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noctumbra · 3 years

Text

intentional

summary ─ “fuck him,” you muttered. “fuck him sideways.”

pairing ─ avenger!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, a/b/o dynamics, mutual pining, flirting, kissing, light choking (:d), rough sex, getting together, heat/rut sex, scenting, idiots in love

a/n ─ blame seb for that ig story picture. it made me do it. but seriously, can he choke me. anyway sfjdsjf hope you like it! leave a comment if you do! thankl youuuu <333 (italic is bucky, bold is reader) enjoy this 5.6k monstrosity.

You and Bucky had been flirting for some time, but it was more of a friendly flirting rather than something more. He would call you cute pet names and let you play with his hair on movie nights, and you would let him cuddle or hug you whenever he needed touch. You liked spending time and having a lot of fun with him.

Sometimes you scented each other, too.

His scent was reminding you all kinds of things that you considered safety and homey, so you never said ‘no’ when he wanted to scent you. He let you scent him back most of the time and you used it on his behalf; scenting him when he felt anxious, letting him bury his nose into your neck so that he’d calm down after a brutal mission or nightmare. It worked well for both of you.

Sometimes, though, you wished something more from him. There were times where you wanted him to kiss you, to pull you flush against his muscle-clad, big and warm body and to touch you like that. You wanted to know how his arousal smelled like up-close, but you were valuing your friendship a bit too much to make a move; you were afraid that you’d lose him, and you couldn’t take the risk.

So, you kept it to yourself.

Times went by while both of you went on with your cute flirting and occasional hair-playing and cuddle/hug and scenting game. You knew you should have stopped scenting him back, you didn’t want to get in between him and his potential mate, since he’d been seeing other women sometimes. You overheard him and Sam talking about Tinder and getting dates from there. You also saw him carrying a gorgeous blonde to his room while kissing the daylight out of her.

You wanted so badly to be her, but it was just not possible. You knew it.

Sighing to yourself, you wiggled under your thick duvet, burying your body into the bed even more. It was way too late for you to be awake, but you couldn’t sleep. Your bed was comfy, warm and you put your duvet into a position that got you looking like a burrito. You were supposed to be passed out with these beautiful conditions, but your body was too hot, you felt too itchy to go to sleep. Your heat was close. You could sense it; you were in the pre-heat phase and you had about two days until it hit you.

You growled to yourself angrily a little as you wiggled a bit more. Your head was partially under your pillow when you heard your phone ping-ing. Frowning, you stuck your hand out to grab it, seeing that you had one unread message. You opened it.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out accidentally when you saw what it was.

It was Bucky. He was shirtless and had his dog tags on. He was holding a cup in his big hands. All the muscles and veins were visible and bulging. He had a flirtatious look on his face. He seemed to wearing thin basketball shorts under, but they did very little to hide whatever he was… hiding there.

“Shit,” you whimpered. Your face was heating up rapidly. You felt your body was ready to burst, explode, whatever. Your heart was beating in your mouth. You could feel your pussy getting wet and even throb a little. You swallowed the spit that collected in your mouth when you heard another ping.

ah, shit, sorry, doll. i meant to send that to someone else.

Well, you thought and sighed.

“It’s not fair,” you whined and inched down on your bed, your legs spreading themselves instinctively. You bit your lip. You could finally make a move and say something suggestive, or you could just… chicken out. “Fuck him,” you muttered. “Fuck him sideways.” Your phone ping-ed again.

how is it look, though? i’m not sure about sending it rn

i think i’m chickening out

You rolled your eyes as his texts. Of course he didn’t like the picture where he looked so fucking sexy.

no, you look good, you texted him back. you look damn good, actually. idk why you’re chickening out. You saw the three dots that were inclining that he was writing and waited.

i dunno, he sent. she’s real nice, ya know. i don’t wanna fuck up

“Fuck whoever she is,” you whispered. “Fuck her if she thinks you’re fucking up when you send her a picture like this.”

why would sending a shirtless pic make you fuck up anyways?

she might think i’m a bit forward? idk honey i really care about her and i don’t want her to think i’m only talking to her bc i wanna fuck her ‘til she passes out.

“What the fuck,” you whispered again, your eyes narrowing and scent turning into its sickly sweet self by the half-dirty talk. Bucky never said anything to you like this before. You shared almost everything, but when the subject was sex Bucky was always a bit shy. Now, though, he didn’t sound shy. “I shouldn’t find this sexy.”

well, i don’t think she’ll have a problem with that, pal. esp with that pic

hell no

The three dots appeared again.

so you’re saying that she’ll know that my only purpose isn’t fucking her through her mattress?

i mean i know this isn’t a dick pic but still

You shake your head fondly. Even when he was trying to sext with a woman, he was being a gentleman. You liked that about him. He was always thinking how the other person would feel if his actions were to get misunderstood. It was cute.

you’re cute, you sent. she’ll understand.

Dots appeared but disappeared a second later. It repeated itself for a couple time before it totally vanished. You frowned but didn’t think too much about it. There really wasn’t much he could say to your last text, you thought. Maybe he finally sent the picture to the person who should have received it in the first place.

You took a deep breath as you looked at the picture again.

God, he was so handsome. He recently had a haircut, and it looked very good on him. He had faint stubble. When you first looked at the picture, you thought he had a flirtatious look, but actually he was just adorable. He was caught in mid-wink, you thought. His flesh hand was dwarfing the big navy colored mug he had in his hand. You knew that mug, you bought him that as a birthday gift, and it was a very big one. You never noticed how big his hands were before, but now that you knew, it was going to be hard to take your eyes away from them.

“Ugh,” you grunted, feeling the itchy sensation increasing. “Fuck me.” Locking your phone, you dropped it on your night stand. You were wet and horny, but you didn’t have any energy to touch yourself. So, you just hugged your pillow and closed your eyes.

──

The morning found you pouring yourself a cereal with still sleepy eyes. The sun was shining brightly, the kitchen was quiet and it seemed like you were the only living creature in the tower. You yawned as you put the cereal box down and poured some milk into your bowl. You perched yourself onto the chair by the kitchen island and dug into your cereal.

You had… vivid dreams last night. It included a pair of hands touching your naked skin, blur of colors and some moaning. You vaguely remembered that there were hushed whispers of a little dirty talk, but the details blurred as soon as you woke up.

That meant you were even achier than last night. You grunted into your cereal.

“Hey,” you heard someone murmur and jumped, it was Bucky. He looked like he just came back from a run. “Shit, sorry,” Bucky muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” You shrugged as you slurped the last of your cereal. With the corner of your eyes, you saw his nostrils flare and realized he was scenting the air. “Y’alright, doll?”

“Mmhm, just achy,” you murmured and carried your bowl to the sink. Bucky stayed silent and watched you washing your bowl and rolling your shoulders a couple times. He could smell your scent; it was content but somehow… off. He also knew your heat was close. Your scent was too sweet albeit being a little off, it was like he just stepped into a bakery and got hit with freshly baked goods. It was mouthwatering. Eyes narrowing, Bucky murmured a silent ‘fuck it’ to himself, he stepped behind you.

“You seem awfully tense, honey,” Bucky muttered into your ear as he pressed his body to yours. “Couldn’t sleep well?” You tensed. You could feel the heat coming off of his body, could smell his clean sweat, cologne and his own musk; it was woody and fresh: like a bonfire in the middle of a forest. More importantly, you could feel all the muscles and ridges on his body against yours.

“Somethin’ like that,” you whispered. Bucky cooed at you softly. His arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you in and making you rest your body against his. His scent surrounded you in a second, and you felt like you were being cocooned in your bed by your soft blankets.

“Breathe with me, love,” he murmured. “It will help you loosen up.” You swallowed and nodded. Feeling his chest moving behind you, you followed his movements. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re doing great.” You breathed in, in, and in and then let it ouuuut. You felt your shoulder relax a bit. “That’s it,” he whispered and─

His lips were right over your pulse. His stubble was rubbing the sensitive flesh of your neck. You shuddered uncontrollably. Bucky hushed you as his lips brushed against your skin. His hot breath was licking your neck, making the hair on your body rise. He nosed your glands there; taking lungful of your scent, Bucky grumbled to himself about how good you smell.

With a small grunt of his, he took a step forward and cornered you against the counter. You gasped.

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, “You are tense, honey.” His lips found your jaw, his nose poked your temple and you shuddered again.

It felt like you were underwater but weren’t drowning; everything was peaceful quiet, and you were floating.

“Bucky,” you whispered. He hummed. “Bucky…” He kissed your neck, bit down on the flesh and sucked it a little. You felt your legs tremble when you felt your heat creeping in even closer and grabbed his arms around your waist for support. You tipped your head back, exposing your throat to him, and closed your eyes.

Placing kisses all over your neck, nibbling on your jaw, one of his hands grabbed your face to turn it towards him. “Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll stop. I promise I’ll stop.” You didn’t say anything but leaned into his touch. “Tell me.”

“I want it,” you whispered, surpassing a shiver. Your heat was taking over your body, and Bucky needed the verbal confirmation before it consumed you.

“Honey,” he said softly. “Your heat is starting, do you want me to help you?” You gasped silently, realizing that you were feeling woozy a little and your vision was fuzzy around the edges, now.

“Yes,” you answered him. “Please, alpha?”

Bucky’s chest rumbled lightly with approval and captured your lips with his. You moaned into his mouth. It was as soft as it looked and was caressing yours so nicely. You whimpered as you sneaked your hand into his slightly damp hair. You craned your neck to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue join the game, too. Bucky groaned.

“Fuck, love,” he whimpered. “Your skin feels so soft under my hands, your body is so warm… Mmm, I wanna eat you right up.” You wiggled in his arms.

“Please,” you whispered. Bucky bit down on your bottom lip. His other hand sneaked into your pajama bottoms, sliding right into your panties and nudging your clit gently. You gasped loudly as Bucky cursed.

“Holy shit, honey,” Bucky groaned. “You’re wetting your pajama bottoms with your slick.” You whimpered when you felt one long digit swiping the slick that gathered between the lips of your pussy. “Is it for me?” He asked, a low growl could be heard in his voice. You nodded. Bucky tugged on your hair. “Words. Use’em.”

“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes, only for you, Bucky, yes!”

“That’s more like it,” Bucky murmured and slid two of his fingers inside you. Biting your lip to stop yourself moan loudly, your hand tightened in Bucky’s hair and you bared your throat to Bucky by the throwing your head back even more, submitting him.

The way Bucky was fingering you was relentless; two of his long and thick fingers were stroking your wet walls, crooking them to graze over your sensitive spot sometimes while the heel of his hand was pressing down on your clit. You were being stimulated from almost all your open ended nerves so perfectly, you wanted to cry.

“I wish you see how you look right now, baby,” Bucky whispered. “You’re so deep into your pleasure...” You hummed and let out a gasp when he crooked his fingers again. “You take my fingers so nicely. My hand is drenched, baby, goddamn.” He nosed your bared throat, taking deep breaths, Bucky filled his lungs with your sweet heat scent. “Gotta get you to your room, love. The whole kitchen is gonna smell like your heat if we don’t.” You whined, but you weren’t lost in your head yet, so you knew he was right. You nodded. Bucky kissed your neck and suddenly, your world was upside down.

You were thrown over his shoulder like he was a caveman and you were his prey. “Bucky!” He chuckled, his metal hand slapping your ass, he stepped into the elevator and told Jarvis to go up to your floor. He carried you like that throughout the whole trip. You got to feel his back muscles all the way to your room, though, so you thought it wasn’t so bad.

Bucky dropped you on the floor gently. You were standing right in front of your room. “I can wait here,” Bucky murmured and continued when he saw your confused look. “While you are getting nest sorted out, I can wait here.”

Your heart swelled in your chest because ain’t he the most thoughtful.

