to him.

Alastor lacked the bulk of muscle but you could feel the power thrumming through his body as your hand reached up, resting against his chest. You were far from a blushing virgin though you were also not the most promiscuous woman in hell and yet touching him felt scandalous.

The way his tongue snaked out from between his lips, lapping the sticky sweet sugar his thumb left on your lips. Your mind was too preoccupied by the feeling of him licking the sugar up to question it when he took your hand from his chest.

Shadows flickered, you didn’t know if they were real or a figment of your imagination playing images behind your eyelids. There was a shifting feeling, as if the world itself was somehow moving around you, under you. It felt somewhat like if you had been standing on a moving bus, eyes closed and trusting. Not exactly, that didn’t come close to the feeling but it was a start. It was as close as you would ever come to explaining the feeling.

“Forgive me, my dear. I did not wish to be observed.” He spoke softly, still standing suffocatingly close as you observed the room you found yourself over his shoulder.

A fireplace against the far wall gave off flickering warm light and heat that wasn’t needed yet was relaxing just the same. Thick carpet muffled your shuffling step but in the distance that thick carpet along with the rich red walls gave way to a landscape that looked so hauntingly human and yet was nothing you’d seen before.

The portion of the room that was still a room was dark, save for the firelight and moonlight from where it gave way to the outdoors. It was magical and yet as disorienting as Alastor’s kiss or the way he had transported you there.

“Where are we?” You ask, already knowing the answer but not really being able to understand how such a space could exist within the hotel.

“My room,” Alastor answered, hooking your chin with the backs of the fingers he had wrapped around your hand, drawing your attention back to him, silently demanding once again that you pay attention to him.

Alastor pulled you to him, pinning you against his body as his sharp teeth nipped at your lips. Reflexively, your tongue darted out, running over the stinging skin. The lingering sweet of the sugar still clings to her lips, mostly gone now.

Alastor guided her as his grinning lips worked down her jaw, tracing the sweet taste of sugar his fingers had left behind as he walked you back toward his bed. Sharp teeth nipped at your throat, leaving stinging lovebites that leaked drops of ruby red.

No, Alastor didn’t care for desserts or sweets much at all but this was a flavor that had him humming in delight. The hint of sugar on your skin, the salt of you and the coppery taste of your blood made for a treat he would savor.

You weren’t sure when you wrapped your free arm around him, hand snaking up his back and clinging to his shoulder as he moved you through is space. The position you had found yourself could be mistaken for dancing, should anyone peek in on the room.

The back of your knees hit the soft edge of his bed causing your balance, already teetering, to fail you. Alastor’s hand around your waist allowed him to control your decent, leading your back onto his bed while driving you forward with his lips.

Reaching up, you ran your hands over his chest before working the buttons of his coat free. If this was going to be the only time you got to have Alastor, you intended to make the best of it.

Slipping your hands under his coat, you take in the strong planes of his abdomen and chest, the way his muscles defined yet lean, moved as his lips worked down your neck. Slowly, you ran your hands up his shoulder before pushing the coat back, sending it down his back.

Leaning back, Alastor freed his arms from the coat, tossing it blindly to a chair near by. You were entranced as he reached up, pulling his bowtie from his neck and sending it soaring too. Long fingers worked the first few buttons of his shirt free, exposing a tantalizing amount of his neck.

It felt scandalous to see Alastor’s high collar undone. The way his chest and clavicles could just be glimpsed as he moved sent fire through you. It was silly, really. The man was still fully dressed and yet it felt to you like he had not a stich of clothing on.

As he invaded your space again, driving you back with the intensity of his presence, you wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch him. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you from scooting away from him on instinct alone.

Your fingers grazed him before black wrapped around your wrists, pulling your arms up and back as you gasped in shock.

“I said I wish to partake, not that you may.” Alastor said, wicked grin seeming to glow in the dim room.

