having daily indirect smoking dates with your neighbor turned into a habit as the both of you sat at each other’s balconies.
✶ smoker!taehyung x smoker!reader.
✶ raw, unprotected, sex. fluff, smut. taehyung is down ‧⨯ BAD. strangers (neighbors?) to lovers, sweetheart ‧ taehyung, love.
you moved into your apartment expecting calm mornings with equally calm nights. and that was what you got. the sun didn’t blare and break into your room through your windows every sunrise, abruptly waking you up. the view of the night sky littered with starts gave your mind a therapy session as you felt your mind going high into the clouds.
the buildings in front of you have a mix of lit rooms and dark ones. some people were awake, some weren’t. the intimacy of the night as you stood alone on your decent balcony and stared at your surroundings gave you a comfort you couldn’t explain. the blunt in between your fingers, tempting as you stared at it and inhaled the smoke once again.
you were too high to hear it, the doors of the balcony next door opening and closing. the apartment balconies were pretty close, a foot away from each other max.
you had noticed boxes in front of the door next to yours as you walked out into the hallway, locking your door as you headed off to work. that door had been empty for a while now, the previous residents had still been holding onto it even after moving out.
the man leaning on the railings of his balcony beside you, his hair all over the place as he stood half naked, his chest bare.
the gentle wind played with the strands of hair that previously rested on his forehead, exposing it slightly. his baggy pajama pants rustling, giving the outline of his legs before falling back into place.
maybe your addicted ass noticed him when he started to flick the lighter, or his presence was strong enough to catch the corner of your eyes as you turned your head in his direction.
once the cigarette caught fire, his took it between his long, attractive fingers. the way he took it in his mouth gave you chills, his eyes drowsy, his adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed after exhaling. shit, maybe you’re too high for this right now.
he was watching the lonely streets, his mind elsewhere. you were so immersed in him, not noticing that you were slightly tilting, almost falling as you realized your body wasn’t holding you up right anymore. “fuck.” you mumbled, coming back to reality as your held tightly into the railings, refusing to let go and embarrass yourself once again.
you didn’t dare look his way, turning to face the opposite side, inhaling more smoke with your trembling hands. you would stay here all night if it meant you could avoid facing him.
he didn’t know how he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone, getting startled from the curse a mild distance away from him. he looked at your form, almost letting out a chuckle as he took in your unstable state. you weren’t facing him, your face unidentifiable. he had just moved in, but he already liked his choice.
he wasn’t no pervert, he found it humorous actually. he noticed how you slightly trembled, smoke appearing in front of you. hm, well that’s one thing in common.
you weren’t wearing any shirt, just like him. your black sports bra being the only companion you had. but you were wearing pants, black sweatpants that sat low on your waist. you were fine.
you wanted to go back in, scared shitless. what if he heard you and already hated you? little did you know he thought you were cute. you heard the slide doors from his side open and close. were you a little disappointed? yes. but you were also relieved you could move and breath normally now. you quickly went back in as swiftly as possible.
taehyung had taken one cigarette with him, going back inside for another. he expected to see you in a different position when he went back outside, finding the complete opposite. you were gone. you had closed your blinds, a soft light still escaping from them.
he felt lonely now, but, he hoped to see you again.
he did. the next time he saw you, you both were once again smoking at your balconies late at night. you wore a strapless shirt this time, tightly fitting your body. your baggy pajama pants taking light hits from the wind.
he wore a shirt this time, the night’s breeze too chilly.
you were brave, looking in his direction this time. he got brave, looking in your direction this time. the both of you met gazes, holding it for a few seconds before finding it too awkward and nodding his way. he nodded back, greeting you silently. in your mind, you were internally dying. he got the urge to grin, facing the other way as a gentle smile took over his face.
you ended up laughing, turning your face away from him, too embarrassed. why were you always embarrassing yourself infront of him. but you heard him lightly laugh on the other side. you ignored what had just happened, facing forward to admire the view in front of you, when really, you were thinking of how damn good he looked.
nights went by, the interaction minimal. the two of you smoked next to each other, yet far away. he did ask for your lighter once, claiming he couldn’t find his. to you, he was being genuine. he just wanted to interact with you though.
there were days where one of you wouldn’t show up, and there were no hard feelings. except, the both of you felt lonely and slightly disappointed.
taehyung looked over at your balcony, empty. your lights weren’t on from inside either. this was an apartment, not a hotel. you’d be back, you hadn’t just stayed the night. but he doesn’t know why his heart feels light it’s fallen in his ribcage. he’s grown too attached and he knows it.
he sighs, the motivation to bring the blunt to his lips nonexistent. he didn’t know how you really sounded like, so when you walked towards the apartment with your ex he couldn’t tell it was you.
you hated your ex, it wasn’t a “I’ll give you a second chance” situation. your drunk ass let him walk you home, very dangerous for the kind of man he was. you tried to lower your responses, answering in short words or phrases.
“is this your apartment?”
“yes.” your voice loud enough.
taehyung didn’t usually look down to see people, but he did anyway. oh look, a cute couple.
but his heart dropped. there you were, standing in front of a man he didn’t know about. I mean hell, he didn’t even know your name.
you were wearing a mid thigh length dress with no straps, your black heels glittering with its small diamonds. you probably came back from the club, or a party. the man leaned in to kiss you, you backed away. but taehyung didn’t see that.
who was he kidding? thinking a neighbor that has barely interacted with him might’ve been the chance to love. he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling right now. he dropped his cigarette from the balcony, it landing a foot away from you.
he walked back inside, closing his doors shut, making his way to his bed. fuck, what was wrong with him?
you looked at the small thing that fell from above, the stupid man still in front of you. you recognized that brand, the same one he uses. many people did too, but the only ones out smoking this late would be you and him.
you weren’t sure if he saw, or if he was just done smoking for the night. but he never throws his cigars.
you look above you, his balcony coming to view. he wasn’t there, but the again you can’t see much from below.