“Aww, James,” you whispered. He just smiled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Really?” He nodded. You knew he took these kinds of things serious because he was a bit old-school, but you liked that about him very much.

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and sort your nest out while I get us some water and snacks?” You placed your hand on your heart.

“A man after my stomach,” you said dreamily, making him snort. “Okay.” He kissed your neck one more time and walked back to the elevator.

You had a spring on your step as you walked inside of your room and stripping the bed from unnecessary things. You pulled out your softest linens, blankets and pillows; arranging them on the bed the way you liked, you added some extra tiny pillows. It looked inviting, personal and smelled like you strongly. You smiled, pleased with your efforts. Just as you sat down on the bed in your underwear, you had kept your oversize t-shirt though, you heard a knock.

“Come in!” You called out and saw Bucky’s smiling, handsome face. He had arms full of snacks and water bottles, he also had other things which you couldn’t figure out what. You watched him as he put the things he carried into your room on your small desk.

“I, uh,” he started, suddenly looking bashful. “I thought you might want, uh,” Bucky stammered over his words and just handed you something.

It was his blanket from his bed and the sweatshirt you saw him wearing yesterday.

“I can always put them aside or bring more, whatever you want,” Bucky hurriedly added. You shook your head as you reached and took them from him. You folded the sweatshirt and put it right next to your bed where you would be reaching something to wear after you were through, and spread the blanket on your bed, rearranging your pillows. You took your t-shirt off before you turned and faced with Bucky.

You walked up to him slowly until you were standing right in front of him. You could see his nostrils flaring, pupils dilating and him scenting the air. “Kiss me, alpha?” Bucky let out a broken sound before he pulled you against his body, his flesh hand cradling your face gently, and leaned down to give you the kiss that you asked for so nicely.

It was, hands down, the most loving and gentle kiss you’ve ever had. It was nothing like the kiss you’ve shared in the kitchen. This one was chaste. Bucky’s lips were soft, and he was kissing you like a longtime lover. Moaning lightly, you tilted your head to your side and deepened the kiss a bit; pushing up on your tiptoes and winding your arms around his neck, you felt his arms wrapping themselves around your waist one more time.

You felt amazingly consumed and caged and overwhelmed, and you were fucking loving it.

Bucky pulled back slightly. “Bed,” he commanded. His voice was rough and low. His woodsy, fresh smell had taken a sharp turn and now it was more like burning wood and citrus. You loved how forest-y his scent was. You quickly climbed on the bed, and a second later Bucky joined you.

His big body caged yours under him. The body heat this man had was driving you crazy because he was so fucking warm, it made you want to wrap yourself around him like a koala and never let go.

“Bucky…” You breathed when you felt his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, gasped when he placed a soft bite there. His light stubble was rubbing your skin raw, but you were loving it just like everything else. You felt him press his body against yours fully as he drew in a deep breath.

“God, your scent is drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured and kissed his way downwards. He stopped when he came across to your bra, looking up in your eyes, he silently asked for permission to take it off. You nodded. As soon as your breasts were free from their containment, Bucky latched on to one of your nipples, making you throw your head back and moan loudly.

“Fuck!” You yelped when he bit down and sucked and did… things with his tongue. He was licking and sucking, his saliva had covered your nipple and you could hear the slurping sound. It was so sexy, the pleasure was so intense; you felt like you were about to come. Whimpering, you slid your hands in his short hair, pulling and scratching his scalp. Bucky hummed. The vibrations and the graze of his teeth made you hiss, your body was trashing beneath his strong one.

Bucky pulled back with a ‘pop’, licking his lips, his fingers toyed with your other nipple. “How are you feelin’, love?” He asked. You panted lightly as you gave him thumbs up but yelped again when he pinched your nipple. “Words,” he growled. “I told you to use them.”

“’m good,” you whimpered, nipple throbbing deliciously. “’m good, I swear, ‘m fine, alpha.” Bucky hummed at the name. He always liked being called ‘alpha’ during sex before, he was never shy to tell his partners to call him that when he wanted to end his dancing night with someone, but hearing you call him that was turning him on in a whole different level.

Growling approvingly to himself, Bucky’s fingers found the hem of your panties. Before he could ask for permission, you lifted your hips to help him remove them easily. Bucky took a hold of the flimsy fabric, quickly dragging it down your beautiful legs, he threw them somewhere in the room. You were now under him with all your naked fucking glory, and Bucky’s mouth was watering at the sight of you. His gums were hurting with the desire to claim and mark you.

“You are gorgeous, baby,” Bucky murmured, fingers trailing over your soft skin and making you shiver happily. He leaned in. His light stubble rasped against your nipple as he nosed your collarbone, licking and sucking small marks there. You sighed. Your hands were buried deep in his short hair, the fluffiness of it turning into a messy state. “You feel so good against me,” he murmured again, lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your breasts. You whimpered. The ache between your legs was getting intolerable with each passing second, and you wanted him to take you already.

“Bucky…” You breathed. “Please, Bucky, alpha, I-I can’t, it h-hurts,” you babbled, hands now clawing his strong and wide shoulders. Quickly, Bucky shushed you with kisses, murmured filthy nonsense into your ear as he trailed one hand down your front. You gasped when his fingers brushed against your clit. It was already so sensitive and throbbing and aching─

“So wet,” Bucky whispered. “I’m gonna taste it later.” He brushed his fingers up and down for a couple times and pulled his hand back. “Now, we make your hurting stop, love.” You nodded. Your eyes were half-closed, you looked debauched without Bucky doing anything properly yet, and more importantly you looked drunk with only a couple kisses and touching from him.

If that ain’t the best kind of ego boost, I don’t know what is, Bucky thought to himself as he bit his lip and removed his clothes. Your sweet heat scent was filling his lungs and the room, and making him feel lightheaded. His skin was prickling with the intensity of your scent. He knew very well no matter how many times he’d shower that he would be smelling like you even days after your heat ended. Honestly, that would be a dream come true for Bucky.

His crush on you was getting stronger rather than dying down. He had tried dating with other people, hooking up or just spend his rut with at least a partner, but he just couldn’t because his body was yearning yours. His lungs were desperate for your sweet, calming scent filling them, his fingers were itching to feel your skin, and his lips were tingling to meet with yours… His whole body had been wanting you, no one else had made him feel this way before.

“God, Y/N,” Bucky breathed. His eyes were now fully black, face darkened with lust and his body heat had increased. He was about to enter his rut, he knew it. Bucky leaned forward and licked a fat line from your collarbone to all the way up to your ear, making your bonding glands throb. You gasped at the feeling.

“Fuck, Bucky!” You sighed, eyes screwed shut. Bucky hummed. His fingers moved south, were quick to find your dripping and aching core, he slipped two of his fingers in you. You moaned. His fingers were moving in and out of you rapidly, thumb pressing lightly on your clit. He could feel the poor thing throb beneath his fingertip, Bucky chuckled against your throat and nipped the skin there. You moaned one more time, but louder, your nails dug them deep into Bucky’s meaty shoulders. Bucky hissed at the slight pain, but all the pain during sex was welcomed in his book.

Bucky pulled his fingers out and pushed off of you, ignoring your little whines. “Present,” he ordered, his voice was still soft even though his commanding tone. Whimpering, you flipped onto your tummy, pressed your chest against the soft linens beneath you and lifted your ass high up on the air. Bucky groaned. “Damn, kitten,” he whispered. You shivered. He placed his hands on your ass, and then moved them up, up, up and slid one of them into your hair. “Do I need a condom?” You nodded.

“Birth control is no good for me,” you panted lightly. Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss on your cheek, he leaned sideways to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. You rubbed your face, wiggled your hips and fisted the bedding as Bucky put on the condom. As soon as he was done, he walked closer to you on his knees and immediately draped his body onto yours. You sighed at the skin-to-skin contact.

“Tell me if you want to or need me to stop because you don’t like what we’re doing, alright?” Bucky murmured. You nodded.

“I will,” you slurred slightly and earned another kiss on your cheek. You hummed happily. You felt the blunt tip of his cock against your wet folds and held your breath. With a smooth, slow thrust of his hips, Bucky slid into you. “Fuuuck,” you sighed, eyes closed and mouth open, drooling just a little bit. The ache in your core was disappeared as soon as Bucky filled you up.

“Goddamn,” Bucky gritted. Your pussy was hugging his hard as hell cock so nicely, Bucky felt like he was being wrapped with the softest blankets to ever exist. Falling onto his elbows, Bucky placed kisses on your bare shoulders. He moved his arms carefully and wrapped them around your torso. One of his hands was wrapped lightly around your neck, and you felt another flame taking over your body with the feeling.

“Move,” you whispered. “Alpha, please, move.” Bucky shushed you gently. Never stopping peppering kisses on your shoulder, neck and cheek, Bucky moved his hips slowly at first. You gasped, head thrown back on Bucky’s shoulder, you closed your eyes.

Your mind was fogged, body wrung tight with sexual frustration and the coil in your belly was burning hotter each passing second. You could feel your heat taking over your body. Bucky’s strong scent was covered with the traces of faint rut, and his scent was clogging up all your senses.

It felt magnificent.

“Alpha,” you moaned when his cock touched a spot in you, your body suddenly waking up. Bucky grunted. His rut was making him a little non-verbal, but he was okay with it. “Faster,” you whimpered. “Faster, harder, alpha, fuck!” The breath knocked out of your lungs with Bucky’s hard thrust.

Grunting and rumbling deep in his chest, Bucky started slamming into you. Your slick was now covering his inner thighs and groin, making these obscene sounds to echo in your room and your skin to stuck each other whenever Bucky’s pelvis kissed yours. You whimpered. Your body was both loosening up and tightening even more as Bucky’s thrusts became harder and deeper. Your body was melting under his, muscles were getting lax because of the rut scent and soft rumbles Bucky was occasionally letting out.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, nose poking your bonding glands. “You smell so good, omega,” he murmured, and you shuddered under him. Bucky chuckled darkly. His hot breath licked over your pulse. His short fangs grazed over the sensitive skin, tongue poking out to lick and suck as his pace turned into even something more feral. The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud, you were deafened by it.

You whimpered when you felt his teeth again. You had no fear of Bucky mating you, you knew him enough to know that he wouldn’t do that, but feeling him dragging his fangs up and down like that on your bonding glands was incredibly turning you on. You grabbed onto his arms when he slightly straightened up so that he could drive in you deeper.

“Shit,” you gasped. Bucky growled. His arms around your neck tightened its hold a bit, enough to make you feel every drag of oxygen. “Fuck, Bucky─” His cock was driving in and out of you at a mad pace, balls slapping against your clit and obscene sounds of your wet pussy was driving you even crazier.

With a snarl, Bucky pulled you up against him, flipping you on your back in a matter of seconds. When he slid into your once again, you felt the bulge of his knot at the base of his cock. You gasped, looking down, your mouth hung open on its own. Bucky chuckled.

“That mouth of yours is hungry, ain’t it?” He asked, a filthy smirk on his face. You tried to swallow the spit, but he didn’t let you. He stuffed three of his metal fingers into your mouth. “Suck on’em, honey,” he ordered lovingly. You moaned as you did what you were being told and felt his pace falter for a second. “Fuck.” You hummed around his fingers. His rut scent getting stronger, covering your body, your bed and leaving its mark deep into your bones, you felt like a cat under the sun.

Bucky placed his flesh hand on your pussy. His hips were moving with a rapid pace, your fluids were mixing with his. His thumb found your clit and started to play with it. You cried out. your back arching, you moaned around his fingers, your pussy tightening on his cock. Bucky gasped and grunted. His balls were hurting because of how full they were.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ come for me, omega,” his harsh whispering voice commanded. You felt your eyes roll back as the pleasure and blinding orgasm took over your body. Bucky cursed as he felt your mouth watering even more around his fingers, pussy walls clamping on his cock and knot. Gasping, Bucky leaned in and pulled his fingers out your mouth so that he could kiss you. Bucky was so close, so fucking close─

“Mmm,” you hummed into his kiss. “C’me f’r me, alpha,” you murmured, placing sloppy kisses on his mouth. “C’mon, breed me, fill me up, make a mess─”

Groaning loudly, Bucky slammed forward one last time before he felt his knot popped. His balls seized so hard, Bucky let out a wounded sound. You shushed him. Placing your hands on his face, you kissed him. He sighed into the kiss as he thrusted in and out of you slowly, fucking his come deeper into you.