His hands were so strong on you as he resumed his work, nipping down until your soft night shirt blocks his progress. The fact that it was common knowledge that it was a favorite of yours didn’t stop him from gripping the fabric and using his nails to rip it apart.

You hadn’t left your room with the intention of finding Alastor, or anyone else for that matter, for a romantic tryst and were far from dressed for it. There was no sexy lingerie for him to find under. There was no lacy bra.

Just you, breasts on full display and core covered in a pair of shorts that would have otherwise been too short to wear around the hotel. You hadn’t intended anyone to see you but he was seeing far more of you than anyone had for a long time.

You wanted to apologize or make excuses for your lack of preperation for his eyes. He was Alastor, after all, the great and powerful overlord who could have any woman on her knees for him if he showed an interest in having her. Your face was hot with the knowledge that you were so-

“Beautiful,” he said as he looked down at you, running sharp tipped fingers along the curves of your sides.

You flinched away from the tickling touch, not able to go anywhere with your arms pinned above you. One of your legs was pinned by him when he had climbed up onto the bed, the other hanging limp and unsure what to do, any attempt to squirm away from him would result in you opening your legs up to him more or running your thigh and calf along his leg.

“Beautiful,” He said again, this time you registered the word, his hands moving lower. Warm palms smoothed down your hips, finding your shorts and making quick work of them as well.

“Alastor?” You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him, to see him like he was seeing you.

“You have denied me, my dear.” He looked up at you from where he had been nipping his way down your chest, leaving red marks from his sharp teeth along the tender swell of your breasts. “Time and time again, you have denied me your treats. Are you going to deny me again?”

“No?” Your breath caught in your throat as your head spun.

“Good girl,” He drew out the words, singing them slowly as he nipped the underside of your breast, nose nudging the pebble of your neglected nipple as again, a droplet of blood was lapped up by his tongue.

His breath ghosted over your nipple, teasing it with the breeze as he exhaled a deep sigh through his nose. You arched into the feeling, his hands gripping around your ribcage, making you aware of just how much bigger than you he was in so many ways.

He towered over many weaker demons and you were no exception to that. Long fingers caressed your back as the pads of his thumbs ran along the front of your ribs. In an instant, he could break your body if he wanted to, crush your ribcage by simply tightening his grip.

Your life could be ended by his hand should he change his mind, there wasn’t a single goddamned thing you could do about it. That realization only served to stroke the fire his words had ignited.

Pain was never something you would have said you were into before. The lovebites stung, sure but his teeth were so sharp that the sting came after each bite, as he licked up the bubbles of blood. As his sharp teeth scratched over the nipple he took into his mouth, you surprised yourself with the gasping moan that slipped from your throat.

Long, dexterous tongue lapped at the nub, soothing every cutting scratch and erasing every trace of blood.

“Beautiful and delicious,” Alastor mused as he made his way down your abdomen.

Something cold and firm wrapped around your free leg, pulling it out from where it was resting against Alastor. A new wave of heat flooded through you as Alastor shifted his position, freeing your trapped leg and nestling his knees between them. A similar force grabbed ahold of the freed ankle and pulled, spreading you open before him.

“You’re so timid.” He mused, fingers digging into your hips as you were spread even wider by black tentacles you had only ever seen cause carnage before.

“Tell me what you want,” He ordered, red eyes looking into yours, “Tell me what you want to share with me.”

“Alastor?” You knew he knew, why should you have to say it?

You’d been dancing around it. you’d been hinting at it. The idea of saying it explicitly terrified you.

You watched as his eyes traced your face, neck, shoulders. They swept down your chest and up your arms. They were everywhere and yet he seemed unconcerned with taking in your core spread before him.

“Say it. Tell me,” His hands ran up your thighs, thumbs stretching to caress your inner thigh, coming so close to your heat as his fingers wrapped around the exteriors. “And perhaps we can reach a deal?”

