#the block button is so fucking sexy i push it every night

[miguelsslvt]

punk! miguel x innocent! reader

word count: 879

TW: nsfw, smoking, hair-pulling, corruption, swearing, creampie.

request: @sukioyakio ★

A/N: this isn't edited and is poorly made so i'm so sorry. also can i just say thank you so much for over 600 notes on my first drabble?? oh my gosh?? anyways, enjoy and welcome to the club! ^^

imagine punk! miguel being the 'bad rep' of the school. in the 3rd year of college, he took physics, chemistry and spanish language. he would smoke behind the science classrooms, refuse to wear clothes that he calls 'society norms' like a blazer or a button up, and instead wear a black leather jacket with pins like 'pink floyd', or 'anarchist' all around it. he would yell, slander and mock almost every teacher whenever he's in class (which is very rare).

most of the girls honestly adored him, apart from the odd popular girl or two finding him too 'annoying' or too 'muscly' for their liking. he didn't give two shits, he already knew his body count was probably higher then their grades.

but then there's you. sweet, innocent little y/n. where most college students spent their weekends partying, you spent it in your dorm room re-reading 'moby dick' for the 6th time. you took phsycology, english literature and spanish language. and if you were completely honest, the only reason you chose spanish language is because your boyfriend at the time (now ex) was spanish. god, did you regret picking it for him.

you noticed miguel, like every other person in the school would. but your first time was different. you were running late, extremely late for your first class of the day. damn you, alarm. that's when you noticed miguel, outside science block, groaning.

despite being late, you took a curious peek at what the man was groaning about.

'stupid fucking lighter..' he mumbled, trying to light his cigarette, but failing. you knew better then to interfere, to even speak to the most intimidating man in college. but, for some reason, you ended up giving him your lighter.

'thanks, you smoke? i can give you one for a trade.' miguel said, as you smiled so sweetly. you explained how you didn't smoke, or did anything like that, and that you only carried a lighter 'just in case of emergencies'.

that's when miguel's interest in you piqued. you were such a sweet, innocent girl, and that drove something in him. something that he didn't realise he wanted. he usually only went for girls with his taste and style, girls he'd meet at festivals or clubs and were either high as heck or sexy goths. but you, you were different.

soon enough, he realised you were only in his spanish language classes, and that you weren't the best at it. perfect. your weakness was miguel's strength.

that's how you ended up in this situation. bent over miguell's desk in his dorm, mumbling his name as hee proceeded to sbuse his way into your sweet cunt.

'you want to tutor me..? that would be so nice miguel!' you had said so excitedly, there was a spanish exam coming up and miguel so kindly offered to tutor you the friday night. and being so naive and quite desperate for the help, you happily accepted.

his room was filled with different posters and signs like his favourite bands, anarchistic posters, stickers saying things like 'fuck the government!'. his leather jacket was discarded somewhere on the messy floor, as his hands grasped your hips to push you even deeper onto his cock.

'm-miguel.. m-miguel please!' you whined, your mascara running down your face.

he just chuckled, as he pulled your hair lightly, moving you onto the bed as he laid you down on your back, as he started bullying into your pussy once again. he was so mean.

your light blue dress was somewhere on the floor, ripped to shreds. it was your favourite dress, but you had other things to think about at the moment.

'yeah.. you like that, cariño? you like being fucked like a slut? not used to being so used, are you?' miguel teased, as you just moaned in response. he hadn't realised that fucking a cute little angel could be this enticing. fuck, he could get used to this.

'i.. miguel! i-i've never-' 'shh.. i know, i know, a sweet girl like you hasn't ever been treated this way.. i'm sorry for being so rough, but i dunno.. the way you're tightening around me suggests you like the harshness..' he said, his hand wiping your mascara-smudged cheeks. your body was submitting to him in every way possible, and he felt like a starved predator being fed for the first time in years.

'i-is it normal to feel l-like this..?' you whimpered, eyes shut from the pleasure. 'yes.. yes my sweet girl it's very normal to feel like this.. let me give you all the pleasure you've missed out on.' miguel whispered in your ear, as he started thrusting faster and faster, pushing you over to the edge.

you let out a loud moan, your back arching as you came. the way you clenched onto him drove miguel over the edge too. his thrusts became erratic and sloppy, as he let out one more groan as he came deep inside you.

you were panting, your eyes still shut. he pulled out slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your temple. 'god you're so cute..' miguel whispered to you, as you just whimpered in response. he chuckled deeply.

god, he might just get addicted to such a good innocent little thing like you.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel smut #female reader #fem reader #smut #spider man 2099 #spiderman atsv

[yueisyum]

jeno can’t resist y/n as soon as he wakes up

He’s such a himbo

Jeno would for sure be grinding into you every morning, his arms wrapped around your body, his hand even cups your breast lightly. His groggy voice and absentminded-ness was some how extremely sexy. You’d be wearing an oversized white dress shirt from the night before, nothing but skin underneath.

You only wake up when his fingers lightly squeeze around your nipple, his mouth latched onto your neck. The sun blocked from the curtains, and the warmth of the sheets kept you at bay for only another 6 minutes before you decided the teasing was too much. He seems like he can’t even control himself, all he knows is that he wants to be as close to you as possible- he wants to be inside of you. His cock is already painfully hard, and he’s been edging himself for almost an hour, as you lay next to him completely unaware. It was quiet in the room besides the sound of the sheets adjusting to Jeno’s every move and the sound of kisses trailing up your neck. You can even hear his breath.

“Jeno-“ you sigh, his warm chest was pressed into your back as he continues to push his boner into your ass. “Y/n” He hums, obviously glad you’ve finally woke up. “How long have you been up?” You try to ask, but he’s turned you over so you lay flat on your back. Continuing to lap at your now sensitive neck while hovering over you. “Need you baby” is all he can muster. Both of his hands play with your tits Through the buttoned up top.

“Yeah?” You try not to laugh, bringing your hands to rest on his chest. “I wanna cum in you” he mumbles…

The sudden bluntness caught you off guard, his hands move to lift your his dress shirt. “It’s 9:00” you whine when he lifts the fabric up over your chest, exposing your naked body. He can’t help but pause for a long moment to admire your body. It’s all his, everything about the sight is making his cock ache. “I’m so hard- let me fuck you baby.“ you chuckle again when he starts leaving kisses against your under boob. “Let me get you wet-“

“I already am” you admit, biting your lip in anticipation. When you had woken up, it didn’t take you long to begin pooling from his actions. He glances up at you with a cute, but shocked expression.

“Then let me help you? I promise I’ll make you feel good…”

Note: continue?

#kpop imagines #nct imagines #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct jeno smut #nct jeno #nct dream jeno #nct dream jeno smut #lee jeno smut #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno #nct lee jeno x reader smut #nct

[hecatemoon87]

Charles Bronson - Art Teacher (AU)

Ch. 4 - Body Paint

*this chapter was inspired by @potter-solomons

I’m so nervous. I don’t know why because Charlie and I have already had sex. But that was different because it had been unexpected and there had been no time to dwell on the what if factor. Now, with the whole thing premeditated it was giving me time to think. And my brain was sifting through every what if scenario a girl could think of. In just an hour, I was supposed to meet him at his art studio. It would be considered a proper date or would it? Was he reaching out because he thought I was easy? Was this booty call?

“Katie,” Nora said, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom.  

I jumped and turned to face her. “What the fuck, Nora? How long have you been standing there?”

“Dude, you’ve been brushing your hair in the same spot for like two minutes. Aren’t you ready yet?”

“I am, I’m just…I’m just finishing up some final touches,” I said. 

Nora had picked out my clothes. It was a navy blue summer dress with small white flowers printed on it. Something sexy, but not over the top. Beneath I chose to wear a plain white bra and panties, uncertain where this night would lead me.

“Don’t you think the dress is too much? I mean, maybe I should wear jeans? The dress might suggest I’m wearing it for easy access?” I said, fussing over the zipper at the back. 

Nora came over and zipped up the dress. 

“You’re worried that this is a booty call, aren’t you?” Nora said, reading my mind. 

I nodded gloomily. 

“I dunno, but you’ll find out soon enough. If it seems that way, tell him how it is and leave,” she said. 

“Okay,” I said, swallowing hard. 

I went ahead and ordered a taxi. As it drove me through the city, I began to notice we were headed toward the nicer side of London. As the houses became increasingly nicer the taxi halted just outside an impressively refurbished brick building. I hesitatingly got out of the cab, wondering if I was at the correct location. It dawned on me that Charlie was a very famous artist. He was world renowned and he probably made a lot of money off his work. I sometimes forget that some artists made a fortune. Not me though, I was one of the classic starving artists. I had to share a flat with Nora just so I could make ends meet. Recently, my dream of becoming an artist full time was fading away as things in London grew more and more expensive. 

I confirmed the house number once again with Charlie’s text. Feeling more confident that I was at the correct location, I approached the entrance, only to find it was blocked by a heavy iron gate. I saw that there was a small black intercom with a red button installed at the gate. I pushed the button and waited. After a moment it crackled to life and I heard Charlie’s voice on the other end. 

“Hi love, letting ya in,” he said.

I glanced up and saw a camera in the corner of the entrance way. Ah, so that’s how he knew it was me. The opening of the iron gate regained my attention and I stepped back as it automatically opened. I stepped through and walked up the stone pathway to a large solid oak door. As I got closer to the door, it opened and Charlie stood on the other side. He was wearing a tight white muscle shirt and black gym shorts. Upon seeing me he smiled and stood to the side to allow me inside. 

“Blimey, uh, if I knew you were gonna dress up I would have dressed a bit more appropriately,” he said, closing the door behind me. 

I was too distracted by his house to comment on his clothes. It was a huge space, open concept, high ceilings and a finely polished wooden floor. He had the latest modern furniture and the art that decorated his home was from all over the world. It was all eclectic, but done very tastefully. 

“Wow, this is your home?” I asked, amazed. 

“Yeah, it ain’t much,” he said, looking almost embarrassed. 

“Not much? I’ll trade flats with you if you want,” I said, jokingly. 

He chucked and put his hands into his pockets. I glanced over at him and I can tell that he’s nervous too. It helps put me at ease knowing he feels the same way. There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“So, the studio, it’s just over there. I had it built onto the house. The whole place used to be a storage facility in the early 1700s,” he said, breaking the silence. 

“It’s just stunning, it really is something to be proud of, Charlie,” I said.

I had never used his nickname, Charlie, before. During art class I’d always called him Charles. I like saying it and I can tell by his reaction that he likes hearing me say it. 

“Cheers, come on then, let me show you it,” he said, motioning me to follow him. 

We walked across the house and he opened a door. He walked through and flicked on a light switch. I followed him in and I’m once again amazed by this room. His studio is astounding. It is covered in all sorts of partially and completed works of art. Around the room was an array of mediums. He had used acrylics, charcoals, pastels, water colors, you name it. It was a room filled with creative expression, something that I had always longed for myself but never had the space or time to fulfill. I looked over at Charlie and he smiled.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“It’s wonderful,” I said, my eyes wide with awe. 

“Good, I hoped that you would,” he said.

I loved it and I badly wanted to be enjoying my time with him, but there were questions I needed him to answer first. 

“Charlie, I want you to be honest with me,” I said. 

“Yeah, sure. About what specifically, love?”

“Have you ever been in trouble with the law?” I asked. 

He frowned and nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, that’s why I was doing the class,” he said. “Was getting my knuckles whacked.”

“What did you do?”

He shrugged and looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with me. 

“Assault. Got in a tussle with a mate of mine. Broke his arm and some ribs, he charged me,” Charlie said. 

“That’s all?” I asked. 

He looked at me sheepishly. 

“Uh, well, that was my third assault conviction,” he said, cringing a little. 

“Third? Who else have you tussled up?”

“My mate, he was my third. My first, was a school teacher when I was a lad, the second was some bloke I didn’t know. But he was beating his dog and I wanted him to stop.” 

I mulled this over in my mind. Okay, so I already knew he had an anger issue, but this didn’t seem as bad as I had thought it would be. 

“Why your school teacher?” I inquired. 

“He hit me first…I don’t have good impulsive control, so I went ahead and knocked his block off,” Charlie said. 

“I see and what about your mate?”

“My girl, she cheated on me with him,” Charlie said, looking down at his feet. 

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” I said, my heart breaking for him. 

I walked over to him and took one of his hands. 

“My last question…I’m not just some sort of…um, like, you know…” I said, trying to find the words. 

I didn’t need to continue as he seemed to understand what I was trying to ask.

“No, I don’t see you like some slag…I wanted to bring you here and get to know ya. I was joking about the modeling bit, well, sorta,” he said. 

A rush of relief flooded my body. It was good to know he had just wanted to show me his studio. But then I became curious about his sorta comment.

“What did you mean by sorta?” I questioned. 

“Ah, well, I can tell you about that another time. I think, maybe…maybe we should just go slow, yeah?”

“No, I want to know. Tell me,” I said, taking his other hand. 

He laughed softly and shrugged. 

“I got it in my head about doing a living canvas kind of thing,” he said. 

“Living canvas?” I said, puzzled. 

“Yeah, body paint, uh, female model,” he said, grinning. 

The idea of him lathering me up with paint as I was naked excited me. 

“Ah, and…was that going to happen tonight?” 

“Maybe…but I wanted to see what you thought. Didn’t know if you would run screaming,” he joked. 

“Why me though? I bet you have a long line of women willing to do something like that,” I said. 

I was still holding his hands, but he moved so that he could fully hold mine. He gave me a reassuring squeeze and gazed deep into my eyes. 

“Nah, it ain’t like that. I wasn’t looking for anyone, really. But that day you first came to my bullshit art class, I couldn’t take my eyes off ya. I mean, you weren’t just beautiful, you were actually talented. My heart had been broken, but when I met you, I was hopeful,” he said. 

I blushed at first from his praise, but then I laughed a little.

“But, we argued so much! I thought you were mean,” I said. 

“Yeah, I’m an arse. I don’t like many people, actually I hate being around people. I kept you at a distance ‘cause I didn’t think you’d even consider me. But that last day, I was afraid I would lose the chance to tell you how I felt. I didn’t expect you to jump my bones though,” he said, laughing. 

I blushed again and shook my head at the memory of literally jumping on top of him. 

“But I like it. I like how fierce you are, so passionate,” he said, slowly wrapping his arms around my waist. 

I rested my hands on his strong chest, my eyes drifting away for a moment. I’m not certain on how to process all this information. I really hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful, so intelligent, so caring. I looked up and locked my eyes with him. 

“So, where’s that body paint?” I asked. 

His eyes opened a little with surprise. I guessed he was thinking I would want more time to talk. But I felt pretty confident in my decision to commence with this living canvas idea.

“Alright, if you’re willing,” he said, taking just one of my hands and leading me over to a ten by six platform. 

It was covered in a white sheet and when we stepped up on it I could tell it was made out of wood with a foam matting glued to the top. 

“Uh, you gotta get undressed,” he said, stepping down from the platform, looking up at me. 

I liked where this was going. Being sexy, I slowly unzipped my summer dress and wiggled out of it. I tossed it over to him. He caught it and carefully draped it over an easel nearby, all the while watching me intently. I proceeded to remove my bra and panties, flinging both over to him. He respectfully placed them over my dress and walked over to inspect my naked form.

“That night, it was too dark to see you properly. I knew you were a fucking goddess, but bloody hell, you’re enchanting, love.”

“Stop that, you keep making me blush,” I said, giggling. 

“Give me a second, let me get the supplies,” he said, turning to go over to his work table. 

He came back with a tray of paints and brushes. He placed the tray on the platform and jumped back up. Removing his shirt, he tossed it to the side, revealing his well toned, muscular chest. He left black gym shorts on. I’m a little shy, so I folded my arms over my bare breasts and squeezed my thighs together in a vain attempt for modesty. 

“Relax, I’ve put you in more compromising positions than this,” he said, smiling. 

I laughed softly and he took my hands and guided me to the floor. We're both sitting our our knees when he begins his work.

“Alright, I want you to stay on your knees,” he said. 

I did as he said, but he frowned a little. 

“A little further apart, love,” he said, his hand snaking between my legs, edging my thighs a bit wider.

I released a pleasurable gasp as he touched me. I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip. 

“Easy, girly, I haven’t even gotten started,” he said, chuckling. 

He pushed my hair back behind my shoulders. I can feel my nipples already getting hard. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I watched him pull the tray over and he picked up the first paint brush. He had three paints ready on the tray. An indigo, a white and a gold paint. 

“This is non-toxic body paint,” he said as he delivered the first stroke to my skin. 

He glided the brush smoothly down between my breasts, over my navel, stopping just above my mound. The paint was cold, but inside the studio, the temperature was warm. It’s at the end of August, so I felt comfortable. 

“So, you just have non-toxic body paint stored away for these occasions?” I asked.

“Nah, I bought these for you. Like I said, the first day I laid eyes on you I couldn’t stop thinking of ya,” he said, dipping his brush back into the paint.

He re-applied the paint brush to my skin, this time rotating the brush around my left breast, forming a spiral. When the brush reached my areola, he swirled the paint around it. It felt strangely arousing and I shuddered a little with pleasure. He smiled as he watched me enjoying the session. He set the indigo paint brush down and picked up a fresh brush. He dipped this one into the gold paint and applied the same pattern on my stomach and right breast. As he worked, he changed between the three paints. He decorated my arms and hips in beautiful geometric designs. 

Once he was satisfied with my front, he moved to my back. The paint seemed to be drying fairly quickly. He pushed my hair forward, draping it over my shoulder. I felt him begin painting my back and after a few moments he asked me to get on my hands and knees. I complied and he glided the paint brush over my right ass cheek and then he did the same to the left with a different brush. He brought his hand back between my thighs and spread my legs a bit wider. This time his hand brushed against my lips and I arched my back and whimpered.

“Charlie, fuck. I think…I think I can’t wait, if you’re planning on doing anything?” I asked, looking back at him. 

“Hush, you know better than to interrupt an artist and his work,” he said, pretending to be serious. 

In protest, I wiggled my bottom. I heard him groan, but he continued his work and I tried to be patient. I’m still on my hands and knees when suddenly Charlie laid on his back between my legs. His hands gripped my hips and he lowered me onto his mouth. I was not prepared for this part of his artwork and my unsuspecting pussy was wonderfully assaulted by his tongue. He lapped at my folds, his tongue edging its way into my canal and then skimming over my clit.

“Charlie, yes!” I moaned, pushing my fingers through my hair. 

He twirled his tongue, massaging my aching cunt with long licks and soft kisses. My legs started to tremble from sensory overload. The dry paint started to get wet again as my heart rate picked up from Charlie’s wonderful work. The studio was a bit warm as well and my sweat began to smear the paint down my skin. His bear paws were also smearing the paint on my hips as he gripped me hard, preventing me from rising off his mouth. 

“Charlie, I’m going to lose it, Charlie, oh, you’d better stop,” I whined.

I knew full well that if he didn’t stop now that I would cream all over his face. He didn’t listen and he drove me to the brink of my orgasm, nursing my clit with his gorgeous lips. The flood gates are released and I creampie all over his greedy mouth. Still he didn’t stop, he just continued to take every ounce of me into his mouth. He showed me no mercy and only when my thighs began convulsing, too weak to support me any longer, Charlie moved out from underneath me. I sank to the floor, settling on my back. The paint is dripping off my skin, staining the perfect white sheet below me. My chest heaved and I closed my eyes, trying to gain my bearings. 

The light darkened a bit in front of me and I opened my eyes to see Charlie looking down at me. I felt fairly certain that I looked horrible, I could not possibly appear even remotely attractive at this point. But Charlie told me otherwise. 

“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous,” Charilie said, removing his shorts and underwear. 

His cock was completely engorged, firmly erect and ready for me. 

“You need a few minutes or are you ready for me, princess?” he asked, towering over me. 

I sat up from the floor and flipped my hair back. I’m square with his cock and I looked up at him with wicked eyes. 

“No, Charlie. The question is, are you ready for me?”

Before he was able to reply I took him into my mouth. He was big, so I had to open my mouth wide to take him all in. His cock felt warm and firm in my mouth, I found sucking him to be a major turn on. He laced his fingers through my hair as I bobbed my head back and forth. I was really getting into it and my hands darted up to his taut ass. I gripped his cheeks hard, I didn’t want him going anywhere. His precum hit my taste buds and I felt my feminine response between my legs. For a minute more I gave him everything my mouth could give, but I didn’t want him to cum just yet. I then released him from my mouth, I need him inside me now. 

From my knees I looked up at him, still holding onto his muscular buttocks. 

“I want you to do me, Charlie,” I said in a sultry manner.

His eyes were intense and he nodded. In an instant he pushed me onto my back, lacing each powerful arm underneath my knees. He eletates me up, angling my opening with his cock. I felt the pressure of his cock’s head upon my opening and then he drove it into my tightness. It stung a little as his thickness plunged through, stretching open my walls. He continued until he was buried deep into my slick, molten core. I’m at his mercy once more, the way he has me positioned I couldn’t grab hold of him. He arched his hips back before delivering the first thrust. I moaned as he partially left me then returned with an impact that shook my core. He proceeded to tear my delicate flower asunder, pausing only to drape my legs over his shoulders. He drilled me until my cunt molded around his width and length. It was like I was his clay and he was sculpting me to become his most perfect piece of art. 

I felt like I’m suspended between the earth and spirit world. My senses are blurred, overwhelmed with only pleasure. I’m expressing my approval via my most vulnerable feminine sounds. I’m not aware, but this is driving Charlie masculine urge to both fuck me sensless and want to protect me at all cost. He felt him start to slow down and it isn’t like he is about to orgasm. I opened my eyes and he gently settled my legs around him, allowing my bottom to finally touch the floor. He stayed fully inside me, but he stopped completely. He supported himself with his arms against the floor and looked me in the eyes lovingly. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, stroking the side of his face. 

He smiled and kissed my lips lightly. I opened my mouth and we shared a slow, but sensual kiss. As we kissed, he picked up his thrusting once more, but this time he delivered soft and careful thrusts. 

“Nothing wrong, love. I just wanna show you I can be gentle too,” he said. 

“I know you can be,” I said.

We end our fucking and transitioned into love making. When Charlie was close, he nestled his head into the nook of my neck. I felt his heavy breathing, his chest pressed against my breasts, my arms wrapped around him. His body tensed up and he released a deep masculine moan as he coated my walls. The sound he made was so sexy and I clenched around his member tighter in response to it. I clung to his frame, not wanting this moment to end. But once he was finished he pulled out from me and then helped me up from the sheet. 

“Would you like to take a shower?” he asked, lifting my arms up and inspecting me. 

I glanced down at my body, I’m a mess of smeared paint and sweat. 

“Yes, I think that would be wonderful,” I said, smiling. 

He took me back inside his flat and showed me the bathroom. I jumped inside the stall and early scrubbed off the paint and grim that had formed upon my skin. When I stepped out I saw that Charlie had placed a cotton towel and my clothes on the edge of the sink. I’m touched by such a simple gesture. He had seemed so angry and uncaring when he was teaching the art class. But then I recalled him saying he didn’t care for people. I supposed he was not happy because he was forced to be there and he was just taking it out on the students. 

After getting dressed, I made my way back out to the living room and found Charlie on the couch. His arms were stretched out on the back of the couch and his eyes were closed. I smiled thinking that I had taken a lot out of him. He appeared clean. He must have had another bathroom and had taken a shower as well. He had been just as badly smeared in paint too. I walked over to the couch and I sat down next to him. He opened his eyes and moved forward to wrap me in his arms. I willingly snuggled into him, my head resting on his chest. He smells good and his body is firm and warm. 

“If I asked you to come work with me…what would you say?” he said. 

“I would ask why would you want me to work with you?” I said, keeping my head on his chest.

“I told you, love. You have talent. I can pay you too,” he said, stroking my hair. 

I took a deep breath and sat up a little to look him in the eyes. 

“Are you being serious? You’re not just high on sex right now?” I asked. 

“I’m dead serious,” he said. 

“I don’t know…I was thinking of just putting aside my dream of becoming an artist,” I said. 

“What? No, I won’t let you. Come on, work with me, eh? You can use the studio as you like. I’ll give you a key. Hell, I don’t even have to be around, you can have creative usage,” he said. 

“I want you around though,” I said.

“You do?”

“Yes, I like you,” I said, smiling.

He smiled and held me tight. 

‘I like you too,” he replied. 

I snuggled in closer and closed my eyes. Looks like my dreams of being an artist were about to come true. But the best part is that I think I found the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. 

#charles bronson #bronson #bronson smut #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #tom hardy smut

[sukirichi]

Breakfast for Choso with ingredients #17 and 34 with #2 sugar? Wine is optional.

EASY 

— Nothing is ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d push through hell and back.

meal order: breakfast + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + biting, scratching, choso eating reader out, sex on the beach

warnings: mature content, unedited fic, choso is mean and harsh when he’s angry

notes: thank you so much for this anon! I really enjoyed writing this and this totally made my day. I hope you like it!

word count: 10k+ LOL CHOSO BRAIN ROT

check out the fanart @tigressnej-chan made, it s so beautiful HURRR

Your day was absolutely ruined. Dark, deep bags covered your under eyes as you stormed through the convenience store downstairs your apartment, body clad in an oversized hoodie and socks visible through slippers, hair greasy and lips chapped. You’re aware you look like a mess, but did you care?

Absolutely not, especially when you haven’t been sleeping well the moment you moved into this cursed apartment because of a certain fucker.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That specific fucker – the cause of your ruin and the devil who prevented you from living a good life – waltzed inside the store, the small bell chiming to signal his presence. You scoffed at his confident, suave walk, further irritated because he just had to be insanely attractive – in an alternative, laid-back kind of way.

He wasn’t even your type; you preferred more refined men who wore pressed suits and leather shoes, but you had to admit this man was insanely attractive.

With deep, sunken eyes, a dark tattoo across the bridge of his nose and dark hair twisted into twin ponytails, large, muscular body covered in a black sweatshirt and a red scarf – he looked very much like a former member of a gang who retired because their barbaric ways wasn’t his thing. It was an odd theory, and you sat there at the corner of the store, glaring at the man who tiredly pressed the coffee maker machine for a dark roast.

As if feeling eyes on him, his lazy eyes slid over to yours, and almost automatically, one corner of his lips tilted up in humor. This fucker knew how much he annoyed you, and he only further pushed your buttons by walking over to you, the steam of his coffee nearly blocking your gaze.

“Good morning,” he greeted sarcastically, well aware that it definitely not a good morning for you.

“Have fun last night, neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, you won’t even bother denying it?”

“I see no point in it,” he invited himself by sitting next to you, long legs crossed over his muscular thigh. You found yourself staring at how he seemed so firm even in loose sweatpants, averting your gaze and staring at your soggy ramen noodle cup instead.  “And you’re not trying to hide the fact you’re listening, either.”

“I wasn’t listening!” you slammed your fist down the table – he didn’t even flinch, only continuing to sip his coffee as if you weren’t burning in anger beside him – as you hissed, “The walls are too damn thin and you’re so fucking loud.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was loud, though.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. He really was shameless. You already knew this man didn’t have enough shame in his body, but you didn’t think he’d have absolutely nothing.

Upon witnessing your stupefied state, he reached over to knock at your skull. “Still there, princess?” you cringed at his nickname for you; you didn’t even know this guy’s name, for pete’s sake! “Or are you still too bothered by the fact I got some good fucking last night?”

You flicked his arm away from you, nearly seething in your seat. “God, you’re insufferable. I should move out.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best too,” he nodded to himself as he stared at his now empty coffee cup. Had it been that long already? Apparently, it was, because your noodles turned cold and your neighbor was already leaving your seat, dipping for a mocking bow. “Have a nice day, neighbor. Don’t think of my cock too much,” he teased, even going as far as winking until your jaw dropped.

You watched as he threw the paper cup in the proper bin, a little surprised he was decent enough to do mundane tasks like that. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget your neighbor was also a decent human being, but whatever.

You absolutely, utterly hated him, and you kept mumbling to yourself of the different ways you’d get your revenge on him as he walked out the door, his annoyingly gorgeous ass in view. “Yeah, right,” you scowled to yourself, “As if I can get that image out my mind now.”

He would not be an easy feat.

Despite your constant pleas for him to at least be silent during the weekdays to give you enough peace of mind to study for the finals, he didn’t stop. Hours just after the sun sets, you’d hear giggles and sloppy kisses on the hallway.

No matter how much you pressed your hands into your ears and set your music on full volume to block out the noise, you could always hear them.

Your neighbor was undeniably a fuckboy. 