“Fuck, honey,” Bucky breathed out when the intense part of his orgasm washed away. You smiled, kissing him again. Bucky kissed you back soundly. “Damn, I’ve never come that hard before,” he said, chuckling.

“Good,” you said. Your scent flaring up with smugness, Bucky laughed.

“Yeah, alright, you’re possessive,” he said with a smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up and ducked your head. Bucky continued to smile but couldn’t stop himself from leaning down for another kiss.

After a couple minutes of lazy make-out, Bucky carefully re-arranged your positions so that he could cuddle you without crushing you. You lay like that in silence, feeling content. Your heat and his rut had diminished for the time being, giving you some time to recover. You were playing with his metal hand when the thought struck you.

“Hey,” you murmured, and Bucky hummed as an answer. “What did she say?” You asked him. He made a confused sound.

“Who? About what?”

“You sent me a picture last night and said you were chickening out because she was real nice and you don’t wanna fuck it up,” you explained, a little bit jealousy slipping into your scent. “Did you send her the picture? What did she say?” You felt him freeze momentarily, but then he let out a small chuckle.

“I sent it, yes,” he said. “She said that I look damn good and that I can’t fuck this thing up, not with that picture, and that I’m cute and she’ll understand why I sent it.”

You froze.

“It was intentional,” you murmured. Bucky hummed in approval, kissing your shoulder and tightening his arms around you. “You asshole,” you shrieked, hitting his arm. “You could have just come to me!” Bucky laughed as you hit him again.

“I’m sorry!” He said. “I actually didn’t mean to send you that picture, I swear. I hit send accidentally, but I also said ‘might as well’ afterwards, so,” he murmured, shrugging.

“God, I can’t believe this,” you grumbled. Bucky nuzzled your neck. “I couldn’t sleep last night because of that picture,” you admitted.

Bucky frowned. “Why?”

“I was horny, Bucky,” you said. Bucky let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, but you knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, pouting at the same time.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, slowly moving on top of you. “I can make it up, though…” Kissing your cheek, he poked your nose with his playfully. “You said you were horny, right? How about I do something about that?” You smirked.

“I’m in heat, Barnes,” you said. “You better make it up to me.” Bucky smirked right back at you.

“Your wish is my command, m’Queen,” he said, sweeping you into a passionate kiss.

──

tell me what you think please!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky barnes x reader #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #alpha bucky barnes #a/b/o dynamics #intentional

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your-stoat-stands-unopposed · 2 years

Note

Dhdhdh god this is so embarrassing unm- usually most x reader stuff is AFAB and the reader is bottoming (I get it I really do,) but as a Dom I find there's barely ever ANY Dom reader things so uhm... Dom reader x P03? Gender neutral preferably but like. Either Afab w/ a strap on or Amab, I dont really mind

I FEEL SO BAD ASKING THIS OK uh can we have like... Excessive teasing/foreplay. Like I want him to beg. All this fluffy p03 bottom is amazing and I love it and it makes me so happy but like some of his game mechanics make me so mad the wet cardboard box deserves it 😔

OK DJHDBDHDHD BYE I LOVE UR WRJTIBG,-

I hear you, I hear you... 🤭

Beg.

Pairing: P03 x amab!gender-neutral!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only for explicit content. Reader has specific parts but isn't referred to by any gendered terms.

Summary: You and P03 have played this game before, and you know how to win: he's a tough one until he isn't, but you know there's a point where he'll crack, and you know he wants you to crack him.

"Beg."

The tip of your length nudges against P03's hole just barely, just enough to tease, just enough to make his systems whine.

"Never."

That's what he says... but you and he both know he doesn't mean it.

You and he both know he's on the verge of breaking.

The bot is laid out on his table, his hand clutching at the edge of it, the expression on his face lusty and longing and glitching out now and then. Trembles run through his pretty metal body, his base twitching up now and then, shamelessly desperate for you to fill him up...

But you won't.

Not yet.

Not until he asks nicely.

The vibrator in your hand purrs as you slowly drag it up and down P03's synthetic cock; though the sound is drowned out by the lovely moans he gives, those sweet whines as his back arches thanks to your ministrations. His length is strapped onto him, but the vibrations go right through the plastic to stimulate some of his most sensitive areas; it may as well be real, and in times like these, it most certainly shows.

He gasps out a curse that comes out as a garbled mess of synthesised bleeps, his claw grabbing tighter at the edge of the table. The crank on the top of his head spins, his expression one of utter desire; you're sure if he were a human he'd be sweating with the exertion of not giving in.

But you're used to this. You and P03 have played this game before, and you know how to win: he's a tough one until he isn't, but you know there's a point where he'll crack, and you know he wants you to crack him.

You press the head of your shaft against his hole once more, biting your lower lip as you feel the slightly warmed metal against your aching, dripping dick.

"Beg."

"N-Ngh..."

On his display, his eyes are rolled up, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His 'hips' twitch upwards as you tease the head of his strap with your vibrator; and you turn it up abruptly, and he practically squeals, his entire body jerking.

"O-Oh, @%$#ing hell--!" His voice is staticky, skipping, as whiny as the whirs of his motors. He groans, hips pressing himself up against your vibrator, a whimper escaping him as you nudge the tip of your shaft against his hole once more.

"Beg."

"Please, h-h-holy #%$@! Please just put it i-i-i-in alreadyaaaaaaaah--!"

You'd canted your hips forward as he'd been speaking, filling his insides all at once, sinking yourself balls-deep inside his pleasantly thrumming and heated passage.

"Good boy."

A smile catches your lips as you immediately draw back, thrusting back in to set a deep and hard and fast pace right from the get-go. You need the moreish vibrations of P03's insides milking your cock; he needs satisfaction and release from all the teasing you'd put him through...

His arm wraps around you, holding you close, chest-to-chest as you pound your robot lover to the tune of his gorgeous garbled cries, to the sound of his fans whining and his pleas for more.

You know you've won, and you know you both know it.

And you both know that this was the only outcome either of you would've wanted.

#spicy #inscryption #inscryption p03 #p03 #p03 x reader #answered asks #the idiot gamer writes

109 notes · View notes

piratefalls · 2 years

Note

Do you have a list of buddie fics for Eddie calling buck “baby”? Cause I would sell my kidney for one of those.

this might be my longest rec list so i hope it’s even close to what you wanted. after a word search of more than 500 fics, all of these contain a moment where Eddie calls Buck “baby”. some of them are parts of series/universes so watch out for that. there’s also a bonus list at the end. and a companion list is here.

the light's been out though, baby by hattalove

He still gets stuck in it sometimes: the absolute silence after the shot, and time so, so still in that endless second when Eddie’s eyes met his. When the air turned cool against the skin of Buck’s face because there was something else, now, something warmer, sticky in his eyelashes, pooling at the corner of his mouth. Staining him in a way that will never, never come out, all in the time it took to remember how to breathe again.

It didn’t happen fast at all. There are days when Buck wakes up and thinks it might still be happening.

And Eddie is—Eddie won’t—Eddie—

or, six months after the near-fatal shooting of a member of the LAFD, footage of the incident surfaces on social media.

Treated Like a Necklace by sirencalls

There are these collections of moments that never escape Buck’s notice, a pattern of behaviors and wants and almosts that have Buck wondering if maybe… maybe Eddie is holding something back from him.

Drowning in Dreams (You're My Raft) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In which Buck sleeps his way into a relationship with Eddie, but not in the way you'd think.

voracious by annabeth_writes

adjective • having a very eager approach to an activity

•••

“I believe I said something about blowing your mind, in fact,” Buck said, a slow grin forming on his face.

“You do,” Eddie practically growled, his dark, heated eyes staring up at Buck defiantly. “Every day, Buck. Every damn day.”

The smug grin fell from his lips as thoughts of holding back flew out the window because, really, how could Buck not kiss him after that?

work our way up to the bottom by prettyboybuckley

It’s not like Eddie has anything against the idea of bottoming, you know? He’s not as repressed anymore, he knows that being a top or a bottom doesn’t add to or take away from his masculinity.

It’s just that with the way his and Buck’s dynamic works, bottoming has never even come to mind. Buck loves getting fucked and Eddie loves the way he can make Buck gasp and cry and fall apart.

But lately, his head’s been a little elsewhere.

OR: Eddie decides he wants to try bottoming for a change

tell the whole wide world and this room by hattalove

"I talk a lot. It’s probably not fun to sit through for something you’ll just instantly forget."

Eddie tilts his head. “Who’s forgetting?”

in which we learn about fermented milk products, discover that dolphins are sex fiends, and realize that sometimes, it really is all about knowing and being known.

with every heartbeat i have left by iriswests

Buck and Eddie were expecting to have a little girl.

When their baby girl is born a baby boy, instead, Buck is suddenly confronted with everything he’s been ignoring since he learned about Daniel every time he looks at his son.

or; buck and eddie have a baby boy, and buck spirals a little bit

i'm begging for you (to take my hand) by sirencalls

Buck hadn’t wanted someone to tell him that he’s in the right, that it’s not his fault. Because everything with Daniel sure as hell feels like it’s his fault. He tells himself that if his genes would have been just a little stronger, if they would have matched just a little better, then maybe his parents would have loved him.

(AKA the breakdown after 4x05 that Buck deserved to have.)

look into your heart and you'll find love by soyxunxperdedor

It starts after Eddie’s Abuela breaks her hip.

Not an auspicious start, and certainly not a sexy one, but after Buck introduces him to Carla he’s so damn grateful he barely waits for the door to shut behind her before he’s crowding Buck up against the kitchen counter and dropping to his knees.

-or-

Eddie falls into a friends with benefits relationship with Buck, and then he just keeps falling.

i'll be your family by eddiesdiaz

“Buck?” Chris says, pulling him from his thoughts. He lets out a big yawn, wriggling around under the covers until he’s comfortable.

Buck couldn’t wipe the adoring smile off his face if he tried. “Yeah, buddy?”

“I know what I want you to get me for Christmas.”

“You do, huh? What is it?” Buck asks.

“I want you to be my dad,” Chris says easily, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just tilt Buck’s entire world on its axis. “Well, my other dad.”

where the lights burn low and you're only mine by allisonRW96

“He doesn’t dance with Eddie. He deliberately doesn’t dance with Eddie. Buck knows he could crook a finger at him and Eddie would follow him wherever he wanted to go, but as much as he wants that, there’s something else he wants a little more.

Tonight he’s craving that flash of heat that he sees every time he reaches past Eddie to touch someone else. The urge he knows that Eddie has to grab his hand and say, “My turn.” The way he’ll sit, looking for all the world like he’s patient and in control, waiting until they get home to come unraveled. Buck doesn’t want to wait. Buck wants to unravel Eddie now.”

Or: Buck has a thing for Possessive!Eddie Diaz. But when teasing goes too far and feelings get hurt, he needs to make sure Eddie knows exactly how he feels about him.

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.”

Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh.

“Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.”

or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

Open Your Eyes Love by Bluejay141519

Buck doesn't know how he got here. He doesn't even know where 'here' is, all he knows is that his head hurts, he can't move, and there's voices on the radio telling him that they know him.

But Eddie.

Eddie is coming for him.

All the Rumors are True by sirencalls

“Firehose?”

Chim laughs. “Yep. Spill it, Diaz.”