A deal. Alastor was a deal maker. Powerful. You needed to get yourself out of this situation. Whatever the hell was going on here, you needed to run away. You had no business making deals with Alastor, let alone while you were spread naked and wanting on his bed.

This was a bad position to be in. He had all the power and you had nothing to offer him except what? Some treats? Your body?

His thumb came even closer, caressing the curve where your thighs met your lips. The contact had your heart stopping in your chest and your breath trapped in your lungs.

“What is it your desire?” Alastor’s voice was thick with static, radio overlay cackling and distorting the sound. Colors seemed to invert, shadows grew and yet you couldn’t look away from him. The antlers atop his head grew, branching out. Colors snapped back to correct but now over saturated. The darkness was too deep. The reds too red.

“You,” You breathe out, not even fully aware of what you were admitting. You should be terrified but need burned through you as the power, his power, surged around you.

For all of eternity women have fallen at the feet of powerful men for a sip of what they could offer. For centuries, it had been the only way women could obtain any power for themselves.

It turns out, you were no different. Sipping at the alter of power seemed to be ingrained in your very DNA. You had no hope of becoming powerful on your own but if you could just taste his power, just for a night, you would give anything.

“And what will you give me?” Alastor said, joints shifting unnaturally as he towered over you, thumbs still caressing the edge of your lips even as he pulled your thighs further apart by the shadows handling your ankles.

“Me,” You said, fearing it wasn’t going to be enough. You would never be enough for him. There was no power within you that you could give him.

“For eternity.” Alastor said, eyes now black, red dials burning into you, green stichs standing out in vivid contrast to the black and red that made up all of him. “I shall have you for eternity?”

“If you’ll have me?” You were gasping, feeling like you were being smothered by the raw power in the air as he leaned up your body, somehow doing so without shifting off his knees between your legs, “If you want me.”

“You will be mine.” Alastor said, terrifying face close to yours’, “Your treats will be mine. Your body, mine. Your heart, mine. Your very soul, mine. You will share it with none. In exchange, you get me. Is it a deal?”

This was insanity. Madness. You knew better. He had asked for your soul. You don’t just sell your soul to get laid. He had asked for your heart.

Your heart.

And your soul.

But, he had asked for your heart.

“Why do you want my soul?”

“For safe keeping.” Alastor’s breath washed over you, hot and moist. “To ensure none can take what is mine.”

“Yours?” You twitched, wanting to touch him even as the idea of giving your everything to him for a night terrified you. “Give you everything for eternity just to have you-” You gasped as the thing wrapped around your ankle snaked higher, caressing your knee. “For a night?”

“An eternity for an eternity,” Alastor offered, “That is the terms I am laying out. Do you accept?”

“Deal,” You whispered and his lips crashed into yours as his expanded form seemed more likely to devour you than kiss you.

Powered washed over you, flowed through you as the weight of a shackle settled against your neck. The chain attached to it pulled taught, drawing you to Alastor with what little ability you had to move as the back of the collar bit into your neck.

As he kissed you, his body shifted, pressing you into the mattress before he shrank down to what you considered as his normal size.

Your leg was pulled up by the knee wrapped in shadows, spreading you out even more. Your other ankle was pushed up, forcing your knee to buckle. As soon as you tried to use the freedom of movement this granted you to preserve any ounce of modesty, black wrapped around that knee as well and you were pulled wide open before red eyes that finally took your most intimint place in.

“Beautiful,” Alastor remarked as his hands returned to your inner thighs, running up the expanse of exposed skin, savoring the contrast of it against his bloodstained hands.

Your face was hot as you struggled to breathe through the way his eyes devoured your exposed sex. Slick already coated you, having begun to pool as you had been fed pastry ever so intimately in the kitchen.

You could feel how much worse the situation was now. With your legs held so far open, there was nothing to obstruct Alastor’s view as you could feel a wave of slick slip from you as muscles clenched.