Every night, he’d have a different girl dangling in his arms. You knew, because the voices squealing his name while he fucked them right next door were always different. Some days, it was deep and throaty, and on other days it’d be high-pitched and nearly scraping at your ears. They all said the same thing though, such as fuck, right there, you feel so good or harder, harder, please, I’m so close!

To say you were traumatized was an understatement. You never wanted to hear such things again, but alas, your neighbor apparently couldn’t give a single shit because he was fucking someone again.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the person he brought home this time around just had to have the most fucking annoying voice ever. Or maybe it sounded like the others, but you were in the middle of memorizing veins and brain chemicals in alphabetical harder when you heard the headboard of his bed slam against your wall, the sound hard and loud enough you dropped your book in surprise.

They didn’t stop. If anything, he kept going harder until nothing but his low sexy groans and his partner’s screaming – that was right, she was fucking screaming – like she was having her insides rearranged.

You didn’t doubt the possibility that maybe she really was. Your neighbor was such a huge, attractive guy, after all, it would make sense he was capable of such. Before you knew it, you could no longer understand the words in your textbook. You kept rereading the same line over and over again, but nothing registered into your mind. You were so close to screaming at them to stop and shut the fuck up because it was three in the morning and they were still going at it, but you weren’t that mean.

Yes, you hated him, but you weren’t going to blue ball someone or make sex awkward. Sex with your ex was always awkward, so you knew how painful it was to live with that memory. No matter how much you hated your neighbor, you wouldn’t go that far.

So you trudged all the way up to the building’s public balcony, bringing a blanket with you to survive the chilly bite of the night.

You used your phone’s flashlight to read all over the textbooks, keeping your little note cards organized and color coded beside you. Finally, you could make sense of things a little bit more, and you chugged at your Red Bull to keep you awake. Time passed by so fast whenever you were lost with your nose stuck in a book, and your attention was only ripped away when the balcony door swung open, revealing your neighbor with messed up hair and bruised lips.

He looked totally fucked out.

“Oh, fuck, no – what are you doing here?”

“This balcony is for all tenants,” your neighbor barely blinked as he walked closer to you, but instead of joining you on the table, he leaned against the railings and stared into the night sky. He seemed so placid, a little approachable despite his intimidating face even, and for a moment, you were studying his sharp, masculine features before he turned your way with a passive face. “Last time I checked, I’m a tenant, therefore I have the rights to be here.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted childishly, pulling your books closer to you as if he wanted to steal it. He only raised a brow at your actions, the large muscles of his arms bulging up from where he stood.

It felt so hard to not salivate at the sight, but for the sake of your pride, you had to push those thoughts down and remind yourself why you hated him so much. “I evoke your rights. You’re not welcome here.”

“You’re awfully harsh to a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my neighbor who brings girls in his home every night and I can never get a wink of sleep because all I can hear is them moaning and the sound of balls slapping!”

“Vulgar,” he smirked, and he had no business looking so attractive with that arrogant smirk on his face that it took all energy you had in you to not whack him with your book.

“I think I deserve an apology.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

You stood up with a scowl, nearly shoving the book right in his chest. “Bro, I’m this close to slapping this book right in your pretty face. You see how thick this is? I’m not kidding, this will hurt. Listen, I’ve got a final exam and a suture practice this weekend. All I’m asking for is just a few hours of sleep – that’s all. I just don’t get why you always seem to be balls deep in someone at every god forsaken hour; I can’t focus on my work when the noises are so distracting. At this point, I remember their begging more than I’m familiar with nerves. I need to study, okay? I really want to graduate.”

He fell silent at your sudden rant, then, he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. “You think I have a pretty face?”

“After everything I said, that’s all you remember?”

“It’s kind of hard to listen to every word when I’m distracted by your eyes.”

His comment caught you off-guard, and your eyes widened, arm coming up to hide your face that soon began to felt warm. He only chuckled at your reaction, the sound deep and throaty that it went right straight into the pools of your belly. “My eyes – what are you talking about? Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re so creepy!”

“Hmm,” he snickered, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What, no one tells you you’re creepy?”

“No, people always say I’m handsome,” he said it with such a straight face that you gave him an are you serious look, and he raised one shoulder to shrug. “I’m surprised you’re not attracted to me, to be honest.”

“Wow,” you drawled out, shaking your head with a laugh as you plopped down back to your seat in defeat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? First, I get a really horny man as my next door neighbor who keeps me up at night with his shenanigans, and now he’s got the audacity to ask me why I’m not attracted to him?”

“I mean,” he scrunched his nose cutely, a huge contrast to his domineering stature. “Why aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I give up. I’m just gonna crash at my friends tonight,” you mumbled to yourself while gathering your things, leaving your neighbor all by himself. As you reached the door, you called out to him one more time, “Oh, and by the way, you reek of pussy. Go shower or something.”

“So how’s your exams going?”

“They’re fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, slicing through the fish a lot harsher than you intended. The knife scraped against the plate and you winced at the sound, ignoring your father’s loud munching. “Not too much of a big deal. My professors are nice and my classmates are nice too. I’m fitting in really well and I think I’ll even come out on top of my class this time if it weren’t for that stupid little bastard…” your last words ended up as a whisper, eyes glazing to the side as you glared at nothing in particular.

“Stupid little what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you waved your hand in the air, “Someone’s just distracting me from my studies, is all.”

At the mention of someone distracting your usually composed and unbothered self, your father straightened up in his seat, a large smile on his face that made him look younger than he really was. “Is it a guy? Do you finally have a boyfriend?”

“Ugh, dad, really, you’re the only father who’s so eager for his daughter to have a boyfriend. Shouldn’t you be more proud that, I don’t know, I’m pretty and smart? I don’t need a boyfriend or anything.”

Your father nodded, “True, you don’t need them, but trust me when I say life is going to get pretty lonely when you grow old and you’re all by yourself. It’s still better – and life is a lot happier – when you’ve got a stable supporting and loving figure in your life.”

“I have you for that.”

“And you always will,” he patted your hand gently across the table, “But a parent won’t always be there for their child, and if you’re still not prepared for the future or ready to stand on your own two feet, then that means I didn’t do a great job at raising you; that means I’ve failed as a parent. Tell me, have I failed? Have I raised my wonderful daughter to be so repulsed by the idea of love that she’s willingly closing her doors and locking herself away in isolation?”

“No…”

“I didn’t think so,” he grinned to himself, and you watched with a frown as his eyes crinkled in happiness. Your father was such the complete opposite of you; he was always so loving and open to everyone, while you were mopey and afraid of attachment.

“Don’t be too afraid to love, child. It’s one of the most wonderful things in this world – it’s a blessing – the absolute core of our being. Why do we exist if not to love?”

“Not everyone is a romantic like you, dad,” you sighed, “Plus…how is it so easy for you to finally find someone after Mom died? Isn’t she your soul mate?” you questioned, putting your fork and knife down as you looked your father in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married again.”

“It’s already been years since she passed away, Y/N. And yes, she is my soul mate, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of loving someone again. Our hearts aren’t limited like that, and your mother wouldn’t want me to keep mourning her when she’s resting in peace,” he gestured to the both of you after swallowing his food, “She would’ve wanted the both of us to be happy.”

At the mention of your passed mother, your shoulders deflated, and your eyes watered at the thought of her kind smile. You wished you could see that again.

“I miss her…”

“I know, child, I know,” your father smiled encouragingly, “I also know the reason you’re so afraid to love is because you’re scared they’ll end up leaving you too, like how your mom just slipped past our fingers like that, but it’s only her body that withered. She’s still with us, right in our hearts and in our memories.”

“You really do sound like a lovesick fool.”

“That’s because I am,” your father laughed with a slap to his knees. When his phone buzzed for his alarm, he quickly dabbed a towel on his lips, standing up to excuse himself. “Now, this lunch was lovely and I dearly missed you, but I need to go back to work. We doctors just never get a break. This is a life you have to prepare for if you want to follow my footsteps.”

“I won’t follow your footsteps – I’ll surpass you.”

“I’ll be waiting for that to happen then,” he announced proudly; pride bursting in his chest at how determined his daughter was. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You squinted at the mischievous look in his eyes, wary of what your cunning father had in mind this time.

“You won’t outsmart me. You better bring a boyfriend or at least introduce someone to me on the wedding – or else I’m pulling you out of the university hospital.”

“Wha – Dad, that’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and war, child, you’ll learn soon.”

“Oh, I just hate men!”

You really did hate men.

Your final exam was tomorrow already and you’d lost count of the coffee and Red Bull you’ve inhaled today, all so you could study one last time for the test, but no, something – or rather someone – just had to get in your way.

“I’ve had enough,” you announced before slamming your door open; not hesitating as your fists came banging down on your neighbor’s door. “Hey! Keep it the fuck down – someone’s trying to study here! Seriously, man, is it really that hard for you to keep it in your pants for one night? This is what, the sixth woman you’ve had around the past four days? Don’t you get tired? Because I sure as hell am very tired of you!”

The moans and the sounds of bed creaking stopped. For a moment, you almost smirked to yourself when they fell silent.

If only you knew it would be that easy to shut them up, you would’ve done so long ago. You were about to turn back into your room when his door swung open, and you were met by his sweaty and muscular chest heaving up and down – either in anger or from his previous activities – you couldn’t tell.

Your throat felt dry as you peered at him under your lashes, almost afraid of the way he loomed over you. Thank goodness he found the time to wear pants, though, because had he been baby naked, you would’ve run for the hills already.

His dark eyes cut through yours as he seethed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m the one who wants to ask you that,” you were surprised to find your voice despite the way your pussy actually ached just by the sight of his chiseled body, but when you did, you forced yourself to stand up taller, refusing to back down from his gaze. “It’s literally three in the morning and you’re about to fuck a hole through my wall!”

“I thought you said you’d be crashing at your friends. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to have your permission to come back home. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, good sir. And for your information, unlike you, I actually don’t like bothering the people around me so I came home. Now would you please kick her out and shut the fuck up for once?”

“Babe, are you coming back here or what?”

Red acrylic nails wound from his body out of nowhere, and your mouth fell open as you watched the naked woman press kisses on the blades of his shoulder. You were conflicted, torn between feeling jealous that she got to touch him like that because damn was he fine, but you also felt appalled your neighbor would be this type of person.

“Babe?” you repeated with a sarcastic laugh.

Stepping away from your neighbor’s tempting pecs, you waved to the stunning woman behind him. “Hi, I’m his neighbor, I don’t mean to be a cock block or anything but I’ve been a witness to his fuckboy ways for months now. If you think you’re special to him, I assure you, you’re not. Yesterday he was just banging two girls until the sunrise. If you’re really as sane as I hope you are, I suggest you skedaddle before this man feeds you with more lies. You’re not special, hun, he’s just going to fuck everything that walks on two legs.”

“Is that true?”

“Nadia, you know how this works—”

“I was literally just on the phone with you last night!” the woman named Nadia pushed him away, but because he was bigger, he didn’t budge. Nadia turned to you, her lipstick smudged and a suspicious white stain on the edge of her lips. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look down her head, and you and your neighbor both watched as she got dressed and left, hands up in the air. “Thank you for this. I should’ve known better than to waste time and money on him.”

You snickered as Nadia pressed on the elevator buttons, a scowl sent his way. Turning to him with pride swelling up in your chest, you smirked, “How does it feel—”

“Happy now?” he growled, his eyes so dark and slit into tiny cuts you took a step back, your heart pumping frantically for different reasons. You never thought he’d be this bothered for not being able to bust a nut. “Satisfied now, Y/N? Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”

“Uhm, yes,” you scoffed, matching his tone. “I just saved that poor girl’s life. Who else knows what you would’ve done and said to her. We don’t deserve to be looked down on and treated like this, you know.”

“Neither did I. I’m just doing my job.”

“Job? You don’t even have a job! You don’t even go to university for fuck’s sake – your apartment is rundown and smells like sour cunt and feet! Maybe you should even thank me because I’m trying to give you ideas on better things to do!”

“Yeah, and be like you?” he snapped, tugging at the strings of your hoodie until you fell a step forward. “Dressed in loose shirts to hide the fact you’ve got no tits and your ass is flatter than your back? Lying to her neighbor that she’ll crash somewhere but ends up waddling back home anyway because she’s always cooped up in her apartment studying to prove that she’s not as worthless as she is and that she doesn’t have a life or friends to begin with?” tears pooled at your eyes at his words, and you knew it hurt because it was true, but did he really have to say it that way?

However, his anger got the best of him, and he didn’t stop there. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to skip meals and lose sleep studying for something I don’t care about because I don’t know anything else other than following daddy’s footsteps so he’d notice me more than his new bride. I’m happy with my life.”

“How did—”

“Like you said, the walls are thin. You’re not exactly so quiet to yourself, neighbor. It’s kind of pathetic you talk to the walls when you think I’m asleep because you’ve got no one else to talk to.”

Hands balled into fists at your side, you stood on your tiptoes to spit the words out. “You’re a terrible human being,” no matter how much you tried to exert dominance over him, your lips still quivered as you fought back the urge to cry. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re the one who needs to go fuck yourself and get laid,” he didn’t let you have another word as he slammed the door in your face, but you still heard him through the door anyway. “Uptight bitch.”

You were wrong.

Your neighbor wasn’t just difficult – he was completely impossible.

[Dad:] Don’t forget your date!

[You:] Dad…don’t push it.

[Dad:] I find it hard to believe my beautiful daughter can’t have one. Go out there and make some friends, Y/N, I know you isolate yourself too much. It doesn’t even have to be a boyfriend. You could date a girl for all I care. I just don’t want you to be too bored at the wedding. Bring a friend.

[You:] Fine, fine, okay.

[Dad:] But a boyfriend would still be better. Your old man isn’t getting any younger and I want grandkids in the future.

[You:] Dad!

[Dad:] love ya kid !

And so it was the turn of your events that had you groaning in your swiveling chair, the grip on your phone so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up breaking it. As if your week couldn’t get any more horrible with your neighbor’s hurtful words still living at the back of your mind, your father hadn’t stopped talking about you to his co-workers and his equally crazy mother that your grandmother didn’t waste time in calling you.

You loved your nan, you really did, but more often than not, she was much more of a pain in the ass than your father was. The old woman was ruthless, shooting you question by question on why her pretty granddaughter was still single, then came the demeaning comments of how you “weren’t living life to the fullest.”

Frustration eating away at you, you let out a silent scream.

The escort site blinked back at you mockingly, temptingly, as if to remind you that your problems could easily be solved with just a click. You chastised yourself for always having the need to solve problems fast and as easily as you could, because before you even realized what you were doing, your heart started beating a mile a minute as the other line kept ringing.

You ended up lying to your grandmother that yes, nan, I have a boyfriend, can I study for my exams now please, to which the pressing woman responded with, oh, finally! well, I won’t bother you anymore. study well, my dear, I can’t wait to see him!

Just thinking about how she would react if you came alone at your father’s wedding had you breaking out in a sweat, and you chewed at your nails while waiting for the site to pick up.

You were truly desperate now, so much so that you were actually calling a rental boy site.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Kamo Escorts! I’m Ijichi, here to assist you. What can I help you with?”

You held back a really painful cringe, biting the insides of your cheek as you got your heart to calm down. “Uhm, yeah…so this is like my first time c-calling a site like this and I don’t know what to do but…yeah.”

“I see, we get new callers too. Would you like a guide?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great thank you.”

“Kamo Escorts is all about, well, as you can see on our webpage – we have men and even women you can hire to escort you on special events. We mostly cater to clients who only need a pretty face to dangle off their arm for social company or even care, or whatever reasons the client may have and the relationship is purely business and professional, but in some cases, the escorts may have sex with the client too under the condition they are paid more.”

The gasp that left your lips was barely stifled, and you furrowed your brows at the implication. “Wh-what, so that’s like a real thing? Isn’t this…?”

Ijichi chuckled from the other line, almost as if he’d been asked this question many times before. “In a way, it is, which is why Kamo Escorts is commercially advertised for purely social company only. You may, however, negotiate with your escort if you would like more services, but we do require that you keep our escorts’ dignity and not look down on them. The service we provide may not be your typical honorable one, but we are dedicated and equally eager to be of service to this society. Should we find that you’re dehumanizing or harassing our escort, we won’t hesitate to…take some action,” the light warning of his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and Ijichi took note of your hesitant silence. “Would you still like to proceed?”

“Ye-yeah, I didn’t want the sex anyway.”

“Very well, then. What event are we looking for?”

“It’s for a relative’s wedding,” you supplied, “I need a date.”

“Any preference in escorts? Male, female, tall, short, sociable or introverted?”

Your eyes widened, your back flattening against your chair. “Oh, wow, so this is like a Build-A-Bear, okay, wait,” you chewed your nails again, racking up on your mind on who or what exactly you liked. “My ideal guy is…someone tall, and has pretty broad shoulders…I think I prefer a more introverted one too because people with too much energy sort of drains me…and someone caring and attentive, yes. Handsome too – but if that’s too much to ask for then—”

“It’s okay, Miss. I assure you all our escorts are definitely blessed in the gene department.”

At his confidence, you scrunched your nose and made yourself small on your chair. “Okay, but now that you say it, if he’s too handsome then I’m going to look like a potato next to him.”

“We’ll find someone compatible for you; we always never fail to please our clients. We’ll be able to match you with a more suitable escort if you’re more descriptive with what you want.”

“Okay, okay,” you continued, “Oh, and I like guys with long hair too, but really, anything is fine. I just want someone to effortlessly pretend they’re enamored after just one date and that they’re very glad to be there with me on the wedding. It’s even better if they’re introverted but can communicate well and isn’t shy at all. My relatives are kind of…freaky.”

Freaky couldn’t even begin to describe the chaos of your relatives.

In fact, had you not been paying for this service, you would’ve almost felt bad for the guy. He had no idea what he had coming for him – but then again, neither did you.

“I think we’ve got just the perfect guy for you,” Ijichi answered after a beat, “May I ask when is this event and how long you’d like to book the escort service for?”

“The event is in two weeks. I don’t need to meet him before the wedding because I’m very busy with exams, so I hope this guy can just act really well. As for the duration…I think just one day is enough. After the wedding, I’m coming right back home.”

“Convenient then,” he mused to himself, and you heard slight clicking from his side. “Let’s see…someone introverted and able to communicate well…definitely not Satoru, and his entirely booked by sugar mommies too…” Ijichi whispered to himself, followed by a slight humorous snort. “One last question: would you like someone older, younger, or the same age as you?”

“I’m in uni – I’d be more comfortable if they were closer to my age.”

“Oh, perfect, his schedule is oddly open for the whole month. Wonder what happened, he’s barely had free slots before…” the man was speaking to himself again, and you sat there pouting, even more dumbfounded at how this whole process worked.

Ijichi talked about this escort service and guided you so easily you almost couldn’t believe that it was as…simple as that. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but deep down in your mind, you were waiting for something fishy or weird to happen.

“I found someone for you. He’s one of our best escorts and I believe he’ll be great for this event. However, due to privacy issues, the disclosure of contacts and personal information can only happen once the escort agrees to this service. We’ll shortly get back to you if he’s up for the job. If not, I’ll find you another one quickly; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, thank you so much!”

“It’s our pleasure. Thank you for contacting Kamo Escorts – we hope to see you again!”

Once the call ended, you fell back on your bed with a sigh. Your neighbor wasn’t around the whole day, leaving you in peace and silence, and you took advantage of the rare quietness by pulling out a book. Hours passed, and you were nearly finished with half the textbook, fingers slightly numb from practicing sutures over and over again when your phone lit up with a text.

It came from an unknown number, but the words were loud and clear. Hey, this is Choso, I’ll be your escort for the wedding. Please text me here for the details and what else you expect from my service. I’m only a text and call away, please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything else.

You blinked at your phone, unsure of how to process the whole thing.

So it was official now – you rented an escort and you had a date for the event. Quite frankly, you were kind of expecting that escorts would be a lot more…flirtatious or even eager to please, but this Choso guy sounded too formal for you to picture yourself having this stranger be a good company for your event. Ijichi sounded so sure though that you no longer questioned it; smiling instead now that you’ve finally solved one of your problems.

Life felt a lot easier.

At around four in the morning, you were too worn out to keep going. Your exam was in the afternoon so you still had plenty of time to sleep, your stomach grumbled, prompting you to leave your unit to get some snacks.

Keys in hand and feet cold in your socks, you locked your door, halting in your steps when you saw your neighbor. Different from his usual comfortable clothing, he was dressed in a formal white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his large, masculine hands coming up to loosen his tie. He wasn’t aware of your presence, almost blindly walking to his door and sighing. You didn’t miss the fact his shoulders were slumped, and he looked absolutely worn out.

For a moment, you actually felt worried, until you remembered what he said to you.

“What, no pussy to fuck tonight?”

He froze in front of his door for a moment, slightly tilting back to see your aggravated stance. Upon seeing it was just you, he shook his head and turned back to unlock his door. “No thanks to you.”

“Aw, did I ruin your reputation?” you mocked sarcastically, “I’m surprised people aren’t smart enough to pick up the smell of women’s perfume on you already. Seriously, are people that desperate for touch?” It was ironic; you’d never admit it, but you weren’t any better than them. You were equally desperate to be touched despite your aversion to romantic relationships, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s normal when you’re someone people are naturally attracted to. Not that you’d get it, of course, because it’s clear you don’t get some.”

“At least my apartment doesn’t smell like pussy.”

“At least I don’t masturbate every night then pass out after one weak orgasm.”

Your cheeks burned at his offhanded comment, and even with his back turned to you, you could see the slight smile tugging at his cheeks. He must’ve felt so cocky, thinking that he’d defeated you, so you blurted out the most intelligent thing possible: “How dare you!” while grabbing onto his shoulders to make him face you. “Look me in the eye and take that back!”

“Whatever you’re planning,” he crooned, head tilted to the side and making strands of his bangs fall over his eyes. He looked absolutely handsome under the flickering lights of the hallway in that moment, and you hated how you weren’t able to take your hands off of his strong shoulders, his masculine and spicy perfume clouding your mind. “It’s not going to work. Surprise surprise, but you’re not as cute as you think you are.”

Your eyes burned with fire, the nerves in your body so closing to popping. He infuriated you so much. “And you’re not as sexy as you believe you are!”

“Oh, yeah?” The positions are suddenly switched as he cornered you beside his doorframe, both of his arms planted beside your head. Because he was taller, he had to lean down to look you in the eye, his warm, minty breath brushing over your lips. You stared at him with wide eyes, fingers raking over the wall in a silent attempt to flee. Upon seeing your pursed lips, he laughed.

“Then why are you so shaky? Do I make you nervous?” his head dipped down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Say…you only pretend to hate me, but you actually wish it was you I’m fucking every night, don’t you? Tell me…do you touch yourself when you hear me eating someone out?”

“I-I’m not—”

Before you could combust under his gaze, he pulled himself away from you, a satisfied smirk on his face at your flustered state. He chuckled lowly, keys spinning on his thick finger. “I was just teasing you, princess. No need to get so worked up.”

“I never want you near me again!”

He raised both brows as if to challenge you, and you knew from the glint in his eyes he was up to no good. “Princess, you jumped on me first.”

“I didn’t!” You shouted, immediately slapping your palm over your lips after realizing people were sleeping. He snickered at your reactions, and you pushed past him back to your unit, suddenly losing the appetite to get your precious snacks. “God, I hate you so much.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

Difficult. Unbelievable. Complicated. Idiotic. Nothing was ever easy with him.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” your father scolded from his chair, his body barely moving as the stylists fixed his hair and makeup, but his eyes glared at you from the mirror. “You’re a lot more nervous than I am, and it’s my wedding.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

Your father sighed to himself, standing up after they were done with him. He checked his appearance in the mirror for a while, nodding to himself in satisfaction. It was still a little surreal that he was going to get married again, to a woman half his age of all people, but he was happy, and his bride seemed to really love him too, so you no longer questioned your father’s decisions. He was an adult, anyway, he could make his own decisions.

“You’re waiting for your boyfriend, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

You stiffened at the question. Not wanting your sharp-eyed father to pick up on the smallest cues, you lied through your teeth despite not having any idea on who or what kind of person the escort was.

Other than discussing details of how you two supposedly met, conversations had been crisp and short. You were lucky that the escort seemed to be nice and smart enough to not always ask you to explain everything, and he was crisp and curt in his texts too. No flirty or suggestive messages, not even a single emoji. He seemed a little stiff, and while you worried if you could fake chemistry with someone who seemed like a wall, you were also assured by the fact he wasn’t some creep.

“Nice. He’s sweet. You’ll like him.”

“And when did you meet him?”

“Dad, do I have to tell this story all over again?” you groaned, “We met after exams, he goes to a different uni and he studies law—”

“Law. Impressive.”

“Of course you’re impressed,” you rolled your eyes. Coming from a family of doctors and engineers, your father, and pretty much everyone else in the family, also expected that you’d date someone who was equally intelligent and had enough connections in different industries at least. It just so happened you were really lucky your escort also really did study law for a bit before he became an escort; a detail you never got enough explanation for. “He’ll be here anytime soon. Just you wait.”

In reality, you were the one who couldn’t wait.

You were excited and nervous at the same time to see this mysterious escort, and you were in the middle of talking to your father and his bride when someone called you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around with a bright grin. That must be him! You clasped at the hems of your dress so you could meet this mysterious, rigid man properly, but the moment your eyes met his equally startled gaze, you choked on your own breath. “Y-you—”

Choso stood before you; handsome as ever in his suit and tie, his iconic twin tails still there. How ever would your father believe you now that he was a lawyer, especially with his messy hair and face tattoo? You loved it and found it sexy on him, no denying that, but your father was a little bit more traditional. But that aside, it was Choso?!

His professionalism arose and he regained his composure quicker than you did, the smile on his face so natural and alluring even you almost fell for it.

Choso wrapped an arm around your waist before kissing you on the cheek, and the skin felt extremely hot under his lips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, because Choso was pressed flush against you, and he looked at you with stars shining in his eyes you didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.

Maybe a fucked up mix of both.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he explained with a small smile on his lips, and he looked so handsome and smelled so good in that moment you were left gaping at him as he bowed to your father, arm politely extended. “You must be Y/N’s father. It’s very nice to meet you sir. I’m her boyfriend, Choso.”

To your surprise, your father eagerly shook his hand with the brightest grin he’d worn the whole night before he faced you with a laugh. “No way,” he beamed, gesturing to Choso. “He’s your boyfriend? You managed to snag this fine man?”

“Dad!” your ears burned with embarrassment. Choso only laughed; making you painfully aware of his large, warm hand resting at the small of your back.

“I heard you’re a lawyer, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your father nodded in approval, the two exchanging over words about what his plans were for the future and how his studies were going. You stood there with a pounding heart, fearful that Choso could fuck up any moment, but he was so effortless and easy going. Had you not been the one paying him, you would’ve been fooled too.

So this was the life of an escort.

“So how much did my daughter pay you?”

“Dad, I didn’t—”

“I mean, there’s no way she actually charmed you with her non-existent social skills. My daughter here can’t even talk to someone and look them in the eye, much less ask someone out, so how did this happen?”

Choso laughed at your father’s lighthearted comment, saving the day for what seemed like the hundredth time already. “I approached her first, sir. We were both eating in this small diner and it was cramped, so we shared tables and started conversation,” Suddenly, his grip tightened on you as he pulled you closer, your ear now resting above the lulling and steady beating of his heart. How was he so calm?

He lightly squeezed your hip and it had you freezing under his touch, stiffening even more when he looked down at you so adoringly. “Guess it went downhill from there.” God, you had no idea who this man was.

“Really? What did you guys talk about?”

Choso opened his mouth to speak, but it was there, that damned glint on those dark eyes again that you clutched at his bicep. He may be damn good at this job, but knowing Choso, he was enjoying this way too much.

Anything you couldn’t predict or control properly was a huge no in your game, and you pulled Choso away before he could say something downright humiliating.

“Dad, just go focus on your wedding. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, okay?” You couldn’t even begin to fathom the inward cringe upon your words, the feeling only worsening when Choso fought back a laugh masked with a cough. Before your father could say anything else, you dragged Choso rather harshly, but he didn’t mind; he followed you obediently. “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” You didn’t stop until you were both alone in a desolated corner, and finally, you hissed at him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I should be asking you the same thing – but it turns out you’re my client.”

“Client? So you really are my escort?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So those women…”

“All my clients,” he confirmed your thoughts. “I assure you they knew what they were getting into. In fact, they were the ones who asked for that special service that caused you to lose your sleep every night. That woman the other day was just pissed because she booked me for three days, but I lied that I was available until the duration she wanted when I wasn’t.”

“You mean you were still working an escort for somebody else?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Why did you lie then?”