And Eddie looks over at Buck, drags his eyes down Buck’s broad chest and small waist until he’s staring directly at his crotch, picturing what he knows is underneath. The length of it, how pink it gets when he leaks, how much come it pumps out when Eddie fucks him over the edge.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, it’s true.”

call you home by ashavahishta

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already.

God, what’s wrong with him? What is this?

or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

some kind of superstition by youbetsya

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks after sitting quietly across the table from Maddie for entirely too long.

After several more moments of painful silence, Maddie finally looks up. Her smile is impossible to read. “It’s gorgeous, Eddie. Really.”

He sighs and plucks the ring from her hand. “You hate it.”

“No! No, it’s a beautiful ring. And I’m sure Buck will love it.” She places a comforting hand on top of his. It’s not that Eddie thinks she’s outright lying, but he’s known her for long enough to recognize when she’s not telling the whole story.

OR: The universe strongly disagrees with Eddie's proposal scheme.

Eyes On Mine (So Deep Inside) by sirencalls

The last time Buck was naked from the waist down and fully erect in the middle of Eddie’s bathroom had been a lot more fun than whatever the fuck this is, Eddie behind him jerking him off to keep him hard as Buck tries to mix the molding powder into the water without spilling it all over their counters. It’s late Friday night and Chris is asleep down the hall, both of them making sure he was out before locking the bathroom door behind them and opening the discreet cardboard box. Buck has been keyed up since he got the delivery notification, and he’s finding that it’s really difficult to focus on getting the mold set up while also getting his cock played with.

“How the hell does this company expect me to—to do this?”

Eddie hums into his neck, dropping a kiss as he brushes his knuckle underneath the head of Buck’s dick. “Probably with a lot less mess.”

Save a Horse, Ride a by HMSLusitania

Buck and Eddie go line dancing.

I wanna feel you (I want it all) by annabeth_writes

“Did you do what I asked?”

Fingertips stroke a light touch over the back of his thigh as he stifles a low whine.

“Yes sir,” Buck says, letting his eyes slip shut.

It’s all too easy to submit to Eddie’s touch. His body knows it well. Trusts it. Loves it.

call me by your name by ipretendtobesane

5 times someone calls buck 'diaz' not knowing he was married and the 1 time they call eddie 'diaz' too

I Did It All (To Make You Love Me) by sirencalls

Honestly, Eddie is just trying to find the pair of boxers he knows he left here last week.

Ever After by ElvenSorceress

He’s so gorgeous. He’s the most perfect thing to wake up to. They woke up together. Tangled around each other. They slept naked. They’ve kissed many times now. They kissed and touched and made love for the first time and he’s never been loved like that ever. No one’s ever wanted him more than they wanted the sex with him. But it felt like Eddie did. Like Eddie does.

Buck curls his hands around Eddie’s arm and reaches up to touch his face, almost afraid he’ll touch nothing and this might disappear. But he hasn’t disappeared.