His fingers caressed over you weeping hole, scooping up the slick on the pads of his fingers and held them up for you to see the evidence as he asked, “Why are you so wet?”

You hid your face against your arm, unable to take the power of his eye contact any longer. There was no part of his physical body touching you in that moment and you weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

“What has your body so excited already? Tell me.” When you failed, instead trying to hide in shame, Alastor demanded you use your words or he would leave you as you were for however long it took. There was not an ounce of doubt in you that he would follwo through with the threat.

“You,” You tripped over the simple word.

“But I’ve hardly touched you?” Alastor teased, bringing his hand closer and closer to your face, ensuring you can smell your arousal on his fingertips .

“You’ve been touching me,” You struggled to force the words out, unsure if he was teasing you, torturing you or actually unaware of the impact his actions had on you.

“Wonderful,” Alastor said, leaning back and running his long tongue over his slick covered fingers. Could he taste the sugar on his fingers in addition to the taste of you? The question drew a shameful moan from your throat regardless of the fact that he was only touching you with shadows.

“How terribly rude of me!” His voice was bright and cheery, as if wasn’t kneeling between your spread legs, body on display. “I chastise you for not sharing and here I am, keeping a treat all to myself. Where have my manners gone?”

He shifted, supporting his weight over you with a hand on the mattress close enough to your ribs for you to feel the warmth of him yet not touching you. Bringing his fingers, still coated in the slick he had scooped up to your lips as if he was offering a taste of some treat.

It was lewd. Never had you found yourself one to even think about tasting yourself. It wasn’t something that interested you in the past. You turned your head as he presented his fingers closer.

The slippery pad of his fingers ran along your lower lip. When you failed to open to him willingly, cringing away instead, he forced his fingers into your mouth. His sharp nails pinched and cut your lips in the process causing you to gasp and make his task all the more easier.

“You will take what I offer you.” He said simply as he caressed your tongue with the pads of his first and middle fingers. The taste of you wasn’t terrible. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over his fingers, twisting around them.

“Good girl.” He praised, voice warm and musical as his fingers pushed deeper into your mouth. “When did it start?”

“Wha?” It was difficult to form the question with his fingers, sweet from sugar and you in your mouth.

“When did your body start preparing itself for me?” Leaning down, Alastor swept his tongue over your bleeding lips, groaning at the taste after he withdrew his fingers. You had finally been given the ability to clearly speak only to to have him suffocate your ability to think with his presence.

“Was it my lips on your skin? The feeling of my kiss?” He teased, voice musical.

“No,” You were not sure where this night was going to go, you couldn’t even be sure what Alastor was going to do with your body as he tormented you. He teased you with his words and his eyes more than anything else.

“Was it my hands, ripping your pathetic simple clothes?”

“No,” You couldn’t look away from the red of his eyes.

“Was it my shadows? Gripping you? Spreading you? Presenting you?”

“No,” Your voice was little more than a whine as you tried and failed to struggle free from his grasp.

“What was it?” Alastor demanded, stattic growing. “Tell me.”

“From the start.” You whined when he demanded elaboration, “Feeding me. The sugar on your fingers. The look in your eyes. From the start.”

“Interesting,” Alastor leaned back, pulling the warmth of his body away from you as he seemed to work over the information.

You flushed under his eyes, unable to read him. You wanted him to want you but fuck, did he even? Was this just a game? A way to pass the night?

The shadows wrapped around your legs crept up your thighs, wrapping around your waist and pulling your lower body up into the air. Blood rushed to your head before your arms were hoisted up as well, leaving you suspended and spread in the air.

Right in front of Alastor.

Your hair hung loose from your head as your neck strained to hold your head up to allow you to look down your body and into his eyes. It was impossible to look away as his large palms ran up your inner thighs, long fingers caressing you slowly as he inched forward, eyes locked on yours.