“It’s more money,” Choso stared down at his hands before his eyes flitted back up to yours, his face unreadable. “I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else. Our apartment isn’t exactly the most ideal considering my profession. I need to find someplace quieter with thicker walls this time,” he smiled, “That way, I’ll no longer bother my sweet neighbor,” your lips felt dry at his words, your tongue darting out to lick at them while Choso scrutinized you under his gaze.

“I have to admit though – you asking for escort service is the last thing I’d ever imagine you doing. Not that I’m complaining since it’s still money in my pocket, but you’re not the most pleasing company to be with.”

“Oh, you bet, Choso. Had I known you were going to be my escort, I would’ve declined long ago,” you groaned, your head dropping in your hands. “What was Ijichi thinking when he said I would be compatible with you?”

“You’re not,” he stated, “But I am compatible with you – as I am with pretty much everyone else. I’m one of the best escorts, and soon you’ll see why.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by then, but it seemed Choso was quite eager to show his skills off when he dragged you back inside the reception event. The whole time, you couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else other than Choso. It still felt hard to believe that the whole time, he really was doing his job, and upon seeing how easily he had people believing you two were an item despite you just standing silently beside him, you felt guilty that you disrupted his “work” like that.

Guilt gnawed at you as Choso made everyone laugh, and soon your relatives were cooing, praising you and congratulating you that you were “happy” now.

Back then, you always looked down on him and even called him a mere fuckboy, but Choso was so much more than that. He was intelligent; his past as a lawyer proved that, and whatever happened that caused him to work in this industry kept lingering in your mind.

There was no denying it now.

You respected this man – admired him even.

“And now it’s time to join the newly married couple on the dance floor! Come on, people, bring your dates up here for a twirl!”

You remained planted in your seat, too comfortable with Choso’s jacket draped around your bare shoulders. You’d lost count of how many times your head ducked down for the lack of sleep, and as much as you loved your dad, you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.

Choso offered his hand to yours, a teasing smile on his face. He wriggled his eyebrows up and down, and he looked so utterly ridiculous that you couldn’t believe the boring man you were texting was the same infuriating yet undeniably attractive bastard who was your neighbor was the same fun. The world is very small, it seemed, and you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to venture these strange places and feelings.

“Uh-uh. No. I’m not dancing.”

“Two left feet?”

“No, I’m wearing heels. My feet hurts.”

“Then take it off.”

“And get my feet dirty?” you scoffed. As if to prove your point, you snuggled deeper into his jacket that smelled heavenly like him, closing your eyes as you pretended to sleep. “Sitting here isn’t so bad. Plus, look at them, all staring at each other with goo-goo eyes. It’s revolting,” you shuddered.

Through the sickeningly romantic music playing in the background, Choso fell silent. You cracked an eye open, frowning when Choso studied each of your features carefully. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem to hate the idea of love.”

“Because it’s pointless.”

Choso narrowed his eyes at your answer, brows bunching up at the way your shoulders squared to keep yourself away. Then, he stood up and sighed, offering his hand to you once more.

“I won’t really ask you to explain why, because frankly, I don’t care,” you stared at his large palms for a few seconds. There must be a ghost possessing your body because you looped your fingers through his and allowed him to guide you on the dance floor despite your mind’s protests, and soon, Choso’s eyes were all over you. “But if you don’t want your money to go down the drain and you really want to convince everyone, I suggest you forget about that mindset for just a few more hours,” his voice dropped down to a low whisper, his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes turned solemn, his hand on your waist gentle. “Dance with me. Let’s show them how madly in love we are with each other.”

“We met just last week, remember?”

“Love at first sight, princess,” Choso kissed your forehead, sending your heart thumping and running to another dimension. Oddly enough, you didn’t mind, and your hands travelled from his strong arms to his broad shoulders instinctively. “Take your heels off. You can step on my feet and I’ll dance for us both. Just put your arms around my neck – yes just like that,” he nodded with a smile when your fingertips nervously played with his hair, and Choso began to dance you both in time with the music. “Are you good?”

“I don’t like this lack of space between us.”

Choso smirked, “Why, do I get you all hot and bothered?”

“Jesus, Choso, you can’t be serious for a minute, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard to be serious when you’re so flustered and adorable right now,” you pulled at his hair in response, but of course, he wasn’t really hurt.

“Look at me,” he demanded, but you refused, keeping your gaze planted on your bare feet on top of his again. “Hey. I said look at me,” he tilted your chin up until you’re forced to be like prey under his gaze, his breath tickling the bow of your lips. “I am your escort for tonight – and I humbly ask that you do your part as my client so I can perform my job well. I need you to look into my eyes and pretend you’re in love with me.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone,” you suddenly admitted, “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be,” he replied, softly this time, and his hands ran down tenderly to your hips to pull you closer to him. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

You couldn’t remember who leaned in first. The only thing you remembered was that the music faded in the background when you kissed him – or maybe he kissed you – fuck, you didn’t really remember. Eventually, the kiss grew too heated, his hands squeezing your waist while you moan at the taste of chocolate and wine on his expert tongue.

Choso easily read your mind and swooped you away from the crowd, the both of you stumbling until you made it out to the venue and onto the beach.

The salty air kissed your skin while Choso carried you bridal style, arms looped around his neck while he kept moving his lips above yours. He was laughing through the kiss with how messy and eager you were, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to unbutton it. Choso set you both down on the darker, isolated part of the beach where nothing but the sound of waves lapping against one another could be heard with your breathless pants and his chuckles.

You were lying on his jacket, dress bunched up to your chest while your legs were spread wide open for him. “Ch-Choso,” you choked out when his tongue ran flat across your slick folds, his hands keeping your hips pinned down to the sand. “I-I, please.”

“I got you, princess,” was all he said before he completely dived into your heat, his sharp nose brushing into your cunt.

It didn’t take long until you were spasming in his hold, legs closing around his head. Choso groaned into your pussy, a finger working its way inside your sopping cunt while he licks and slurps your arousal like it was fucking water. Now you understood why those girls always lost their mind – Choso was a fucking expert when it came to worshipping pussy.

Choso pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he was kind, eager to please you that he immediately replaced it with his tongue.

You cried out when you felt his tongue entering your hole, one thumb pulling the hood of your lips up to reveal your sensitive pearl. Choso rubbed your clit fervently, his other hand reaching up to squeeze and tug at your breasts while he drank your juices dripping down his tongue as if you would be his last meal – and he honestly wished you were, because you tasted like heaven on him and he wanted more.

Once he felt you clamping down on his tongue so tightly he struggled to retrieve his warm muscle back, he helped you reach your high by pinching your clit. You moaned out his name, the sound sending blood straight down his cock, and he groaned into your pussy the moment you grinded on his face as you relaxed from your orgasm.

Choso didn’t give you the chance to recover from your orgasm, pulling you up to his lap before he’s kissing you again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue, his face and cheeks sweet from your arousal and cum.

You should be ashamed, but you couldn’t find a single bone in your body that felt shy right now. Choso was right – there was no point in being shameful when it came to your pleasure.

The kiss was sloppy, more tongue than lips and teeth clashing onto another. Choso grinded you on his hardened erection in search of your heat that would bring him relief, but he slowed down and pulled away from you, a string of saliva connected from your lips. He wanted you – wanted to fuck you so badly – so he searched your eyes for the answer when you aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Is this okay? Are you sure with this?”

“Yeah,” you gritted your teeth when his tip entered your tight cunt, your walls sucking him in greedily already. Choso’s head dropped down to your shoulder, his teeth sinking down to your shoulder. You slowly sat down on his thick length, but then froze before he could bottom out. “Wait, no, I’m broke! I can’t pay for your extra services!”

“It’s free for you, princess,” he rasped out, “Now sit on my lap so I can feel you around me already.”

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

Through the pleasure that had his abs rippling, Choso managed a laugh. “You might want to get used to it.”

“Why would I?” you breathed out, eyes shutting tight once he fully slid into you. He allowed you to get used to the sudden stretch; it had been too long since you’ve been touched this way that you were impossibly tight around him right now. Your chest rose and fall with each faltering breath, your nails running down his back when Choso gave a deep, experimental thrust that immediately hits your sweet spot.

You moaned, cheek resting on his shoulder as Choso set the pace, squeezing your ass as he bounced you up and down his cock. “You’re gone after this. Once this contract is over, you’re moving away and I won’t get to see you anymore. I-I won’t lose sleep anymore after hearing you fuck all those women and gosh, I hate you so much, you know that?”

“I hated you too,” he groaned through your skin, “Or at least, that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Hurt? I would never hurt you,” Really, you praised yourself for still being able to form coherent sentences even after Choso kept fucking into you.

“I’m an escort, princess, I’m everybody’s and nobody’s at the same time,” he explained almost angrily, and his lips zealously sucked love bites to the sensitive flesh of your neck, “Even if you won’t hurt me, we’re bound to crash and burn at some point. This is why we’re not allowed to get attached to anyone,” his lips brushed over her collarbone, his canines dragging along to make red marks. “Why we’re not allowed to fall,” he squeezed her breast in the palm of his hand, twisting the peaked nipple until you whined, hips bucking deeper into his cock. “Why we’re not allowed to love.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“I’ve always liked you,” he laughed through the pleasure, holding your hips down so he could drive his cock deeper into you. Yes, he was selfish, yes, he was frustrated – and his feelings burst through the way Choso powered into you. You fell limp in his arms and he easily caught you like he always did, his eyes blown wide as he stared right into your eyes, his dick still pummeling through your gummy walls.

Choso inhaled sharply when you clenched down on him, an elongated moan spilling past your lips. “I liked you the moment you moved in and you fell flat on your face before you could greet me.”

“Shut up, don’t remind me of that!” you raked your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood, and Choso concealed the pain with light chuckle, the pain only prompting him to absolutely use you. “You’re seriously bringing it up now when you’re – ah, fuck – b-buried in me?”

Choso tugged at one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, the sudden change of angle had you pressing down deeper into him. It felt like you were sinking closer and closer to his cock, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you’re crying out in his arms, scratches evident on his back.

“For now,” he breathed out, “I want to at least be selfish enough to want you now, just for now if fate won’t still allow it.”

“W-we can try,” you said in your lust-filled gaze, lips crashing down messily to his while you bounced on him, your hips slamming down at the same to meet his thrusts. “It’s not going to be easy, but we can try, right?” You cupped his face, surprised with the sudden vulnerability from his hooded eyes, looking so innocent and beautiful as if he wasn’t painting your insides white.

“Okay,” he nodded, brows pinching together. And that was all the both of you needed before Choso sank his fangs down the column of your neck to hold on his low groans; your head thrown back as you both drown in the pleasure of being with one another.

In the blink of an eye, all tenderness is Choso’s touches replaced by the hunger in his eyes and the power of his lust-filled thrusts. You were a moaning mess by the time your hips sit flat on his pelvic bone and his balls brush on your ass from how deep he was hitting you, and you felt his teeth nibble at the side of your breasts again as he warned, “But for now, I’m not going to go easy on you – not when I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve been so hard for you these all time.”

And you allowed him. Because nothing was ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d try pushing through hell and back.

#choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #choso x reader smut #choso x reader romance #choso x reader fluff #choso x reader imagines #choso fluff #choso romance #choso imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen fics #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #suki: 500 milestone event

[writteninkat]

Envy | Megumi x reader

summary: "You've been spending a scary amount of time with Itadori, haven't you? Are you trying to make me jealous?" His eyes narrow accusingly at you, making the corner of your lips twitch up, "Is it working?"

f!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: jealous sex, rough sex, manhandling, oral (f!receiving), tied up, overstumulation

• 100 followers celebration

You block Yuuji's fist with two of your wooden katanas, closing one eye when you feel a gush of wind follow after the punch. You back is drenched, your chest is rising and falking heavily, your throat is parched and your limbs feel like they might break at any second.

You push Yuuji away from you with the last bit remaining strength you have before falling on your knees. "Y/n!" Maki yells in worry, immediately running after you. The rest of the second years follow in suit as Nobara kneels beside your exhausted body.

"She's been pushing herself too hard lately, after that fight she had with Megumi..." Nobara's upper cheek flinches at the memory. You and Megumi fought so bad to the point that the two of you were already screaming at each other's faces.

Your heart breaks at the memory and you feel a tear stream down the side of your head. Megumi had left Tokyo that day, and it's been a whole week since. You know he's been trying to contact you, probably to apologize, but being the petty bitch that you are you never answered nor read any of his messages, wanting this to be treated as a lesson for him.

You feel strong arms snake under your back and the rear part of your legs, scooping you up in one sweep. At first you think it's Megumi, your heart races at the possibility as you force one of your eyes open. The small strand of hope dies when you see the same pink-headed boy you've been spending your whole week with ever since Megumi left.

Before you can think of anything else, darkness envelopes you in its arms, forcing you into a deep slumber you never thought you needed.

[9:12 PM]

Your entire body feels light. You expected some sore muscles hete and there, maybe even neck pain? Your eyes slowly flutter open, orange, soft light coming into view.

"Is this what you do while I'm away? Misbehave?"

Your eyes widen at the sound of the voice, your head immediately whipping to the direction from where it's coming from.

There he is, standing in all his glory. Megumi Fushiguro.

Black hair, so soft and smooth. Milky white skin, so plush and void of any blemish. Your favorite part of him were his eyes, surrounded by beautiful long lashes and those dark blue eyes that always manages to capture you in a prison-like headspace.

He's wearing a buttoned-up long sleeve, its sleeves were folded right below his elbows and a silver watch decirates his left wrist. The shirt is tucked in his black pants, a black leather belt hugging his hips just right as his hand rests comfortably inside one pocket.

Your thighs clench together at the sight of him, he looks so grown up and mature. He looks absolutely... sexy.

"Hey." Megumi takes your face by your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "Let me rephrase my question." He slowly bends his knees, lowering himself so he's in face-level with you. He looks deep into your eyes, "You've been spending a scary amount of time with Itadori, haven't you? Are you trying to make me jealous?" His eyes narrow accusingly at you, making the corner of your lips twitch up, "Is it working?"

Megumi pushes you back onto the bed, pinning your arms above your head. "Every time I call you, he picks up." Megumi seethes, jaw clenching. "Reading his replies instead of yours has my head spinning. I couldn't focus on work because of you."

"You're mine, and no one else's."

You keep your thighs clenched together as you catch your bottom lip in between your teeth. "Prove it."

Megumi doesn't waste a second in pressing his lips on yours, his free hand slowly going down your sides as you lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. Megumi roughly shoves your legs apart as he lets go of your hands, his hands making quick work of taking off his belt. Once off his hips, he pulls either side apart, creating a whipping sound before inserting the end inside the buckle, wrapping it around your wrists tighlty, making sure you're not getting it undone.

He gets on his knees, looking down at you with his eyes shaded darkly with lust and jealousy. The sight has your cunt throbbing and pooling, dampening your cotton panties. Your spread legs giving your boyfriend a perfect view of the way your slick turns a part of your panties darker.

"I'm going to mark you as mine. And while I'm doing that, you'll referring to me as," He leans forward, lips feathering over the shell of your ear. "master." He whispers, two fingers pressing against your wet pussy.

You mewl at the contact, back arching having caught off guard. Megumi hooks his thumb on your panty, moving it aside to give himself a good look at your shiny, slick-covered cunt. He presses a finger on it, teasing you by running his finger right over where your two folds meet. He watches attentively as he lifts his finger and watches as your juices create a bride between your wet sex and his finger.

"Look at you, all wet for me." Megumi mutters under his breath, smirking after he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting you. "You taste amazing, baby. Wanna have some more of you." He slowly lowers himself, eyes on you. His lips press against your cunt, one lick from his tongue has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your mouth opening as you let out an audible gasp.

Megumi pushes your thighs even further apart, his tongue shaoing circles around your clit as he sucks on it every now and then. He buries his face even further deeper between your legs, his hot tongue oushibg through and against your walls, lapping up your dripping slick. The sound of his mouth sucking on your pussy and his tongue messily and loudly lapping you up has you squeezing your fists tightly, nails digging into your skin.

"Mmmhhmmff- Megumi-!!" You moan loudly, your hips moving on their own as you feel an orgasm tickling you.

Suddenly, Megumi pulls away from your needy cunt and before you could react, he slaps your cunt, catching you and your orgasm off guard. Your eyes widen as your back arches at the feeling of your orgasm hitting you ten times more than it usually does.

You heave, your eyes darting to Megumi, questioning his actions. He smiles at you, mouth and chin covered in glistening slick as he runs his tongue over his upper lip, "What did I tell you to call me?" His voice is a few octaves lower than usual.

"M-master..." Your lips quiver.

He chuckles darkly, fingers moving to undo the button and zipper of his pants. "Remember how that orgasm felt just now?" He asks, pushing his pants along with his boxers down, letting them pool around his ankles. He returns on the bed, pulling you towards him by your hips. He crawls his arms forward, placing your hands on either side of your head. "I'll have you cumming like that the whole night, so be prepared, princess."

He shoves his entire length inside you, causing you to open your mouth without a sound leaving your lips. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight princess." He curses in between his teeth, looking down at where the two of you are connected.

"Too big- so fucking big, Master! Too much!" You mewl loudly, toes curling at the feeling of being stuffed to the brim of him. "That's it, princess, just keep taking all of me just like that. Good girl." He sings into your ear, slowly pushing himself into your tight cunt until his hips are touching the beck of your thighs.

The two of you take deep breaths, calming yourselves before Megumi begins thrusting his hips. He begins slow and soft, making sure you've adjusted to him. His hands are on your hips and your legs are elevated to the air, giving him more access. When he feels you fucking him back with your hips creating circles, he pushes you away by your hips before quickly pulling you back and thrusting his hips along with the movement of his arms. This has him deep inside you, his tip pushing on the bundle of nerves that has you gasping audibly. Megumi snaps his hips into you roughly, his sac slapping on your ass, creating lewd noises as he fucks into your dripping cunt relentlessly.

"Ugh- oh fuck.." Megumi moans out, throwing his head back with his mouth open as he continues impailing himself inside you. The bed creaks at every thrust Megumi does and along with it slowly creeps your orgasm.

"Master! Mmmmhhhfff-fuck, Master! I'm close!" You moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your toes curl, anticipating the orgasm that's about to hit you. Megumi lowers his head, arms pulling your tummy onto his chest as his tongue laps over your hardened bud. When he traps your nipple with his teeth, your back unconsciously arches itself, your tongue lolled out as you rock your hips back and forth, riding out your orgasm.

Megumi hisses as he feels you clenching around him. He pushes himself off you, eyes widening and heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

Your eyes are crossed as they look up at the ceiling, glistening with tears. A hot flush is spread across your face, over your cheeks and nose and your tongue is lolled out of your smiling mouth.

Megumi bites on gis lower lip, thrusting into you with your expression embedded in his head. Who would have known you could make such a face?

It fuels Megumi's want for you- he pulls you by your arm as his other hand takes you by your lower back. He sets you on his lap as he fucks you relentlessly, watching as you bounce on him. He chuckles, playing with your bouncing tits as he feels you shake on top if him and clench around him once more, your broken moan telling him you've once again hit another orgasm.

"I'm not yet done with you." Megumi growls, pushing you off his lap as he presses your restrained hands on the matress, his free hand pushing one leg further back, giving him even more space to work on your pussy. Squelching and slapping noises fill the room and Megumi closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds like he's listening to an orchestra. His eyes snap open at the feeling of your pussy yet again, tightening around him. "How many times was that already? Four? Five?" He asks, watching as your head limply drops to the side. He watches as your bare chest rises and falls, your fucked up expression light on your face as your tears create marks on your cheeks.

"Princess." He demands for your attention, and you give him exactly that. You open one eye lazily. "We're not stopping until I cum."

You've already decided to let him do whatever he wanted with you anyways, so you nod your head, feeling his stupid smile.

He undoes the belt around your wrists, pulling both of them towards his lips as he presses soft kisses over the red marks around your sensitive skin. "Widen your legs." He orders, pressing your hands on either side of your head. You do exactly as he says, feeling him kiss and leave marks all over your neck and chest as he has his way with you- hips snapping even faster and much harder than before. He continues hitting the same spot- the particular bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

"Mmmff- Master!" You yell, biting on your lips as you feel him finally reaching his end as well, the thrusts of his hips getting sloppier every second.

"Oh God," Megumi growls onto the side of your neck, "Cumming- cumming!" Megumi tries to pull out, but your legs hook around his waist, keeping him buried inside you as he spills his hot seed inside you.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but deep breaths, the two of you waiting for the events of the night to finally hit you both. Before it does, you feel darkness once again wrap itself around you, pulling you into another slumber. The last thing you see before passing out is Megumi walking away from the bed.

[6:57AM]

When you wake up, the strong feeling of deja vu hits you, except this time, you can definitely feel muscle pain as well as your throat being so dry. You open your eyes, heart clenching at the sught of Megumi reading a book silently. You can feel his arm around you and his scent soothing the pain all over your body.

Megumi turns to you, smiling softly as he presses a kiss on your forehead. "I already asked Gojo sensei to give you a day off today. Rest all you want." He says softly, the complete opposite of how he acted last night.

You reach over to cup his cheek, eyes catching sight of the bandage wrapped around each of your wrists.

So he did take care of me right after.

"I'll be your butler for today." Megumi closes his book and places it on his nightstand at his side. "Just relax, anything my princess wants, I'll go get it for her."

"Mmmm, I just want cuddles for now. And maybe a little snack." You smile, raising your eyebrows at the sight of your boyfriend's frown.

"You said-"

"I know what I said, but I'm giving you a complete meal. We fucked after you woke up after passing out, I'm so sorry for being so inconsiderate..." He pouts, pressing his forehead on yours. You smile, coming to a conclusion that you love every single side of this boy. His dominant side, his soft and caring side, even his envious side.

"Let's talk about that jealousy problem you have while I eat."

Megumi flushes, "I wasn't jealous!"

#megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #megumi hcs #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi smut #megumifushiguro #megumi fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk imagines #jjk fushiguro

[darylsgirl]

I was claimed by Daryl Fucking Dixon NSFW 18+ Daryl Dixon & Reader

Summary: 

Your sick of waiting for Daryl to make a move or even speak to you and decide to dress up to do your chores hoping you’ll catch his eye.

You manage more than that He gets jealous when other men/ and one woman ;) show an interest and he admits he’s wanted you all this time an roughly claims you.

*Heyyy to anyone who reads this! If anyone reads this Haha, This is my first ever attempt at fan fic and it kind of got away from me and is a lot more intense than i thought it would be! If there’s anything you don’t like about this please feel free to tell me! I’d love to improve for my next one :) Hope y’all are having a great day wherever you are :)*

How long had it been? Since the end of it all? 

Since all those carefree nights we used to stay up drink, party & Fuck. 

Months? Years? 

It felt like all time stood still when He found me. 

I was alone, Terrified & hiding in an abandoned liquor store when I heard them, I Snuck to the window and saw the biggest herd of walkers I had ever seen. I made sure all the bottle’s i had scavenged were wrapped up in my clothes to dampen the noise and waited for a break in the herd so I could make a run for it to my bike just across the road. After what felt like hours there it was my chance i put my hand on the door handle but before I was even able to twitch the handle,  I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and drag me backwards away from my chance of escape. 

“Fuck you think your doin girl, Tryna get yourself eaten!” I stared up at the man before me with his hand still over my mouth. His angry eyes met mine and I stopped fighting gazing up into those piercing blue eyes. That was the last thing I saw before the pistol came down on my temple. 

I woke with a bag over my head and my wrists bound, I was in a car and I could hear the engine stopping and the brakes kicking in ‘Shit’ . I thought I had no time to think of a way out of this. Two doors slammed shut and I could hear two men arguing.

“Answer me, Fuck did you hit her for Merle. She’s only a girl she couldn’t av ‘urt us, She looked me in ma eyes. There was no fight just fear” 

“Bitch had it comin Daryl, Tryna kill hersel and take us with her” 

“Did’n even no we were there, Or are you that shit of a hunter yous unable to sneak up on people naw, Stop being an asshole and get the fuck outta ma way” 

The car boot opened and someone lifted me out by putting a hand under my knees and one under my head cradling me, he held me tightly with my head in his chest. I inhaled and could smell his manly scent, It was intoxicating, He held me for a moment more before he set on my feet; next the bag was ripped off my face. Instinctively I winced waiting to see if the light would blind me but all was still dark around and i could see we were in a forest.  The man with the mesmerising eyes gripped my arm and started walking me into the woods. 

A logical person would feel fear at this point but there was something about those eyes, I just trusted him.

“Got a lil way’s to go, ya ok walkin? Or you need me to carry you rest of the ways?” His southern drawl mixed with those blue eyes made my knees go weak. I stumbled slightly then stood again and kept one foot in front of the other. I nodded to the man that I was ok and kept going. 

Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the edge of a camp, A few people rushed forward “Shit what happened to her?” “Has she been bit?” “Why is her head covered in blood?” “Where did you find her?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and replied “Merle, No she aint, Merle again annnd liquor store.” He said the last answer with a smirk. 

I scowled at the pair and dropped my mouth open to throw a few choice words their way when I was stopped by Merle grabbing me and spinning me round to face him, He moved some hair out of my face, fingers lingering near my mouth and said.

“Girl looks mighty fine to me, Pretty face not messed up, not one bit! And I do love me a pretty face sweetheart” he winked at me moving his hand from my mouth to my throat he pulled me close to him wrapping his other arm around my back to pull our pelvises close together so I could feel his growing erection against my stomach. “How about it honey” He said winking again  

I drew my head back with the intention of smashing his nose, When we were tackled to the floor Merle was pulled away from me and i rolled onto my back and back on to my feet, I looked back at the two brothers and saw Daryl’s hand smashing into his brothers face whilst he was shouting “I’ll mess up your face you asshole” 

Daryl was dragged off Merle by two men, Merle got to his feet and laughed “It’s allllll good baby bro, I’ll forget about this, this time. I know how feral you get when you see a pussy you wanna claim.”

Daryl locked eyes with me as Merle said this then spat at the ground at Merle’s Feet He picked up his crossbow off the ground and stormed off towards the woods shouting “Man forget ya, I had enough of your shit for one night” over his shoulder. 

That was months ago now, That night the group took me in and took care of me and I took care of them. We moved from the original camp to the CDC then a farm and now we are in a prison in Georgia. The prison has been good to us so far, there was that run in with a crazy guy who called himself the governor and we lost a few of our family. But we persevered and built this place into a home and soon started bringing in new people to help run our home and join our family. 

In the time i had been with this group i had noticed there were a lot of frustrated people here, Especially the men, I can’t get through a day without some proposition or another. I also can’t say that I didn't enjoy the attention, It had been awhile since I had felt another's hands on my body and I craved it, I craved it more than air at times and the person I craved it the most from had decided to pretend I didn't exist. But that didn’t stop me from going to bed each night with my wandering hands and relieving my aching pussy with the thoughts of his hands exploring my body and that voice groaning in my ear. Hit the spot every time. 

There had been a few men that had caught my attention but after a few conversations and meet ups with each they all started to pretend i didn’t exist the same as he had. I didn’t even get so much as a kiss from any of the fuckers and when i decided to confront them and ask why they refused to tell me and walked away. 

It had hit summer here and i had hit my breaking point, I’d had enough of being passed over and wasn’t going to take this shit anymore, I was going to make them all regret not taking me up on the opportunity when it was there for the taking.

I woke early for my shift in the fields the next morning, Still thoroughly determined to set my plan in motion I grabbed my knife and a set of clothes and set to work. I cut most of the legs off my jeans and the sleeves from my Tartan shirt. I pulled the jean shorts on and folded the legs over so they became tighter and pushed my already perky ass up. I then pulled my shirt on forgoing the usual under shirt and tied the two sides closed in a knot above my belly button so my slim waist was on display. I buttoned one button above the knot so that not too much of my bra was showing; Turning it from slutty to sexy. I pulled on my best brown cowboy boots. Combed my hair out. I was very lucky to have thick wavy hair that rarely required me doing anything with it. I just let it dry and brush, I grabbed Maggie’s make up bag and applied a small amount of make up just to accentuate my natural features.Smiling at myself in the mirror this was perfect, Let's see that southern shit ignore me now. Or any of the others for the matter. 

I sauntered out of my cell into the main block and walked the long way through the middle of everyone taking extra care to have a bounce in my step to make my boobs bounce nicely and swayed my hips more to make my ass jiggle as I walked. I greeted everyone in the same way i usually would with cheery “Good Morning’s” Instantly i felt eyes roaming my body and not just the male’s which made me grin I was happy either way. A few let out low whistles and I winked in return. This felt great. I want to feel this way every day, my pussy had soaked my panties by the time I had made it out of the block and into the yard I was panting with need. 