There’s stubble beneath his fingers. There’s warmth all around him because he’s being held. His heart is rushing, sprinting like it can’t arrive fast enough. “You’re really here,” he says, more to himself, in awe that Eddie’s curled against him. There’s an arm around him and he’s holding onto it. He held Eddie all night.

~~~

Sweet morning sex after their first night together because they are so in love and soft for each other.

all that we need by not1_2write

When Buck buys a Powerball lottery ticket he doesn't think much beyond his need for change to air up his tire. He forgets all about the ticket until word spreads that the winning ticket was sold in LA and hasn't been claimed yet and pretty much dismisses it. After all, there's no way he won the lottery.

Turns out no, he really did win the Powerball, to the tune of 295 million dollars and just in time for Christmas. He's going to make sure the 118 has the best Christmas of their lives. And just maybe he'll have a good one too.

Games and Theory by Blink_Blue

Eddie's not looking for serious. He just wants casual, easy, and uncomplicated.

Buck has been in love with his best friend for two years. Does he take his sister's advice and confess his feelings? Nah, Evan Buckley always has to do things the hard way.

the dancer's dance by withoutthetiger

"They make it less than a mile before Eddie points to a bar with a half-full parking lot. It’s early enough that they’ve beat the Saturday night crowd and it’ll be nice to carry on an actual conversation while they have a drink or two. It feels like forever since they’ve gone out like this, and Eddie thinks it nearly was, the past year a more complicated challenge to their friendship than he could have imagined.

But Eddie’s been back at work for a few weeks now, Bobby welcoming him back without hesitation, and spring is on the horizon, a change that feels especially important this year, even if Southern California seasons hardly matter at all.

And this night with Buck – well, maybe it’ll change something, too."

*****

Set in the spring of 2022, after Eddie is back with the 118.

Brace for Impact by sirencalls

Sure, it was probably, most-definitely a joke. And sure, Eddie is his best friend who knows Buck would never actually get mad at something like that. He’s joked about Eddie’s ass once or twice after all. But despite all that... Eddie spanked him. In the middle of the station where anybody could see, where anybody could ask questions, Eddie Diaz walked up and slapped his ass.

life like a face between your palms by hattalove

Buck knows Eddie like he knows the sun will be coming up on the two of them in the morning, hugging the line of Eddie’s shoulder even through the blinds.

And still, somehow, Eddie finds ways to surprise him.

in which eddie is sweet, and buck is a little undone by it.

beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat

He sits bolt upright in his seat. Jee-Yun squeals at the sudden movement. “Holy shit,” he says out loud, simultaneously praying that it doesn’t become one of those words his niece repeats until it loses its sparkle. “I told Eddie I loved him.”

Jee-Yun laughs. It feels a little like she’s mocking him. “Dee,” she agrees solemnly, placing a tiny hand on Buck’s cheek.

Or: Buck goes home to Pennsylvania. It's more familiar than he wants it to be.

i'm here (i’m yours for the taking) by farfromthstars

“Everyone!” Around forty heads turn, and Buck shifts on his feet uncomfortably at the attention. “This is my old friend Buck and his husband, Eddie.” “Uh,” Buck makes, turning to Eddie with wide eyes. Eddie's looking just as stunned. “Connor, I think you got–” He cuts himself off when Eddie wraps an arm around his waist.

at the winter wedding of an old friend, buck and eddie pretend to be married to each other. the plan has no weaknesses, obviously, not even mistletoe or anyone’s secret feelings…

the voice under all silences by lecornergirl

Buck’s so caught up in his thoughts that when he reaches the top of the stairs and sees Eddie on his bed, he thinks it’s a particularly vivid mental image. But then Eddie lets out a noise, a breathy sort of moan, and Buck knows he can’t be imagining it because he’s never heard that sound before.

Which means Eddie is actually here. Eddie is kneeling in the middle of Buck’s bed, eyes closed, one hand around his cock. His bare chest glistens with a sheen of sweat, catching the early-afternoon light filtering in through the window; under the skin, his muscles shift in time with his slow, sure strokes.

Sucker for Praise by sirencalls

Eddie loves eating Buck out, loves how responsive Buck always is. He just isn’t sure how it would feel the other way around. Eddie has bottomed for Buck before, taken his cock and come on it and loved every second of it, but this feels... different. More intimate, a little dirtier, and something he isn’t sure if he would even enjoy.

But like most things, Buck convinces him by begging for it.

unlaced by soyxunxperdedor

The whole thing had gotten away from him a little bit.

It all started a month ago, when Eddie had figured out how hot Buck found him in nothing but a jockstrap, and he’d thought, ok, but let’s take it up a notch.

-or-

Eddie wants to do something special for Buck's birthday

You Can Only Get So High by allisonRW96

"He can’t stop staring at his shaking hand. It started in his fingers, but Buck can feel it tremoring up his arms and an awful familiar feeling flickers to life in his chest. All cold claws and nasty whispers reaching out to clutch at his heart."

Buck crashes hard after sex. Eddie helps him through it.

it's nice to have a friend by colonoscopy

Just two dudes holding each other under the kitchen table. Laughing about an orgy with a crab involved and being in big, fat, gargantuan love.

but your face is still my favourite view by wafflesofdoom

“You’ve got a photo of me in your wallet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that he just – carried a photo of Buck around in his wallet, as though Buck’s entire world wasn’t spinning at a thousand miles per hour as he tried to process the fact that Eddie loved him enough to carry around a photo of him in his wallet.

or - the one where eddie takes a polaroid of buck and keeps it in his wallet, and buck finds out.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor

He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room.

He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open.

Oh. Oh no.

This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be.

Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

bonus: they both say it

and longer by far by farfromthstars

Eddie’s been married once, and after Shannon asked him for a divorce and then died before they could do anything about it, he figured that was it for him. One marriage with all its ups and downs is enough for a lifetime. Granted, he didn’t think he’d fall in love with Buck and be lucky enough for that love to be returned.

Everyone seems to expect Eddie to propose to Buck any minute now, which is annoying because Eddie doesn’t want to get married again. He's sure of that. Or is he?

look straight ahead if you like it slow by hattalove

“This gets you going, huh?” Eddie grins, propping himself up on his elbows so he can move higher on the bed, reach the pretty pink bow of Buck’s mouth. “Devotion? You being it for me?” He stretches up toward Buck’s ear, whispers: “Monogamy?”

the house is empty. they're in love. you can probably fill in the blanks.

let me stay there awhile by withoutthetiger

"Maybe it all could have started as soon as they were done yelling at each other in the middle of Bobby and Athena’s backyard, their friends and family sneaking suspiciously far away while Buck and Eddie crept closer to the truth, everyone else having figured it out long before.

Or it could’ve happened in the wake of a house fire that very nearly claimed the lives of two fathers and their pre-teen son, the 118 arriving in time to save them all, and Buck and Eddie left staring at a grateful family and their own latest reminder of why they shouldn’t wait any longer.

But if Eddie looks back someday, he’ll realize it was never going to begin with anything other than this, a quiet question and an easy smile from his best friend, a man who can be eternally patient when it matters most."

*****

A little (long) exploration into the beginning of Buck and Eddie's relationship, in which Eddie learns that his sexual pleasure isn't only allowed, but also very thoroughly encouraged.

A Life in Your Shape by thelightwitch

“I’m not talking about the team,” Eddie says, and his voice sounds oddly quiet. “I’m talking about me and Chris. We’re your family.” “I appreciate you saying that, man. But you don’t mean it… not the way I want you to.” “How do you know?” Eddie asks softly. “Because.” Buck looks up, and Eddie’s warm brown eyes are so close, practically inviting him to get lost in them, the way they do every time Eddie gives him his undivided attention. “Because you mean it like I’m your best friend and I’m Chris’s favorite babysitter. And I love being those things, but I want more. I – I wanna be an actual family.” “Okay,” Eddie says slowly. “Okay, let’s be an actual family.”

In the aftermath of Red's death, Buck and Eddie find their way together.

this savoir faire by hattalove

“So literally just—ask him,” Hen says. “With words. Say ‘hey, Buck, we’ve been functionally living together for years, want to actually move in’?”

“No,” Eddie tells the tabletop.

“I’ve gotta say,” Chim says and, by the sound of it, puts away the magazine he wasn’t reading. “This seems like a crisis of your own making.”

“How?” Eddie says, into a patch of something sticky they should probably wipe up before Bobby gets here.

“You’re the one who wants to ask him to move in via meme.”

or, the one in which embracing the meme life turns out to be more complicated than eddie expected.

like sleep to the freezing by yawnralphio

Eddie feels bad about taking his anger out on Buck.

flash like a setting sun by playedwright

The universe has a fucked up sense of humor as far as Buck’s concerned. It took it’s sweet time leading him down the road that would eventually root him in Los Angeles with an acceptance letter to the fire academy in his hand, but all of that had been well and fine since it got him here eventually. Buck can roll with the punches better than most, so long as he’s given the opportunity to land on his feet.

It stands to reason that the universe was a lot more straightforward leading him to realize he was—is—in love with Eddie Diaz.

Buck just wishes the universe had been a little more subtle about it.

or, the one where the universe is screaming at buck and he's refusing to listen

a moment's peace by iphigenias

"Honey, I'm home," he calls softly, toeing out of his boots and tucking them into the cubby by the door next to Buck's worn old trainers with the soles splitting away. He rounds the corner to the living room and feels the last five hours wash right off his back at the way Buck smiles at him from the shitty yellow couch they’ve been meaning to replace: tender and tired and easy, like it's no effort at all.

fool for you from the bottom of my soul by spinningincircles

They’re in the far corner in a roped off section, with a printed out sign and everything: The Spouses of the 118 Club.

(“That’s what you’re calling this? I’m a spouse of the 118 too you know,” Buck says, absolutely not pouting about it.

Maddie shrugs from the passenger seat of Athena’s car. “Spouses and Non Blood Relatives of the 118 then.”

Karen leans in from the back seat and honks the horn. “Let’s go Diaz!”

“I’m coming!” Eddie shouts as he walks through the front door and down to the driveway. He stops next to Buck, using his shoulder for balance as he slips his shoe the rest of the way on. “We can switch off,” he says quietly. “You can go next month.” He straightens up and smiles brightly at Buck, kissing his cheek before getting into the backseat. Maddie hands a flask back to him and blows a kiss out the car window as they back onto the street.

Buck’s still not pouting as he waves them off.)

don't wanna break you (never gonna forget) by withoutthetiger

"Eddie hasn’t said a word since they stumbled into the locker room and Buck doesn’t really expect him to, not after their last call and the way Eddie will be reliving what they’d found at the scene long after it should have become a memory. Losses on any of their calls are terrible, obviously, but the trauma of this one has landed heavily on Eddie’s shoulders and his body is likely to curl under the weight of it for a while. They stay quiet while changing into their street clothes, and when they’re ready to go, Buck nods a goodbye for them both, follows Eddie out of the station, and leaves work behind to drive them home.

At the first red light, Buck looks over, but Eddie just shakes his head.

'Not yet.'

And it’s fine – it really is – though Buck slides his thumb against his wedding band as a reminder that Eddie’s silence is no longer a cause for concern, only a way through it. He nods to himself and turns on some music, just loud enough that failure isn’t the only voice Eddie hears."

*****

Set a handful of years in the future, written for the prompt “Is this okay?”

waste this night away with me by soyxunxperdedor

Given all the general angst it took to get them to this point, Eddie hadn’t quite expected just how fun being with Buck was going to be.

It probably says a lot about his past relationships, but to be fair he and Shannon barely got serious before a positive pregnancy test turned it all on its head, and the thing with Ana—

Well, anyway, Eddie just didn’t realize that relationships could actually be this emotionally fulfilling while also being this fun.

And it’s never more evident than when they’re having sex.

so come inside and be with me by evanito

He knows he can’t let it go—let Buck go. When he invited Buck into his life—his home, his bed, his heart—he did so with the knowledge that he would never let him leave. Him and Buck are a forever thing. Nothing’s going to change that.

Except, maybe, for the fact that that Buck isn’t here.

...

(or: dough is made. questions are asked. sex is had.)

#buddie #buddie fic rec #fic rec #rec list #fic rec list #911 fox #kelly watches 911

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Tom Hiddleston - Stripped Sunday

A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.

Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+

Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.

It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.

So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.

In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.

However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.

Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.

Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.

You aren’t so lucky.

—

Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.

Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.

“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.

Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”

You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.

“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.

Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.

Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.

That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.

You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.

“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.

Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”

You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.

You sniffle a little, “Really?”

Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.

“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”

How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?

Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.

—

You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.

The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.

He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.

“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.

That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.

“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”

You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”

“SHIT!”

Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Porco Galliard | Mercy

Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Bondage with a belt, Panties stuffed into Porco’s mouth, A little bit of degradation, Some power play dynamics, Established Relationship

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This is quite inspired by late night thirsting with @lady-lunaaa, who somehow loves Pock more than me 🧡

Porco Galliard looked so pretty with your panties stuffed in his mouth.

He was always so whiny, so vocal, so willing to wake up anyone and everyone with the way he begged whenever you decided to play with him. You just wanted to hear what those little pleas sounded like when muffled by your slick-stained panties—they were just as darling, especially when groaned so heartily that drool spilled over flush cheeks.