His hot breath fanned over you, making your heart beat faster in your chest. It felt like it took forever for him to inch forward and then, when the distance was closed it was far too much. Alastor’s tongue swiped up your spread folds, scooping up slick greedily as he groaned at the taste.

“And to think,” Alastor spoke while making what felt like aggressively violent eye contact, “This was yet another treat you’d been denying me.”

You moaned at his words as he turned his attention back to your cunt, spread in front of him as if it was an offering placed at an alter. His tongue was dexterous and long as it snaked into your hole, lapping at the source of your slick as if it was a dessert prepared just for him.

And perhaps it was.

The weight of your head was too much for your neck to support while distracted by the warm pleasure granted by his mouth as he sipped from the source. His nose bumped against your clit as you struggled against the shadows that held your legs and hips in the air, a sharp gasp fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Alastor hummed as he shifted his attention, tongue leaving your core empty as it sought a new target. He poked at and caressed the sensitive nub that drew such lovely gasps from your lips. Sucking and blowing, he teased the little nub every way he could think of as he studied each of your reactions, searching for the stimulation that would send you soaring under his touch.

You trembled under his touch as his hands rubbed your thighs, caressing your hips and up your back as if the black tentacle wrapped around you didn’t exist. Lightening and fear lit up your brain as you felt the flat backs of his nails run over your folds before a sharp tipped finger pushed inside.

You had no doubt that he could rip your inner walls with no effort at all.

“Trust me,” He demanded and you wanted to. Hell, you had no choice but to and yet it still took time to relax as he worked the finger inside you.

Warm lips and sharp teeth returned to your clit, making it hard to focus on the threat of his nail and not the pleasure he was drawing from you. A second deadly finger pushed inside, drawing a true moan from you that earned a chuckle from Alastor in return.

Your neck hurt from the weight of your head hanging limply. Muscles tensed and bunched as you fought to chase the stimulation. Every touch felt sharp and pushed you closer to that cliff within you.

And then there was nothing.

No fingers.

No tongue.

No touch.

Nothing.

Alastor leaned back and watched as you clenched around nothing at all, smile wide as he asked, “What do you want?”

You groaned, struggling as the shadows lowered you.

“Please?” You didn’t want to beg. Hell, you shouldn’t have to beg. It was a part of the deal. He said you could have him. In your eagerness, you had failed to iron out the details of what having him meant. His idea of giving himself to you may not have anything in common with yours, you realized with a cold shock.

“Please what?” Alastor hummed, wiping your slick from his face with the palm of the hand that hadn’t been bullying your walls.

“I want you.” Fuck it, you’d beg. How could you not when he looked at you so intently, palm hiding the smile you knew lived on his face. “Please. You said I could have you.”

“You’ve had me.” Alastor chuckled as he continued to not touch you. “You’ve had my mouth. You’ve had my fingers even! That’s more than anyone’s had in a rather long time.”

“I want-”

“You didn’t stipulate what you wanted me to give you, my darling.” Alastor grinned wider as you whined. “It appears that it’s your lucky night however!”

Alastor’s belt clinked as the shadow’s lowered you the rest of the way to the bed. He whipped the belt free from the loops with such force that it snapped as he sent it flying with a dramatic swing of his arm.

Your fingers twitched as you watched him unbutton his pants. Freeing him from his clothes was a task you wanted to see to. You wanted to indulge in the process of stripping him as bare as you were. You wanted to feel his skin under your hands as you pushed the shirt from his shoulders, as you freed his cock from the confines of his pants.

“Something the matter?” You hadn’t realized you were whining, whimpering soft pleas of ‘please’ as you watched him.

“I want to touch you.” You admitted shamelessly.

He hummed for a moment, eyes cast toward where the ceiling gave way to the illusion of a night sky before snapping down to yours, “No.”

“No?” You were sure you had to have heard him wrong. You had to have heard him wrong.

“No,” He said as if that explained everything as he pulled his straining cock from where his pants had been strangling it.