I took a few minutes to calm my breathing before continuing out towards the field, I glanced at the guard tower to make sure he was here today keeping watch, When i saw his leather vest and his longish wavy hair my breath quickened again, Shit it was going to be hard to get through today without a little relief, It took everything i had not to rush up the guard tower and beg him for it, Instead i continued over to the field, waiting until i was in his vision before looking up smiling and waving. Sure enough there he was binoculars in his hand staring down at me. I grinned again, wiggled my fingers at him and sauntered away from the tower. 

Luck was with me today and I was set to work on the potatoes which were planted in a perfect view of the guard house. I made sure to always face the tower when just sitting working so he had the frontal view and when I needed to bend up or down I turned my back to him so he got a great view of my ass. Everything I did that day I made sure to find some way to make it sexier. More than a few men came to bring me water or talk to me that day i gave each of them a big grin, Laughed and put my hand on their arms and send them on their way enough to make them feel there could be a chance, I felt Fucking powerful. 

At the end of the day i saw Maggie making her way over to me with a backpack over her shoulder, “Y/N I gots you a gift” she said in a sing song voice “from Merle of all people” she laughed and pulled out two big bottles of Merle’s special moonshine “I guess someone saw your production today sugar” She giggled a bit more handed you a bottle and settled down on the grass next to you. 

Daryl

Ever since Merle and me brought Y/N back to the group with us she’s been a literal pain in my pants, I'm surprised my cock was even capable of a hard on at this point as it feels like it hasn't gone down in months. So far i have managed to stay away from her as i wasn’ gonna let no bitch get the better of me and i wasn’ going to let fuckin Merle be right. 

My mind wandered back to her again when i started my shift in the guard tower that morning, I considered going into the office to rub one out but decided i'd be on the balcony waiting, I always made sure i got the shifts in this tower when she was being put in the fields, Watching her sweating down there in the heat was good enough to get me off later in the night when i was alone in the office. I lived out of this tower now as I liked it better alone even now with Merle being back in the prison, I didn’ need his shit talking around me at all hours. Not when I had my own entertainment. 

There she was right on time to interrupt me from my thoughts, Holy shit what was she fucking wearing. I grabbed my binoculars to get a closer look, When i found her again with them she was almost fucking naked by the looks of it! In tiny shorts and an even smaller top, From this vantage point i had the best view straight in her bra, I kept my eyes on her all day fuck the perimeter it’ll be fine and i’m sure some weak ass will scream and let me know. 

I watched her all day as she wiggled her hips and wiped the sweat from her chest, Turns out i wasn’t the only one watching even guys I've fuckin told before to stay away come flocking, What don’t the asshole’s understand about “i’m always fuckin watchin” by her quitting time it wasn’t just my dick that was rock hard and throbbin but also the vein in my temple that tells me i’m about to snap.

Balling my fists up i wait for her to start walking back but Maggie fuckin Greene starts walking towards her, Fuck sake. I send the next watch away and tell them ill radio to come back. I wasn’t allowing no fucker to have this view. I watched as Maggie sat down in the grass with Y/N and pulled out two large bottles. I grabbed the binoculars again. Fuckin Merle! That’s his shine if i ever saw it. Making a mental note to smack that bastard later for this. Now everyone had gone back inside it was deadly silent out here which meant their voices were carrying more than they knew and i could hear every word. I settled back down and watched the girls for a while biding my time. 

Y/N

You both look at each other with a glint in your eyes, Pop the tops off your bottles and start downing it. Maggie comes up for air first. Dropping my bottle and swallowing the harsh liquid i Cheer in celebration and yell a little too loud “that Merle may be an asshole but he sure makes some good hooch” 

“Sooooo ya had any bites today?” Maggie grins winking at you. “Yeah but not the one i want, He’s so fucking frustrating. I think I've noticed him watching me more today than he has the entire time i’ve known him” I sigh. 

“You know he's got a huge thing for you or he wouldn’t be acting like this”  Maggie Giggled. “But then who in this friggin place doesn’t especially after today! You even made my breath hitch never mind poor Glenn who had to get a shower!” “Ugh maggie he’s your guy why the hell is he looking at me!” I grimaced. She put her hand on my thigh and winked at me again “He’s got my permission, don't worry it spices things up a little” I didn’t move her hand just enjoyed the feeling of her fingers running up and down the inside of my thigh.

We both downed more of Merle’s hooch giggling and the conversation turned to a debate on the size of Daryl's dick. I lick my lips promising to tell her if I ever get my hands on it. The conversation is turning more and more heated as her hand is getting closer and closer to my throbbing core. She’s getting that close now I’m sure she can probably feel the heat coming from it.  As we are getting close to the bottom of our bottles and really starting to feel the effect Maggie still with one hand on my thigh leans close to my face and whispers “He’s stayed up there watching past his shift. Let's give him something to see hmm?” As she’s finishing the end of her sentence I bridge the gap between us and meet her lips with mine. I bring my hand up to her hair and pull her closer into me, deepening the kiss Moaning into her lips. 

Daryl 

When the girls first started chatting i wanted to find out who they could be talkin about and punch the prick out till i heard my name and if my ears weren't already prickling up they definitely were now, He heard Y/N promise Maggie that if she sees ma dick she will tell her how big. He bites his lip and decides he’ll help her keep that promise. 

He picks his binoculars back up and notices Maggie's hand running up and down Y/N’s thigh. If there were two people he thought he wouldn’t have to warn away, it would have been Glenn and Maggie and they pick a night that he’s mad as hell to change his mind about that? 

He brings one hand to his aching dick giving it a few tugs through his pants to relieve some of the pressure and brings his eyes back to them just as he sees the girls lean into each other, Shit! Shit! He doesn’t know whether to run down there and interrupt finally or let them continue. Y/N pushes Maggie to lay her fully down and straddles her hips, I grabbed my radio and called for the replacement as i couldn’t take much more.

While i waited for the lazy shit to get here i watched Y/N & Maggie get even more heated and their hands exploring each other the moaning reaching me in the tower, I look to my right and see Glenn watching from behind one of the buildings hands and lower half suspiciously hidden.

Ah hell no fuck this tower! Daryl reaches over the side and grabs the pipe work swings himself over and uses it to get down quickly. As he hits the bottom his replacement is strolling over he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt blocking his view into the field. “Put ya lazy ass in that office and don’t fuckin leave till i come back and tell ya, ya can leave. Ya fuckin hear me?” I growl at him. The kid runs into the office in the tower. I spin around pretending not to see Glenn hiding there, I ran across the field towards the girls and as i reached them i let my shadow fall over them. 

Y/N

From where i am lay on top of Maggie i watch as Daryl slides down the side of the watch tower and charges over to us, I smile against Maggie's lips when he gets closer i moan feeling her hand snake its way into my bra, Were both panting loudly and moaning when his shadow falls over us. 

He clears his throat next thinking we hadn’t noticed him there. Maggie moves her mouth to my neck and I let out another moan but this time I raise my eyes to his and lick my bottom lip not breaking eye contact. 

“Come with me...NAW” Daryl growls and grabs my arms and pulls me off and up. Maggie looks at him and pouts “oh boo Daryl always gotta ruin our fun” I wave to Maggie giggling as he starts to drag me across the field. 

“What the fuck Daryl” I try to push him off my arm but his hands are unyielding. “Shut the fuck up ill deal with ya in a minute” He growls and pushes me up against the wall of a building stares longingly into my eyes then darts his arm out and smashes someone’s head into the wall. “Didn’t think id have to fuckin warn ya Glenn, Thought it was pretty fuckin obvious. Don't let me catch ya ass again” he grabs my arm again and drags me across the court yard until we reach a secluded spot, He slams my back up another wall and presses his body up against mine keeping me pinned between him and the wall. 

“What you think you’ve been doing girl, Flaunting your shit all day for any man to beat his meat too?” 

I squirm under his gaze, Shit i think i actually pissed him off, Definitely not the emotion i was going for!

“You think i’m gonna sit by and let tha happen?” 

I find my voice, “What do you mean, You won’t let something happen. You’re not the boss of me!” you say glaring back at him, If he wants to play the pissed off game he won’t be playin it alone.

“Ya know exactly what i mean! I’ll show you who the fuckin boss Y/N” He said, pressing his hips harder into mine. I try to suppress my moan. His eye’s darken even more hearing me moan for him now. 

“Who do you think told those pricks to back the fuck away from you, They wouldn’t of just left you alone on their own naw, they needed some rough persuasion Y/N” 

I glare at him again and he pushes his hips back into mine again.”Ya gonna learn yet? Every time you glare at me, ill smash my dick into that dirty clit o urs” He explains with a wink. 

Not knowing how to respond to that You ask “You’re the reason no man looks at me anymore? What fucking business is it of yours”

“Hell fuckin yeah i am” He says with a smirk “No one will dare ya touch you if I've claimed ya, So i did” “Naw I’ve claimed you, I’ve made it very clear if anyone touches you they’ll lose a fuckin arm” He growled

“For fuck sake Daryl! You can’t just put claims on a girl you don’t even give a fuck about” I said with a snarl.

“I give a fuck, Just didn’ want ya to know i gave a fuck, I enjoyed watchin ya squirm... but ya forced ma hand and naw... Well naw i aint gonna be gentle bout it”

You close your eyes tight, If he hadn’t of “claimed” me i would be in heaven now but learning that he’s behind your dry well makes you so mad. 

“This what you were trying to get huh?” “I would of thought twice before you pulled this shit, I aint no gentle man” she breathed into her ear. His gravelly voice driving me crazy. 

I look him in the eyes and shove him hard, running back to the cell block. I took a breather when i got through the door and realised he hadn’t followed me. As i was walking past the showers a hand darted out and pulled me inside. 

“Woah what the fuck” I gasped as I felt a hand move over my ass and pull me against him, Jees i need to wear this outfit more often. 

I was pulled into the light and saw it was Zach who had pulled me in with him, Zach was one of the ones who daryl must of scared away. 

“Hey baby, Missed me?” he breathed at me. “How could i miss you zach i never got a chance to know you, You let that asshole scare you away” I said hurt 

“Gimmie another chance Y/N, ill show you a good time, This could be our secret. We could have some real fun and piss that hillbilly asshole off” He squeezes me tighter to him. 

“Gerrof Zach if your too pussy to pursue someone when warned of by a man I’ve only ever spoken to once then you’re not a guy i want any fucking part of”

“Awww c’mon you don’t mean that” he grips the back of my head and pushes his lips to mine i tried to fight him off be but he had too tight of a grip. 

A low growl came from the doorway “I believe she said to get ya bitch ass hands off her” Zach jumped back like someone had shocked him when he heard the voice. Daryl walked forward and put his arm round my shoulder “an i believe i told ya to not even look at her again bitch” His voice gets louder “Tell me asshole what did i say i was gonna do to ya?” 

H waited a moment staring at Zack “Hmm to fuckin scared to answer?” he walks forward and punches him rapidly in the face Zack goes sprawling across the shower floor. Daryl stands over him and threatens “it’ll be worse next time if you don listen to me and come near ma girl again”

Daryl turns and heads back to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders again “Bet Ya glad i claimed you now” I nod slightly. I squirm out of his arms and run back to my cell, my hooch high still buzzing in my mind. Thank god without this how could i be this brave? I smile when I get to my cell wondering how long it will take him to catch me. 

I  barely had time to catch my breath before i felt him, He made no noise whatsoever like a hunter closing in on his prey.Whenever he was near me it felt like my entire body was electrified and tuned only to him. 

I spun around and my breath hitched in my throat at the sight of that venomous glare, He just stood and glared with his eye’s roaming every inch of you, You could feel every hair on your body standing to attention for him. 

In the blink of an eye he was back in front of you again pinning you back against the wall with his hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head to the side exposing your neck. 

He looks over your body panting his eyes still liquid stone, Ever glaring. I could feel the heat coming off him in waves as he studied me. His pushed his mouth next to my ear, “When i’m finished with ya, ya legs will be useless and everyone in this damn place gon know my name. An i promise you aint gon forget who’s ya are” He paused for a second staring into my eyes, “Naw take this shit off before i rip it off ya” He said pulling roughly at my shirt.

With Shaking hands i reach up and untie my shirt and push it off my shoulders, Watching his eyes grow darker as he watched. My shirt fell to the floor he grabbed the centre of my bra “All of it” He growled. I undid my bra and threw that into the corner. He looked down at my shorts seeming impatient gripped both sides and ripped them down. He came back up to me gripped my arms and pushed me further up the wall off the floor and quickly puts his legs in between mine and rests my body on them. 

He reaches forcing my head to the side again and brings his mouth down to my neck kissing and biting furiously his other hand gripping my breast roughly, Earning a loud moan from me. I reached for his shirt desperate to run my hands on him, Before my hands met their mark he had gripped my wrists pinning them above my head. 

“Ya don’t move, Touch or make a fuckin sound unless i say so, Ya hear?” I nodded eyes growing wide at his words. He let my feet touch the ground again and tore my underwear off, He bunched them up in his hand “Mmm look how wet these pantie’s are for me girl” “Open your mouth, Naw” I obediently complied letting him stuff them into my mouth, Dying to moan under his stare. 

He stepped back and let his vest fall over his shoulders and hit the floor, He then took his shirt off and used it to bind my hands together. He stood back admiring his handiwork, I Squirmed under his lustful gaze feeling myself getting wetter by the second. I watched him slowly bring his hands to his belt unfastening it then his button and zip, His pants hit the ground and he kicked them to the side. My breath went wild when I saw him in all his glory i love a man who doesn’t wear any underwear.

He lunged forward again pulling my legs over his and wrapping leg around his hips pressing his huge dick at my entrance. It was so long and thick: my mouth started salivating instantly imagining wrapping my mouth around it. 

He pulled my underwear from my mouth and growled into my ear “Scream my fucking name” as he plunged his entire length into me, The breath was forced from my lungs “shitt, Daryl!”

“Did i fuckin stutter, I said scream it” he growled again biting my neck pulling out almost of the way and plunging deep into me again. Damn did i scream this time my eyes rolling back into my head enjoying the sensation. 

“Tha’s better now ride it bitch” 

I felt raw already from his huge length and girth filling me like i’d never been filled before. Pulling my arms around his neck to steady myself i used him to pull myself back up and then down slowly trying to adjust to his size. 

His mouth met mine in a rough eager kiss, capturing my tongue with his. He pulled his mouth back to my neck and whispered “Ya don know how long i’ve been waiting for this, Tell me how much you love my dick Y/N”

“Ahh” i cried out “so much baby so much” My eyes rolling into the back of my head still rolling my hips onto him. “Naw, Tell me who you belong to” “You” I moaned “You i belong to you daryl” I panted out. 

“Louder! I want everyone in the fuckin place to know your mine” 

“Oh god, Daryl, I’m yours! Only yours” I screamed 

“Better” He smirked. He moved my arms from around his neck and released my hand’s from his shirt. He walked backwards with me still perched on him, His legs hit the end of the bed and he sunk down taking me with him. 

“Now show me how much you love this dick”

I positioned myself better over him and sunk down to the hilt slowly savouring every glorious inch of him. My eyes shot open again moaning when my clit hit his pubic bone and i started grinding harder and faster now. 

I could feel his hand’s everywhere, God i can’t believe how long i had been longing for this moment, I cried out again. He leant up on his elbows and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth nibbling, and running his nails down the inside of my thighs. The combination was pure ecstasy. I could already feel the pressure in my mound building painfully begging to be released. 

He removed his mouth from me earning a sad moan from me desperate to feel his mouth on me, He looked back at my eye’s amusement on his face. He ran both hands up to my chest again gripping almost painfully. “And these, Who do they belong to Y/N?” “You baby, All yours” i breathed shakily. I was so close when he growled again “Say my fuckin name” My wall’s started constricting against him. “Ahh god, Daryll ....fuck Daryl” His eyes shone at my words. He was even more spurned on now. He flipped us over, throwing me into the bed and pulled my hips into the air ramming harder and deeper than before. 

“Cum for me baby” He whispered in his incredible gravelly voice.

Those four words was all I needed to push me over the edge. Crying his name out again i felt the damn of pressure welled up in me from the moment I saw him burst open. I rode out my high as hard as i could against him, I collapsed to the bed and felt him slow down, My brain fuzzy from my incredible high. I tried pushing myself up on my elbows and my eyes caught another’s at the door. 

I looked down and back up rubbing my eyes, “Shit Darryl stop!” I reached for the sheets to pull them over me. There were at least 6 men gazing in, Daryl continued unperturbed. You tried putting your hand behind you trying to push at his stomach to get his attention. He captured your arm and it around your back and pulled you up against him. 

“You think I didn't know, Now tell me again who you belong to” “Daryl please!” I said trying to cover my chest. He grabbed the sheet and flung it away. 

Rick spoke up from the back Your cheeks flushed horrified they had all seen you in the throws. “I think Daryl told you to do something, He doesn’t like to be kept waiting” He said with a gleam in his eyes. You gazed around the men seeing Rick, Zack, Merle, Glenn & i wasn’t sure who else grinning enjoying the show. I was suddenly unashamed as i felt the pressure build back up dangerously high.

Daryl seeing my eyes wander over the group wrapped my hair around his wrist and pushed my head back into the bed, Ramming harder and faster than i’d ever felt before making me scream again. “Say it” he shouted at me “Ahh shit im daryl’s, You claimed me baby” He replied “And no one else is going to make you feel this good again are they?” 

“God no, Only you, Ahh so good!”

“Ya heard her '' He said addressing the men “She’s mine. Naw you can all fuck off back to your pits and keep your fucken hand’s to your selves asshole’s” You heard Merle hoot “wooowee you get it baby brother” You stomach turned grateful daryl had told them to leave, before his body pushed another orgasm out of you. 

They all turned and left as Daryl biting my ear lobe moaned into me “Now cum again for me baby” He suddenly dove his hand under me and onto my clit. 

I instantly caved again screaming into the bed. 

Feeling my second orgasm pushed him to the brink again and he jackhammered into me. Hard. Chasing his high. I pushed back furiously desperate to feel him. I moaned “Cum in me Daryl please i need to feel you” 

I felt him explode moaning my name and grinding deep into me riding it fully out” 

He collapsed on top of me breathless. We lay like that for a few minutes when I felt him going hard in me again. He pulled out and lay back on the bed pulling me into his chest his heart still pounding in his chest.

“God girl, If i’d of known you were that good a fuck, I’d of taken you that first fucking night” A relaxed grin on his face. 

He turned and took my face in his hands kissing me softly and murmured into my lips “I hope you don’t think i'm done with you yet” He winked “I aint had a girl like you in a loooong time i aint even close to done with ya” 

He rolled back onto me pulling my lip with his teeth. “Ready?” I nodded desperate to feel him again. 

God knows how many hours & Orgasms later he fell off me pulling me close into his chest again. I passed out instantly, Thoroughly exhausted. He chuckled into my hair and followed me into blissful sleep. 

When we woke the next morning his arms still tight around me, Smiling in his sleep. 

I looked over happy wishing i could stay here forever but there was work to be done. 

I slowly picked his arm up and tried to wiggle out from under it, Before i'd gotten half way those glorious muscles had flexed and pulled me straight back into him. “Morning beautiful. Hope you don’t think your going anywhere. We’ve got so much time to make up for.” He nuzzled his face into yours sweetly. You could feel him growing hard against your hip. “Don’t worry i’m feeling responsible. I’ll make it quick!” 

He fucked me again for another hour until we were both sweaty, shaky wrecks. 

I groaned and rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up trying to stand up and instantly felt my legs buckle beneath me. He was up and caught me before i came crashing down. He laughed. “Don’t say i didn’t warn you” You laughed with him. “God, I love that sound” He said, staring into my eyes and planting a sweet kiss onto my lips. He stood and started grabbing his clothes from around the room and dressing. 

“Take your time getting up, I’m back in the guard tower again today, Don’t forget what i taught you last night” He said with a wink and ducked down to kiss me. He moved to the doorway and moved the curtain turning back at me. “Oh and babe I wanna see that outfit again today, Now i know it’s all for me” He winked again and left. 

I fell back on the bed with a huge grin on my face. Holy shit I can't wait for tonight! 

#norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #daryldixon #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #you x daryl #hotsmut #smut fanfiction #twdeadfanfiction #walking dead nation #Daryl Dixon smut #fanfic #celebrities #daryl dixon #reader insert #writing #television

[elsieys-blog]

Perks of an insomnia-driven night.

Draco Malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: hi hello, this is my first draco malfoy au and I hope you get to enjoy it as much as I wrote it <3

contains: fluff, tension, cussing, insomnia, room of requirement, Draco's rings, and strangers to friends with benefits.

summary: due to another insomnia-driven night, you strolled and suddenly bumped into a particular Slytherin. He gave you a gift you would cherish forever.

———————————————————

A loud buzz from outside startled you as you curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket up to your torso to suppress the chilly weather. You couldn't keep count on how many times you've tried to close your eyes and think as if you went into a free fall in hopes of getting yourself adrift. But no. You've closed your eyes, opened it again, flat it again but it didn't help at all. You were widely awake despite the fact you hadn't eaten any chocolate at all.

You heaved a sigh before deciding to leave your bed and go on for a short walk on the dimly lit hallways. Perhaps the calmness and stillness of it would soothe you. You pushed the duvet away from your nearly naked body and slipped your slippers onto your feet. Standing up, you went over to the bathroom, did some basic hygiene before twisting the doorknob and leaving your dormitory in a swift.

God, even the Ravenclaw common room didn't look fancy anymore.

It usually does every morning to dawn. But every midnight and pass midnight? It looks like as though someone was murdered and students ought to stay hidden in their dorms.

As your quiet and soft trudges echoed the walls, only a few line of torches lighting your way, you exited the Ravenclaw common room and was now and finally outside. The hallways were now bigger and neverending, as if you had set foot into a deja Vu. A few floorboards you step creaked and so the snoring portraits on every corner and side of the wall yawns and went back to sleep.

You maintained a good slow and calm pace until you forgot to pick up your wand from your room. There was no going back now because it was a long way back. Now you had to squint your eyes so that it adjusted from the pitch black darkness.

Loud cawing from crows scare you sometimes so goosebumps prickled your skin. The only thing you could see was the dots of glitter from the sky and the shadows the oak trees casted on the ground. The shadow was formed strangely and it looks distorted so you held a deep breath, reminding myself that there was nothing to be bothered of. And that everyone was sleeping just fine.

As you walked silently, your head elbow-deep in thoughts, you didn't know you were now staring at a wall so called the Room of Requirement. The walls was approximately fifteen feet, bizarre patterns across it.

"Well, there's nothing else to go, so. . ." Your mind spoke and you closed your eyes, thinking of a plausible reason to get yourself inside. After a few seconds, you heard three faint clicks until the wall molded into a tall door. You glanced sideways before entering the room slowly.

You were met by the darkness once again, but this time it felt comforting. You walked and walked, taking in the unblemished and grubby furnitures hidden beyond the tall door. There were stacks and mounds of unused things that you felt suddenly guilty. As you roamed around without a route, a movement beside you caught you off guard and it piqued your interest. Is someone else here?

"hello?" You started, your brows furrowing as you followed the movement.

As far from your expectations, the anonymous person replied and it was a manly, cold voice. "What are you doing up in the middle of the night? Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

A shiver came across your spine. You shyly said, "aren't you supposed to be too?" You saw his shadow lurch and you took the chance to step forward.

He said, "doesn't matter why I'm here. This is my usual spot." His voice was a bit taunting and bragging.

"Well, you're hiding in the shadows so... And you're not supposed to hide if you claim this as your spot." You sternly said, keeping your gaze fixated on his moving shadow.

"I'm not hiding. Have you come to the realization that it's the dead of the night?" He sternly said.

"Yes, but— I think we should come over to the light so I can see you." You plead but you doubt he would actually do it.

"See me? Pathetic."

You sighed. "What? How about let's do it together? I'm really in the mood for some company right now."

The man was hesitant at first but he considered it. As much as he was irritated by someone invading his territory, he kind of wanted a company too. There was a strong exhale across you as he said. "Fine."

You gave an upturned smile, stepping into a small ray of light seeping through a window. The moonshine cradled your face as well as his. He stood tall and with poise in front of you with a neutral glare, looking down as if his eyes belittle you. "Better princess?"

You couldn't help but stare at his eyes. Wait- he was standing in front of you so he blocked the moonshine and you could only see his silhouette. You grabbed his sleeve and ushered him to a better angle. When you gently pushed his back on a partition, you finally got to look at his golden blue eyes, and the bits of freckles that stretched to his nose and cheekbones. His face was sculpted beautifully and even his nose shaped like a button. He was lithe and pristine. And you began to coil into a pit of fire.

"You're- Draco Malfoy?" Your voice shook.

"that's me." He smirked and it only made my headspace ablaze. "And you are?"

You were too busy admiring his features but your mind eventually rebounded. "I- Y/n- Y/n Y/l/n!"

He kept on smiling. "Oh, you!" He began to finally acknowledge your ghostly presence before. "You're the one I shared potions with on fifth year eh? The one where we got perfect scores?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Right. The only reason we got perfect grades for it was because of my skills actually. Don't forget that." He playfully said, beaming a wink at you which got your cheeks turning slightly crimson.

"Ha ha, very funny. I still helped though." You avowed.

"Mhm. But I did most of the dirty work and you just stood there, watching." He laughed and I chuckled. Fun times.

"Fine. Have it your way. I did watch instead of help. Happy?" You jeered but you couldn't help but glance at the collection of rings on his bony fingers. You went still for a moment and decided to ask the unthinkable. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"You- you have nice rings. It looks good on you." You faltered in the slightest but remained a tepid look. "Silver matches you to be honest."

"Silver?" His eyebrows rose and his voice was unbelievably sexy. "I get that a lot."

You keep on staring, checking out the patterns designed on the small ringed jewelry such as serpents and cursive letters. You didn't realize you were smiling until his fingers convulsed. "Y/n?"

You look back into his stormy eyes with embarrassment. "Oh I- I'm sorry, I was just-"

"It's obvious you really like them, don't you?"

"Well, I mean it's pretty but-"

"Would you want one?" His question was out of the blue so you nearly jolted.

Your eyes widen in full extent, the feeling of affection was set into extreme levels that you feel like you're about to explode. "Oh er- that's good thank you, but-"

"It's pretty I get it. And you seem to admire it as much as I do so ..." He paused, removing one of the glinting rings from his ring finger and held it into his palm. "Here, you can have it for me."

Your cheeks were flaming and it was intolerable. He was platonic and you never expected it from him. You sucked in a deep inhale, tongue-tied. "Oh my god, Malfoy, this was so unnecessary-"

"It's alright. Besides, I think that hand of yours need some color." He smiled tenderly, handing you the ring. His height was towering and it only made things worse for you to handle because of how the air thickens and the atmosphere suddenly getting hot.

"I d-don't know what to say." You stutter. "But thank you. Thank you so much, wow."

You got ahold of the metallic ring, inserting it on your ring finger but it didn't fit. It was expected of course. So you tried putting it on your middle finger but it was loose still. As you were about to put it on your thumb, his cold hands gripped your wrist making you halt mid-process.

"What is it-"

"Here let me help you out."

God, he was also wearing a silver glinting necklace. Now that is fucking sexy!

Draco unclasped his own necklace, putting either ends of it into the ring until it hang perfectly. When it was perfectly adjusted just how he wanted it to, he offered it to you without double thinking, a genuine grin sprawled on his handsomely face.

You were still deeply honored yet it felt... Wrong. "Draco- I really appreciate this but- it's yours and we barely even talk-"

"I don't care about that." He flawlessly said. "You remind me of someone I deeply love and... I guess this is my way of being grateful we met at this untimely night." He scoffed and you're a bit sure you saw a hint of blush on his face.

"Really?" You didn't bother asking who that person was since he probably wasn't in the mood to tell you. You were flattered by his words as you accepted his offer.

"Yes. Now take this, and wear it. I want to see your hands with my rings, Y/n." He flirtatiously spoke, giving you another wink.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous act. As you were about to out it, he stopped you once more and this time you were a bit provoked. "What is it again?"

He shrugged, and now the blush hidden in his handsome features was now displayed. It was cute seeing his pale, porcelain skin yo be tainted with a tinge of scarlet. He took the necklace into his hands and made strong and seducing type of eye contact. You nearly tripped at his look right now as he said. "Let's make this scene a bit... Romantic. And by that..." He clasped the necklace on your neck, his fingers ghosting your skin ever-so-slightly. "I get to do this to you."