“I should go, and you, shouldn’t come looking for me.” you faced the man, not letting him finish his stupid sentence that praised himself.
the doors to your balcony opened as you slid out. he wasn’t there. but you wanted to take a few puffs anyway.
the next night, he didn’t come out either. maybe he was sick, or maybe he was out. you tried not to, but thinking of him not wanting to come out anymore stabbed you in a way you hadn’t felt in long. he could be out there, taking a blunt with other girls and you’re over here waiting for him like an idiot.
he didn’t come out for a week, and it came to the point where you would only peek outside, your box of cigarettes and your lighter in your hand just in case he was there. if he wasn’t, you went back in.
except one night, you were hit with a wave of regret and loneliness. you needed to smoke, regardless if he was there that night.
you laid on your balcony floor, staring up into the sky as you drowned yourself in the thoughts you didn’t want to get close to. funny enough, taehyung was tired of being mad and thinking he should’ve let this affect him. so he went out, not expecting you to be there. but you were.
he looked at your worn out body laid on the cold ground. he heard your quiet sniffles, the way your hand trembled as it carried the blunt to your lips.
maybe he was being dramatic, but he felt terrible seeing you in this state.
he cleared his throat, not trying to mark his presence intentionally but couldn’t help it anyway.
you heard him, but tried your best not to acknowledge him. maybe it was your ego, maybe you were upset with him. he left you alone for days, and now he wants to be here in your worst state.
“does smoking calm you down?” he asked, not expecting an answer, but you looked his way. your blurry face focusing on his frame.
“yes.” your hoarse voice answered, mentally slapping yourself for another embarrassing moment.
“that’s unhealthy, y’know?”
“then why do you smoke?”
you caught him there.
“I don’t know.”
the silence overshadowed. you looked away from him, staring at the sky once again.
“It’s just a small habit. but, I’ve been looking forward to it more than usual.” he admitted.
“why?” oh, you were so naive.
“because I don’t smoke alone.” he chuckled, meeting your eyes as he looked your way. oh.
you smiled, uncontrollably so. “same.”
“would your boyfriend mind if i came over?”
you looked at him, confused. “boyfriend?”
“I mean yeah, I figured who wouldn’t want to be with a beauty like you?” god.
you weren’t one for compliments, not knowing how to take them in as much as you appreciated them.
you awkwardly laughed, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“then who..”
“were you stalking me?” you cut him off, playfully.
“what!? no!” he was quick to defend himself.
he pulled his chair towards the railings, preparing to climb on it to jump across. “what the fuck are you doing?” you asked, shocked that he’d even attempt it.
“going over?” his sly smile on display.
“I’d rather have you go knock on my door than possibly kill yourself if you fall.” you motioned for him to go back inside.
“alright.” he slightly pouted, heading towards his door.
you were already waiting with your door open, his door unlocking as he stepped out.
you welcomed him in, leading him towards your balcony.
“see? easy and safe.”
“your home is nice.” he admired the decoration of the balcony, wondering how he’s never noticed it before.
“thank you.”
“you know, it’s so weird how I barely just moved in and now I’m here. with you.” he looked lost in his thoughts.
“why? am i weird?”
“no- stop twisting my words.” he laughed, waving his hands around.
“what i mean is, our chemistry is going places.”
you hummed, agreeing. “even if this is our first time talking, I mean I hadn’t ever really heard your voice until now.”
you talked about many things. now, he probably even knew when your next period starts. when and why you moved out. your family, your past pets, even your morning routine. you now knew his everything as well. except one thing.
“so, why do you really smoke?”
you asked him, expecting him not to know again because ‘I don’t know’ is an answer.
“maybe because, it helps me lose myself.”
you nodded, listening to his every word as if you were taking notes in history class.
“but, I started to look forward to it more when you were out here.”
“what do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I wanted to come out here for a blunt just because I knew you’d be here. and maybe, since we shared something in common, you would be attracted to me.”
you nearly teared up, his answer too sweet.
“maybe, that was the case for me too. last week, I didn’t come out simply because you weren’t here.”
he looked over at you, almost stunned. he smiled, shy as he turned his attention back to the uninteresting buildings in front on you.
It took many more days for you both to build a proper connection, even if there was already that spark within you since the very beginning.
he sat on your bed, unbuttoning his shirt. you had gone to a nice restaurant downtown as a date. taking your aching heels off, you put socks on, feeling the discomfort already setting in. your heels were now placed next to his shoes, looking like those cliche pinterest couple pictures.
he looked towards you, admiring the way you slowly walked to him. he’d never experienced such feelings within his heart, maybe he has, but you’re too special for him. those past feelings, they’re bullshit now.
his eyes looked up at you, the stars you always saw in them gone. you decided to tease him, pulling your hair up in a bun, your fingers slowly traveling down to your thighs to lift your dress by the hem.
he followed your hand, eyeing you as he tilts his head. fuck.
the bulge at his crotch rising as the seconds go by.
you grew needy, sitting on his lap, your legs on each side of his hips. he doesn’t touch you, but he seduces you with his eyes, licking his lips.
placing your core to his erection, grinding slowly, your hands resting on his knees behind you. he threw his head back, his eyebrows furrowed. his low moans sending goosebumps all over.
he sat up, placing his hands on your waist, guiding your movements. you sat up, pulling your dress over yourself, his hands gripping the waistband of your panties, pulling you towards him to fall on the bed after throwing your dress to the floor.
he hovered over you, his lips on yours, smearing your lipgloss. your tongues meet, hungrily devouring your lips.
his shirt was by now on the ground, your hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest, ending up around his neck. you wrapped your legs around him, causing him to grind against you. the bed was creaking, foreshadowing the complaints your neighbors would send you.
you giggled against his lips, holding him closer to yourself. taehyung took his hands to cup your ass, the friction between you two rougher.
you reached down to unbutton his slacks, his hand reaching down to help you. you flipped him over, your hands flat on his chest.
leaning down to kiss him, you pulled his cock out of his boxers. you knew he was huge from the start, the breeze in the night helping outline his bulge whenever you peeked. you’re no pervert, you were just curious.
he groaned, your hands soft against his warm, hard length. taehyung pulled your panties to the side, his fingers now soaked with your arousal. you moaned against his lips, your tongues swirling.
the heat between your crotches nearly unbearable. you sat up, his cock flat against his stomach as you spread your folds to rub yourself on his hard girth.