Alastor climbed over you, cock in hand as he drew his face closer to yours. Arching your back, you tried to touch him in any way you could with what little movement you could manage as he slowly stroked a dark hand along his length, thumb swiping over the red tip. Not one part of you was able to touch him.

“Please? Please, Alastor. Please?”

“You beg so prettily.” Alastor said, red eyes drowning you in a sea of fire. “Do you need me?”

“Yes.” Shame was long gone, you didn’t know her anymore.

“I should make you wait.” He threatened, kissing you softly in contrast. “I should make you long for a taste of what I can offer you as you have had the gall to do to me. I should make you mad with longing, as you did to me. I should drive you to the edges of sanity for a simple consideration, as you did to me.”

“I need you,” You begged, terrified that he would leave you unfulfilled as you had been unknowingly doing to him. You whimpered it with ever accusation, a pea of need and a longing for mercy.

God, what did his words mean? You hadn’t intended to do that to him. Fuck, you couldn’t even begin to say how you had done it. How had you captured his gaze? His attention? His longing?

His words sounded dangerously close to obsession.

“Good,” He said, grinning down at you.

“I want to see you,” A gasp slipped from you as he ran the head of his cock along your slit, head of his cock bulling your clit as he swiped up, coating himself in slick with each pass.

“You are seeing me,” Alastor knew damn well what you meant, “You’re seeing as much of me as you need to.”

“I want more,” Tears gathered in your eyes and one had the audacity to trace a path slowly down your face.

“No,” Leaning into you, he licked up the salty trail from your face as he pushed himself inside painfully slowly. The feeling of his soft tongue on your face contrasted with the silky steel of his cock as he inched deeper and deeper inside.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. There was no teasing. Alastor didn’t hesitate or pause to see how much of him your smaller body could take.

He simply kept pushing forward even as he grinned down at you, demanding you take all of him. You moaned, arching as he filled you, stretching to try and somehow make room for his considerable length as pain tinged the pleasure. Your teeth bit at your lip as you tried to choke off the sound of your whimpered moans.

You wanted more contact. You needed it. Yet there was nothing you could do to obtain anymore. The only point of contact between you and Alastor was his cock pushing inside one inch at a time.

He was long and thick, not overly so but fitting his body well. That worried you. His body was larger than yours by a good amount and that looked perfectly reasonable on him felt monstrous inside you.

Tentacles shifted, pulling your body taught as you neared the end of what you thought you could take. He kept giving though until his hips kissed your body and a delicious pain tinged the stretch.

“Good girl,” Alastor praised, smile tight. “I knew you could take all of me,” He said as if he had given you a choice.

He bumped his hips against yours hard, taking delight in the moan that fell from your lips at the harsh nudge of his head against your cervix. Pulling out just as slowly as he had pushed in, you squirmed as you tried to get more.

He paused, head just kissing your soaked opening and admired the shine of your slick coating him. It was a mess and he found the way it spread onto his trousers to be distasteful but that was alright, for now. They could be cleaned.

“So needy,” He mused as he leaned over you again, bracing for a moment before slamming into you only to pause, fully seated in your warmth.

“Am I touching you enough yet?” Alastor loomed over you again, fucking you and yet not.

“More,” You wanted to scream from the frustration.

“I’ve got you stretched around me,” He pulled out slowly as he spoke, only to once again harshly slam his way home. “So tightly. There’s nowhere I am not reaching.”

He was right but still, you begged for more.

“So greedy,” Alastor tsked in mock disappointment as he fell into a slow rhythm.

Shadows lifted your hips as he rose up onto his knees, changing the angle of his trusts. Strong hands wrapped around your hips as he picked up his pace, each thrust punctuated with the harsh slam of his hips into you.

“Are you happy now?” He teased, running his hands along your sides as he fucked into you still too slowly. “I’m touching you more.”

More. You wanted more. You needed more.