And those thick arms of his looked delicious tied above his head with his own belt. His muscles were bulging, biceps flexing as you took your time teasing his weeping cock. Thick fingers were turning white against the leather.

This wasn’t your end game, no, you were just winding him up, coiling him tighter and tighter until you decided to release him and see what kind of wrath you would face.

You didn’t often get to be in control of him like this, so you were going to revel in it, going to drown in the power of being able to make him thrash against his binds. It took a lot of effort to tie him up. You’d wrestled with him over it, naked limbs weaving together like rope as you struggled to overpower him.

Those were the terms he set, having agreed to allowing you to tie him up, only if you were able to force him into it. And you did, once you wrapped your thighs around his perfect jaw.

Who knew your pussy would be such a marvelous weapon of distraction. Porco had been groaning your name into your cunt when you secured the buckle around his wrists.

Sliding your panties past plump lips had been a treat. You watched his arched brows furrow, normally perfect hair already starting to spill on his forehead as his tongue pooled with the bittersweet tang of your slick.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, baby. Besides you were the one making me wet by teasing me under the table.”

You were tracing your finger up the ridge of his hard cock, watching him twitch and leak just from a few moments of playful taunting. He’d never been good at self control, his fault only made more evident as a muffled cry left his throat when your thumb circled the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum over hot, silken skin. You could feel the blood pouring down to his groin, thickening him up and making his veins pump harder under your touch.

Your tongue swirled over his nipple, grunts vibrating in his thick chest against your mouth. Your name was in his mouth, soaking into the fabric as he probably begged you to hurry up, to sink your cunt onto his cock so the ache he felt would go away.

You were careful to keep your pussy away from his cock, even as you sat back on his thighs, you hovered over him, heat just out of reach.

“God you look so pretty like this,” your point was emphasized as you ran your palms over the arms above his head, feeling his muscles flex. He was always pretty, but now he looked so open, so vulnerable, pink with blush and glistening with sweat.

The sparse, downy hair on his chest prickled when your hands moved over his pectorals, pinching at his nipples as you slid down his body. Those muffled whines get louder as you lick at his cock, short kitten licks that just leave spit to cool against his skin. Then you peppered his perfect balls with kisses, even going so far as to pop one between your lips before moving away again.

Amber eyes were practically melting with rage, his cheeks puffing as he spit your panties from between his lips.

“Untie me. Right now.”

He was giving you a chance—he could easily move his arms from the pillow if he wanted. But if you freed him, he’d show some kindness. But you didn’t want mercy.

“Or what, Pock?”

For once, he didn’t vocalize what he wanted to do to you. No whispers of I’m going to fuck you until you scream, I’ll make you beg for me to let you cum, none of the little threats he’d made in your ear at dinner. No, he was just going to show you.

Canine teeth ripped at leather and metal as he sat up, muscular thigh pressing up against your pussy as he freed himself. He was quick to pull you below him, man handling you until you were face down in his pillows, the belt he’d torn off being wrapped around your wrists.

“You’re fucking clever, I’ll give you that. You know I can’t resist that pretty pussy against my mouth.”

He pulled your hips up, keeping one hand against your back as the other pressed his swollen head against your folds. All you could smell was him on the sheets, all you could feel was his cock slapping against your clit to tease you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping. Little powertrip really got you off, hm?”

There was no chance to respond, your breath knocked out of your lungs when he shoved his cock into your cunt. He always felt so fucking good, so fat and full that it made your pussy flutter just to be stuffed with him.

Porco tangled his fist around your bound wrists, tugging until your shoulders burned and you had to arch your back to meet his strength. His hips were already relentless, his earlier teasing having him chasing that release as quickly as he could. Your body bounced against his, backs of your thighs burning from the sting of his own slapping against yours.

“I’ll show you what real power is, baby.”

He laughed as you just babbled out nonsense, brain struggling to keep up with the overload of pleasure building in your belly and racing over your nervous system. A slap to your ass had you crying, tears bubbling over your cheeks from the white-hot mixture of pleasure and pain from his strong hand. He repeated the action a few times, stopping only when he felt your cunt clench around him and cause his focus to fade.

“Such a good little slut,” he panted out his praise, using the muscles in his arm and shoulder to pull you back farther, grip tightening around the belt on your wrists, “such a tight pussy, god you look so good wrapped around my cock.”

You were ready to burst, the sounds of his cock thrusting into your wet pussy, the feel of him using you, the hot burn of him spreading you apart, all of it was too much. You were drowning in the ecstasy, floating in the haze of Porco’s fury. You knew he was capable of more, that he didn’t want to hurt you, just bring you into that delicious stupor of pleasure and pain that would have you coming undone.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, g-gonna fill you up,” he moaned, a sweaty hand gripping your hip so mean that you knew it to be true.

“P-Porco, please, let me—”

“Oh no, no, no, you don’t get to cum.”

He dropped you into the mattress as he came, hot cum spurting into your pussy. He always had such fat loads, always made you a fucking mess whenever he fucked you. You could feel his cock still pulsing, over, and over, and over again, strings of seed spilling into your hole for far too long. It dripped down your thighs nice and slow, enough to tease.

You only milked him more as your pussy sucked him in, looking for your own release. Porco whispered your name a few times in reverence, hand smoothing down your back and hooking around your binds again.

“Don’t tease me again,” he warned, “next time you tie me up, you better fuck me.”

#porco smut #porco x reader #Porco Galliard x reader #porco galliard #snk porco #aot porco #aot #snk #aot fanfic #porco fanfic #snk fanfic #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction

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han-shinsuke · 3 years

Text

t h e b r e a k f a s t t a b l e

[🔞] k e n t o n a n a m i [‼️]

s m u t • s m u t • s m u t

ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ ɴsғᴡ

If only you were at home, listening to sleeping at last and maybe with a cup of hot cocoa in hand, you would really appreciate the heavy pour of rain outside. However, you weren’t. Therefore, you must try to not show uneasiness while he’s around— while it was only you and him inside their manor.

“The generator isn’t working,” he informs you after inspecting the machine in the cellar. Kento turns off the penlight then sat on the chair beside you.

As reported by, the thunderstorm will last for two hours. A hundred and twenty minutes of being alone with your principal sponsor, Kento Nanami. “We will be fine. We have enough candles to get us through this darkness.”

Are you sure of it? Can you keep your calm around him? Especially when he’s that close? You can even smell his natural peachy scent.

“Do you not like me?” your face almost slipped from your palm. Why would he think that?!

“No.” you reply, absentmindedly licking your bottom lip. “You sponsor my studies and allowance and you bought me an apartment. How can I not like you, sir?”

Just to clear things, he is not your sugar daddy. You were not obliged to give something in return, though, you’d be glad if he wants to. Besides, you are not the only one he sponsors. There are twenty in total including you.

“Then why are you so distant?” he leans his back on the backrest, searching immediate answer from your intriguing reaction.

Yes, you were not aware but he finds your manners interesting.

You let out a low and defeated laugh.

“It’s because I like you romantically, sir.” you avow.

“Oh.” his response, “you’re only eighteen.”

“Can I not like you just because I’m young?” you sigh, looking away. Watching the rainwater rolls down the glass wall. “I lost my virginity last month, sir. I heard from your exes that you didn’t fuck virgins.”

What were you thinking, really? Spurting private matters like it’s some kind of gossips.

You heard him coughed. You laugh, “whom do you surrendered your innocence to?” he asks.

“Megumi Fushiguro, sir.”

Why do you have to be so polite? It’s driving him mad. His chair creaks. You eye him in question. He transfers the vase to the most secured spot.

“Quit the talking, baby, let’s fuck.”

Your heart races when he sits you on the tabletop, parting your legs. He creates an opening between your thighs. Everything about this man is thick so the width fuels your desires. He’s standing between your legs, sliding his palms up and down your sides.

You remove his shirt. Tracing his beefy muscles using your fingertips. You gasp when you reached his hard packs. You went lower, inserting a hand pass over his waistband. Kento let out a throaty moan when you palm his bulge inside his pants.

You were doing right, just right to make him close his eyes and gasp for air. You run your tongue in between his chest, hand still busy putting pressure on his other head. Damn. You can feel your own heat juicing.

“Do you want more, sir?” you ask, still licking him, moving far to the left, you poke his nipplexx using your tongue then eventually, started sucking it.

“Fuck, baby~ have you done this before with Megumi?” his breath is shaking though he can still speaks clearly.

From palming his head, your hand proceeds stroking his length, stretching its skin down from the tip. Nanami growls like a beast, you did pretty well with your hand so he grabs your nape and tilts your face up.

“I didn’t, sir. But Megumi had a mouthful feast on his study table. He devoured me like a feral man.”

You retract your hand from his pants. He moans in disappointment. He loves how you work your hand underneath his bottoms.

He didn’t talk after that. Nanami helps you with your clothes, stripping you out from your restrictions. You serve yourself... naked and flushed on his breakfast nook. You were no different from those sluts he fucked before. You crave for him so you do the service.

Nanami disrobes the remaining pieces of his clothes before pulling you on your ankles. He leans down to your face, kissing your chin first. That first kiss gives you butterflies compared to how Megumi taught you the basics of kissing. He may be your first of everything but nothing can compete with this man that makes you feel 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 by just kissing your chin.

Your both hands were pinned on each sides of your head. He examines you from head to toe. Your heat throbs, his tip is poking your abdomen. He’s long and thick. Will it fit? Of course, you're this ready for him. You anchor your legs behind him, pulling him down.

“Put it inside, sir, I’m ready.” you beg with your fluttering eyes. He teases your lips with his, brushing slightly. You whine. Pleading again.

He knows you were so desperate for him so he ended the thirst with a very rough kiss. Sucking both lips like its some kind of delights made for him. He surely enjoys kissing you torridly that it makes you thrash for air when he didn’t let go of your mouth.

That made him laugh. When your breathing return to normal, Nanami claims your lips again, this time, he’s moving slow, so slow that you didn’t notice his mouth has already left yours gaping open. He’s now down on your neck, sucking while a hand is palming your folds. You grope his right ass, earning a grunt from him.

His mouth keeps traveling down, it reached your bare chest. He takes in a bud inside his hot mouth. Sucking it, biting it. You moan. You just keep moaning and at the same time grinding your leaking pearl against his erection.

He pops out your first nipplexx, he does the same to the other. Flicking his tongue against it. Sucking it as well unti it turns red.

He goes down again, another spot—the most vulnerable one is waiting for him. He adjusts himself, groping your titsx hard while pinching its both buds.

“Aahh sir~” what? Did you just moan like a slut? You make him smirk and feel proud of himself. He gropes you again, even harder this time. He hears more of your 𝒂𝒂𝒉𝒉𝒔 and 𝒐𝒐𝒉𝒉𝒔. You satisfy him by just moaning his name and how good he makes you feel. He squeezes your sides, moving down to your thighs. He hit you there. He didn’t stop until he sees stars in your eyes. One star rolls down. Nanami licks his lips, planting soft kisses on your face.

“Ooohhh gosh, sir~” your body jolts when he tugs your clitx before latching his tongue between your folds.

Damn. Nanami eats better.

You grab onto his hair, gripping there. He dives deeper into your cunt, tongue lolling in and out of your still tight core.

“Hmm~ you taste like a real lady hmm~” fine, reaper! You can take her soul now.

Nanami’s 𝒉𝒎𝒎𝒔 sounds so sexy and you push more of your drenched cunt toward his face. He seems to appreciate your little movement so he eats deeper and thumb you harder.

“Sir—sir! Aahh~” surprise! You spill in his mouth and he’s grateful for your milk so he slurps everything and gives your clenching cunt a good run using his tongue.

You were panting when he pushes your legs to your chest, locking those tight with his forearms. He joins you on the tabletop, folding you in half. His hands grips tightly on the edge and pressing his knees firmly on the table with you in between.

Suddenly, you remember what Megumi had told you before that if a guy fold a lady to half, he’s been meaning to breed her.

Now. Now. Now.

You start to panic. He notices it. You receive his unusual smirk. You put your hands on his shoulders, shaking your head.

“S—sir— don’t fuck a baby into me, please.”

Instead of a reply or an assurance that he would not, Nanami claims your lips again, masking the slow and eerie penetration of his cockx into you.

He earns a loud gasp from you when he installed completely his length inside you. It stretches you really wide that a lone sob escapes your lips.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he taunts you, caressing your face. “I’m inside you. Full and deep. You will be fine, trust me.”

Your lips quivers when he start pulling out. You can feel how thick he is and how farther his tip reached inside.

He can feel your shaking so he kisses you again, focusing on your neck.

“H—hold—please sir aahnnn~” your whine is pure and appealing. He cannot wait any longer. It’s just that this is not his way. He loves ramming a pussyxx harder and deeper. He loves being in control.

“Be still, baby. I will move hard now.”

Again, what’s the use of shaking your head no? He slams right there. Just right there when he crashes his mouth on yours to drown your cries.

He’s tight. Hard. And strong that with every thrust and every pull and with every ruthless push, the table that supports the weight of the two people atop it, creaks louder.

He shakes your world and uses your womanhood the way it supposed to be fucked. He didn’t stop. He can’t be stopped. Not this time, not at this moment that he loves how you clench around him and how your cunt responds so sweetly.

“Here comes my seeds, baby~ take it all my pretty baby~” he pounds you so hard at the time his semenx spills inside you, combining with your juice. He pumps you even harder, grunting. While you, all you did is moan his name and that he should not cum inside you but he still did.

He fucks his jizz inside you, watching it leaks from your throbbing cunt.

You end up staring at nothing.

You still feel it dripping from your hole.

Nanami takes you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. Still in dazed, the both of you dip in the warm water in the tub. You on his lap, legs spread.

“Wha–what are you doing?” you breathe when Nanami slides his hand between your thighs, dipping his fingers between your folds.

He kisses your nape from behind, moving to the side before ending on your shoulder that he licks and bites.

“What else my pretty baby? Finger fucking you hmm~”

Just when he starts rubbing hard circles on your clitx, the rain pours heavily, drowning your moans once again.

You have proven the rumors surrounding his name. Kento Nanami fuck better in the dark.

#imagines #smut #one shot #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento is a daddy #jujutsu megumi #megumi fushiguro #anime #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen

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backandimbamon · 3 years

Note