“fuck.” he exhaled, his mouth slightly open. your wet arousal coating him, slick sounds echoing in the room as you increased your pace.
taehyung flipped you over, raising your legs to place them on top of his shoulders. he leaned in, almost pressing your thighs to your chest. “I love you so fucking much,” pressing a wet smooch to your lips.
“I love your more.” you whispered, feeling his tip pressing against your entrance. he slowly pushed himself in, your walls immediately clenching around him.
he felt ecstatic, your gummy walls taking him in tightly. he cursed, gripping your thighs. you whimper, feeling him move inside you. it wasn’t no unfamiliar feeling, he’d fucked you many times now.
he increased the pace, thrusting, taking his time but also desperate to get you cumming on his cock. he lowered your legs, leaning against you, your chests touching. his hands intertwined with yours, his wet lips softly landing on yours.
you moved your hips against his, meeting his thrusts. your orgasm broke, moaning against him as a ring of cum coated his cock, dripping onto the bedsheets.
“come baby.” you kissed his cheek, tangling your hand in his locks, pulling them slightly.
his thrusts grew rapid, the bed creaking, headboard hitting the wall.
pulling out, he jerked off, the wet sounds of your cum on his cock. his mouth hung open as he came on your stomach. his hand slowed down, eyes shut. you placed your hand on his neck pulling him to let him lean on your shoulder.
his abdomen stuck to your, smearing your cum on both of your bellies.
“why do you smoke?”
“because I love you.”
authors note: I had a LOT of debate w this one </3 ITS HERE NOW THO <3
themes: tae COVERED in tattoos, city life, uni student reader, fluff, slight angst, intense smut omg :p, nonchalant tae, flirty tae, tension, smoking, strangers to lovers/friends to lovers, established relationship, slice of life
Not quieter in the way people meant when they talked about small towns and empty streets—there were still sirens, still buses sighing at the corners, someone arguing outside the corner store at two in the morning. But the air turned colder, and the smell of rain clung to the sidewalks, and everyone seemed to move a little slower.
From your apartment window, the streetlights painted everything gold. You liked nights like this. A bowl of ramen, a blanket over your shoulders, and the hum of the city outside like distant ocean waves.
Living alone had never scared you. But sometimes, when headlights crawled down the block and shadows stretched along the buildings, you wondered about the lives passing below your window.
That was before you knew one of them.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
He’d been on your block a dozen times before you ever noticed him. Most nights, he parked halfway down the street, engine running low, music barely audible through the cracked, tinted out window. People came and went quickly—two minutes, maybe three—and then the door shut again. He was efficient. Quiet. Forgettable. Which was exactly how he liked it.
The first time you noticed him, though, it wasn’t because you were looking. It was because your phone buzzed in your hand. And suddenly he had a reason to notice you too.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Your closest friend from university sent a number with no context. Just a text that said:
Athea: If you ever need anything, hit him up.
Followed by a number. It sat in your phone for a week before you texted it.
Your apartment was warm in that soft, lamp-lit way you liked—no overhead lights, just the golden glow of multiple lamps and the faint hum of the radiator near the window. Outside, the street was damp from rain, the pavement shining under the flickering streetlight.
You didn’t usually do things like this.
But living alone in a neighborhood like yours meant you learned quickly that sometimes the easiest way to get something was simply to ask.
So you texted the number.
You: Hi. I got your number from Athea.
You checked your reflection in your mirror. A little eyeliner. Lip gloss you dug out of the bottom of your tote bag. Your favorite jacket—oversized and soft from years of wear. It made you feel a little more put together in your life filled with homework, work, and the chaos of the city.
Your phone buzzed in your hand.
Unknown: You by 4th?
You blinked. That was fast.
You: Yeah. The building above the laundromat.
After a few texts, minutes passed before headlights turned slowly onto your street. A black car, no plates, low and quiet. Windows so dark you couldn’t see a thing inside. It rolled to a stop near the curb like it had done it a hundred times before.
For a second you wondered if you should’ve just stayed upstairs. Maybe you shouldn't have sent the text. Then the driver’s door opened.
He stepped out like the cold didn’t bother him.
Tall. Taller than you expected. Broad shoulders trapped in a dark hoodie, hands in the pockets of baggy jeans that were slightly sagging. His sleeves were slightly rolled up revealing a peaking sleeve of thick ink. His movements were slow, unhurried, like the whole city had all the time in the world.
He leaned casually against the car door and looked up at the building. Right at you.
Your heart skipped before you grabbed your keys and hurried down the narrow stairwell, the smell of detergent and concrete filling the hallway. By the time you pushed open the front door, the night air was sharp against your cheeks.
He was still there. Watching you. Up close, he was even taller. His fluffy, dark hair spilling out of his hood. The tattoos on his arms creeping up to his neck. And most of all, his face. Jawline sharp and features slender. Plush lips tugged into a straight line. Eyes low and tinted with red. He was fine.
For a moment neither of you spoke. Then he tilted his head slightly. “You text me?”
His voice was low. Calm.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He studied you for a second longer than necessary, like he was quietly trying to figure something out. Not in a creepy way. Just… curious. Then he gave the smallest nod toward you. “You Y/N?”
You blinked. “…Yeah.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, almost like he found something amusing.
“Thought so.”
You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, suddenly aware of the cold. “You’re Taehyung?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
You laughed softly before you could stop yourself. His eyes flicked to your face when you did. Something about that seemed to surprise him. Most people didn’t laugh around him.
He reached into his dark car and grabbed a small bag, holding it out to you.
You stepped closer to take it. For a brief second your fingers brushed. His hand was warm. You looked up without meaning to.
He was already watching you.
“You live here?” he asked casually, glancing toward the building.
“Yeah. Just a studio.”
He nodded slowly, like he’d expected that answer. “Nice.”
You almost laughed again. Nice was not the word anyone had ever used for your building, and nice wasn't a word he used often.