You shudder, not just because of the cold weather, but because of his cold touch. It was so nice against your skin that you wanted him to do it again. You smiled and bit your lip to restrain any embarrassing words. "Draco, you're being too sweet-"

"Am I? People always like the idea of making me sound rude. It feels good I get to prove it to you that that is a lie." His hands sat ok your shoulder, the pad of his thumb caressing you pulse point between your neck and shoulder.

"I understand that. When people wanted to make you sound like a villain when truly your just trying to be genuine and basic?"

Draco grinned. "Yeah, Y/n. Something like that."

You contemplated for a moment, the tension between you building up because of how close your lips had been. It was merely an inch apart, your noses almost touching that you suddenly want to feel the saccharine taste of his lips and the soft texture pressed against yours. Maybe it would be the cure to your insomnia-driven nights. Maybe it would ease and alleviate you.

"You're pretty, you know?"

You were taken a back. You stared at his eyes still and didn't even realize his hands had dropped down to your elbows, pulling it closer to him, informing you that he wants your hands to lean on his chest—to feel how ragged his breathing had gotten just by her presence. You flinched a little and smiled.

"Oh?" Was the only word to roll out of your tongue.

"Mhm." Draco was lost in his own void, his concentration had dropped from your eyes and down to your gaped lips. "So pretty..."

Fuck...

You couldn't bear the growing impatience anymore and you knew to yourself that you had to do something about it. Something to help soften his heavy breathing. He looked tired and worn out. Fragile and about to burst. You had to do something about it quick before he breaks.

Shit!

And so you lifted your heel to match his height and pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth. For a moment Draco closed his eyes to memorize the way both your lips linked—he was awestruck. He smelled good. So good that you wanted to give another go but was frustrated enough that he didn't slam you against the wall and leave you breathless from his aggressive kisses so you just stood there and watched him remember the unsolicited peck you just gave him.

"Y/n-"

"Can I kiss you?" You abruptly said without hesitation. "Again? And this time... Better?"

Shit..

He nodded in the slightest of movement before lowering his head and both your lips met anew. There were fireworks and butterflies erupting in your stomach and all you could feel was how graceful and subtle his tongue shifted against yours and it was pure bliss. And this time, it was rougher than you thought.

a/n: AHHH! i hope you liked this one, and also PART TWO IS COMING SOON! sorry, I left y'all in a cliffhanger ;))

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco imagine #draco one shot #draco fanfiction #harry potter #draco x y/n #draco x ravenclaw!reader #slytherin #ravenclaw

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (1/5)

part one of the The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 6.3k 

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, eventual smut. 

a/n: at the end. @tiffdawg​, I finally did it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Your alarm buzzes, and you roll over groggily. 

0615.

Goddamn. You flop a pillow over your head, blocking out the early morning sun, and wonder if three hours of sleep is any better than no sleep at all. 

Somehow, you kind of doubt it. 

The alarm blares again, a failsafe you’d been wise enough to set up after round two had led you to the shower. You gather your still-damp hair, wincing at how gross that feels, and elbow Peña in the shoulder. 

“Morning, sunshine!” You toss your soggy pillow onto his face. 

He grunts pathetically, cracks an eye just enough to send you a sliver of resentment, and lifts a middle finger vaguely in your direction. 

You’re completely unsympathetic. “Not my fault this time, Peña.” 

He curses you in Spanish as you flick on the lights on your way to the kitchen. Coffee is your first order of business. 

You’re not sure exactly when Agent Peña became a fixture in your apartment.  Oh, you can nail down the general timeline pretty well - a night out with the Search Bloc boys had ended with Peña coming to your place, and things had unfolded naturally from there. The sex was good. Very good. You’ve always had a high drive, and Peña is a man who can deliver. You’re pretty creative, and he’s fairly open minded, and neither of you seem to care to make things complicated with Labels and Conversations. Somewhere down the line, wild nights out evolved into even wilder nights in, and then, before you knew it, you’d let Peña borrow your spare key when he’d left his wallet on your coffee table. 

That had been at least two months ago. The sex is still good, and Peña is still leaving his shit everywhere, so neither of you bothered to say anything about it. 

It works. That’s all that matters.

You’ve just sat down with your drink in your hands as the doorbell buzzes. “What the fuck?” You glance at the kitchen clock. It’s not even 0630.

The doorbell buzzes again. 

You eyeball the gun that Peña has left lying on the kitchen counter. Nobody should be looking for you this early in the morning. 

“Hey!” Somebody is knocking now, and shouting, and ugh, you recognize that voice. You leave the gun where it is - somewhat reluctantly - and slam open the door with a ferocity that sends Steve Murphy stumbling into your kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you say serenely. 

“Good morning to you, too, Ears,” Murphy grimaces up at you. 

“That’s not my name,” you remind him for the thousandth time. Not that it will make any difference. Ever since you’d made the mistake of introducing yourself as Centra Spike’s new liaison by saying, “I’ll be your ears,” the Search Bloc boys had leapt at the opportunity to tease. You’re pretty sure most of them don’t realize that you have any other name. 

Somehow, it irks you more coming from Murphy. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as politely as your temper allows. Murphy has never been your favorite person, and your caffeine definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.

Murphy rights himself, fixing you with a glare that doesn’t threaten in the slightest. “I’m looking for Javi,” he says. He has the audacity to glance around your tiny living space, as if he’d come with a search warrant.

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of your too-thin nightshirt, and lift a brow in Murphy’s direction. “And what makes you think he’d be here?”

Murphy pins you with an ‘I see right through your bullshit’ expression. “Call it a hunch.” 

Right on cue, footsteps clatter down the kitchen stairs. Murphy smirks. You don’t bother to hide a sigh. 

Fuck. 

“What are you doing here?” Peña echoes you unconsciously. You try not to cringe at the smug glance Murphy throws your way.

 Instead, you turn to glare at Javi, and oh god. 

His shirt is buttoned all wrong, hanging lopsided and displaying half his chest, if he’d just given up at the top. 

Subtle.

Murphy apparently doesn’t have the stones to address it, because he waves a manilla folder in front of Peña’s face. “Special delivery,” he says, dropping the file on your coffee table with a smack. 

Peña dives for it, brow furrowed. Whatever he sees must be good, because he snaps his head up to stare at Murphy. “Where did you get these?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“My contact in Medellín.” Steve rests his hands on his belt ever so casually, as if daring Peña to question him. 

Peña does. “Since when do you have a contact in Medellín?” 

You wonder the same. Partners are usually aware of each other’s informants, unless it’s that kind of contact. Isn’t Murphy married?

“Not important.” Murphy shuts him down quickly. 

“Verdugo,” Peña breathes.

You shoot a questioning glance at Murphy.  In the three months you’ve been in Colombia, your Spanish is rapidly improving, but Murphy has been here longer, and some things are still beyond you. “Butcher,” he translates with a grimace. “Or executioner. One of Escobar’s top sicarios.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lovely.”

Peña glances up, surprised to hear you speak, as if he’d forgotten that he’s standing in your living room.

Murphy doesn’t acknowledge you. “He’s in Medellín, Javi.” He stretches, then makes for your front door. “I’m gonna turn in for a bit. Late night.” 

Peña grunts, settling on your sofa with the file as Murphy sees himself out. 

You sidle up behind him, curious.  He knows you’re there - your hair is falling over his shoulder and you’re doing nothing to stifle your breathing, but Peña’s only acknowledgement of your presence is to shift his body ever so slightly to the left, unspokenly granting you access to the file.

You bite your lip, pleased and a little unnerved at the implication. You suppose that Peña wouldn’t be Peña unless he’s breaking the rules. He certainly has a reputation for it.

It hits a little differently, though, knowing that he’s committing a felony just to satisfy your curiosity. And on your fucking sofa, too.

You shake the butterflies away. Peña is flipping through a series of grainy photos, each showcasing the same guy. Somebody, Murphy probably, has circled his face in red ink, and there are further notes in the margins, written hastily. Landmarks, you guess. Peña is reading too fast for you to decipher much, but you spot a map of what you assume is Medellín in the shuffle. It is similarly annotated with scrawling red ink.

Peña flips through the file once, and then again, slower. 

You brace yourself on on your forearms, glancing at the clock. You aren’t expected at the embassy until eight - you can afford to be patient. 

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Deciding you’ve gleaned all you can from the file, you turn your attention to Peña. He’s leaned forward on your sofa, arms on thighs, lost in thought. Every muscle is tensed, as if he could spring up at any moment, his gaze is narrowed, his brow furrowed in a way that tempts you to lick it. 

The thought startles you. You aren’t a goddamn animal.

Are you? Your mind drifts to Murphy, smirking with his arms folded in your kitchen like he could see through your nightshirt, right into your fucking brain. 

A stone sinks in your chest. Landing this position with Centra Spike had been your first big break in a lifetime of frustrations. You’d joined the army fresh out of school, angling to be an analyst with the special forces. The good ol’ U. S. of A. had gladly foot the bill for your education in exchange for you signing your life away, and you’d chugged through a mind-numbingly boring double major of mathematics and computer science, all on the sage advice of your recruiter. 

The reality of active duty was a kick in the fucking teeth. The brass had taken one look at you - a wide-eyed, idealistic woman with a big hair and bigger goals - and promptly slapped you with a desk job. You’d spent three more years rotting away in a forgotten back corner of an office building in Kuwait, filing reports and delivering messages. Occasionally, they’d throw you a bone and hand you a code to rewrite. Your commanding officer got all the credit, and you were just a glorified secretary.

By the time your contract was up, you’d been sidelined, interrupted, passed-over, underestimated, scoffed, and just flat-out ignored enough to be thoroughly fed up with military life. The glass ceiling in the U.S. Army is raised just high enough to suffocate its victims slowly, and you were sick sick of being stifled. 

Being recruited by the CIA for analyst work in the hunt for Pablo Escobar had been pure, dumb luck. Right now, you might just be a liaison, but this is your shot. Your last one, probably, and you’re not willing to give it up just to get laid.

Not even for the best lay of your life.

Peña slaps the file shut with gentle smack, startling you from your thoughts. He reaches for his boots, moving with a single-minded determination that you’d find sexy if it weren’t so damned inconvenient.

“Peña.”

He doesn’t react, just gathers his badge and keys from the end table as if you aren’t even there.

“Peña.” You say it louder this time.

“Hmm?” 

“Javi!” You call his name without even realizing it, and it works. His head snaps up, eyes wide, staring at you as if he’s just now seen you for the first time.

You have his undivided attention now. 

“Yeah?” He blinks, all wide brown eyes, and fuck it all, you can feel yourself flushing under his gaze. 

You swallow hard, push past the strange flutter in your chest. “We’re getting too predicable.” 

His brow furrows. “Come again?”

You decide to take the high road, but you can’t stop your lips twitching at the obvious joke that he’s left himself open for. He’s quick to follow your though process, though - his eyes sparkle with laugher, daring you to call him on his blunder. 

Shit.

You press on. “This,” you start, grimacing. He’s still looking at you, and his expression is warm. Flirtatious. “What we’re doing…” Goddamn, your face is aflame. “I mean, we’re not exactly subtle.”

He draws back, expression shuttering instantly. “Don’t worry about Murphy,” he says firmly. “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

The ‘if he knows what’s good for him’ is clearly implied.

“It’s not just Murphy,” you press. You can’t exactly put into words what it is that you're trying to make Peña understand, you just know it's important that he does.

“What are you suggesting?” He’s standing now, still holding the file against his chest, as if to defend himself with it. 

You shake your head. “I think,” you say slowly, trying hard not to catch his eye, “that we need to cool it.”

Silence. You can feel his raised eyebrow.

You step forward. You’re focusing hard on finding the right words without revealing too much, but your hands are desperate for something to do. “We need to stop fucking around.”

There, you said it.

“Oh?” There’s something amused in his tone, but you shrug it off, still refusing to look at him.

“Yeah,” you answer hotly. “Isn’t this fraternization? Shouldn’t we be worried about our careers, or some shit? We both have a lot to lose here.” You glance up, emboldened by your speech. “Do you want to catch Escobar or not?”

He’s looking down at you, not taking you the least bit seriously, expression damn near indulgent. 

Indignation sets a fire in your chest.

“You think you can just quit me, cold turkey,” he asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

Goddammit, he’s mocking you.

“Absolutely.” You look him firmly in the eye, former awkwardness forgotten, more determined than you’ve ever been. 

He huffs directly in your face. “You won’t last a week, Ears.” He cups your cheek in his hand, skimming your jawline with his thumb. “I know you, remember.”

Oh, the bastard. “You think you can go longer?” You counter, stepping into his chest. You’re pissed now. Peña is a well-known man whore, and you know, know, that you are exactly his type.

He laughs now, openly and genuinely amused. “Longer than you,” he says, glancing down at where your hands are absently fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

“I’m fixing you, you absolute asshole,” you hiss, beyond grateful that you’ve yet to undo his last cockeyed button. “Unless you want to show up at the office all freshly fucked and lopsided.” You hold up the hem of his shirt, clearly displaying his mismatched edges.

“Oh.” At least he has the grace to look abashed. 

“Yeah,” you swallow dryly, suddenly aware of how close he his, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, sex and the scent of your own bedsheets. 

Goddamn, you want him already. 

You push it all away, patting him condescendingly on the chest. Two can play this game. “Just looking out for your career, Agent Peña.”

He sighs somewhat theatrically, but you can see the conflict warring in him. 

“Well, then, Ears,” he says after a long moment. He rebuttons his shirt properly this time, fingers working quickly. “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

You meet his gaze evenly. “Guess so.”

The door shuts behind him, and you sink to the sofa. It’s still warm from where he’d been sitting.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

♠

You’re not watching, you’re not, but you can’t help but notice when Peña comes swaggering into the office at ten am, wearing those sunglasses and those fucking too-tight, dark wash jeans, chugging a cup of coffee like he knows that his exposed neck is a weapon. 

You make eye contact through the glass, just for a moment, and he winks at you.

You smirk back, a plan forming in your mind.

This means war. 

♠

You retaliate by letting your hair curl wild over your shoulders and squeezing yourself into a leather skirt that is just barely work appropriate. The Search Bloc boys bombard you with whistles and winks and catcalls all day. 

It’s worth it, though, to see Agent Peña’s eyes go wide and blinking, to watch him swallow so hard. 

“Fucking tease,” Murphy hisses as you glide past his desk. 

You flip him off in response. 

♠

Your apartment feels strangely empty. 

It’s Saturday afternoon. Search Bloc is investigating a tip in Medellín, and Centra Spike doesn’t need you in today. You briefly consider going out, but that would involve changing out of your sweats, and besides, aside from the Search Bloc guys, you really don’t have many friends in Colombia. 

You sit down on your sofa, drawing the coffee table toward you, and deal yourself a hand of solitaire. The cards had belonged to your dad before he passed them down to you, and they are comfortable in your hand, worn soft with age. There’s a trick to shuffling a deck this old, and something comfortable in the practice. 

The hand you deal is a losing hand. 

Frustrated, you stomp down the stairs to the little pharmacy below your flat. “Hola, Emilio!” you wave to the older man working the counter. Emilio doesn’t speak much English, and your Spanish is improving slower than you’d like, but you mostly manage to communicate just fine. 

You make your way to the little display of liquor bottles and ponder it for a minute. There’s nothing remotely recognizable on the shelves, but you’re not exactly committed to buying anything, anyway. 

There’s nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. 

 A presence at your shoulder makes you jump. It’s just Emilio. He smiles at you, and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor whose packaging reminds you a little too much of antiseptic hand spray for comfort. He presses it into your hands. “Guaro.”

“This is what I need, then?” you ask him. “Este? It’s good?”

“Guaro.” He’s nodding and grinning, rattling something in rapid-fire Spanish that you’re far too slow to translate. The enthusiasm behind it is hard to miss, though.

“He says it’s good and strong. Respect it, and it will respect you.” Emilo’s daughter winks up at you. She’s bent over, stocking shelves, and you’d missed her, distracted as you’d been by your conversation with Emilio.

You smile gratefully. Ana must be home from university this weekend. You’ve only met once or twice, but she’s kind, and doesn’t mind translating for you. You think you might have been friends, if she was around more.

“Gracias,” you tell her, and mean it. “Aguardiente,” you sound out slowly, frowning down at the bottle. “Sugar water?”

“Something like that.” Ana rises, leaving the box of chicharrones on the floor. “You’ll find that most of the locals just call it guaro. It’s a staple in Colombia. Hard to find anywhere else, and even transporting it between cities is dangerous.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, as if to say, ‘what’s new?’ 

“But it’s just liquor, right?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Alcohol, sugar, anise…” She shrugs, and laughs. “Simple, but there’s something magic about it. You don’t want to go too hard with this. Sit down and have a small glass with a lime. Slower is better.” 

You frown. Anise. It jogs something in your memory, some long-forgotten fact…

“Trust me.” Ana is at your elbow now, pinning you with an earnest stare. “It hits hard, and fast. Papa wasn’t lying.”

You laugh. “Is that the college experience speaking?”

“Oh, yes. Seguro.” 

Ana follows you as you take the bottle of guaro to the register. “And how are your classes going?” you ask as Emilio rings you up. 

Ana grimaces, shaking her head as she cuts her gaze to Emilio. “It’s good to have a little break,” she admits. 

You sympathize with that. You hadn’t cared too much for the tedium of higher education either. Emilio hands you a little paper bag, and you wave goodbye to him with a smile. “I’ll have to catch you when you’ve got a free weekend,” you tell Ana as you head toward the stairs that lead to your flat. You hold up the liquor suggestively. “You can teach me all about how to respect this guaro.”

Ana laughs. “What are you doing this evening? We close up at eight.”

Your face breaks into a grin. It’s hard making friends in Colombia just with the language barrier alone, never mind that your work with Centra Spike forces you to keep so many secrets. Without Peña around, life here is lonely. But Ana seems innocent enough, and it’s just a drink. “Perfect! I’ll be here.”

You walk up the steps feeling much lighter than when you descended them.

♠

Ana doesn’t stay long. She looks around your apartment, carefully assessing, then nodding as if satisfied. 

You let it go.

She teaches you to tap the bottom of the bottle to expel the liquor, almost as if you’re pouring ketchup from a glass container. Looking at the contents, they don’t seem particularly viscous. When you ask her why this is necessary, Ana shrugs.  “It’s a mystery,” she tells you, and you write it off as one of the eccentricities of Colombian culture, paying rapt attention as Ana begins explaining one of only three acceptable ways to serve the guaro.  

♠

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce brightly, slapping both hands firmly on Javier Peña’s desk and leaning in just a hair too close to be strictly professional. 

“Oh?” His face breaks into a slow smirk, and he tilts back in his swivel chair, stretching just enough to give you a good view of those too-tight jeans as he hooks his fingers behind his head. “And what’s that?”

Smug fucking bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. You cool your jets and wink at him, teasing a manilla file for him to see. “We thought you might like this.”

“We?”

“Okay, fine, Jacoby caught some chatter, but I vetted it,” you press on, refusing to let him derail you. This is huge. “It’s Verdugo.”

Peña glances up at you, suddenly intense. “You sure?”

“Well, it’s not him personally,” you admit. “At least, not his voice. But,” You slam the transcript down on his desk. “We caught an entire conversation verifying his presence at a safehouse in Medellín.” You pause for full dramatic effect before going in for the kill. “A specific safehouse in Medellín.”

Javi reverts to Agent Peña instantly, all flirting forgotten as he leans forward on his elbows. “Show me.”

You bend over, noticing absently that your hair is once again falling into his face as you tap your finger over the address. Peña settles in to read the full report as you watch, his eyes darting back and forth over the pages at a rate that is truly impressive. When he glances back up at you, the ferocity of his gaze is startling. 

“They’re getting ready to make a move.” There’s something like a spark of hope in his eyes, tiny, but growing stronger as he processes the information you’ve given him.

“Yeah,” you say, throat suddenly dry. He’s looking at you with earnest gratitude, and it tugs at something deep in your chest.

“This is big,” he breathes, and just like that, he’s on his feet, gathering the file, punching a number into his desktop telephone. 

“This is Peña,” he says as the call connects. “We’ve got something.”

♠

It’s dark when you finally get home. Claudia Messina, head of DEA operations in Colombia, had cornered you in her office for hours, going over and over the information you’d vetted. You brain is absolutely fried, the victory of the discovery stifled by having to defend your work again and again. 

You just need a drink. 

“About time!” a voice startles you as you turn to shut the door behind you. You jump, barely suppressing a shriek, and whirl around. 

Goddamn Javier Peña with his goddamned spare key.

He’s smirking at you from your sofa, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Any other day, you’d have noticed his presence instantly just from the smell. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice is more of a whine than you’d like, but dammit, you’re tired, and dammit, he’s gotten one over on you. 

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. “Expecting somebody else?” he asks, sauntering toward you with a devastating smile that manages to be both possessive and suggestive all at once. 

“No,” you answer somewhat grumpily. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Given your sulky attitude, you’re surprised to see that his smile brightens a bit. You frown at him, still confused as to why the fuck he is here, and he bustles into the kitchen, clinking around, pouring you a drink. 

You sigh and relax onto the sofa. At least you’ll have that.

He comes back, a tumbler of clear liquor in each hand. Ah, so he’s found your guaro. You suspect that he’s helped himself to at least one measure already. He hands you a glass, and you take it gratefully, sniffing at the contents. 

He’s drinking it neat, apparently.

“So!” he says, settling beside you on the sofa, close enough that your thighs touch. He pins you with an intense stare. You raise a brow in response, intrigued and a little confused. 

He smiles. “Your tip from this morning was a gold mine, Ears.” He eases back, propping his feet on your coffee table in a way that you should probably reprimand him for. He sips, sighs, leans in to bump your shoulder playfully, then settles with his hands at his waist, long fingers fiddling with the glass he’s cradling. “Martinez wants us to go for Verdugo tomorrow,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “Based on your information.” 

“Really?” You can hardly believe it. Most of what you do is verify things that others have found, or carry files from Centra Spike to Search Bloc. Same old, same old. Even though you’ve trained for this for years, you’ve never been integral in interpreting and locating a conversation before, especially not for a target as high level as Verdugo. 

Javi twists to smile up at you, a real smile. “Really,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. He watches you fight back a grin. “Go on, be smug. This is big.”

“Wow,” you mouth, somewhat awed that you’ve contributed anything, let alone this, to the hunt for Pablo Escobar. 

The reaction isn’t lost on Javi. He sits up, wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes gently. “Pretty much. You gave us enough information that we feel confident about initiating a sting in Medellín.” He reaches up with both hands, catching your face at the edge of your jaw and drawing you close. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Ears.”

Ears. Yours are burning at the heat of his touch. You’re acutely aware of his palms cupping your cheeks. His eyes are dark, too dark, and open, looking at you as if you’ve single handled handed Escobar to the DEA on a golden platter. 

You suppress a shudder, leaning in to him as he pulls you in for a hug. Christ, his body feels so good as it cradles yours, arms snaking around your back, stubble gritting awkwardly into your cheek, the scent of smoke and liquor clouding you -

You wonder, abruptly, how much he’s had to drink.

“Peña,” you say swiftly, pulling away from him to stand. The way he’s looking at you right now, giddy and awestruck and openly hungry, well, it’s not going to last. You know it won’t. It can’t. 

His face falls, as if he’s confused at your sudden rejection. 

You shake your head. Peña is just drunk. You guys aren’t like this. You don’t hug and share and hold each other. It was only ever sex, and it’s not even that anymore. 

You’re overwhelmed, suddenly and without warning, at how desperately you want him. 

Not just the sex, though honestly, you have missed that. No, what you want is - 

You shove that thought down, locking it away so deeply that it will never see the light of day. 

You cannot have feelings for Javier Peña. 

“Ears?” he questions, tilting his head just so, managing to look more sober than he has all evening. 

“I just need another drink,” you say as you sidestep him, making your way to the kitchen. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as his gaze follows you. He seems to take your deference at face value - he’s lighter than you’ve seen him in weeks, excited, almost chipper, if you can believe it. The meeting with Martinez must have gone very well. You snort, contrasting his meeting to yours with Messina. The dissonance is enough to wonder, offhandedly, if some not-so-subtle sexism is at play. 

You shake off that thought. It’s not helpful, just depressing, especially here in Colombia. Instead, you turn to look at Javi. 

He’s still flopped on your sofa, his original drink in his hand, hunched over the stack of playing cards that you’d left out last night. 

Your dad had taught you to play solitaire from a young age. There’s a variation for two players, a game which one will inevitably win, but the real challenge is for the single player, in which triumph relies equally on skill and luck. Last night, after Ana had left, you’d played a long, brutal game, ultimately finding yourself blocked, helpless to do anything but shuffle the deck over, and over, and over again. 

Losing two games in a row is just shameful, and you’d left the cards on the table, eager to look at them again with fresh eyes. 

Javi eyeballs the game with a furrowed brow. You’d managed to make it quite far. Had the cards fallen in any different order, you’d have won easily. Carefully, Javi flicks over one card from the stack, frowns, then another. This one is a red queen, and he plays it eagerly, shuffling the black jack to its new position and opening up another space. 

“Hey!” you protest. He glances up at you, bemused, and you shove a newly made drink into his hand as you settle beside him. 

“You missed that move,” he explains, pointing exaggeratedly with the pinky finger that holds the tumbler. 

You roll your eyes. “I play draw three,” you correct him. You reshuffle the cards to their original places, this time drawing three from the deck: a five of spades on top, Javi’s red queen in the middle, and the ace of spades below both. The top card, the five of spades, has no place to be played, so you flip all three cards into the discard pile and draw three more from the deck. 

Javi frowns. “Seems like you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be.”

You sigh. Men. “Single draw solitaire is for kids,” you counter with a vicious smile. “Just for them to learn to play the game. Real players draw three.”

He huffs, “Oh, really?” he’s smirking up at you, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Are you the kind of woman who likes a challenge, Ears?”

He’s just dying to prove you wrong. 

“I’m the kind of woman who refuses to cut corners just so I can win a dumb card game.” you inform him sagely.  

“Hmmm,” he says, staring contemplatively at the cards. You let him shuffle through the deck twice, each time verifying what you already know - the game, played as it is, is unbeatable. 

‘Seems a little silly to me,’  he teases, bopping you on the nose. “Letting your ego get in the way of winning.”

Of course Javier Peña would see it that way. You kick back, letting your feet settle at the edge of the coffee table. “Go on then,” you tell him, siping at your drink. “Swoop in and save my game with your kiddie version, you fucking hero.”

He laughs overtly at that, eyes sparkling, and something clenches hard in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so open, laughing and flirting and playing stupid games after a long day at work. 

It’s nice.

You settle in to watch him work his magic. He’s making plays at an alarming rate - it seems like no time at all before the deck is empty. 

You glance at the clock, biting back a sigh. Less than five minutes. 

He’s smirking up at you, all mussed and smug, eyes alight with warmth, and suddenly, something swoops dangerously in your belly.

That hair, those eyes, his laugh. Warm skin in the dim glow of the lamplight, his body sprawled over your sofa, just begging to be teased. 

You wonder again why he’s here. You’ve made it clear that there’s no more sex, so…

Oh, god. 

Glancing back down at him, tousled hair and crooked smile, ridiculous mustache, plopped indelicately on your sofa, you suddenly realize. 

Javier Peña had sought you out for your company. For no other reason than that he’d had a good day, and wanted to share it with you. 

And oh, oh god.

You’re still so caught up in the sex and your fucking feelings that you can’t divorce that from your friendship, which is obviously important to him. He’s not out celebrating with Murphy - he’s here, in your apartment, with no expectation other than to kick your ass by cheating at children’s card games. 

The realization takes the breath from your lungs. 

You’re the problem here. Just like with the fucking card game, you’re the one making it complicated. 

Javi needs a friend. 

Javi needs a friend, and he’d sought you out so that you can just chill together, and all you can think as he shuffles those damned cards is how the callouses of his fingers would catch deliciously against your clit as he dips them inside you. 

And, and…

You cut off that dark thought. You are not going there.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend are you?

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” you say. It’s a beat too late and obviously hollow, but Javi doesn’t seem to notice, and you’ve managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, so that’s a win. You rise, making for the kitchen, desperate to do something with your hands. You find yourself pouring Javi yet another drink - is this his third? Or fourth? You aren’t sure - and making yourself a second, much lighter version. 

The last thing you want is to do something stupid.

Javi meets you at the kitchen bar, and you slide the tumbler across to him. He eyeballs it speculatively, raising it and tilting it to view the contents in the dim kitchen light. 

“Goddamn, Ears.” He snorts. “Are you trying to poison me?” 

The denial falls from your tongue as he tilts back his glass from earlier, his second, - or third? - the one that you’d made. He swallows, pushing the empty glass back into you hand, and stands, catching himself on the edge of the table as if he’d moved too fast.