“Well?” His eyes burned into you. “Use your pretty little words and tell me.”

“More?” You wanted to hate how pathetic you sounded, whining for more of his touch, to be granted more pleasure by him but you couldn’t manage to draw the shame to the surface.

“More?” Alastor laughed, his body shifting to fold over you as he blocked out your view of the ceiling, not that you’d been able to take your eyes from him for more then fleeting moments. “More what?”

“More touch,” You moaned as he thrust into you harder. “Please, touch me more. Let me,”

Alastor’s shadows let go of your legs and hips. He thrust into you as your hips fell to the bed with the force of his hips hitting yours. You struggled against the shadows around your wrists but gained no ground there.

At least your legs had been freed. You ran them up and down his hips and legs. It was maddening how good it felt to feel him under the smoothe fabric of his trousers. Greedy, that’s what you knew he’d call you as you squeezed at his hips with your thighs, trying to expose some more of him, desperate for the feel of his skin.

“You are a naughty one, aren’t you?” Alastor leaned back and wrapped one of your thighs in his strong hand.

As if it took no effort at all, he pulled your leg up to stretch up his torso, ankle hooking over his shoulder near his neck. You could feel the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

He allowed his grip on your thigh to slacken as he pulled from you, cock dragging against your walls each time. His hand not clutching your leg rested on your abdomen and fuck, you could feel the pressure of his hand from inside with each thrust.

“Greedy little doll,” Alastor ran his tongue along your calf as he pushed harder down against your soft body.

The pressure made every punishing thrust of his cock into you all the more intense. Your arms hurt from how they were stretched out over your head, joints pulled tight every time he pulled you to match his thrusts.

“I give you an ounce of freedom and what do you do with it?” Teeth scraped against your calf, “You try to take more even as I’m giving your cunt exactly what you need.”

“Need,” You parroted the only word that made sense to you as he drove you closer to the edge. “Need to touch you. Need more.”

“I’ll give you more,” Alastor’s teeth sank into your calf, cutting deep.

Oh, that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. You should have been screaming out in pain as blood gushed into Alastor’s mouth, spilling from the corners as he drank greedily from the wound.

You didn’t scream though. No, what came spilling from your lips pulled Alastor’s into a bloody smile, smearing red against your skin.

Ultimately, it was the look in his eyes and your blood on his lips that pushed you to the edge of the cliff. You were so wet. The sound of wet squelching was the music your moans sang along to.

Alastor groaned, adding his voice to the chorus of carnal music your bodies danced to. Slapping skin was the beat he played your body to and now, the greatest part of your song was approaching.

“Alastor,” His name was stuttered, broken as it fell from your mouth and oh, how he liked the way that sounded as you repeated it.

“Yes?” He looked down at you with eyes that you would have sworn was lit from within. You couldn’t look away, “You’re close, I can feel you.”

Red eyes. Blood smeared lips. His hand pushed harder into you, ensuring the head of his cock bullied your sweet spot with each sharp thrust in. The bed creaked under you with the increasing force of his thrusts.

“Didn’t I tell you?” He chuckled, “That I’d give you exactly what you need? I’d touch you, just how you need to come undone on my cock?”

“Oh fuck,” You struggled to keep focus anywhere. Your eyes roamed him, hardly under your control. Red lips. Bloodstained hand gripping your thigh, nails cutting trails you didn’t even feel as you were driven closer and closer to the edge.

“What do you need?” He said, filter flickering in and out of his voice as static grew around you. If asked, you’d say the static was caressing your skin though how that was possible, you’d have no idea.

“You,” He felt so good, it was hard to think.

“Fuck,” you pulled against the shadows as he laughed at you.

“Need to touch,” You begged as static seemed to rise and fall around you with every brutal thrust. “Please. Please, Al- Alastor, Please. I want to, I need to touch you. Please.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, sparkling in the dim light of the room as Alastor leaned in, pushing your leg toward your chest. He reached deeper with each of his thrusts now, the head of his cock bullying your cervix harshly.