You tucked the bag into your jacket pocket and passed him the cash. “Thanks.”
Most people turned and left right away. You didn’t. And he didn’t seem in a hurry either. The quiet between you stretched for a second.
Then he said, almost absentmindedly, “You in school?”
Your eyebrows lifted. “How’d you know that?”
His eyes flicked briefly to the worn university tote bag hanging from your shoulder. Then back to you.
“Lucky guess.”
There was that faint almost-smile again. Subtle, but barely there. You felt strangely seen.
“Well… yeah,” you said. “Master’s program.”
He nodded slowly, like he was filing that information away somewhere. “Smart girl.”
The way he said it was so casual you almost missed it. Before you could respond, he pushed himself off the car door.
“Text if you need anything else.”
He opened the door and slid back into the driver’s seat. The engine started quietly. For a moment you just stood there on the sidewalk.
The window rolled down slightly. Taehyung had one arm on the wheel and the other leaned on the middle armrest.
"It's cold," he said. "Should get back inside."
Your cheeks flooded with heat despite the frost biting at it. You smiled a little. "Drive safe."
Then the window slid up, the car pulled away from the curb, and the dark taillights disappeared down the street.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Taehyung had been on 4th Street for months. Same corner. Same curb. Engine low, music barely above a murmur.
It wasn’t a bad block for work. Quiet enough that nobody asked too many questions, busy enough that people came and went without noticing anything unusual.
Most nights he didn’t look at the buildings. There was no reason to.
But after the first time you texted him, he did. Your window was easy to find.
Second floor. Right above the laundromat sign that flickered every few minutes. And unlike the other apartments on the block, yours never used the overhead light. Just lamps, an array of dark yellows, oranges, and pinks that peaked through your curtains.
It made the place look… different. Cozy.
Like the kind of apartment people actually wanted to go home to.
Tonight the light was on again. Taehyung leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel as someone stepped out of the passenger side and disappeared down the street.
His eyes drifted back up to the window. Through the small peak of the curtains he could see movement.
Your silhouette as you crossed the room slowly, hair tied up, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder. Probably studying. Or reading.
He didn’t realize he was watching until a car honked behind him. Taehyung blinked and shifted the car into drive, pulling away.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Three nights later, your text came through again.
Hey. Are you around tonight?
Taehyung looked down at his phone, leaning against the hood of his car in a dim parking lot.
He typed back. Yeah.
A pause before your message popped up. Same place.
When he pulled onto 4th this time, you were already outside, standing under the streetlight. He noticed that immediately.
Last time, you came down after he arrived. Tonight, you waited.
You were wearing a long coat that looked thrifted but carefully chosen, the sleeves slightly too big. Your hair was down this time, falling over your shoulders in soft waves.
Taehyung parked and stepped out. The cold air curled around you two.
You smiled when you saw him. “Hi.”
That word again. Too friendly for someone meeting a dealer on a dark street.
He leaned casually against the car door. “Hey.”
You stepped closer, hands tucked into the sleeves of your coat. “I hope it’s okay I asked again.”
His eyebrow lifted very slightly. “You paid last time, didn’t you?”
You laughed quietly. “Yeah.”
“Then it’s okay.”
He reached into the car and handed you the small bag. You passed him the cash. But this time, you didn’t immediately leave. Instead, you glanced at the car. About a decade old, all black dodge challenger— of course it was— a few subtle modifications such as being lower to the ground than normal.
“It’s really nice.”
Taehyung looked at the car like he’d almost forgotten it was there. “It’s alright.”
“The windows are so dark,” you said, leaning slightly to look inside. “You can barely see anything.”
“That’s the point.”
Another small laugh escaped you. Taehyung watched you for a moment. Then he nodded toward the restaurant a block down.
“You work there, right?”
Your eyes widened slightly. “How did you know that?”
“You walk home in that apron sometimes.”
You blinked. “You’ve seen me?”
“Couple times. Do work 'round here a lot."
“Well,” you said, tucking the bag into your coat pocket, “I’m glad I didn’t embarrass myself walking home after a twelve-hour shift.”
Taehyung lightly shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve seen.”
You studied him for a second. “You’re very mysterious, you know that?”
His mouth tilted slightly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
He pushed himself off the car door. “Probably better that way.”
You hesitated. “Well… goodnight, Taehyung.”
The way you said his name made him pause halfway into the car. He looked back at you.
“Night, Y/N.”
You walked back toward the building, your boots tapping lightly on the sidewalk. Taehyung watched until the door closed behind you. A few seconds later, the warm lamp light flicked on in the second-floor window.
He sat there longer than he meant to. Just looking at it.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
You almost didn’t go out that night.
You had a paper due Monday, two chapters of reading waiting on your laptop, and a shift at the restaurant in the morning.
But Athea had shown up at your apartment with heavy eyeliner and too much energy.
“Put something cute on,” Athea said, already digging through your closet. “You’ve been studying for three days straight. You deserve one bad decision.”
Forty-five minutes and a taxi ride later, you were squeezing through the line outside a crowded club downtown, the bass from inside vibrating through the sidewalk. The air smelled like perfume, cigarettes, and winter cold.
Inside, the lights were low and red, the music loud enough to feel in your chest. Athea grabbed your wrist. “Drinks first!”
You pushed through the crowd toward the bar. You were halfway through your first drink when Athea leaned closer to shout over the music. “Wait here! I think I just saw that hot guy from my class.”
And just like that, Athea disappeared into the crowd. You sighed, turning slightly to watch the dance floor.
People moved in slow flashes of colored light. Laughter, bodies, music pulsing through the room.
“Hey.”
You glanced over. A guy. Late-twenties. Already a little drunk. “You here alone?”
“Not really,” you said politely. “My friend’s just—”
He leaned closer anyway. Too close. His hand slid onto the bar top, near your waist.
“You wanna dance?”
“I’m okay,” you said.
He didn’t move. Instead he smiled in that way that meant he wasn’t planning to leave. “You sure?”
You shifted slightly, uncomfortable now. “I’m good, thanks.”