“Alright?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath, then straightens, slowly letting go of the countertop. “Fine,” he says, cocking a brow at you. “But what is that stuff?”

You laugh. “Emilio, you know, from downstairs, he found it for me. Says it’s a Colombian staple, and I can’t leave without having a bottle at least once.”

Javi blinks one too many times, then giggles. Despite your best effort, you snort at the sound. "Well then,” he raises his full tumblr to your half full one, and they clink awkwardly. “To local rotgut and poor life choices,” he toasts, as solemnly as he as able.

“Salud!” you counter, managing to sound a just a hair more sober. Javi is swaying as he stands, and suddenly, you’re concerned. “When did you last eat?”

He glances at you, tilting his head as if your question makes no goddamn sense, and you sigh heavily. Idiot man.

“Okay, hold off on that one,” you warn him - he looks as if he’s about to toss it back, too. “Let me at least make you some eggs first.”

“Eggs?” 

You’re already bustling around your tiny kitchen, pulling a pan from below the stove. “Yeah, moron,” you tell him, unable to stop the grin that catches your lips. “Eggs and salsa. Best food for staving off a hangover that I’ve found so far.”

Javi throws back the rest of his drink anyway, then comes to press his body to your side. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a fucking science,” you counter, unable to resist slamming your hips into his to nudge him out of the way as you reach into the fridge for the butter. 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I be of assistance?” he purrs into your ear, and suddenly, it’s very, very hard to concentrate on cooking. 

“Sit. Down.” You hiss, slapping his butt with a dishtowel. He yowls more than strictly necessary, the drama queen; you’re an excellent towel-popper, but it shouldn’t hurt that much. 

Still, you rub his ass in compensation, matching his lecherous grin when he fixes it on you. “Have a seat,” you tell him again, kicking a barstool vaguely in his direction. “And watch the magic.”

♠

Javi cleans his plate enthusiastically. “So what’s the secret?” he asks, mouth full, still staring up at you like your shitty scrambled eggs are the best meal he’s ever eaten.

You snort. “No secret, Peña.” You hold up your stick of butter, much lighter than it’d been before, and toss it back into the fridge. “You literally just watched me cook them.”

He grins loopily.

You shake your head, biting back your own smile. How could a man as competent and independent as Javier Peña forget to do something as basic as eat? 

Well, it hardly matters. Even with the food you’ve made, he’s going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Ana had cautioned you several times to go easy on the guaro, and you trust her judgement. Emilio’s shit, in particular, is cheap, potent, and deadly. 

Well, he’ll pay for it tomorrow. You shake you head, watching him bumble around the kitchen and drop his dirty plate in the sink. Javi stands at your side, warm and solid as you draw just enough water to let the dishes soak. 

He reaches for your dish soap, and you stop him with a hand on his arm. Javi glances down at you, still a little drunkenly, but his eyes are warm, his lips parted just slightly, and you pull away from him as if burned.

“I’ll get them in the morning,” you manage hoarsely.

He shrugs, brushes your shoulder with his hand as he bumbles away, and you take a moment to lean against the sink and calm your racing heart. 

God, what is with you lately?

Javi has already crashed on your sofa, shoes kicked off, legs sprawled, grinning lazily in your direction. 

You manage not to oogle at him, but it’s a near thing.

Instead, you flop down on his opposite side, allowing your legs to tangle in the middle.

He makes a big show of yawning, tilting his wrist up to glance at his watch. You crane your neck to look at the kitchen clock. It’s only 10:33, but you’re both feeling a little lit - Javi more than you, thankfully - and you both have a big day tomorrow. 

You sigh, reaching down to collect the empty glasses and discarded playing cards, slipping Javi’s keys in your back pocket while he’s not looking.

He scoffs.

Oh. You whirl, realizing he’d been watching you all along. 

“So, am I staying over, Ears?” He grins up at you, a little tired, but still in an excellent mood. 

“You are definitely staying over, Peña,” you tell him firmly, trying not to laugh at the wounded puppy expression on his face as he reacts to your tone. His eyes have gone so wide, pout so pathetic that you can’t help but grin, even as you toss a throw pillow haphazardly over his lap. 

That seems to get a rise out of him. He sits up, frowning at the pillow. “I’m on the sofa?” he whines. 

“Yup!’ you say happily, enjoying the power dynamic for what it is. Putting Javier Peña in your bed tonight would lead straight to…

Well, you’re both drunk, and even if you weren’t, you’re not willing to give up on your bet. Not with the nasty realization that you’d had tonight, for sure. 

Javi must follow your thoughts, because he sobers instantly. “Okay,” he says softly, settling back down and cramming the pillow beneath his shoulder.

You’re kind enough to tuck him in, which really just consists of dragging your comforter from you bed and draping it over his ass and shoulders. His boots are lying haphazardly on the floor - you decide to leave them for him to trip over in the morning - and you don’t bother to cover his feet, knowing that he sleeps with his socks outside of the blanket, the weirdo.

Just as you turn away, a single brown eye catches your gaze. He’d been watching you again.

The thought sends a tremor down your spine. “Need anything else?” you ask clinically, trying to ignore the urge to either kiss him, or scream. 

He huffs contentedly, rocking against the cushions like an animal sinking into a burrow. His eyes drift closed, and you can’t help but just notice how dark his lashes are against his cheek. “Can’t think of anything,” he murmurs, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Good night,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder as you pass by to turn out the lights.

“Night, babe.”

You choke. Well, maybe he won’t remember. 

Fat chance. He’s drunk, but he’s not wasted. You decide to raise him, because any other response from you will be awkward, forever.

“Good night, honey,” you answer sweetly as you flick off the light. 

In the darkness, you hear him snort.

♠

author’s notes/confessions: 

I have never written Javier Peña. I have never written in second person. I have never written decent smut. I speak no Spanish. Advice and criticisms, if delivered kindly, are very welcome. 

Yeah, I realize that I wrote Javi a little lighter/goofier here than he’s probably typically depicted. Hang tight, guys. He’s not taking this seriously yet, but he will be. Just wait. 

Guaro/Aguardiente a legit Colombian liquor, and I tried to depict it as accurately as possible for never having tried it. The anise thought that reader has is a reference to absinthe, which is a trip if you’ve ever managed to acquire the real deal (something that’s kind of difficult if you live in the States, unfortunately). Also, I’m unsure if you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy liquor in Colombia, but hey, just go with it. 

This started as a conversation with Tiff and turned into... well, this. I am so, so sorry. Expect about 20k and three chapters. Probably. 

Not beta’d. you get what you get, my friends. 

At the risk of sounding pathetic, your feedback absolutely inspires me to write faster. I don’t make the rules, guys. I just write.

This installment is (mostly) complete, but I’d love to hear what you like and what you don’t, and what you want to see next. My inbox is open. I welcome messages. I want to make friends.  

Love you guys big, and happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating!

#Javier Peña #narcos #javi x reader #Javier Peña x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javi x you #narcos fic #smut #narcos fanfiction #pedro fandom #pedro fanfiction #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña imagine #narcos netflix

[crackedoutwalnut]

Never Quite Free (Natasha x Reader)

Summary: Natasha grows concerned after you start ignoring her and decides to check on you.

!TW WARNINGS: Implied sexual assault, PTSD, and panic attacks! (lots of fluff near the end to make up for it i promise)

A/N: just a vent fic,,, as a treat. The song referenced in the fic is Never Quite Free by The Mountain Goats, in case you want to listen to it for context though you don't have to.

--

It's all good to learn that right outside your window There's only friendly fields and open roads And you'll sleep better when you think You've stepped back from the brink And found some peace inside yourself Laid down your heavy load It gets all right to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him you'll know

For the longest time, going out into the world was like maneuvering across a field of landmines. The bombs could be set off by nearly anything, from minute details that had latched themselves to the back of your mind to glaring reminders that were almost impossible to ignore. Anything and everything that reminded you of him had seeped its way into the cracks in your brain, leaving irreparable stains and water damage in its wake. From the smell of cedar and pine aftershave to the brassy sound of a jazz trumpet on a passing radio, these reminders were minuscule as thumbtacks, and yet they felt like railroad spikes being hammered into your chest and skull.

In the past, you would bury yourself in work or drink yourself nearly to death to escape his ever-present grasp on your mind. Your life had been filled with you shoveling meaningless noise into your routine in attempts to block out the alarm that always seemed a pin trigger away from sounding in your head. Then, you met Natasha. You learned that she knew over seven languages and almost exclusively cussed in Russian when she was pissed enough. You memorized her favorite shows and books and how she snored like a lawnmower when she laid on her left side- a fact she vehemently denied. Natasha Romanov was caring, smart, strong, and oh so protective.

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land It gets okay to praise the day Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath

These little bits of information filled your mind and heart with endearment and love, thoroughly pushing the smell of cedar aftershave and rot to the far back of your mind. And that was where he stayed for the longest time. For a whole two years, you filled your days with movie dates, forehead kisses, and late-night cuddles. She introduced you to her friends, Steve Rogers, Carol Danvers, Wanda Maximoff; you even befriended Tony Stark- though Natasha never explicitly refers to him as a friend. Everything was going so well for the first time since before you met him. But, like a cockroach, your past is not so easily killed.

But hear his breath come through his teeth,

Walk by faith Tell no one what you've seen

You were at a local coffee shop when you noticed him. He was sitting at the table adjacent to yours, scrolling through his laptop, briefcase at his side. When you beheld him, it was as if your muscles were turning to concrete slabs. They were dragging you down, below the faded wooden floorboards, below the concrete foundation, until you were choking on dirt and rocks. It took you nearly five minutes to realize it was not him. However, him or not, the damage was done. Because you had seen his well-kempt mustache and graying sideburns, had seen his eyes the color of a lethal tundra. You could have sworn you felt those eyes watch you as you rushed out of the café and into the crowded streets.

From that day on, he was back. He visited you in sleep and trailed you all throughout work—a hefty shadow. However, it was not until you were in bed with Natasha that it came to its tipping point.

Your fiancée, having noticed your peculiar attitude, had decided to surprise you with a night of candles and wine. Not wanting her to be more concerned than she already was, you played along. You forced yourself to reciprocate every kiss and caress despite the acid in your throat and the timpani in your chest. Eventually, Natasha swept you off your feet into a bridal style carry and led you into her bedroom. Gently setting you on the bed, she quickly straddled your hips. Leaning down, she cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a heated kiss. You swallowed down bile and half-heartedly opened your mouth to allow her tongue space to explore. She groaned and tore off her shirt as she pulled away from you.

"God, you're so sexy," she murmured, grinding her hips further against your abdomen. Natasha grabbed at your shirt, pulling it off your torso before chucking it across the room. You felt your throat tighten as your upper body was exposed to the elements. Your fiancée set about yanking off your sweatpants, murmuring bits of praise under her breath as she did so. Her gentle lithe hands seemed to grown more masculine and rough the longer they touched your bare skin. Her body morphed into the familiar form of a naked man. His sickeningly familiar graying mustache and coarse chest hair set flares of frigid panic through your body. He was here, he was here, hewasherehewashere.

Your body convulsed and kicked out at your assailant; flashes of his rough hands forcing your legs apart fueled the strength behind your attacks as you lunged to your feet. You shoved him off of you with a borderline unhinged snarl.

"Get the fuck away from me, Castor!" You screamed before hurriedly shoving on your clothes and sprinting out the door of the apartment. He was following you. You could hear his heavy footsteps thudding behind you. Your thighs burned from the sudden exercise, and the roaring in your ears drowned out your surroundings. You shoved your way into the elevator, nearly punching the first-floor button with your fist. Sweat dripped down the nape of your neck as you struggled to suck in breaths of air. Clutching your chest, you allowed your knees to collapse.

When the elevator slid open, you shot to your feet and ran through the lobby, out into the cool night. You clumsily pushed people aside, his voice clawing through your ear canal. You wildly waved down a taxi and slid into the back. Your voice was as flimsy as tissue paper as you gave the driver your address.

When you got home, you slid all three locks into place and snapped your curtains shut. You huddled under your blanket and slowly succumbed to a sleepless night.

--

Natasha was many things, but a worrier was not one of them. Why should she spend all her time fretting when she could just get up and solve the damn problem herself? However, after three days of complete radio silence on your end, she was sorely tempted to break into your apartment. That night, you had rushed out of her apartment as if the Devil himself had been at your heels. The look in your eyes had been that of a wounded animal. Natasha felt her stomach clench with anxiety as she stared down at her phone. 37 texts, 10 calls, 10 voicemails, and not a single message answered. You were always a punctual texter, which only made her worry worsen.

Natasha shoved her phone back in her back pocket and took a long sip of her coffee. What the hell could have caused you to run out of her apartment mid-sex? Not to mention, who the hell was Castor? Natasha finished off her coffee and set her red and black spider mug in the sink. The cup had been a 6-month anniversary gift, and she made sure to drink out of it every chance she got. After cleaning up the last of her breakfast, Natasha pulled out her phone once more and typed out another message.

Nat: darling I've tried giving you space but its been 3 days and I'm worried. I'm coming over.

Natasha moved to put the device away; however, after a second, she reconsidered it and unlocked it once more.

Nat: I love you <3

Pushing the phone into her pocket, she rushed out the door. When Natasha arrived at your apartment door, she immediately pulled out her phone once more. Nothing. She huffed a shaky breath and pulled out her copy of the apartment key. You had given it to her after you almost burnt down your apartment trying to cook for their date that night. She had to rush over to your apartment to clean up the damage done by the small grease fire and cook you both last-minute spaghetti.

She twisted the key in the lock and quietly pushed the door open. The apartment felt akin to a tomb. The curtains were drawn, and all the lights were off. Dirty dishes were piled up Tetris style in and around the sink, not to mention the empty takeout containers strewn throughout the living room and dining table. The TV was quietly playing It Chapter 2, yet you were nowhere in sight.

Worry continued to grip the assassin's chest as she called out, "Y/n, kotyonok are you here?" Being cautious of the numerous fast-food containers and clothing items thrown about, Natasha made her way towards your bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment before steeling her nerves and carefully knocking on your door. For a moment, she heard nothing, only the faint sound of Pennywise's voice coming from the living room. Then, just as she turned the knob to open the door, she heard whimpering. Her heart ramped up to a gallop as she quickly opened the door to your bedroom.

Natasha was certain she had seen war zone's tidier than this. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the bedroom, mattress, and wardrobe. Not to mention the numerous crumpled tissues and fallen picture frames. However, the state of your room was hardly her first concern because in the center of it all, huddled in shaking ball, was you. Painful sobs were rasping from your lips as you burrowed your face further into your knees. Your hair was tangled and greasy, and you were wearing one of Natasha's sweaters with a food-stained pair of boxer shorts.

The assassin felt sorely tempted to sprint across the rooms and scoop you into her arms. Instead, she went for the safer route, which was carefully wading through the mess over to your side of the bed. Tutting quietly, Natasha swallowed the urge to cry alongside you as she quietly cleared her throat. "Mon trésor, can you hear me?" she whispered, setting a hand next to your own, cautious not to make contact.

Instead of a relieved smile or a tired 'yes' like Natasha had expected, your entire body flinched away as if you had been punched. Your eyes snapped open as you scrambled across the bed, looking around hysterically. "Castor?" you called out, eyes wild with panic.

Natasha furrowed her brows and backed away from you. "Y/n it's me, Nat. I'm not here to hurt you; I just needed to see if you were okay."

Slowly, your eyes shone with recognition. Your body, however, remained as taught as before as you studied your fiancée carefully as if she was a trick or a mirage. Natasha felt her heart fracture slightly at the display of fear. "Nat?" Your voice was quiet and raspy; if she had not seen your mouth move, she would not have registered that you were speaking.

"Yes, kotyonok, it's me."

You furrowed your brows and brought your knees back up to your chest. "Wha-what're you doing here?" You asked, your voice slurred and shaky from the sobs racking your body.

Natasha carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, "I have been so worried about you. After you ran out on me a few days ago, I have been trying to check to see if you are okay."

Your face crumbled once more as you buried your face in your knees, "I-I'm," you hiccup, "Sorry, Nat."

Natasha tutted dotingly and slid back so that she sat beside you, still cautious not to touch. "Hey, hey, it's okay, darling. You're okay; just breathe for me. Can you do that, sweetie?"

You inhaled quick stuttering breathe, which quickly dissolved into hyperventilating. You clutched at your hair and squeezed your eyes shut.

Your fiancée watched with a heartbroken expression, "You're okay, you're okay, just keep trying. Can I touch you?" You nodded shakily as she pulled you onto her lap. Gently, she pulled your fists from your hair and replaced them with her own. She stroked your knotted locks and quietly cooed sweet nothings into your ear. She guided your fist to rest atop her chest as she whispered, "Copy my breathing okay, mon trésor?" Sucking in exaggerated breaths, she held her hand atop your own to keep it in place. After a few tries, your breathing eventually settled, and you let out a long whimpery sigh.

It's all good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone See the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head And look about, all the stars are coming out They shine like steel swords Wish me well where I go But when you see me you'll know

Natasha smiled and kissed the top of your head, "You're doing so well, my love. Nothings going to get you while I'm here, I promise."

You burrowed further into her lap and placed your head atop her chest, letting the sound of her steady heartbeat soothe you into a lull. The two of you sat there for what seemed like eons as you soaked in the feeling of safety and warmth. Natasha hummed quietly, placing chaste kisses on the crown of your head every once in a while.

Sucking in a breath, you spoke, "He was a family friend." Natasha's humming stopped as she looked down at you. "His name was Castor Davids, and my dad met him at work. He was nice at first, sort of like a goofy rich uncle. He would always buy me new toys and books. He would even take me out for ice cream. Even when I got into fights with my parents, I knew I could always talk to him when I was upset. But then..." you gulped, your voice breaking. Natasha continued stroking your hair. "But then one day, he was babysitting me while my parents were out at a baby shower. H-he..." Your words broke off into a sob, and your fiancée quickly shushed you.

"You're safe; you're here with me. No one can hurt you, I promise. Just relax, darling. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that you're safe now." Eventually, after a few more minutes of comforting words and protective hugs, the phantom hands that had been grasping at you for days disappeared.

You burrowed your head further into her chest and huffed, " 'm sorry I ran out on you the other night. I shoulda texted."

Natasha chuckled humorlessly, "Darling, that is the least of my worries. What I am worried about, however, is the last time you had an actual healthy dinner." You looked down at your lap sheepishly and shrugged. Natasha playfully pinched your side and untangled herself from your hold. You whined at the loss of contact and looked up at her accusingly. "I am going to make you a proper dinner, and we are going to sit down and watch stupid TV shows."

You huffed, "Can we watch House Hunters?"

Natasha sighed and nodded, "Fine, only because I love you, though." You grinned and slid out of bed. Your fiancée inspected you with a grimace, "First, we're going to take a shower."

--

TAG LIST:

@midnight-lestrange

#black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanov #avengers fic #marvel fic #avengers x reader #wlw #gay #pls read the tw before reading

[thiserichann]

cookies and cream - lee jeno

reader x jeno

genre: smut, strangers to fuck buddies, humor if you squint hard enough

word count: 4k-ish

warnings: recklessness (she met with a stranger online, don’t do it kids) excessive lying, 18+ scenes that includes: oral (f receiving) face riding, soft dom!jeno?

This is merely a work of fiction and is not meant to hurt the image of Jeno and NCT. Again, don’t be as reckless as OP. This was just a fantasy of mine that I’ve been dying to get out of my system.

Holy fuck.

That's the only word that you've managed to utter when you decided to check your messages that morning.

You got bored in the middle of the class and decided to sneak a peek on your phone to pass the time. The class is recorded anyways so you can always just go back to the parts of the lessons that you've missed.

But holy fuck.

You never expected to see THAT so early in the morning.

"Miss Y/N?"

You snapped back to reality and stopped malfunctioning for a second when somebody called your name. Everyone including your professor remained quiet and all eyes are on you.

"Oh. Sir what’s the question again?"

You answered nervously as you tried to review your notes and backtrack on what he is discussing a few moments ago.

"I see that you're distracted in the middle of my class again. Mind sharing what you're occupied with?"

"Uhm. I was watching KPOP fancams, sir."

"Fancams won't get you into law school, Miss Y/N. Phones off please."

You tucked your phone back to your pocket and never picked it up again since. The professor started blabbering again but no information is being retained on your head. It stayed that way at your other classes.

You wished you were looking at some KPOP fancams earlier. You’ve watched fancams at class before and got away with it unscathed.

Oh no. It was a goddamn dick pic.

A good one, too.

It was from a guy that you met in a kink site a few days ago. You created the account out of boredom and expected nothing to come out from it. It’s all the flirting and sexting without all the unnecessary commitment

It only took you a few minutes to set up an account. For some privacy, you made a random birthdate and a random nickname, because like hell would you share your real information to these people. You also picked a racy picture of a lady that looked a bit like you and passed it off as your own.

Within minutes, your inbox is flooded with messages. Most of them, however, are from men who are old enough to be your father.

Well, you were bored, so you entertained everyone and then went on back to your boring, vanilla life. A few political history and theory books later, you went back to see which ones messaged you on the site.

And that's where you've met him.

The most gorgeous piece of meat alive.

He seems like a nice guy. He introduced himself as LJ and your age aren’t that far off from each other. LJ is the only one who actually engaged in conversation besides "want to fuck?" or "are you horny?"

As soon as you started messaging back and forth, you scrolled on his profile to see what he looks like. The only thing is, his profile looked a whole lot like those high fashion male underwear photoshoots.

It was an array topless pictures (presumably his, you just can’t be bothered to check if it is actually his). It featured his sculpted abs and biceps, cropped up all the way to his full lips. Despite not seeing his whole face, you knew very well that he’s a hunk. To say you were intrigued is an understatement.

Since then, you've been talking back and forth through Snapchat (your secret one because you're not stupid) and sent him actual pictures of yourself, completely omitting the face. You took one from your bed, your bathtub, and probably every part of your house that you felt is sexy enough to be included on the pics.

You can't tell him if it's him or the repressed sexual urges finally manifesting itself after more than a year of not getting laid, but every text to and from him made your heart race. It was something that you looked forward to every hour everyday.

Hours went by that you totally forgot leaving him on read. You climbed up to your bed to rest your back to the headboard and opened your unread messages.

You: Hey svlr. School stuff.

  He opened the chat and started typing right away.

  LJ: Oh good. I thought I did something wrong to upset you.

You: Not at all. I loved the pic by the way. It literally knocked my socks off.

LJ: Just the socks?

You: You can take the rest of it off yourself ;)

You scoffed. The flirty banter has always been there ever since you started talking but nothing really came out of it.

LJ: If only I could :(

You: I know. Covid’s a bitch.

You set your phone aside for a second to go to the bathroom. On your way, you picked up some snacks at the fridge and sat back down to your bed, only to find your phone blowing up.

LJ: If you're down maybe we could meet

LJ: It's totally fine if you don't want to

LJ: I just made it weird, didn't I?

LJ: I'm so sorry I brought it up in the first place

LJ: I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable

LJ: Hello?

LJ: I'm really sorry

You: Chill. I'm right here

You: I just went to the bathroom

LJ: Oh

You: I'd be lying if I said I don't want to meet you as well

You: Well... I wouldn't write off the idea

You: But with the Covid

LJ: Thoughts?

You: I don't think it's a great idea

The screen says Seen right at the bottom but it took him a couple more minutes before finally replying.

LJ: I understand

LJ: But in case you change your mind, I'll leave the time and place up to you

LJ: I’ll take care of the rest

LJ: Deal?

You: I'll sleep on it.

You: Speaking of sleep, I gotta go. Morning class.

LJ: Okay. I guess this is good night then

You didn't, in fact, talk to him the day after.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't want to see him and his abs in real life. But as someone who overthinks a lot, you just can't shake off the risk.

You: Good night. Talk to you tomorrow.

What if he's not really the guy in the pics? Or he’s psycho in real life? What if he's infected the virus?

You sighed.

Why must some global pandemic ruin your sex life?

You waited until the end of the day before you finally replied to LJ. The last thing that he texted was a brief good morning from earlier in the day and nothing else. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy, totally not worth ghosting, and you actually liked talking to him as a friend that you can share your sentiments with.

With your guilt finally eating you up, you took a break from your assigned readings and sat back at your bed to rest for the day. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute, thinking of something to say to him. It took you a few tries before finally hitting the send button.

You: So, I thought about it

LJ: And?

You: I need to know I can trust you

LJ: Okay. How?

You: I don’t know. Send me a proof that you’re real. Get tested?

You: Is that fine with you?

Within a split second, he sent his reply.

He actually did it.

You couldn’t believe it but he actually did it.

LJ: Consider it done.

He got tested for physical, including the virus test, and passed with flying colors. He even sent you a vid of him inside a medical clinic.

He just sent the uncensored results this morning where you can clearly see his real name.

Lee Jeno.

LJ.

Seems legit.

Well, the uncreative nickname shouldn’t matter now because the results meant only one thing.

You’re gonna have to push through with your promise.

You got ready around noon that day. You can’t remember the last time that you actually got ready to meet someone that’s not a delivery guy or a relative passing on something to your family.

As someone who overthinks a lot, you actually got everything covered. You picked a place near a restaurant to eat. The police station is just a few blocks away just in case something happens, and right in front of a library…

“Where’re are you off to?”

You raised your backpack to show to your mother.

“I’m off to the library. I needed to get these renewed. Maybe pick up a novel or two.”

She looks at you from head to toe, eyeing that incredibly loose hoodie, faded denim jeans, some worn out sneakers that looked like it’s supposed to be thrown away years ago and a medical mask that covers about ¾ of your bare face. It’s just your usual attire whenever you go out for errands.

She just nodded and went back to watching her favorite soap opera.

“It’s nice that you’re out of your room for once. Take some cookies from the kitchen so you’ll have something to eat in case you get hungry.”

… as an alibi to get away from your strict parents.

As soon as you left the door and made sure that you’re out of sight, you found the nearest public toilet and grabbed a whole other outfit from your backpack. The hoodie is replaced by a white, ruffled see-through blouse and you ditched the jeans for a tight skirt that’s at least four inches above your knees. You tousled your hair a little bit and put on some powder and tiny hint of lipstick before putting your facemask back on again.

It’s been a while since you’ve done an elaborate scheme like this. Your skills got a little bit rusty, but they always work.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re really meant to be lawyer or a criminal instead.

You stepped out of the toilet and blended right back into society.

Now all you have to do is find wherever the hell LJ is.

Jeno sat anxiously as he waited for you right inside the café. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee but it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves down (geez I wonder why).

You: I’m almost at the café.

He’s been staring at his phone the whole time. Once he received your message, which is a pic of you in the bathroom after the outfit change, he almost choked on his drink.

This message sent him on a panic as he turned his camera on to see how he looked. He did some minor adjustments to his hair and he wiped off his eyeglasses clean with the sleeves of his hoodie (which did nothing for him by the way) and then casually sat down and played it off cool like he hasn’t been waiting for you for over an hour.

On your perspective, you walked inside the café and looked around for LJ. Fortunately, there was only guy inside the café, twiddling with his phone on his hands and as he kept on peeking through the glass windows as if he’s looking for someone.

From afar, he actually looked really cute. His appearance, a shy, nerdy dude with glasses, looked way off from the fuckboy image that you expected him to have in reference to the messages that you’ve been getting from him.

It’s always the quiet ones that are kinky. You should know, you are one.

You walked over to his table and tapped his shoulders to get his attention.

He froze for a moment before he finally managed to turn around and face you.

“You’re actually here.”

“I know. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

tap tap tap tap

The room is so quiet that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heels tapping against the tiled floor. You can say that that is one of your observable annoying habits tapping your foot on the floor when you're a nervous wreck.

Sighing in retaliation, you removed your hoodie, fanning yourself as you tried to relax and get comfy on the hotel couch (which should be comfortable enough since you paid a shit ton of money on that room), switching the TV on to get your mind off of things. The lackluster array of shitty sitcoms didn’t distract you at all, but it instead reminded you of the reasons why you’re in that room in the first place.

Having nothing to do to pass the time, you paced back and forth in the room, finally sitting down once you realized that it looks way worse than you just tapping your foot. You folded your arms right across your chest, looking at the watch from time to time but the hands of the clock seem to be moving slower the more you stare at it.

Quarantine started almost a year ago and it's been very hard for you. Sexually. It's been almost a year since you've been touched by a man and you’re more than ready to jump on anyone’s dick at any this point,

Too bad that that dick is taking his sweet time in the bathroom.

tap tap tap tap

Your foot found its rhythm once again, only this time, you’re not nervous anymore. Your patience is wearing thin.