Bonnie playing with Damon's hair and he all sleepy 😊

this really took a while because… i was going to stop at the first half but i wanted to consider Bonnie’s perspective (: and then it got a lil spicy and i was like *sigh* why must you always take it there? but i mean- 👁- i always take it there because we were robbed!!! Damon is practically a self proclaimed sex god and i hate how they separated Bonnie from her sexuality, or really any form of intimacy for sooo long. and the scraps we got were NEVER enough. okay anyways yeah i’m finally done, like let’s get into it.

Damon notices that Bonnie touches him sparingly and really not because she wants to but because it happens accidentally every now and then, one of the perks about frequently invading her space.

Being stuck on the other side, there is less room for her and more for him, she’s in his world now which means it’s his duty to make her feel as uncomfortably comfortable as possible.

He notices everything; how her cheeks turn red when their knuckles brush against one another’s, how she takes in an exasperated little breath when their shoulders touch, how she rolls her eyes when he stands entirely too close. Damon hangs on to these moments because this may be his only form of female contact he’ll receive for a very, very, long time.

That is the only reason he hangs on.

Anytime she touches him intentionally, he feels a pride swell deep in his chest that he’s liked by Bonnie after a rocky road of ups and downs, fussing and fighting, he is finally deemed worthy enough for her to care about him even if it’s brief, even if it’s the smallest skin to skin contact imaginable.

And yes, he cares because if he has to spend the rest of eternity with one person, they might as well get along.

Movie night comes around so he rests his head in her lap, testing the waters, to see how she will respond to him. He senses her tense up a bit as predicted, but then she relaxes into it breath by breath like she’s doing a tricky yoga pose.

Bonnie’s body lotion makes her skin smell edible- cocoa and honey- she’ll never know but that’s why he nicknames her Bon Bon, she always smells good enough to eat. At this point, Damon can’t recall the VHS movie on the block of a television, his focus has been robbed by Bonnie and this new form of contact she allows him to try. Half of his smile sinks into the cotton of her leggings.

Her eyes never leave the screen when she laces her fingers through his hair, nails surfing through tufts of raven-black and the gesture is so shocking and embarrassingly arousing that a strangled groan gets trapped in his throat.

She panics, and he can tell by the change in her heart rate before saying. “Did I hurt you?” He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Hmmm mm, feels good,” he mumbles feigning casual so she can’t realize how he needs this so so bad that he’s fearful of it being taken away. In his mind he thinks about what if.

What if she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to tap dance on the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for two best friends. What if she remembers that he’s actually a terrible person who has done horrendous things to her and everyone she’s ever loved.

She shouldn’t like him or try not to laugh at his jokes. Not at all. Bonnie should’ve killed him a long, long time ago because if anyone could do it, it’d be her. He can see her now, all badass and angry with a wooden stake in her hand, vengeance in her eyes, the very last thing he’d see before his lights went out forever.

Bonnie, the giver and the taker.

Bonnie, the only god he knew.

Damon finds himself thinking so intensely lately that he checks the mirror more often than not to make sure he has no brooding lines like his little brother. Stefan’s expansive forehead has the room for it, his perfectly shaped forehead does not.

She laces her fingers back through his hair again and his eyes flutter, that’s how good it feels. It’s sensational. And while he’s had his hair pulled in and out of the bedroom, the innocence of her touch makes him want to melt. He finds his lids growing heavier, like how they used to do a century-and-a-half ago when he was human.

Running through dandelion fields in the overbearing Virginia heat, the sun up above sending heavy gusts of sunshine beams, a moment he considers to be oppressive now, used to be magical then- miraculous -and despite sweating through his britches and overcoat he never cared enough to stop running through the fields. The sun was the greatest thing all those years ago, back when white was his favorite color.

And after drawing a long, hot bath, he’d sink deep into the water while the bubbles floated to the top. Damon would close his eyes, hold his breath, see if he could break his prior record. Then he’d get out and the sleep would welcome him like any drowsy being, with open arms. And there he’d fall.

Bonnie has that affect on him. She makes him think of home, his past, when times were simpler and he was human.

He feels that exhausted sometimes, a boy who’s never stopped running through dandelion fields, whether it snows or rains or burns him alive. Her fingernails rake through his scalp- orange leaves on browning grass. Ruining Stefan’s piles for the fun of it. His lids droop. Tired of being consumed by himself, by Bonnie, he admits defeat this time. When he finally drifts off, he remembers that the Virginia heat gave him this same warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

“You really don’t know how good this feels,” his final words are hoarse before he drifts off but the last thing he sees is Bonnie.

The giver and the taker, the only god he knows.

Bonnie refuses to relish in the magic of the moment, the fact that it’s so rare Damon ever completely lets his guard down around her. She can always feel his eyes on her, constantly watching because Damon has a presence that’s inescapable.

Being so close to him when he’s extremely vulnerable makes her realize that in all facets, he’s stunning. A stunning that’s almost suffocating but with the dynamic they possess, he only needs to know that he’s not that much of an eye sore.

Now, she stares with wide eyes while she can, memorizes the smooth expanse of skin, every strand of dark hair. Relishes in the feel of his arms around her waist, the weight of his head in her lap. It’s been a long time since she’s felt a body besides her own and as much as she likes to ignore the fact, she has needs, needs that have swelled from being in the presence of Damon for too long.

He’s sexy without any effort, she examines. His dark t-shirt has risen and his pants are low enough that she observes the waistline of (silk?) boxers, taut muscle, navel, happy trail, yeah. Bonnie drinks him in like a cool glass of milk before bedtime- never has this much pretty been in her lap before. Her hands find their way in his head again, tousles through and he nuzzles up against her in his sleep. It’s difficult to pull her eyes away from him, but when she does, the credits are rolling on the screen.

This is Damon she’s thinking about like this, her best friend and also her first best friend’s boyfriend. She repeats it again, not satisfied that the guilt isn’t drowning her like it sometimes does when she catches herself lingering on his attractiveness for too long but Mystic Falls, the real Mystic Falls seems so far away. Elena, Caroline, Matt, Alaric, her old life just seems unattainable, no bigger than a memory she occasionally mistakes for a bad dream.

There’s no denying that being away from it all, here with Damon as the only other person in the world, she feels…safe. Maybe even protected, it’s a stark contrast from the real Mystic Falls where her life is always on the line.

Bonnie starts to get up when she feels his hold on her tighten to prevent her from moving away. They play tug of war for a bit but she eventually stops fighting because Damon is a vampire after all, physical strength is going to get her nowhere. “Fine,” she grumbles, then plops down which causes the end of her top to ride up enough that she can feel the press of Damon’s nose on the curve of her waist. Despite trying to inch her shirt back down, she has no luck. Naturally Damon doesn’t mind.

He inhales her skin deeply, makes a sound of approval before groggily muttering, “Going topless now, are we Judgey?”

She grabs his hair again, yanks his head back as a rebuttal, and Damon bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds. He has to ensure that all of the blood in his body isn’t rushing south too fast but unfortunately, he would have to sever both his arms completely off to stop the blood flow.

Bonnie realizes the dazed look in his eyes isn’t one of pain nor is it from sleep, “Not the reaction you expected, huh?” He asks, gesturing for her to look down but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s embarrassed, and to make matters worse, a teensy bit turned on.

“You scared, Bon Bon? I thought you were big and bad,” Damon mocks, pulling between his legs to make more room in his jeans, “it’s okay. I know Jeremy left much to be desired.” He sits up with swirls of longing still in his eyes, then grabs a pillow to place in his lap.

“Scared?” She guffaws. “Of what exactly?”

“Me…You.”

“And that means?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bon, figure it out.” Damon taunts, holding her eyes with his. “It’s awfully lonely here.”

She says nothing for a while, refusing to break eye contact first. “So.”

“Soooo, I won’t tell if you won’t.” It’s almost a joke, almost because she has a feeling if she says yes to whatever sort of ambiguous proposal he’s thrown up in the air, there won’t be any laughter. If she says no, it’s no different from his usual innuendos but boy, will she wonder.

“Wanna take a walk on the wild side?” He asks in a singsong tone, eyes dropping to her lips then back up to her eyes.

There are no alarms, no cell phones, no one here that can interrupt this moment. She has to answer, though she has no idea what will come out of her mouth. Bonnie shuts her eyes to make the moment less real, as if it will change the fact that she whispers, “Just one kiss,”

They’re nose to nose when Damon whispers back, “a peck.”

She swallows his breath. “Mhmm,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing.”

“As light as air,” he presses his lips to hers for a brief moment then pulls back again. “See.” He peppers more kisses on her lips, down her jaw, the side of her neck, but they’re heavier. They have a density now. His tongue is on the flesh of her shoulder, teasing up her neck. She feels the light imprint of sharp canines, arousal surges through her like a power circuit, so intense that she moans. When he makes his way back up, their mouths both open in a feral kiss that robs them of air.

Bonnie holds his face in place though he makes no attempt to move away. The pillow falls out from between them when he grabs Bonnie’s leg to straddle him.

It’s nothing.

Nothing separating them from attacking each other’s mouths, nothing stopping Damon from gripping his best friend’s hips, nothing saving Bonnie from discarding his shirt.

His skin is cool enough that she can stream together some thought in between relentless kisses. “Damon,” she tries her best to sound admonishing.

“Please, not right now.” Damon cuffs both her wrists behind her with one hand and plants a hickey just above her cleavage. She sees stars. He already knows what the inflection in her voice means- the timing couldn’t be worse.“Let’s save the guilt for tomorrow morning.” His tone is octaves lower, almost as low as his lids. He drags his eyes up to hers, and they’re so shiny she can see her reflection. “I need this, Bonnie. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just continues on with his ministrations, hypnotized by the pheromones seeping off of her in waves, wanting to memorize the scent with his tongue. She whines his name, like actually whines his name, and the feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach scares him. Bonnie is so oblivious to the appeal she carries but if she sat in his skin for a day, hell, for a moment, she would realize just how long she’s been driving him insane.

“We can’t,” she groans weakly. “We can’t.”

Damon tries to breathe easier, but that feeling is lurking in his gut. She’s right. The things he’d do to her, he’d break her in half. He removes Bonnie from his lap, separates from her warmth, her scent. Backs away until the tv threatens to fall off the stand. Everything in him tells him to go back, to reenter the magnetic pull, to poke at her forcefield.

He backs away even further if possible. Her breath catches at the distance.

Bonnie’s cheeks are flushed, warm and red like fruit. If she was an apple, she would have already been eaten down to the core. If she was a peach, it would be easier to explain why he ate her. He thinks to himself that he’s officially off the rails, comparing Bonnie to fruit like he is, but he’s trying to rationalize his irrationality. Because if Bonnie never stopped him, he’d definitely be eating something by now.

“Nothing happened.” She says, ignoring his expression and the silent plea in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He deadpans, throwing his shirt back over his head.

Damon thinks of how different things would be if he had his way. Bonnie, spent, drunk, high off of him. Bleeding and wild, pretty and dangerous, yelling for God. He would plunge Jeremy right out of her, help her find her magic again. Give her everything she could dream of. He gulps.

She doesn’t sleep with him tonight, not in the same bed. She’s on the opposite end of the boarding house when he hears her slide under the covers.

The next morning, he thinks to himself, if she even utters a word about last night, he’ll pick up from where he left off. But she doesn’t, her eyes are far away again, and the only proof he has of their adventures is the wonderful, purple hickey.

When movie night comes back around, his head is in her lap and her hand is back in his hair, running to and fro like him in his lavender fields.

That’s all he gets.

Every now and then, it’s enough.

Bonnie gives and takes, then takes away some more.

She’s the closest thing to God he’ll probably ever know.

#bamon #bamon fanfiction #bamon fanfic #bamon prompt #prompt #my writing #mine #tvd ff #tvd fanfiction #damon salvatore #bonnie bennett #bonnie x damon #damon x bonnie

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

Touch - p.p

chapter one - an encounter

synopsis: you love him, but you can never touch him

“Spiderling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Peter turned around at the sound of Tony’s voice, eyes widening in surprise when he saw you for the first time, perched at Tony’s side.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” Peter introduced himself as he reached out his hand.

“Y/n.” You said as you shook his hand, automatically taking his pain. “Oo, shoulder pain.”

“How did you do that?” Peter gasped as he touched his fixed shoulder. “My shoulders been killing me.”

“I took your pain. Damn, you were really hurting huh?” You chuckled as you shook out your arm.

“Yeah. It’s been messed up for weeks.” Peter laughed as he rolled his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Isn’t she amazing? She’s my newest recruit.” Tony explained. “Welcome to the Avengers, Icy Hot. You’ll fit right in.”

“I hope so.” You smiled nervously. “I appreciate the opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Hear that Peter? She calls me sir.” Tony pointed to you proudly. “Brownie points for manners.”

Peter smiled at you and you smiled back, already taking an interest in each other.

“Thank you, sir.” You chuckled again, eyeing Peter every now and then as he did the same to you.

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the team.” Tony offered as he put his hand on the small of your back.

“Okay. It was nice meeting you Peter.” You waved at him as you passed him in the hallway.

“You too.” Peter waved back, a smile staying on his face long after you left.

You saw Peter in the gym the next day, sweating through his shirt as he threw punches at the heavy bag. You smiled at him as you climbed on the elliptical, sweating through your sports bra soon enough.

“Damn it.” Peter suddenly hissed as he pulled off his boxing glove.

“You okay?” You stopped your movement at the elliptical.

“Punched the bag too hard.” Peter sighed as he shook his throbbing hand. “I busted my knuckles.”

You climbed off the elliptical and approached Peter, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Peter’s face blushed slightly as you came close enough for him to see the sweat beads rolling down your neck.

“Can I see?” You asked softly as you held out your hands. Peter nodded slightly and placed his hand into yours. Your held his hand firmly and closed your eyes as the process began. Peter saw your veins darken as the pain left his body. You winced a little as his cut healed right before his eyes.

“Does that hurt you?” Peter asked as he looked at you.

“Yeah, but not that much.” You answered. “I heal really fast so it’s just a watered down version of whatever pain I take.”

“Thats really cool.” Peter smiled softly. “You’re gonna be great for our team.”