The guy leaned in again. “C’mon, don’t be like that—”
A voice cut in from behind him. Calm. Low.
“She said she’s good.”
The guy turned and so did you.
Taehyung stood a few feet away, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other holding his phone like he’d been in the middle of something.
Black jacket. Dark jeans. Same quiet confidence.
For a second, you just blinked. “Taehyung?”
His eyes flicked to her briefly. Then back to the guy. The guy looked him up and down.
“And you are?”
Taehyung shrugged slightly. “Doesn’t matter.”
The way he said it was so relaxed it somehow felt more intimidating. A beat of silence passed before the guy scoffed and stepped away.
“Whatever, man.” He disappeared into the crowd.
You exhaled. “I had that handled,” you said, though your voice held a hint of relief.
Taehyung's eyebrow lifted slightly. “Looked like it.”
You studied him for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
His eyes moved briefly across the room, scanning the crowd. Like he was checking something. Then they settled back on you. “You?”
“My friend dragged me out.”
“Mm.”
There was that familiar quiet pause between you. Then he nodded toward your drink.
“That your first one?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You laughed softly. “Why?”
“Means you’re still making decent decisions tonight.”
Your smile widened slightly. “No shame in making some bad ones.”
That almost-smile appeared again, but it was hard to even catch. “Well,” Taehyung said casually, glancing toward the dance floor, “night’s not over yet.”
You leaned against the bar, studying him. “You just appear everywhere now?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Coincidence.”
Athea suddenly appeared again, breathless. “Y/N! I found—”
She stopped when she saw Taehyung. Her eyebrows lifted instantly. “Oh. I see you found the number helpful."
You tried not to laugh.
“Hi, Taehyung," Athea said, confusion apparent in her voice.
“'Sup.” His tone stayed the same.
But you noticed something small. He shifted slightly closer to you without even thinking about it. Subtle. Protective. Athea noticed too and a slow smile spread across her face.
“Well,” Athea said, grabbing your arm again, “I’m stealing her for a minute.”
You started dragging you toward the dance floor. You looked back over your shoulder. Taehyung was already leaning against the bar again, like the whole interaction had barely registered, but his eyes followed you through the crowd.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
The cold air outside hit you the second you stepped onto the sidewalk. Your ears were still ringing from the music. Athea grabbed your wrist and pulled you a few feet down the block, away from the crowd and the neon lights buzzing above the entrance.
Then she stopped and turned, staring straight at you. You already knew that look.
Athea crossed her arms. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long have you known Taehyung.”
You blinked. “Why?”
Athea let out a slow breath like she’d been holding it in since inside the club. “Y/N. Answer the question.”
You hesitated. “…A couple weeks.”
Athea’s eyes widened. “A couple weeks?!”
“It’s not like that!”
“Then explain why the guy who used to skip half of sophomore year and get into fights behind the gym just stepped in like your personal bodyguard.”
“Wait," you stepped closer. “You know him from school?”
Athea nodded slowly. “High school for a bit. Gave me weed few months ago at a party."
“For a bit?”
“He dropped out junior year.”
Something about the way Athea said it made you pause. It wasn’t in a judge-mental way— you were just understanding.
“Was he bad?” You asked quietly.
Athea tilted her head, thinking. “Not exactly.”
That answer surprised you.
“But he wasn’t exactly good either,” Athea added.
You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, staring down the street where cars slid past in streaks of light. “He doesn’t seem like that.”
Athea laughed. “He acts like he’s half asleep all the time,” she said. “Makes people think he’s harmless.”
You thought about the way Taehyung leaned against his car. The way he talked. The way he’d stepped in at the bar without raising his voice.
“…He is calm,” you admitted.
Athea looked at you sharply. “You guys talk?” You hesitated and Athea’s eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”
“It’s not a big deal."
"You're buying from him," Athea blurted.
"Oh my god, Athea," you looked around. "Can you say it louder?"
She leaned in closer. "A dealer doesn't make conversation with just anybody."
You tried not to laugh. “That sounds very dramatic.”
“I’m serious," Athea studied your face carefully. “You like him!”
“What? No.”
“You do.”
“I barely know him.”
Athea shook her head. "That doesn't stop feelings."
"He's..." you begun. "Interesting."
"So," Athea giggled. "You're curious."
You shrugged. "Maybe a little."
“For what it’s worth,” she said after a moment, “he wasn’t a bad guy in school.”
You looked up.
“He just… had a lot going on.”
That oddly made something in your chest soften slightly. You nodded. That sounded about right.
Athea suddenly pointed a finger at you. “But if he breaks your heart, I’m fighting him.”
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
It was colder than usual a few nights later. The kind of cold that made the air sharp in your lungs when you stepped outside your building.
Taehyung's car was already parked at the curb. You walked over, hugging your sweater closer around you.
When you tapped lightly on the window, it rolled down halfway.
“Hey,” he said. His voice sounded rougher than usual, like he’d been driving for hours.
“Hi,” you leaned slightly on the door. “You’ve been busy tonight?”
“Little bit.”
You expected him to pass the bag through the window, but the sharp winter, city air gushed into his window after hitting you.
"Get in.”
You blinked. “What?”
“It’s cold.” He said it like it was obvious.
You hesitated for half a second, then opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The door shut with a heavy thud.
Inside, the world went quiet. The windows were so dark the streetlights barely touched the interior. The dashboard glowed dimly, casting soft blue light across the car.
The first thing you noticed was the smell. Weed. And something deeper underneath it, something warm, clean, sexy. Cologne.
He leaned back in the driver’s seat, one big arm resting on the center console. Up close, you could see the thick lines of ink along his veiny forearm disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket.
He handed you the small bag. You passed him the cash. Your fingers brushed again. Neither of you moved right away.
You cleared your throat softly. "This car is… intense.”
Taehyung looked around the interior like he hadn’t noticed. “It’s just a car.”
“Your windows are definitely illegal.”
He shrugged. "Probably."
You laughed quietly.
The sound filled the small space between you and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The car hummed softly, engine still running, heaters blasting. Then Taehyung reached into the center console.