As if summoned by the constant tapping, the guy comes out of the bathroom, just casually drying himself while wearing nothing but the towel dangerously hanging on his waist and a boyish smile on his lips.

No biggie.

"Hey."

Suddenly, you’re not tapping anymore.

Head empty, just thoughts of a hot guy patting down a towel all over his toned body.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”

He spoke, tossing aside the towel on his hands on the sofa, finally giving you a full view of him and all his glory.

You must admit, you’re skeptical at first. The guy that’s been sending you faceless thirst traps just days ago, telling you how he’d fuck you senseless looked a lot different from the guy who entered the hotel room just a moment ago.

He came in wearing those black oversized hoodies that did a great job in hiding his best features. His hair was a bit long for your taste, covering half of his face while the face mask hid the other.

But this man right here in front you, he’s Adonis.

You unconsciously bit your lower lip, earning a chuckle from the guy.

“I’m guessing that you’d like to start now?”

You nodded, the tension and awkwardness rendering you unable to speak.

He smiles as he takes the remote from you, turning off the television because the main show is about to start.

You started to tense up again, eyes wide as you realized that he’s now right beside you, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he sat down. He leans over, soft lips coming into contact with your exposed neck and shoulders, landing small pecks all over.

You sat there breathless as he slowly ran his fingers to the side of your thighs, tracing circles at it while giving small, reassuring kisses on your neck and shoulders. It’s as if he’s asking you for your consent, waiting for you to open up to him before he makes a move.

He got his answer when you turned around to face him, running your fingers into his cheeks before cupping his face, your lips finally touching his. He moved in the same pace as earlier, slow and calculating. You got a bit impatient once again, biting his lower lips gently to let him know that he can do more.

He grabbed you by the waist and successfully placed you on top of him. The kiss got even more sloppy as you ran your hands through nape, then into his soft locks. His hands travelled once again, finger running through legs again, stopping as soon as he reached the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to reveal the thin lace material that barely covered your core. You took that as initiative to remove the towel on his waist and grinded against his growing member, the friction and heat enough to earn a groan out of him.

He held your waist once again, firmly this time, halting your movement completely.

You broke away from the kiss, staring him in the eyes to read his face.

“Something wrong?”

“Hold tight.”

You were about to ask about what hold tight mean, but your arms cling unto him involuntarily as he lifts the both of you out of the sofa.

Jeno laid you gently in the bed, making sure not to break eye contact as he does so. He looked like he's about to eat you alive, which is enough to send flush to your cheeks.

“I would’ve loved to bend you over that sofa, but I think it’s just proper that our first time will be on the bed.”

"God. You're beautiful."

He then ran his fingers towards the thin fabric of your blouse, feeling every part of your torso like he's memorizing every detail of it. His hands then travelled in your chest, squeezing the swell of your breasts on each hand, fingers shaking as he does so. It felt like an artist admiring his delicate work of art.

He situated himself between your legs, taking a moment to admire you first before doing anything else.

He started to run his hand on your cleavage and stopped on the uppermost button of your blouse, taking his time to remove all of them and placing a kisses at the exposed skin. After all of the buttons are taken care of, you lifted your body up and slid off the fabric. Your black lacy bra finally made its appearance. You took the liberty of taking that off too, as slow and as you possibly can.

 Jeno just stared at your body in awe, breathing heavily as his eyes scanned your naked glory.

 "Gorgeous."

He said under this breath before leaning down to claim your lips once again. You're turned on by how much attention he's giving your body now. You're usually loud in bed but his gestures are making you bashful. You've never felt this beautiful before.

You can feel his hands trembling as it travels all over your body, his kisses getting even more needy. There was moans of satisfaction every time he would lick your lips. Jeno was kissing you like you were oxygen and he needed to breath.

His hands travelled south, running across your thigh and your now aching core. You're about to remove your skirt and underwear but he stopped your hands midway.

"Keep it."

He took your hands away from your skirt and placed them just above your head.

"Just sit there and relax baby. Let me treat you."

You did just like he told you and gave him full control of your body.

"Good girl."

His lips brushed your ears, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful you are under him. His kisses then went down to your neck, using his tongue and teeth, marking everything he can get his mouth on with his saliva. Meanwhile, his hands finally touched you down there, massaging your still clothed wetness.

His middle and index finger felt your slit, moving it in swift motion in search for your clit.

"Oh my god. That's it."

You gasped as his fingers finally hit the right spot, tossing your head back as his fingers made circles at your bundle or nerves.

You opened your legs more, leaning on your arms on your back, head tossed back and eyes closed as you feel your impending orgasm.

He dipped his hand inside your underwear and collected some of your essence with his fingers. The mental picture of him licking his fingers deliciously is enough to get you off for weeks.

It didn't take long before he took your panties off and his ducked his head down. He opened your legs once again and licked one long stripe on your core, making sure to taste all of you. You sat there and watch as he hungrily takes all of you in his mouth, acting like your pussy is a full course meal and he's been starving for years.

Within moments, you've become a moaning, toe curled mess. You ran your fingers to his blonde hair, guiding him on how to move his tongue and fingers on you. At one point, he bit some of your sensitive skin, making you scream a string of curses under your breath.

"Stop stop stop."

You grab a fistful of his hair and he paused from what he was doing. You pushed him gently away from you, leaving him staring at you confusedly. The confusion didn't last long when you flipped your current position, you're now on top.

"Can I ride your face?"

At this point, you're bold and horny enough to use your words and ask him. He just nodded, sliding himself from underneath you and went back to eating you like a champ. You grabbed his hands and placed them across your chest, squeezing your breasts to send him a message. He was quick to pick up and followed suit, pinching your nipples right in between fingers while your ride his face to orgasm.

"Shit. I'm coming..."

  You writhed from above him as you come undone. Your body felt cold all over. Your eyes are ringing, feeling dizzy as you almost passed out while you bucked your hips a few more times to milk your release.

You didn’t have time to recover when you heard your phone ringing from outside. Your legs felt a little shaky and you almost tumbled and hit your head in the wall if Jeno didn’t help you get up. You  sat down on the floor, butt-ass naked as you frantically searched for your phone from under all of your stuff before you finally pressed the answer button.

“Yes mom?”

“Where have you been? Your father’s been looking for you at the library. He’s picking you up on your way home.”

You buried your head on the couch to shake off the buzzing feeling on your head. You placed a pillow on your body while you searched for your discarded clothes all over the hotel room.

“Oh yeah. I went to the café and got something to eat. Tell Dad I’ll meet him outside the library.”

“Okay sweetie. Can you pick up some groceries on your way back? I’ll text you the list.”

“Yeah mom. Bye.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as you started putting on the outfit that you wore when you left home.

“Where are you going?”

Jeno reluctantly got dressed as well, his shy demeanor came back as soon as he wore his glasses and fixed his hair.

“I got to go, Jeno. I’m sorry that I’m leaving in such a bad time…”

You went over to him and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I promise to make it up to you next time, okay? I’d love to meet you again.”

You grabbed a paper bag from your backpack and handed it to him, waving as you bolted out the door.

After fixing his things, he sat down for a moment and took a quick peek inside the package that you left him.

It was a ziplock bag of full of cookies and a whole other treat.

You left him your two-piece lace lingerie.

To be continued.

#nct #nct dream #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct jeno #nct hard hours #jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno au #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno imagines #jeno x reader

[lewdbabies]

~The neighbor ~

part 1

part 2 posted on my page 💗

Warning: MDNI, 18+, Language, Smut, Masturbation, sexual situations

Nanami KentoXReader smut

~

“ Wet wet wet wet!” Ashiniko plays loudly Making you shoot up in a panic. You scramble around the bed searching for your Iphone, You quickly slam on the snooze button. You groan rubbing your sleepy eyes, “Ugh another work day, yay” you mumble to yourself. Throwing the covers away you slide to the edge of the bed throwing your legs over. Sliding your fluffy slippers on you trudge toward the bathroom.

After Giving yourself a sluggish once over in the mirror you reach for the shower faucet Turning the water to its hottest temperature. Your blue lace night gown falls in a puddle around your feet as you step into the tub. The hot water beats down on your skin the streams tickling your puckered nipples. Your head falls back at the sensation hands sliding over your wet skin. It had been so long since someone had touched you, After your last bad break up you lost interest in sex all together.

You were sexually frustrated and it showed the slightest touch to your flesh turned you on. Something as simple as a shower stream had you squirming. Your hands slide up cupping your breast, You pinch the hard bead biting back a moan.

Your legs feel weak as you tease yourself the room fills with whimpers and steam.

“N-Nanami...” you breath slipping your fingers between your thighs. You imagine his tall slender body pressed against yours water droplets falling from his blond hair.

You can see it, his dark chestnut eyes staring down at you, taking in every inch of your trembling body. Just the thought of him throws you off balance teetering on the brink of climax. “Ah fuck-“ your fingers slide against your clit teasing the bundle of nerves. You’re soaking wet, your palm slick with your arousal. You rub faster needy for a release, your legs shake as you cum, you reach for the shower wall to support your shivering body.

“Ah Nanami!” You call one final time as you ride out your orgasm. You’re panting trying to catch your breath as you reach for your bath puff. You wash your body quickly, giving your hair a wash as well . You rinse all the suds away leaving your body smelling like a bouquet of flowers. You push the shower curtain open grabbing your bath towel from the hook and wrapping it around your torso. You do your everyday routine, brushing your teeth, Combing your hair into a neat Low bun, moisturizing ,the usual. The sun beams through your slightly parted linen curtains as you walk towards the closet. You live in a small compact city everything is pretty much right next door including apartment buildings. Your high rise view was a clear shot into your neighbors bedroom window.

Movement catches your eye, you peer curiously out, hidden behind the drapes.

Your neighbors window is wide, his back is turned, white bath towel wrapped around his waist. The muscles in his back flex as he rotates his wrist massaging his temple. He looks stressed, it’s clear he isn’t to happy about his early morning either. The sun dances on his golden locs as he pushes his hair back before retreating out of sight.

Nanami Kento. he’d been your neighbor for the last 2 years you didn’t know much about him apart from his name. You were lucky to even know that much, you learned that small piece of information by chance. He is a regular at your job, a local coffee shop a few blocks from where you both live. He came there every single morning on his way to work in the inner city. You weren’t sure what he did exactly but it seemed important by the way he dressed, Every Day he wore his signature suit and tie.

You sigh touching your warm cheeks, you walk to the closet pulling the double doors open. You grab your work uniform from the hanger throwing it on in a haste. You tie your apron and slip on your shoes, you grab your purse from your desk and Scurry out the front door locking it behind you. You speed walk to the elevator pushing the number 1, your foot Taps impatiently. You’d swear this Elevator had a hundred floors by how slow it is. The doors finally open with a ding and you step inside.

“ Please hold the door!” You jump, Reaching a hand out to hold the doors from closing. Footsteps run towards the opening and you’re face to face with Mr. Nanami himself. How ironic. He walks into the elevator panting, he leans over hands on his knees from exhaustion.

“Thank you I hate waiting for this elevator it is very inconvenient “ he pants.

Your heart is beating like a stallion, You give a nervous laugh smiling like an idiot.

“A-Ah it’s nothing” you stutter.

You curse yourself internally ‘really it’s nothing is that the best you can think of Y/N’ you think. He stands up straightening out his suit jacket with his free hand, the other holds his large black suitcase. He quickly gains his composure a stern sexy look rest on his face. You shift side to side anxiously keeping your eyes cast on your shoes.

This is the first time you two have been alone together it was nerve racking. You could smell him, he smelled of luxury cologne and fresh shampoo. Hes so close that his shoulder brushed against your own, there was plenty space and yet he chose to stand just inches from your body. Your imagination was running wild envisioning him slamming you against the elevator wall and crashing those soft lips against yours.

He reaches up trailing his bottom lip with his fingertip, your cheeks heat up.

“Y/N?” You’re snapped from your daze.

“Huh uh I mean yes how did you know?”

He points “ Your name tag, I see that same name tag every morning, you’re the coffee shop girl” he states.

Your heart sinks, ‘oh god not coffee shop girl’ you nod your head, pulling your lips into a strained smile.

The elevator dings the doors open.

“Well it’s only fair I tell you my name since you rescued me from the agony of waiting, I’m N-“

“Nanami “ you interrupt.

“How did you-“

“I see that name on a coffee cup every morning” you mock earning a chuckle from him.

“Now that we’re better acquainted call me Kento” he shoots you a devilish smirk before turning and walking towards the parking garage.

~part 2 coming soon stay tuned~💗

#jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #smut #sukuna smut #sukunaxreader #nanami fluff #jjk fanfic #nanami fanfic

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

happy halloween, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi always thought you were like the plague. Always there, tainting everyone with lust. This night wasn’t special. It was just a stupid Halloween party. Or so he thought, until he ended up in bed with you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, alcohol, smut (fem reader, f-receiving oral, vanilla sex); non-idol!AU (university AU); (mostly) Yoongi’s POV

--

Min Yoongi regretted coming to this Halloween party.

But that's how it was. When he was here, he hated it and when he wasn't, he regretted not going. He couldn't exactly say no to Kim Seokjin either. They were close friends, after all. So, here he was.

He stood in a corner, nursing his beer and wishing it was whiskey. Someone had smashed the bottle throughout the mess that was this university party. Yoongi couldn't understand how people could be so stupid. It wasn't like alcohol changed you as a person - it just revealed who you really were.

And people were stupid. 

He was dressed as a very half-hearted vampire. Black suit, black shirt, with red lip-liner drawn as blood down one side of his mouth. Yoongi's creativity was used on his music, not Halloween costumes. He rubbed his forehead and wondered where Seokjin was. Or Jung Hoseok. Or Kim Namjoon. Or Park Jimin. Or Kim Taehyung. Or Jeon Jungkook, who shouldn't be in some nonsense because that kid was too young. Shit. Yoongi should at least keep an eye on him. He downed his beer and turned around. 

A white, pointed beak nearly poked his eye out. 

Yoongi started, almost stumbling. What kind of mask was that again? He had seen it before, maybe in a movie. Bird-like, white, eyes shrouded by tinted circular lenses, and the mask covered the whole face. A black wide-brimmed hat was perched on top. The long black trench coat covered the body of whoever it was. 

Ah! It was a plague doctor mask. 

Yoongi frowned and waved awkwardly at whoever it was before trying to move to the side to walk past. The person moved to block his way. Yoongi’s brows furrowed. The mask tilted and he felt a sudden sense of unease. The person was wearing some kind of hood that covered the hair and skin underneath the mask. 

"Can I get past you, please?" he said impatiently. 

There was an unsettling pause. It was punctuated by loud music and the sound of someone vomiting. Gross. 

"I don't know, can you?"

Yoongi froze. Even if the voice was muffled, he knew that voice. The voice that taunted and teased him all throughout high school, the voice that belonged to pretty lips and a sharp tongue, the voice that got under his skin and invaded his thoughts every time he...

"You."

You smiled underneath the mask. Yoongi couldn't see, but he could guess. Even though the lenses of the mask were tinted, you could see him pretty well. He didn't look thrilled to see you. 

Yoongi sneered. "You're not the type to cover up on these occasions." He meant the party.

"Still more effort than your... attempt." You made sure to pause in between your words. 

Yoongi's annoyance was getting the better of him. "Yeah, well, I'm not trying to pick up some poor sack of meat that'll probably get discarded before the morning."

You tilted your head in amusement. "You act like you speak from personal experience."

Yoongi frowned. "I would never touch you."

He couldn't tell your expression at all behind the mask. It was frustrating to say the least. Not to mention just hearing your voice was already reminding his body of what you looked like. How many times had Yoongi seen you at high school parties, in someone else's lap, whispering sweet nothings as if you actually cared? Then you catch his eye every time and smirk. You never had sweet nothings to tell him. You never tried to sit in his lap. But you always, always caught him staring at you.

And that pissed him off.

"How many since school started, hm?" Yoongi snapped, not bothering to hide his disapproval. "Ten? Twenty? A record high?"

The bird mask gave him no satisfactory expression. 

"And you?" 

Yoongi felt an icy shiver slide down his back. You raised your black-gloved hands, spreading your fingers out. Then, you began to name names. One after the other, putting down a finger each time. Maybe no one else could hear over all the noise, but Yoongi could. Yoongi could because he knew those names. He stiffened and winced as you listed each girl.

“Stop.” He reached out and grabbed your hands, trying to shove them down. “Stop it.”

“I thought you would never touch me,” you remarked coldly.

He recoiled as if he was on fire. Your tone of voice was disapproving. For some reason, it really bothered him. How you knew all their names was beyond him. Yoongi suddenly felt ashamed, as if he had done something wrong. It wasn’t his number of one-night stands that bothered him. It was the fact that you seemed disappointed somehow, even though he couldn’t see your face.

“How... how did you know?” he muttered, not looking at you.

You stared at his defeated form. You reached up and lifted your hat. The mask was removed and you pushed the hood back before placing the hat back on your head.

“I like keeping tabs on you, Yoongi,” you said calmly, the side of your mouth curving upwards. “As long as you had fun, what’s the harm?”

Yoongi looked up to glare at you. He froze. You weren’t wearing much makeup. He hadn’t expected you to be so beautiful bare-faced, mostly because he didn’t want you to be. It made things… complicated. Your face had the usual smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“But, to make it fair, I will tell you my number is two,” you said nonchalantly. “One, Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. Your smile grew and it infuriated him now that he could see your face.

“He actually invited me to the party, if you’re curious why I’m here,” you added. You pretended to think for a moment before saying, “And number two… Well. I better not say. You look quite annoyed with me already, Yoongi.”

His brows furrowed. You weren’t coy when it came to your sexual exploits. In fact, never, in his entire time knowing you, have you ever withheld a name from him. He narrowed his eyes at you, taking a step towards you. You didn’t move. You weren’t intimidated. You just kept that smile on your face as you watched the realization slowly hit him. There was only one person Yoongi told you to never touch. He always told you the same thing – he’s too young to be tainted by the likes of you. Leave him alone.

Yoongi suddenly grabbed you by the collar, shaking your roughly.

“I swear, if you even laid a fucking fingertip on Jungkook,” Yoongi hissed under his breath, dragging your face close to his.

You raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, where is he?”

Yoongi snarled. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

The buttons of your trench coat were slowly slipping. Yoongi looked down, eyes widening as the top two buttons teased apart, revealing the tight, slinky black dress you wore underneath. So tight that it was obvious you weren’t wearing underwear. He could see the contours of your nipples a little too well. He slapped the front of the jacket together, covering you back up.

“The fuck?” he hissed, face burning.

You leaned forward, lips against his ear.

“Like I said… where’s Jungkook?” you purred.

“Don’t you dare.” Yoongi’s voice was dangerously low. “Absolutely not.”

You clicked your tongue. “Are you offering to be a stand in?”

Yoongi could not fathom how you were able to drag him up the stairs and into an empty bedroom that night. If he wasn’t in shock and partially drunk, he wouldn’t have let you do it. Yoongi hated you. He hated that you seemed okay with him hating you. He hated that you didn’t care that he disapproved of your actions. He hated that you always caught him looking, always caught him off guard, always caught him thinking about you. Not that you knew, but it felt that way. Why did you always show up in his head? Why did you always manage to get under his skin? Why… why was his heart beating so fast as you dumped your mask and hat on a spare chair and slipped your shoulders out of the coat? Why couldn’t he bring himself to walk away?

You turned around, looking at him curiously. The coat slid down your body. Every curve was hugged by the slinky fabric of the dress, from your breasts to your ass to your legs. A single eyebrow cocked.

“I thought you would be running by now, Yoongi.”

You said it matter-of-factly. You didn’t step towards him. It was him who took a step towards you, eyes roaming over your shape. Yoongi was not supposed to feel this way. He was not supposed to feel hot all over, itching to rip off his clothes to press his skin against yours.

“Why?” His voice was raspy with nervousness. “Why are you so fucking sexy?”

You smirked.

“Why do you always tease me?” Yoongi hissed, grabbing your upper arms.

You chuckled, reaching to the front zipper of your low-cut dress.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you drawled, dragging the zipper down slowly. His eyes went from your face to the zipper revealing centimeter by delicious centimeter of bare skin. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you, Yoongi.”

And then you reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.

Lips to lips, Yoongi gasped as your body pressed against his. You nipped at his lower lip, kissing him deeply. Unlike him, you didn’t taste like beer. You tasted like fruit candy and sin, your free hand sliding under his suit jacket and deftly unbuttoning his dress shirt. It wasn’t fair how soft your lips were or how you smirked against his lips as your cool fingertips touched his chest. It was fair that his heart was beating as loud as a bass drum.

“What’s the matter, Yoongi?” you whispered softly, tracing patterns on his bare chest. “Cat got your tongue?”

Yoongi sucked in a breath and grabbed your hand. “You… You’re just messing with my head.”

“Am I now?” You tilted your head at him, one of your arms wrapped around his waist. “You paint such an interesting picture of me in your head.”

Yoongi paused. Wasn’t that your nature? You slept with whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted. And so did he. He did it to numb his feelings. He did it to forget you. He did it because you did it so easily and without even considering that someone would care. That someone did care.

And here you were, half-naked in his arms, watching him with an amused expression on your face. As if you knew. As if you had been waiting for this epiphany. It was easier to hate you than to admit that you had an effect on him.

Yoongi leaned in and kissed you himself, pulling you to him. Kissing you hungrily as he stumbled to the bed to push you down on it. It didn’t take long to shrug out of his blazer. It took even less for you to slide out of your dress and toss it aside. Yoongi bent down and kissed down your neck, nipping at your skin. His tongue traced slow, playful circles around your nipple before you grabbed him by the back of his head and pushed him down. Yoongi chuckled as he sucked hard, making you squirm in delight. He left love bites on your skin. You moaned above him, imprinting his memories with you. Your smell invaded him, sweet and heavy. His hands were on your hips, fingers sinking into softness.

Fuck. Yoongi might have been a little drunk, but now he was intoxicated.

Yoongi kissed down your stomach, the scent of sex becoming stronger and stronger. He pushed your legs open impatiently. Your wet, glistening pussy greeted him, making him breathless. He really must be going crazy. With a slight adjustment, he leaned down and licked you softly, earning a satisfying cry of desire. He would have said something snarky, but at this point he didn’t trust himself anymore. He just leaned in and closed his eyes, moaning at your delicious, honey-like taste. Was eating pussy supposed to taste this good? It made Yoongi’s mind go blank and his cock twitch with need as he pressed the tip of his tongue against your clit, lapping at it softly. He could feel your fingers in his hair, feel your hips jut into his face begging for more. If there was any sexual talent he had, it was eating pussy. Within minutes, Yoongi had your legs turned to jelly, shaking with pleasure as he sucked and lapped at your sensitive clit. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came into his mouth and yet he continued, sucking and rubbing another orgasm out of you until your clit was throbbing with oversensitivity.

You pushed his head away lightly and Yoongi finally let go, your juices dripping from his chin. He was breathing hard, wiping it with the back of his hand and licking it off.

If this was a normal one-night stand, Yoongi might have left it like that. But it wasn’t enough for him. He needed more from you. Yoongi stood up and undid his pants. His erection strained against his underwear. He took his wallet out of the pocket and let the pants fall to the floor. He always kept a condom, just in case.

“Move up,” Yoongi gestured. His voice was a little hoarse, throat coated with your taste.

You did so, watching him closely. He caught you staring and waved the condom at you.

“Precautions.”

You smirked. “By all means. I wouldn’t let you near me without one.”

Yoongi sneered, shoving his underwear down and slipping the condom on. He climbed up onto the bed and positioned himself above you, biting his lower lip nervously. For some reason, he wanted it to be good. He wanted it to be abnormally good so that you wouldn’t forget. You raised an eyebrow.

“Second thoughts?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “No.”

And he sank into you.

It took his breath away. Every inch of him was wrapped in wet, delicious pleasure. He pushed all the way in, marveling at the way you squeezed him. He knew it was you, because your stupid smirk was not disappearing as your muscles clenched around him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He had girls beg for him before. Plead for his cock, take him well. But never, never had his dreams come true. Because his dreams were about you and even in his dreams you didn’t mold his cock this well. It just wasn’t something he could imagine.

You pushed your hips up and Yoongi got the hint, sliding back out before thrusting into you. You grinned, licking your lips.

“Come now, Yoongi. You must be frustrated with me. Let me feel it.”

A muscle twitched in his face. “God, you’re so annoying.”

He rolled his hips into you, hard, and you gasped, smirking. Fuck. You really were annoying. He did it again, and again, and again, until you were moaning his name, hands twisting into the sheets, that smirk always on your face reminding him you had the upper hand. It was maddening and yet Yoongi could do nothing about it because he was attempting not to cum from the constant squeezing of your pussy around him. He had to grit his teeth and pound you, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you drawled breathlessly.

“What?” he snapped, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

His cheeks burned and his resolve slipped for a second.

“F-fuck!”

His orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, a sharp groan punctuating it as his cock jerked inside you. He jutted his hips into you, crotch slick with your juices. Your smirk grew, tongue between your teeth.

“You… I’m going to fucking gag you next time,” Yoongi hissed, sweat dripping off his brow. He hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. Was he really going that hard?

“I’ll hold you to that,” you purred, pulling him down for another kiss.

--

masterpost

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

[manikas-whims]

A Tantalizing Surprise

[Read on AO3]

for Kanej Week (@kanejweek) Day 5: Love (domesticity)

It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up..

• Friend 1: write Inej in a silk dress and some sexy Kanej moment Friend 2: No! Write injured Kaz being patched up by Inej Me: *an unbiased friend* mixes both requests into this fic ~♥ • I headcanon Liddies being a gang run by women :)

Kaz Brekker utterly despised private parleys. Majority of the time they were a farce. Excuses crafted in order to get him alone and put an end to his reign forever. Everytime a haughty barrel boss offered him a drink or a condescending mercher invited him for dinner, it wasn't for the sake of striking amiable business deals with him. But to drive a knife through his rotten heart or shoot a bullet into that scheming head of his.

And yet he had agreed to meet the leader of the Liddies in a small coffee house on the bustling streets of the East Stave. They were stirring up too much ruckus and if left unchecked any longer, they'd embolden every other gang to go against the Dregs. Dirtyhands couldn't let that happen, now could he?

As suspected, no pleasantries were exchanged. The door was jammed shut immediately upon his arrival.

Their lieutenant, a burly, middle-aged brunette, attacked first. She tried smashing her wooden bat into his face but thankfully Anika blocked in time with a crowbar. Two other females followed, swinging rustic metal pipes at him which he managed to counter with his cane. Roeder was struggling on the other side, engaged in a one-on-one with their spider.

"This ends tonight, Brekker." Their leader howled from her perch atop a stool. "Barrel needs a queen."

"Barrel already has one." He responded calmly.

"The little whore? The one who's barely in this city?" she grinned sharply, getting up.

"Careful." His gaze turned steely and his gloved fingers flexed tensely onto the crow head of his cane. "I can gut you and your ladies for insulting my Wraith."

"I'd like to see you try." She sneered, madly lunging at him with her bare hands.

He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

The fight lasted for an hour. Liddies finally ran off when more Dregs arrived on the scene and broke down the coffee house's door.

Kaz dictated his gang to double the security around the Crow Club and his other establishments just in case. He then dug his fingers into his right leg in hopes of quelling a little of the ache there as he dragged himself back to his place. Not the slat anymore but a luxurious mansion on the Geldstraat. He had purchased it under a pseudonym after Councilman Hoede had passed away three years ago.

Blame Wylan for making him waste his kruge on a deadman's house. Though the dark wood walls and coffered ceilings looked amazing upon his first visit, he did get a few things renovated. Such as converting the dilapidated Grisha workshop into an ordinary shed and the addition of wild geraniums to the vast variety of flowering plants in the gardens.

Despite his habits, he pulled out a key that he kept within the hidden pocket on the left side of his coat and swiftly unlocked the large, black, entrance gates. The next few minutes of the long walk through the front stone pavement didn't feel regal, atleast not to his leg. He retrieved another key upon reaching the main doors. It was an odd experience every time— to enter a house this big without utilizing his skills in lock-picking.

He didn't stop to admire the blown glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling or the stolen DeKappel displayed mockingly on the opposite end of the hall. He simply braced himself for the walk up the long staircase leading towards the more private quarters of the mansion.

His steps came to a halt only when he reached the master bedroom. And that too, not because it had been his destination all along but because he felt her presence.

He shook his head in disbelief. Maybe six months of being apart were taking a toll on him, playing tricks with his senses. Or maybe it was just an effect of blood loss due to the cut he'd taken during the fight with the Liddies.