Blood dripped onto your chest from the wound on your calf but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. He was so close now, folding you in half. You could feel the warmth of his body, so close and yet you could only touch him how he allowed, where he pressed his body into you.

“I suppose,” He said after a hum, broken by nearly inaudible groan as your core fluttered around him with promise, “Since you’ve begged so prettily.”

The shadows around your body dematerialized, turning to smoke as your arms sagged. The joints ached, from wrist to shoulder, it felt like they creaked as they moved. Yet you didn’t hesitate for a moment as your palms went to his arms.

Strong arms covered in well worn, soft fabric supported him. The muscles hidden from view felt strong as steel under your touch.

“Is that what you wanted?” Alastor’s face was so close to yours now, you were drowning in him.

“Yes, God, yes.” Close. You were so close now. His chest was firm and you wanted so badly to slip the buttons free. The idea of exposing more of him alone was near enough to send you feral, not that you had enough space or power to act on it.

“I am your God here.” Blasphemous words fell from his blood tinged lips. “I am your God now. Only me.”

He shifted his weight to one arm, large palm freed to run up your chest, smearing the spilled blood, only to wrap frighteningly tight around your throat. This shouldn’t turn you on as much as it did. The moan that spilled from your lips felt like it was born in your core, the sound rich and deep.

“Say it.” He shifted, rubbing his pubic bone and the hair that cushioned his cock against your clit, providing stimulation that had been missing for so long. “Say it and I’ll let you cum undone on my cock. Say it and I’ll give you the privilege of touching me while I...”

Radio filter dropped in and out as he spoke, each dip in the filter was met with a caressing rise of the static, as if to try and distract you from the sound of his naked voice.

“Oh my G-” You choked the word off even as his hand tightened around your throat. “Fuck, Alastor.”

Lips kissed your shoulder as he leaned into you more, folding you even tighter. Sharp nips and soft kisses traced your jaw, just above where his fingers gripped.

“Again,” He demanded, nipping your jaw as you tightened around him, dancing on the edge of a loaded spring.

You ran your hands up his chest, along his shoulders as he demanded you say his name, that you call him a God. You held onto his shoulder for dear life- dear afterlife? Fuck, you couldn’t think.

Finally, as your hand trailed up the back of his neck, you were rewarded with the feeling of skin under your hand. Soft skin burned under your fingers. The short hairs of his undercut were soft under your finger tips.

“Please, Alastor. Fuck, my god. You, you’re my god. Whatever you want. Please, please.”

You hadn’t expected him to kiss you but he cut your pleas off with his lips. He fucked you hard and fast, pounding you into the mattress without mercy as you tasted your blood on his tongue.

Each time his hips slammed into you, he ground himself into your clit.

“Mine,” He whispered as a perfectly placed thrust sent you flying off the cliff.

You moaned deeply as you fluttered around him. Your legs pushed against the immovable wall that was Alastor as his name fell from your lips in a unholy prayer.

“Mine.” He said again, voice naked as his power swelled around him. Shadows danced. Static swelled as dim lights flickered then died, leaving them cast in firelight alone.

You could feel him twitch inside you as he slammed home with such force as to knock the air right out of your lungs. His grip flexed around your neck as he bit down on your lip, spilling blood into your mouth that he eagerly lapped up.

“Mine,” He whispered, a look you could only describe as insane dancing in his eyes as he looked down at you. You struggled to take a breath as he twitched, the last spurts of his seed deposited deep inside of you.

You gasped his name as he licked up the trail of blood that had run down your lip and jaw.

“Mine and, ma chérie-” He said again. For the first time, true fear that you had made a deadly mistake in your hasty deal, “I do not share.”

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @the-shark-named-sharon, @intensityofchaos, @xalygator, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @chibistar45

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