“Smoke?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking that after I buy from you like four times?”
“Just offering," He pulled out a joint and a lighter. The flame flickered briefly as he lit it, the orange glow illuminating his face for a second.
He took a slow drag, ghosting the white smoke through his lips and back in, then held it out toward you.
You almost hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. Because the air between you suddenly felt… heavier.
You took it from his fingers. Your hands brushed again. This time you noticed the heat of his hand again. You took a drag, coughing slightly.
Taehyung chuckled under his breath. “Easy.”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not.”
But he was watching you. Carefully.
You leaned back in the seat, exhaling the smoke, watching in curl in the air. “This car feels like a movie scene.”
“What kind of movie?” He asked, no change in his demeanor.
You shrugged. “The kind where people make bad decisions.”
That almost-smile appeared again. “Sounds about right.”
You handed the joint back to him. Your fingers lingered just a second too long. Neither of you commented on it. Outside, a car passed slowly down the street. Inside, it felt like time had slowed down.
You turned slightly toward him. “You’re actually not as mysterious as you think you are.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Explain.”
You studied him for a moment. “You’re quiet.”
“Mm.”
“But you notice everything.”
Taehyung didn’t respond which, somehow, proved your point. You smiled. “See?”
He shook his head slightly, looking down at the joint before taking another drag. “You talk a lot.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“Observation.”
You laughed again. The sound was softer this time. Warmer. Despite the spacious car, the space between you felt smaller now. For a moment you thought he might say something else.
But instead nothing. Once you finished the joint, Taehyung glanced toward your building.
“You got studying to do?”
You sighed. “Unfortunately.”
He nodded toward the door. “Then go study.”
You opened the car door, but paused halfway out, looking back at him.
“You’re coming back to this street again, right?”
His expression barely changed. “Probably.”
“Good.” You stepped out, closing the door.
As you walked toward your building, you could feel his eyes on you. When you reached the door, you glanced back. Taehyung was still sitting in the car, watching.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
It was two hours past midnight when you finally stepped out of the restaurant. The cold hit you instantly.
You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, tucking your chin into the collar as you started the walk home. The streets were quieter this late—just the occasional car passing, the distant rumble of a bus somewhere downtown.
Your feet were sore. Your hair still smelled faintly like fryer oil and citrus cleaner. You were halfway across 4th when headlights rolled slowly down the street. A familiar black car with no plate.
You stopped mid-step. The car slowed before pulling over. The driver’s window slid down, revealing none other than Taehyung. He leaned slightly toward it. “Late shift?”
You smiled, a little surprised. “Yeah.”
He glanced toward the restaurant behind you. “You always get off this late?”
“Depends on the night.”
For a second neither of you moved. Then, Taehyung pushed the door open and stepped out. “You walking home?”
You nodded your head down the street. "It's just there.”
He nodded once. “I’ll walk.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
But he started walking anyway. You fell into step beside him. For a minute you just walked in silence, footsteps echoing softly on the sidewalk.
“You look tired,” Taehyung said after a moment.
You sighed. “Ten-hour shift after classes.”
“What do you do there again?”
“Everything.”
That made him huff a brief laugh. “Sounds about right.”
You glanced over at him. “What were you doing over there?”
“Dropping something off.”
Of course. You nodded like that answer made perfect sense. A cold gust of wind swept down the street. You shivered. Taehyung noticed immediately.
“You got gloves?”
“No.”
He slipped one hand out of his jacket pocket and handed them to you.
You blinked. “You’re not cold?”
“I’m fine.”
You hesitated, then slid them on. They were warm and way too big for your hands. “Thanks.”
He just nodded.
You kept walking and by the time they reached your building, neither of you had noticed how slowly you'd been moving. The laundromat lights buzzed above you.
You stopped at the door. “Well… this is me.”
Taehyung nodded. His hands slid back into his jacket pockets.
Then you said, almost casually, “Do you want to come up?”
The words surprised both of you slightly. Taehyung’s eyebrow lifted. “Up?”
“For tea,” you added quickly. “Or something.”
He studied your face for a second. Not suspicious. Just curious. It wasn’t exactly common to invite a dealer up for tea.
“Thought you had studying to do.”
“I do.”
“So you’re inviting distractions now?”
You shrugged slightly. “Maybe.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Dangerous.”
You pushed the door open. “Are you coming or not?”
Taehyung hesitated just a moment before he followed you inside. The stairwell smelled faintly like detergent and damp concrete as you climbed the narrow steps. You unlocked your apartment door.
When it opened, the warm glow of your lamps spilled softly into the hallway. Taehyung paused just inside. The same way he had the first time he’d imagined it. Cozy and warm. Books. Blankets. Soft light.
Nothing like the places he was used to.
You kicked off your shoes. “See? Not scary.”
Taehyung glanced around slowly. “Nice.”
You smiled. “Everyone says that like they’re surprised.”
He stepped further inside. “I’m not surprised.”
“Then what are you?”
He looked back at you. “Curious.”
The word hung between you. You felt the air shift slightly. “About what?” you asked.
Taehyung leaned lightly against the wall near the door. He shrugged. “‘Bout you.”
Your heart skipped in a way you hoped wasn’t obvious. You turned quickly toward the kitchen.
You leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely as you waited for the water to heat. Behind you, Taehyung had wandered slowly around the apartment. Not snooping. Just looking. His fingers brushed the spine of a book on the coffee table.
“Grad school stuff?” he asked.
“Unfortunately.”
He flipped the cover open briefly, then closed it again. “Looks painful.”
“It is.”
The kettle clicked off. You poured the hot water into two mismatched mugs and handed one to him. Your fingers brushed again. This time, neither of you pulled away immediately.
Taehyung took the mug but stayed standing close to you. Closer than before.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
You moved to the couch again, sitting a little closer than earlier. The radiator ticked quietly beside the window. Outside, a car passed through the wet streetlight glow. You tucked your feet under yourself.
“So,” you said, glancing over at him, “Athea says she knew you in school.”
Taehyung’s eyes flicked toward you. “Did she.”
“Said you disappeared junior year.”
He leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Something like that.”
You waited. He didn’t seem annoyed. Just thoughtful.
“My mom got sick,” he said after a moment. His voice stayed casual, but quieter than usual. “Had to work.”
You nodded slowly. “That’s hard.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Was what it was.”
You studied his face. There was something different about him when he said it.
“You ever think about going back?” you asked gently.
Taehyung shook his head. “Nah. Got other things going on.”
You didn’t push further. Something told you that was as much as he was going to give tonight. Instead you smiled a little with a nod. For a moment you just looked at each other. The space between you felt warmer now.
Taehyung set his mug down on the table. When he leaned back, his arm settled along the back of the couch behind you. Not touching, but close. Your heart beated a little faster. You pretended to focus on your tea.
“You’re quiet tonight,” you said softly.
He glanced at you. “You talk enough for both of us.”
You laughed. “Rude.”
Taehyung’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of your sweater. Barely a touch. Almost accidental. You didn’t move away. If anything, you leaned slightly closer.
“You do that a lot,” you said.
“What.”
“Act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
His eyebrow lifted slightly. “You sayin’ I’m flirting with you?”
You looked at him over the rim of your mug. “…Maybe.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slowly. “Maybe.”
The silence that followed was heavier now. Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the window. You set your mug down.
“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “most people would probably be nervous having you in their apartment.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re mysterious.”
“There it is again.”
“And you sell drugs.”
He shrugged. “Light ones.”
You laughed. Taehyung looked around the apartment again. The soft lamps. The blanket on the couch. Your books scattered across the table.
“You’re different from most people I meet,” he said.
You looked over. “Good different or bad different?”
He thought about that for a second. “Good.”
Your chest warmed slightly. “Thanks.”
Another quiet moment passed. Then, Taehyung stood up. “Probably should go.”
You frowned a little. “Already?”
“Yeah.”
But neither of you moved toward the door right away. You were standing closer now. Much closer than before.
You suddenly noticed how tall he was again as Taehyung looked down at you, brown eyes boring into yours. For a second it felt like something might happen. But instead, he stepped back slightly.
“Should lock your door,” he said casually.
You smiled. “I always do.”
“Good.”
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Before leaving, he glanced back at you once more.
“You working tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Late?”
“Probably.”
He nodded. "Might see you.”
The corner of your mouth lifted. “Maybe.”
Taehyung gave you one last slight smile before heading down the stairs. Moments later, you heard the front door of the building close. You walked to the window just in time to see his car pull away from the curb down the street.
And for the first time since you met him… you realized you didn’t want him to leave so quickly.
--
You weren't expecting to see him again so soon.
Your shift had ended late again, the streets damp from a light drizzle that had passed earlier. The air smelled like rain and asphalt as you stepped out of the restaurant. Halfway down the block, you heard a familiar engine.
The blacked out car rolled slowly beside the curb, the dark passenger window sliding down.
“You get off work at the same time every night?” Taehyung asked.
You smiled. “You waiting for me?”
He shrugged. “Was in the area.”
You laughed softly. “Sure.”
He tilted his head toward the passenger door. “Get in.”
You hesitated for maybe half a second before opening the door. Inside, the car was warm. The familiar scent of weed and his cologne wrapped around you immediately. The dashboard lights glowed faint blue against the dark interior.
“Long shift?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He pulled away from the curb before you could ask where you were going.
“Where are we going?” you asked anyway.
“Drive.”
“That’s not a location.”
“It’ll be fine.”
You leaned back in the seat, watching the city blur past the tinted windows. The streets were quieter now. Neon signs glowing, traffic lights changing for empty intersections.
“You do this a lot?” you asked.
“Drive?”
“Disappear in the middle of the night.”
“Helps me think.”
You drove for a while after that. Talking about small things. Your classes. His car. The weird customers you dealt with at the restaurant. His former strange customers.
At some point the streets turned steeper, the buildings thinner. Eventually, Taehyung turned into a small overlook parking lot. The city skyline stretched out below you, lights glittering across the dark water.
You leaned forward slightly. “Whoa.”
Taehyung shut off the engine. The sudden quiet made the world feel still.
“You’ve never been here?” he asked.
You shook your head slowly. “No.”
He leaned back in his seat, watching your reaction more than the view “It’s nice.”
“It’s beautiful.”
You sat beside him, knees turned slightly toward the door, though you weren't really looking outside anymore.
You had been talking for hours.
Somehow it had started with something stupid—complaining about people—and turned into childhood stories, random confessions, and the kind of comfortable silence that only happens when two people forget what time it is.
Taehyung glanced over at you.
“Y’know,” he said casually, voice low, “you’re not what I expected.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what exactly were you expecting?”
He smirked a little, tilting his head as he studied you. “Someone quieter.”
You scoffed. “That’s insulting.”
“No,” he said, a small laugh slipping out. “I mean it in a good way.”
He reached over absentmindedly, brushing something invisible off the sleeve of your jacket. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary. Neither of you acknowledged it.
The music in the background hummed quietly through the speakers. Taehyung leaned back again, exhaling slowly.
“You talk a lot when you’re comfortable,” he said.
You crossed your arms. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been flirting with me all night.”
He looked genuinely amused by that. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
A pause. Then he grinned. “Working?”
You tried not to laugh but failed. Taehyung watched that reaction like he’d just won something. The wind drifted through the car, carrying the faint scent of weed and his cologne. The space suddenly felt smaller. Quieter.
“Why do you come up here?” You asked after a moment.
He looked back out at the skyline. His expression changed slightly—not sad exactly, but distant.
“Clear my head,” he said.
“From what?”
He shrugged. “Everything.”
You noticed. Taehyung noticed that you did. So, he gently bumped his shoulder against yours.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to figure me out.”
You tilted your head. “Maybe I am.”
Your eyes locked. The moment stretched. Taehyung’s small smile faded into something quieter, something almost thoughtful. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before flicking back up.
For a second it felt like the entire city had gone silent.
You didn’t move. Neither did he.
Then, Taehyung leaned back again, running a hand through his hair like he had to physically break the moment.