He turned the knob and entered, the room same as ever. A bookshelf tucked in the left corner from the door, a vanity table with a full-length mirror right next to it; a door leading to the balcony and another door to the bathroom on the other end. And of course, the king-size bed atop which his eyes found her tantalizing form, aglow under the golden flame of the dimly burning lone candle.

Kaz regarded her silently. Her lithe frame was covered in a purple, silk nightgown that left barely anything to his imagination. Or rather, it was exactly the sight he envisioned every night. An ideal reverie where he pulled her onto his lap and kissed down the delicious curve of her neck. A fantasy where he relished in her whispers of his name. A fantasy where they did all the unholy things they're capable of now. A fantasy he had been yearning for yet kept locked in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind.

But this was different. This woman in his bed had longer hair and was far more breathtaking than any imagery he could will his mind to conjure. This was real. She was real.

"Saints!" She slid off the bed. "Kaz, what happened?"

Yes, she was real.

And she had chosen an interesting outfit for their reunion.

But it was unusual of her to dock in Ketterdam and not send a runner to let him know. Not to mention, she had somehow managed to sneak into their mansion without any keys.

"You're hurt!"

He scoffed at her concern and proceeded to discard his coat. After all the times they've fought and bled together, she should be used to witnessing him a little roughed up.

He peeled off his gloves with methodical ease and tossed them onto the table. Then he tentatively reached for one of her hands, his thumb stroking along the pulse in her wrist. There was no harm in confirming she was real and alive.

"Welcome back, Wraith."

She freed her wrist, completely ignoring his greeting, and placed her palms over his stubbled cheeks. Fortunately, no waves lapped up his skin. So he let her turn his face this way and that to check for any signs of injuries. When she found none, she smiled in relief and pulled his face down so their lips could meet. His arms immediately snaked around her waist. And he was glad her only reaction was a soft sound of contentment, not tensing or vanishing in his hold. It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up and worked together to get accustomed to one another's touch.

The contact overwhelmed him everytime, in a good way of course. It was exhilarating to be able to brush his lips against hers. A common gesture for most couples but a very big accomplishment for them. Just like everything else.

Everytime they shed a piece of their armor, touched longer, touched more, they counted it as a new milestone. He was thankful to their patience and to whichever of Inej's saints had blessed them for their persistent efforts.

The kiss deepened with every passing moment, all those months of separation provoking their dormant desires. But as soon as his tongue slid past her mouth, he felt a twinge of pain in his abdomen and broke away. "Fuck! What the hell, Wraith!?"

In trailing her hands along his torso, she had accidentally discovered the cut wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. She glared down at the small dot of blood staining his clothes. "You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!"

He laughed at the furrow of her brows as she pushed him back until he was seated in a chair. "Takes one to know one."

He heard her huff before she disappeared inside the bathroom and returned seconds later with a roll of bandage, cotton swabs, and a disinfectant.

The blade of the knife had torn past both his vest and shirt but fortunately, barely grazed his skin. The cut wasn't deep or life-threatening, only seeping slow trickles of blood. However, that didn't stop his fiercely gentle partner from worrying. She began undoing the buttons on his vest and in the heat of the moment, he joked. "Someone is eager."

This time she glared at him directly and resumed her task. She was cautious in shrugging off the vest. Even more whilst removing his sweaty shirt.

As soon as the disinfectant-soaked cotton pad grazed his wound, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Care to explain why I wasn't informed of your arrival?" He gritted out through the light haze of pain. He wasn't mad. But had he known, he would've cleared his schedule for her. Denied that parlay altogether and avoided being injured.

Her hands hesitated in cleaning the blood. "I wanted to surprise you."

Now his brows quirked.

"And was this part of the surprise?" He stared at the thin slip of nightdress snug on the curves of her beautiful body. His voice lowered an octave. "You put this on for me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, a small action he had noticed her doing when in contemplation. "My intention was to doll-up for the King of the Barrel."

He shook his head, tugging on the hem of her dress. "Seems to me the Queen of the Seas was intent on arousing me with her alluring silks."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "You're bruised and bleeding and this is what you think?"

"Inej," He spoke earnestly, his ardent gaze focused on her as she continued bandaging him, "I always think about you."

"Aside from when I'm out there making money." He added as an afterthought.

She giggled.

He waited until she was done tying the last knot of the bandage to stand up. His fingers disappeared beneath her dress, glided tenderly over the flesh of her thighs in the moment he lifted her up. Her legs naturally came to wrap around his waist and she looked at him. "Kaz?"

He responded with a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back, his breath fanning her lips. "Still in the mood to surprise me?"

She nodded, her eyes averted shyly for once as he carried her towards the shower.

#kanej #kanej week 2021 #kanej fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #day 5 #love #domesticity

[20moonchild21]

๛Struggling

Gif by @minyoongihoseok

Pairing: Poly!BTS x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: hardcore fluff, slight swearing

Words: 3400+

ッ

๛匕he one where she struggles with money∙ꨄ

"What do you mean, you can't pay me this month?" You asked angrily, as you drove your hands through your hair.

"I am sorry, but what should I do? Rents are high these days. If I don't pay..." Your boss tried to defended himself with the same excuses he had given you before.

"Rents are hight? Are you serious right now?" You interrupted him quickly, getting angrier with every word he said. "What do you think I pay my rent with? Paperclips and stones? I need this money or else I have to quit my apartment. We have a contract. You have to pay me, please!"

Times were hard these days. The pandemic had hit the country hard, but aftermath was even worse. Most people were still too afraid to go out onto the streets, rather staying home and shopping online for everything, which causes you a big problem.

For years you had worked in a small bakery, that was known for their extravagant pastries and specialities. The pay wasn't much, but you loved your creative job.

Seeing people smiling when they see their wedding cake for the first time, was one of the best thing coming along with you job, but with no weddings allowed, there was no one to buy those expensive cakes. And the few people buying small cupcakes wasn't enough for keeping the business alive.

Of course you knew that your boss's hands were tight, as well as yours. He had to pay his rent, but so did you.

"I am so sorry." He said again, sounding almost sad. "But I can't give you this money. We made almost zero sales this month. My pockets are empty. I already need to take my own, private money to save the shop, or else I can close next month."

You closed your eyes, as your hands were gripping the armrest of the chair you were sitting on. You weren't the type to yell or scream at people when things didn't go the way you like it, but this time, you just wished to yell out all your frustration at him.

Everything came together at this point, which made it hard for you to keep calm.

You hadn't seen your boyfriends in over 3 weeks, because they were stuck in quarantine at home after coming back from a project filming abroad.

Then, your period had started unannounced this morning, causing you a ruined trouser and cramps, along with a heavy headache.

And now it seemed like you even would be homeless next month, because you weren't able to afford your rent.

You pressed you eyes closer together, trying to hold back the swelling tears.

"Maybe you have someone who could borrow...." You boss began again, but you didn't want to head what he was about to say.

Making depts was the last thing you wanted to make. You mother had always raised you to earn your own money, and pay for the thing you want to have yourself.

Asking someone for money would lead you to asking for more and more and more, until you can't pay that someone back. The same situation you were stuck in now.

"It's okay." You said quietly. "I will find a solution. Have a nice weekend."

You bent down, grabbing for you bag and leaving the small office, heading straight back home.

The next morning was hard for you. The letter lying in your mailbox in evening wasn't helping to cheer up your mood. You landlord was getting more and more impatient, waiting for his rent to be paid. You were already 3 weeks late with you rent, and slowly he was running out of sympathy.

The words he wrote held you up from sleep the whole night, causing you to desperately think about a solution for this problem:

"...termination without notice if the rent is not be paid within the next two weeks..."

You had cried a lot this last night. Never in you life you had thought that you would end up like this, broke and desperate. You even had considered to jump over your pride and ask your boyfriends, who clearly had enough money, to help you out. But you quickly threw away this option, not wanting to use them because of their money.

With no other option left, you found yourself sitting on your laptop, checking you bank account. Of course you never spend all your money all at once. You had laid back a certain amount of money, your life savings, that you had sworn to never touch.

This money was so important for you, because it was meant to be spend into your future. A future that included your boyfriends, a own house, a car.....children.

Of course, you knew that each of your boyfriends were millionaires, multiplied with 7.

If you wanted, you would never have to go to work ever again. With their money, they could probably buy you 10 houses, 9 cars, 5 horses, a plane and everything you could ever wish for.

But that had never been your goal in life. You didn't want them to pay everything for you. They had own dreams, and each of them had worked hard to earn this much money. You couldn't and you wouldn't take advantages of that.

"Fuck." You whispered, as your head sunk onto the table you were sitting on.

By now, you couldn't hold back your tears anymore.

You computer screen showed your online bank account, listing the accounts you had created years agon. Among them the one that was your last chance to not be homeless soon:

Life Savings.

As you clicked on the link, a new window opened on your screen, showing you all the amount of money you had saved.

4,516 $

You stared at this number. Of course, this didn't sound too much in the first moment, but you were still young, and with 4000$ you would easily come through another 4 months, even more if you would be economical.

The tears were still running down your plump cheeks, rolling over your chin and staining your blue shirt. You didn't want to do that at all, but you had no other choice.

The only person you would have been brave enough to ask for help, was your mom. Sadly, she died 5 years ago, with all her bereaved money spent for the hospital bills and the funeral.

You sighed heavily. There was no going back now. You would transfer the money to your landlord today, before he could kick you out.

You were about to click the small 'Transfers' button, when suddenly your doorbell rang. You flinched heavily when the loud noise rang through you ear, obviously not expecting someone today.

You stood up and walked out of your bedroom, over to the front door.

Immediately when you opened the door, a bouquet of red roses blocked your view. You let out a small shriek, when the red flowers sunk down, revealing a familiar face behind it.

"Hello." Jimin flashed you his beautiful smile, before he pushed the flowers into Namjoon's arms, stepping forward and lifting you into his arms.

"Oh my god." You breathed out as you broke away from you paralysis. You wrapped your arms highly around the silver haired boy, who was still hugging you. "You are here."

"Jimin, don't break her." You heard Yoongi's deep voice from behind. "We still need her."

He tugged Jimin's shirt, until he let you down onto the floor, pouting as he had to pull away from you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your nose one last time, before the next boy stepped forward.

Their very presence was enough for you to calm down from the past stressing days. Having them squeezing you in their arms, kissing you all over your face made you feel so loved and invulnerable in the moment.

"May we step in?" Jin asked as he pulled away from you.

Still overwhelmed from their sudden visit, you looked at him confused. He gestured his hand into your apartment. You quickly stepped away from the doorway, letting them step inside.

"Are you okay, Jagiya (Honey)? You look a little bit pale." Jungkook asked as he stepped in front of you.

He lifted his hand up towards your forehead, feeling if you had a fever. But your skin felt cold under his touch.

"I am just – I am just surprise that you...." You began to stutter as they all stared at you.

They could tell that something was up with you. Being together for almost 3 years now, they knew that you would began to slightly stutter when you try to hide something. So you had to think about an excuse, before one of them would ask more questions.

"What are you even doing here?" Was the first thing that came into your mind. "Shouldn't you be in quarantine or something?"

"Silly Jagiya." Jungkook laughed as he cupped your face into his big, manly (and now tattooed) hands, pressing a wet kiss onto your nose. "Three weeks are over. We can leave the dorm again, so we decided to surprise you!"

The boys quickly let go of your strange behaviour. You all went into your living room where Hoseok and Tae were already pulling out your sofa, that way you would all fit on it. As soon as they placed the cushions back onto the sofa, you were lifted from the ground a thrown onto it.

"Hey!" You laughed and giggled as Jimin crawled over you.

He laid his much heavier body onto your smaller one, trapping you under him. He grabbed for you wrists, pulling them up over your head, where he pinned them down onto the soft fabric. With his mouth, he placed a line of kisses from your collarbone up to your ear.

"I missed you so much." He whispered as he nibbled the sensitive skin of your ear. "I thought about you a lot during quarantine, Sweetie."

You knew what he wanted from you. As Namjoon once said, Jimin needed indeed a lot of love and attention, but you loved to give it to him. Sadly, you had to disappoint him this time.

He was already pulling and tugging on your shirt, when you brought your mouth up to his ear.

"I am on my period." You whispered in that sexy voice you knew he normally loved.

He pulled away from you, looking into your eyes deeply.

"Are you serious?" He whined as he let go of your arms.

You were already laughing hard when the other finally came from the kitchen with snacks and drinks in their hands.

"What are you laughing at, Jagyia?" Tae asked as he plopped down next to you. "And why is he already pouting?"

He gestured for Jimin, who had crawled off of you, and was now lying beside you, hiding his face in your chest as you drove your fingers through his soft hair.

"She is being mean." He mumbled against your chest. "Stacking me three weeks in quarantine, with no one to care for me, and now that I have the chance to finally love my girlfriend again, she is one her period. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"We had phone sex almost ever day." You laughed at him as you pressed a kiss into his hair.

"But this isn't the same." He still whined. "And we hadn't had sex yesterday. So you can't say every day. And beside, sex over the phone isn't the same..."

You sighed at his words. You forgot to call them the previous evening, because of all the stress going on with your work and apartment.

"I am sorry." You said, as you threw your head back into the soft cushions. "I was just so stressed with work and stuff."

"Is everything okay with work?" Yoongi asked as he took your hand. "It must be hard for you when no weddings are allowed."

For a moment, your thought about telling them about the trouble your boss had with keeping the business going, but you decided to not bother them with your problems. They had enough stress with their band.

"Yes, yes, Everything is fine." You quickly tried brushed his concerns off. "We have a lot of pre orderings and stuff."

The topic quickly changed. The boys told you everything they did while stuck up in quarantine. They had used the time to work on their new album, which they wanted to do on their own. They told you how recording and producing was going.

"Hey, Aein (Sweetheart)?" Namjoon suddenly spoke up. You lifted your head from Hoseok's chest to look up at him. "Have you seen my green shirt by any chance? I couldn't find it anywhere at the dorm."

"Oh yes." You quickly said. "You forgot it the evening before you left. I washed and folded it on my desk. You can get it."

He nodded and got up from the sofa to walk up towards you bedroom. The other boys meanwhile where swarming about the evening before they left for America three weeks ago, complaining how bad they need you.

ꕀ

Namjoon had reached your bedroom door quickly.

He pushed it open and stepped inside. Immediately, he smiled when he saw your tidy bedroom. You have always been an organized person, which he admired, because he absolutely wasn't able to hold his room at home tidy.

He looked around, and spotted his green shirt, carefully folded on the table next to your laptop. He passed your bed and was about to reach his hand out for the piece of fabric, when his eyes fell onto the sheet of paper lying onto your desk.

He didn't want to invade your privacy, but the headline of the sheet caught his attention.

"Admonition: Pay your rent." Was written at the top of the paper.

His eyebrows cocked up. You didn't mention to them that you were laid with paying your rent this month. Normally, you didn't keep any secrets from each other.

He quickly read over the text. It seemed like you not only forgot to pay your rent, but you had delayed the day of paying several times. His eyes shifted over to your laptop, that was still opened up from when you were earlier working on it.

He entered the password, and the window of your bank account popped open. He saw which account you had opened, and it shocked him. He knew about your life savings, and he was slowly combining the figures.

You sometimes had mentioned that you didn't eared much money with your job, but you had never before complained about being not able to pay for your rent. Why would you take your life saving, instead of asking one of the boys or him for help? They would always help you out.

He stood up from the desk and walked towards the door. He quickly had to ask you about the rent topic, before you would do something you will regret later.

"Aein!" He called from the doorway. "Can you come here for a second, please?"

He waited for you to finally reach the room. Confused, you looked at your tall boyfriend sitting on your bed, looking kind of nervous and worried.

"Are you okay?" You asked, suddenly being pretty nervous yourself.

He didn't answer, instead, he gestured for you to take a place next to him on the bed. You made your way up,, and let your body sink down next to his. From this position, your gaze fell onto your desk. A flash of shock hit your body. Had he read the letter? What if he saw your bank account? What....

"I – ehm – I just want to say that I didn't want to invade your privacy. It was an accident." He said, as he took your hand, looking deep into your eyes. "But I saw the letter lying on your table. Are you having trouble with paying your rent? You know we would ever...."

"No, I am fine." You quickly said, not wanting to hear what he was about to say. "My boss is just a little bit late with my payment. But it will eventually arrive within the next days."

He looked at you intensely, knowing that you were lying because he saw your bank account. He sighed, and pulled you over from your spot onto his lap. Immediately, your arms wrap around his neck, nuzzling your nose into his neck. His apple scent was overwhelming your nose.

"Aein." He said quietly while stroking your back in small circles. "Why are you lying to me? You know that I, that we, would always help you out. I saw on your computer that you were about to take the money from your life savings. Why would you do that instead of asking one of us?"

By now, you couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Not only had you lied to your boyfriends, you also had to admit yourself that you had problems that you couldn't solve on your own. You hugged him tighter, sobbing quietly into his neck.

Namjoon didn't say anything, he just rocked you gently back and forth, rubbing small circles on your back. He wanted to give you the time to tell him by your own. After a few minutes, you finally pulled away from the soft skin of his neck, eyes puffy and red.

"I – I don't – I am sorry." You sobbed even more, not being able to say the words. This was a really big deal for you. "I just don't you to think that I need your money to survive and - and I didn't want to have any depts. So I thought I – I could use some money from my life saving to bridge over this month."

You looked at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the sleeve of Namjoon's shirt.

"Look at me." He said, as he lifted you face by your chin. "Did one of us make you ever feel like you were dependent from us?"

You shook your head slightly, without hesitation.

"Did one of us make you ever feel judged when you had problems?"

You shook your head again.

"Did one of us denied you any help once, when you needed it?"

"No." You whispered.

He pressed a kiss onto your forehead. He then placed his left arm under your kneecap and his right arm under your back to lift you up in his arms. As he began to walk out of your room, you wrapped your arms once again around his neck.

When the two of you reached the living room, all the other heads shot up from the TV.

"Where have you been so long?" Jin asked as he shoved a hand full of crisps into his mouth.

When they saw your puffy eyes, they all immediately knew that your had been crying. Namjoon sat down onto the sofa, letting go of you, as another pair of strong arms were already wrapped around your body from behind.

"What happened?" You heard Jungkook whispering in your ear from behind, as he placed small kisses all around your ear.

You hesitated for a moment. Then looking up at Namjoon, who gestured for you to tell them, by lying his hand on your knee.

Carefully, you told your boyfriends about the financial problems your had. You told them about your work and your boss not being able to pay your payment in time, so you could pay your rent in time. You told them about you not being brave enough to ask someone for help, because you were embarrassed.

The boys listened carefully, as you spoke.

"But Jagyia." Jimin had crawled up beside you. "We are together. You have to tell us everything that is on your mind. We would never reject you, you know?"

"I know." You laughed slightly as you kissed his plump lips, that were just inches away from yours. "I am sorry. I thought I can just bridge this month."

"You are so silly sometimes." Jin suddenly said, as he bent forward to grab your arms pulling you along with him as he threw himself backwards onto the sofa. "I want you to trust us with everything that bothers you. We want you to be happy."

The eighth of you kept talking a little while longer, until you heard the words:

"Maybe paying rent is not necessary anymore, because there actually is something we wanted to ask you for quite a long time now."

________________________________________

I think this one is pretty cute.

What do you think is the question at the end? I thin it is pretty obvious. Lol.

Mꨄ

#bangtan #bts #bts reactions #jeon jungguk #jimin park #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #taehyung kim #yoongi min #bts imagination #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts scenes #bts poly #poly bts #Idol #girl #cute #love #ot7 bts #fluff #bts fluff

[sgstories123]

The Teacher

Joanne was tired. It had been a hectic week at school. There were so many meetings and so many assignments to mark. On top of that, she worked till 9 pm for three consecutive nights to organise an event for parents. She just wanted to go home, take a shower and enjoy a good night’s sleep.

As she walked towards her block of HDB flat, she noticed a group of young men smoking and drinking beer from cans at the void deck. In the last few weeks, as she lived on the third floor, she had heard loud talking coming from the void deck late at night. She wondered if this was the group that was causing all the noise.

As she walked nearer, she looked at the group closely. One of them seemed to be the leader. He was a slim Chinese man in his thirties with hair dyed blonde. He was wearing a tank top, revealing a long line of tattoo on one of his thin arms. The other two were younger, seemingly in their early twenties. Just then, the two of them turned their heads. Joanne gasped with sudden realisation. The two of them were formerly students in her school.

She had not taught the Malay man before but she had seen him in school. He was fat with a big belly and wearing a colourful t-shirt that was obviously too small. It was too tight and not large enough to cover his stomach, showing off large chunks of fat and his belly button.

But she recognised the third man immediately. It was Jun Long, her former student. She remembered that he was a shy and quiet boy, not the brightest in the class, but hardworking. She was surprised and angry that he is now hanging out with such hooligans, smoking and drinking, and making noises late at night.

She walked straight to the leader of the group and spoke directly to him in an angry tone. “What are you doing here, leading my students astray, smoking and drinking? You better leave them alone or I will call the police.”

The leader looked at Joanne quizzically and laughed. “Your teacher?” He gestured towards the two younger men. Jun Long nodded his head while the Malay man just laughed.

“You want to join us? I can always share beer and cigarettes with a pretty girl like you.” The leader sneered at Joanne, trying to peer down her blouse at her cleavage.

“I warn you. You better leave this place or else.” Joanne raised her voice.

“Chee bye! Fuck off! Who are you? Smoking and drinking against the law meh? Call the police lah!” The leader became angry that Joanne and spoilt his fun. He slammed his can of beer on the table, spilling the foamy drink.

Joanne was growing a little frightened at the aggressiveness but she tried to put up a brave front. “I warned you. You better leave soon.” Turning to Jun Long, she said, “You better not hang out with these gangsters. They are up to no good.”

She gave the leader a final glare and turned quickly towards the steps leading to her flat. As she walked up the steps, she heard the group of men running up the steps. She quickened her pace and managed to reach the landing just below her flat. However, the group of men had caught up with her then and the leader pushed her against the wall, holding her shoulders with both of his hands.

Joanne screamed but was silenced immediately by a tight slap across her face. The leader pressed one of his arms against her throat, cutting off the air and choking her.

“Make some more noise and I will slap you again.” He whispered menacingly.

Joanne now saw that the tattoo on his arm was that of a snake biting a bleeding heart. She shuddered in fear.

“Let me go.” She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Chee bye! Now you not so fierce, huh?” The leader smiled with an evil glint in his eye. He took out a Swiss knife from his back pocket and flipped out the blade. He drew the cold metal blade slowly across Joanne’s face. “I can do a lot of things with this knife. Make me happy and I won’t do anything that will hurt you, okay?” He laughed.

With one arm still on Joanne’s throat, he slid open her blouse with his other hand using his blade. “Wah. Teacher also wear such a sexy black bra. Trying to seduce your students, is it? You must be a slut.”

The three men were now ogling at her. The Malay man gave a low wolf whistle and the leader laughed again. Only Jun Long remained quiet but his eyes were fixed on Joanne’s large breasts.

The leader pushed the bra up with his blade, exposing Joanne’s nipples to the cool night air. But this was quickly replaced with the warm tongue of the leader as he licked and sucked on each nipple in turn.

“No, please don’t do this.” Joanne cried. She received another tight slap in response. The leader pulled her hair, forcing her head back and exposing her neck. He pressed the cold metal blade on her neck, sending a shiver down Joanne’s spine.

“Do you want this to slide across your throat?” The leader whispered softly into Joanne’s ear. Joanne shook her head, not daring to utter a sound.

The leader pushed Joanne to the floor. She was now on all fours, tears welling up in her ears. But she did not dare to make a sound, knowing that she may be hurt.

The leader pulled her hair, yanking her head up again. She was shocked to see that the leader had now pulled down his pants and was shoving his semi-erect cock into her face.

“Suck it.” The leader held her head with one hand and pressed the blade on the back of her neck with the other.

The cock smelt bad as if it had not been washed. Was it the smell of urine? Joanne did not want to think about it. She thought to herself that the faster she is able to make him cum, the faster the ordeal will end. She grabbed the cock with one hand, stroking it to hardness and sucking on it as much as she can. As she was sucking the leader’s cock, the Malay man hugged her from behind, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples. She could feel his erect cock rubbing against her ass crack as he dry hump her.

Joanne knew that she should be frightened by this. But by now, the leader seems to be enjoying his blow job and he has decided to put away his blade and instead hold Joanne’s head with both hands, guiding her to give him more pleasure. Without the threat of the blade, Joanne was able to focus on her blow job and enjoying the pleasurable moans that she was able to elicit from the leader. She was also starting to enjoy the pleasures from the attention given to her from the Malay man. He was hugging her even more tightly now, replacing his fingers regularly with quick flicks from his tongue.

Joanne turned to find Jun Long, now with his pants on the floor, stroking his hard cock as he watched his two friends violating her. With surprise, she saw that Jun Long had an extremely large and fat cock. There were large veins protruding along his cock, which only amplified the size of the cock.

“You are being rape and you are fantasising about your student’s cock?” Joanned chided herself in her head. But she knew that she was starting to enjoy this and she is no longer sure if it was a rape.

“I am cumming. Swallow everything, bitch!” The leader moaned before making several quick final thrusts into Joanne’s mouth. He held her head, forcing her to swallow every drop. After a few moments, he withdrew his flaccid cock out of her mouth.

“See. We can all have fun and no one gets hurt. No need to be fierce, right?” The leader smirked.

“Suck me too.” The Malay guy walked over and pushed his hard, small cock into Joanne’s face. Joanne had to turn her face sideways to avoid the large belly hitting her head. But she sucked even harder, hoping the ordeal will end soon.

Joanne felt someone lift up her skirt. She turned around and saw that it was the leader. He pulled down her panties and pushed his fingers into her vagina with practiced familiarity.

“Chee bye! You like this, is it? You are so fucking wet. What a slut!” The leader laughed. “Long, stop masturbating and fuck your teacher.”

“No, cannot. He is my student.” Joanne protested. The leader spanked her ass hard, leaving a red mark. “You have not learnt your lesson? Who said you can talk?”

The leader pushed another finger into Joanne’s cunt and fingered her furiously, pressing against her clitoris and sending waves of pleasure into her. Joanne tried to suppress her moans but was unsuccessful. The leader laughed when he heard Joanne whimpering with pleasure. “Slut!”

As the leader continued fingering her, the Malay man continued squeezing her breasts and playing with her nipples. Joanne could not take it any more. She squeezed her thighs as much as she can, but she could not help herself from squirting as she orgasmed.

“Fuck! You are such a slut. You are really enjoying yourself, huh?” Turning to Jun Long, the leader continued “Fuck her until she scream in pleasure.”

Jun Long stood behind his former teacher, positioning his cock head at her vagina entrance. He pressed a finger in, finding it wet and slippery, ready for his cock. He pushed it in gently, relishing the warm walls wrapping themselves tightly onto his cock. As he inched his way in, he found it tighter and harder. Joanne had never had such a large cock before. It was pushing its way into places that she did not even know existed. She moaned in pleasure as Jun Long pushed deeper into her. Finally, Jun Long managed to push his whole length into her, joining his body with her upturned ass.

“Hey, continue to suck leh.” The Malay guy continued. Joanne complied and continued with her blowjob while Jun Long started to fuck her slowly from behind. A few minutes later, the Malay guy came into Joanne’s mouth but Joanne was enjoying her fuck with Jun Long and moaning so much, that she was unable to swallow all his cum, allowing them to drip out of her mouth.

By then, Jun Long was increasing his pace. He was pumping Joanne, holding on to her hips for support. The leader was watching this with a smirk on his face and stroking his cock which was now hard again. The leader moved closer to Joanne and position his cock near her face. He held Joanne’s face with one hand and stroked his cock with the other. With a grunt, he shot his load all over Joanne’s face.

At the same time, Jun Long also grunted with pleasure. With one final thrust, he emptied his load into Joanne’s cunt. He held his cock In her until it became soft and plopped out of her cunt. He watched as his sperm slowly flowed out of Joanne’s cunt in white globs.

By now, the leader and the Malay guy had dressed up. The leader held Joanne’s face with one hand and the other pressed his blade on her face. He tapped the blade gently on her face. “Bitch. Next time, don’t be so fierce. Teachers are not gods. Don’t think you can do anything you like.”

The leader and the Malay guy laughed and made their ways downstairs.

Jun Long pulled up his jeans and looked back at Joanne. She was still on her knees, with cum dripping from her vagina and her face. Joanne looked up, with an imploring look at Jun Long.

“Please help me to my flat?” She whispered. “Please fuck me again.”

[tenderlyrenjun]

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you ­– shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.” The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.                        

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

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