“You think?” You lit up. “I feel so lame compared to you guys. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up.”

“Healing people isn’t lame.” Peter assured you. “You’ll totally keep up.”

“Says the boy who can lift busses.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you google me?” Peter pretended to gasp as he was secretly flattered.

“Maybe.” You said coyly. “I thought it was really admirable how you helped that old lady cross the street.”

“Which one?” Peter joked. “That’s my specialty.”

“You wanna know what my specialty is?” You stepped a little closer to him.

“What?” Peter asked, his entire body flushed from your close proximity.

“I can take a bruised peach and make it fresh. Mr. Stark has me do it every day. I used to blow all the kids minds at lunch.” You rubbed your nails on your shoulder like you were bragging.

“Thats really amazing. How have you not won a Nobel Peace Prize yet?” Peter teased you.

“I keep getting nominated but I’m always snubbed.” You sighed dramatically.

“Well peaches, I think you’re gonna keep up with this team just fine.” Peter smirked. “We could all use a little healing.”

“I’m glad I could be of service to you.” You stepped even closer, chests almost touching. Peter’s breath fanned your face for a moment, but before he could even close his eyes, you pulled away.

“I ,uh, I gotta go.” You stepped back from him and blinked a few times to regain your composure. “See you around.”

You swiftly left the gym, leaving Peter in a cloud of confusion as you went.

“Hey.” You walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Are you baking?”

“Trying to. I think I forgot the eggs. And the milk.” Peter realized as he stared into his dry mixture. After a month of living in the tower, you’d gotten used to Peter’s failed attempts at baking.

You’d also gotten used to Peter.

“What are you making?” You came over his shoulder and peered in his bowl. Peter’s face flushed as he became hyperaware of how close you were. Close, but not touching.

“Muffins. Do they look okay to you?” Peter asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Um, do you want a real answer or a nice answer?” You grimaced as you looked in the bowl again and saw his lumpy mixture.

“Damn it. Why is this so hard?” Peter whined. “Let me see if my first batch is ready.”

Peter went to the oven and opened it up, instinctively reaching in and grabbing the muffin tin.

“Ouch!” He yanked his hand back and held it to his chest, squirming in pain.

“Peter! You can’t grab things directly out of the oven.” You exclaimed as you rushed towards him.

“I know.” He sighed as he shook his burning finger. “But I wasn’t wearing oven mitts when I put it in so I forget to wear them when I take it out.”

“Come here.” You immediately closed your hands around his burnt hand and began to take his pain.

“Won’t it hurt you?” Peter tried to pull away but you held him in place.

“I’ll be okay.” You chuckled as you continued to take his pain. Peter sighed in relief as you winced from the feeling.

“Better?” You asked once you had finished, following your words with a kind squeeze of his hands.

“Better.” He nodded. “Thanks peaches.”

“I got you.” You flirted, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Do you?” Peter took a step closer to you, bringing his free hand up to enclose around your hand. You gulped nervously and closed your eyes for a moment before stepping back. Peter immediately felt the loss of warmth and felt disappointment sink into his stomach.

“I’ll get the muffins out.” You stammered as you went to get an oven mitt out of the drawer. “Don’t want them to burn.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he leaned against the counter, barely listening because of how disappointed he felt. “Okay.”

This was how your relationship went on. You grew closer in your friendship, but never in your distance. Every time Peter thought you were about to touch, you made an excuse to pull away. Although he was used to it, it still hurt him every time.

“Hey Aquaman.” You greeted Peter as you approached the pool one day. “Mind if I join you?”

“By all means.” Peter nodded. “As long as you don’t pee in the pool.”

You could tell from his face that he immediately regretted what he said, his regret making you laugh.

“Are you proud that you said that?” You teased him as you untied your robe and dropped it to the floor. Peter’s face heated up at the sight of you in your black bathing suit as he quickly adverted his eyes.

“I can’t say I am.” He said as he pretended to be interested in something far away.

“Don’t worry about it. I say dumb things all the time.” You told him as you took out a bottle of sunscreen. You began to run in into your skin, missing your back almost entirely.

“You need some help?” Peter offered, noticing your struggle.

“I’m good.” You said, a little quickly. “Just keep the water warm for me, all right?”

“Was that another pee joke?” Peter whined, knowing he was never going to live that down

“It wasn’t intended to be.” You laughed as you stood by the edge of the pool. “I’m coming in. Is it cold?”

“No, because I just peed.” Peter said simply, making you laugh again.

“Peter.” You whined as you dipped your toe in. “No more pee jokes.”

“I’m sorry, peaches, but you made it so easy.” He defended himself.

“I’m scared.” You quickly took your toe out and rubbed your arms.

“Why? It’s just water.”

“Cold water.” You reminded him.

“Just jump in.”

“But I’ll splash you.” You worried.

“I think I’ll live.” Peter chuckled. You looked at the water one more time before jumping in, a small wave spraying Peter as you did.

“Did I get you wet?” You asked as you came to the surface right in front of Peter. It took Peter a minute to process what you said, as he was too focused on how pretty you looked with water droplets in your eyelashes.

“I’m in a pool.” He reminded you. “I was already wet.”

“Well did I splash you?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“I don’t know. Does a splash feel like this?” Peter asked innocently as he splashed you in the face.

“My hair!” You gasped as the wave hit you.

“Aw. Did you get your hair wet while submerged in water? How did that possible happen?” Peter asked sarcastically as he splashed you again.

“Oh, you got jokes? Well now you’re gonna have water damage.” You smiled deviously as you splashed him.

“Hey. No splashing.” He said, knowing how ironic it was since he did it twice.

“Fine. Then I’ll just drown you.” You said simply as you grabbed his shoulders and tried to force him under the water. As you touched him, you felt the scrape he had on his elbow transfer to you.

“Not if I drown you first.” Peter Parker warned as he grabbed your by the waist. He lifted you up as you squirmed in his arms.

“Peter. Put me down.” You laughed as you tried to break out of his grasp.

“As you wish, peaches.” He said before throwing you into the water.

“You’re gonna get it now.” You threatened as you swam back towards him. You began to wrestle in a way, your hands intertwined as you tried to overpower each other. Peter could overpower you easily, and he knew this, but he held back so you’d think it was a fair fight. He let go suddenly and you fell forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you. You stared at each other for a moment, breathily heavily as he tightened his grip on your waist.

“What am I gonna get?” Peter asked through labored breaths. Your eyes flicked to his lips before going back to his eyes as a wicked smile tugged at your lips.

“Water in your ear.” You answered as you jumped back from him. As soon as you let go, you splashed him again before swimming away.

“You did it.” Peter laughed sadly as he wiped the water from his eyes. “You got me.”

“Incoming!” Peter exclaimed as he swung into the alleyway, kicking the robber you’d been chasing in the chest at full speed.

“Oh no.” The man grunted as he got up from the floor. “It’s that one guy.”

“Is it though?” Peter tilted his head to the side. As if on cue, you dropped down on the other side of the robber and waved.

“Hey!” You chirped. “How’s it going?”

Before he could answer, you kicked his wrist, making him drop his backpack full of the stolen money.

“Oops! My bad!” You feigned a sad face.

“I’ll take that.” Peter shot a web at the bag and pulled it towards himself.

“You bitch!” The man exclaimed as he held he wrist.

“Hey!” Peter shouted. “That’s now how you talk to women.”

Peter kicked the man towards you and you caught him, quickly squeezing his shoulders and sending all the pain in your body into the man. The man groaned in pain as Peter shot a web at the mans gun.

“Let me get this off your hands.” Peter said as he pulled the gun out of the mans hand. The man made an angry face at Peter, who kept himself from laughing.

“Woah, fine. You can have it back.” Peter let go of the web and the gun came flying back, smacking the robber in the face and knocking him out.

“I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.” Peter gulped as the man fell to the floor.

“Nice work.” You laughed as you stepped over the limp body. “Let’s move.”

Peter webbed up the robber and threw him over his shoulder as you collected the bag and the gun. You walked back towards the bank, where you found police at the scene.

“Here you go.” You smiled sweetly as you handed a cop the items. “Hope you boys had a nice night.”

Peter turned the robber over to the police, smiling a little at what you said.

“Don’t tease the police men, peaches.” He whispered in your ear as you walked back towards the tower. “It’s not their fault they’re lame.”

You laughed at his joke and felt your hand brush against his. The bumped into each other one more time before you pulled your hand away and pretended to scratch your head.

“Um, do you want to watch a movie when we get back?” You suggested to distract from the awkwardness of the near hand holding. “I’m cool with watching the nerd shit you like.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peter nodded, disappointed once again. “And it’s not nerd shit. It’s science fiction.”

“We are saying the same words.” You teased, keeping your hands busy so the couldn’t touch his.

“Hey, I don’t rip on you when you watch those little romantic comedies.” Peter retorted.

“I’ll say it again, if you gave 13 Going On 30 a chance-“

“I know, I know.” He rolled your eyes. “I’d love it and I’d be a better person for watching it. You tell me all the time.”

“Because it’s true!” You exclaimed. “And you still refuse to watch it.”

“How about we watch it tonight, peaches?” Peter suggested as he rubbed your arm. “Maybe I’d like it better if you watched it with me.”

“Okay.” You smiled as you stepped away from his touch. “It’s a date.”

Peter nodded as he felt confusion sink in. Your words and actions always said entirely different things.

“I’ll meet you in the theater at 10. I think we both could use a shower.” Peter changed the subject before he could think too deeply into it.

“Why don’t you just meet me in the shower then?” You shrugged as you looked at him. Peter immediately stopped walking and turned bright red under his mask.

“What?” He squeaked.

“I’m kidding. God, you’re such a pervert.” You said playfully as you winked at him.

“What a tease.” Peter clicked his tongue as he shook his head.

“You know it.” You chuckled. “See you at 10.”

~later~

“Hey. Popcorn?” You held up a bowl of popcorn as you slid next to Peter on the couch.

“You think of everything.” He smiled gratefully at you as he took a few pieces.

“Just like how you thought about me in the shower.” You said casually as you popped some pieces in your mouth.

“I did not.” Peter insisted as he stole more popcorn.

“No, yeah, I believe you.” You smirked a little, layering on the sarcasm.

“Stop it. You’re mean.” Peter pouted as he rested his head on your shoulder. You tensed you for a moment as you felt the wear and tear from his day leave his body and go into yours. You had to admit, the contact was nice, but you knew it couldn’t last.

“Excuse me. I’m not a pillow.” You joked as you moved your shoulder out from under him. He picked his head up as he took your hint, feeling a familiar sadness settle into his bones with your rejection. He cut his losses and picked up the remote, pretending to take total interest in the TV to distract himself from his emotions.

“So uh, Star Wars?” He asked with a weak voice.

“Star Wars.” You nodded, pretending not to notice the forlorn look on his face.

An hour or so into the movie, Peter noticed you trying to keep yourself awake. Your head would droop occasionally as your eyelids grew heavy. Every time your head almost fell on Peters shoulder, you quickly caught yourself and sat up.

“What’s wrong with you?” Peter asked after the fourth time your head almost touched him.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him curiously.

“You don’t have to sit up that straight of you’re tired.” He said softly. “You can lean into me, you know. I don’t bite.”

“I’m good.” You told him. “I don’t want to smother you.”

“You won’t smother me.” He laughed gently as he gazed at you.

“I’m okay.” You repeated, keeping your eyes ahead.

“Okay.” Peter didn’t want to push you. He turned his gaze back to the movie, but he couldn’t focus at all. It was another day of being left in the dark about how you felt, and it was starting to weigh him down. He shot one more look at you before watching the rest of the movie in silence.

You, Peter, and Bucky sat in the kitchen the following morning, zero conversation between the three of you. Peter’s ego was still bruised from the night before, so he wasn’t particularly thrilled about speaking to you. He knew it was dumb to hold a grudge, but he was hurting. To make himself look busy, he focused on chopping up vegetables so he didn’t have to look at you.

You were too concerned with the soft winces and sighs that were coming from Bucky to realize Peter was ignoring you. By the fourth time Bucky sighed, you opened your mouth.

“You okay?” You asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. “Just some Phantom limb pain.”

“Mind if I…” You held up your hand to ask silently. Bucky looked at your hand hesitantly before nodded. You rested your hand on his residual limb and shut your eyes, slowly taking his pain. He cracked the faintest hint of a smile as the pain left his body, all of this taking place under Peter’s watchful eye.

“Thanks.” He said stiffly once you withdrew your hand.

“Anytime.” You smiled at him. He nodded at you before leaving the kitchen altogether. Once he was gone, Peter continued chopping the vegetables.

“That was nice of you. Are you guys close?” Peter asked without looking up.

“Not really.” You shrugged. “I take his pain sometimes when he comes to me for help.

“Hm.” Peter’s lips folded in a tight line as he continued chopping.

“What?” You scoffed a little at his strange reaction.

“He never asks people for help, much less for comfort. He must really like you.” Peter shrugged bitterly and he began to chop faster.

“Really?” You smiled a little. “You think Bucky likes me?”

“Do you want him to like you?” Peter asked quietly, finding himself in a worse mood than when the conversation started.

“I don’t know. I guess it would just be kinda cool, you know?” You laughed as you rubbed your arms. “I’m not the one people usually crush on.”

The was the final straw for Peter, his anger making him drop the knife with a loud clang.

“Maybe because you don’t let anyone in.” He snapped, causing you to jump.

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden outburst.

“How come you never let me touch you unless you’re healing me?” He asked, voice shaking as his emotions boiled to the surface.

“What?” You blinked a few times in surprise as you realized Peter was aware of how you distanced yourself from him. You always thought your blockades and barriers went over his head, and the fact that he knew you were doing it plagued you with guilt.

“You’re always right there.” Peter shook his head as he walked over to you. “We hover and dance around each other, but we don’t touch. Why do we do that? Why don’t we make contact?”

Peter was right in front of you now, close enough that if he took a deep breath, your chests would touch.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Peter.” You mumbled as you adverted your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t just take pain away.” You spoke as you looked up at him. “I can also administer it. If I wanted to, I could kill someone with just one touch. What if I lost control of my powers and hurt you? I could never live with myself.”

“You have great control of your powers.” Peter protested. When he saw that you were unconvinced, he held up a hand. “You wouldn’t hurt me, see?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, wanting more than anything to touch it. You held up your hand as well, reaching towards Peter’s before drawing back.

“All it takes is one time, Peter.” You looked at him fearfully. “I’m a walking hazard. I just want to minimize the casualties.”

“I’d risk it.” He pleaded as his fingers twitched, aching to touch you. You looked at his hand again before dropping yours to your side.

“I wouldn’t.”

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

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