But something about the way he kept glancing at you afterward had changed. And for the first time in a long time, Taehyung realized he might be in trouble.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
The car was parked outside your building again. It had become a habit without either of you acknowledging it.
Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel while you talked about something that happened during your shift. Your voice was animated, hands moving as you reenacted the whole thing.
“And then he goes, ‘I know the owner.’”
Taehyung scoffed. “They always know the owner.”
“Right?” you laughed. “Like okay, call him then.”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips. The way your eyes lit up when you were telling a story. The way you leaned closer without realizing it. The small crease that formed between your brows when you were being dramatic.
He’d noticed these things before. But tonight it felt different.
You stopped mid-sentence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Taehyung blinked like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. “I’m not staring.”
“You literally are.”
He looked away toward the windshield, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinking.”
You tilted your head. “Dangerous.”
He emitted a small laugh from his nose, but his chest felt strange. Heavy. Because the thought that had just crossed his mind wouldn’t go away. He liked being here. Not the neighborhood. Not the car. Not the late-night boredom.
You. And the realization hit him all at once. The late-night drives. Waiting outside your shifts. Remembering small things you said days ago. The way he automatically reached for the passenger seat when you weren't there.
Taehyung leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling slowly.
You watched him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
But his brain kept replaying the same thing over and over. He wasn’t just flirting anymore. He was looking forward to seeing you. Missing you when you weren't around.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. Taehyung glanced over at you again.
You were looking out the window now, unaware of the storm that had just started in his head. And somehow that made it worse.
Because you had no idea. He swallowed, looking back out at the city lights.
Fuck. He was falling for you.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
The car heater hummed quietly, fog starting to gather along the edges of the windshield. Taehyung leaned back in the driver’s seat, one arm draped casually behind your headrest.
It had started as a normal conversation, followed by a smoke session. It always did. But lately, the space between you kept shrinking.
“You’re staring again,” you said, glancing at him.
Taehyung smirked. “Maybe you just like being looked at.”
“I do not.”
“Yeah?” His voice dropped a little. “Then why you dressed like that tonight?”
You looked down at yourself. It was just a sweater and a skirt you found months ago, followed with dark tights and black, worn, knee-high boots.
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”
“Nothing,” he said easily. But his eyes moved slowly over you anyway. “Looks good on you.”
You tried to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.
He reached out then, fingers brushing lightly against the sleeve of your sweater. Just a small touch. But he didn’t pull his hand away. The car suddenly felt smaller.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“Why you’re being weird tonight.”
“Weird?”
“You’re extra… something.”
“Something?”
His tattooed fingers slid lazily down your arm before stopping at your wrist. Not grabbing. Just holding it there.
“You nervous or something?” he murmured, his low gaze piercing into yours.
You tried to keep your voice steady. “I’m not nervous.”
He tilted his head, studying you like he didn’t believe that for a second. “Your heartbeat says otherwise.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “You can’t feel my heartbeat.”
He shrugged, still holding your wrist. “Feels fast.”
“Taehyung.”
His mouth curved into a small smirk, low eyes watching your expression. “Relax, Y/N.”
His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist absentmindedly. The motion was soft. Distracted. But it sent a spark straight up your body.
“I’m just sitting here.”
“You’re not just sitting.”
He leaned a little closer now, elbow resting against the center console.
“Why you always accusing me of things?”
“Because you’re—”
You stopped mid-sentence. Because now, he was really close. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cologne and smoke on him. Taehyung noticed the pause.
His eyes flicked down briefly to your lips before returning to your face.
“Because I’m what?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed. “Trouble.”
He slightly chuckled under his breath. “Yeah?”
His fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, turning it slightly in his.“You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
The tension in the car thickened and neither of you moved. Outside, the street was completely silent.
Taehyung looked at you for a long second before murmuring, “You always look this pretty after classes, or is tonight special?”
You stared at him. “You’re impossible.”
“Still sitting here though.”
His thumb traced slowly across your knuckles. His hand briefly brushed your thigh. Not rushed. Not shy. Just comfortable.
Like touching you had already become normal. And that was the problem. Because neither of you were pretending anymore.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Taehyung’s apartment building looked exactly like the kind of place people warned you about. Old brick. Flickering hallway lights. Graffiti on the side of the stairwell.
The stairwell smelled faintly like smoke and cleaning supplies. Your footsteps echoed as you both climbed to the second floor. When he unlocked the door, you weren't expecting what you saw.
The apartment was… surprisingly nice. Minimal.
Black couch. Black coffee table. A sleek TV mounted on the wall. Everything clean, organized, almost too neat.
But it still felt unfinished. Like no one had ever bothered to soften the space. Like it was almost screaming for a woman’s touch. No plants. No art. No warm lighting. Just sharp lines and dark furniture.
You stepped inside slowly. “Wow.”
Taehyung tossed his keys onto the counter. “What?”
He pushed himself off the counter and walked closer. You suddenly became very aware of how small the apartment felt.
“You always look this cute,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “or is it just when you see me?”
Your eyes widened a little. “Taehyung.”
“What? You nervous again?”
“I’m not nervous.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that you could smell the faint mix of cologne and weed again.
“Then why you standing so stiff?”
“I’m not stiff.”
“You are.”
His hand moved almost absentmindedly to your waist. Not grabbing. Just resting there. Warm. You froze for half a second, but you didn’t move away.
Taehyung noticed immediately. His thumb brushed lightly against the side of your sweater.
“You always this quiet when you come over to a guy’s place?”
“I don’t usually go to guys’ places,” you said.
“Really?”
“Really.”
That made him almost smile. Something softer this time. “Good.”
His hand slid slightly along your waist. Then it went just a little lower. A little too low.
You inhaled sharply. “Taehyung.”
“Hm?” His voice dropped a little, but he didn’t remove his hand.
Instead, he leaned closer, his other arm bracing lightly against the wall behind you. Not trapping you, just close enough that you felt surrounded by him. His broad shoulders and ridiculous height were blocking your entire view, your eyes showing you nothing but him.
“You gonna stop me?” he murmured.
Your heart was beating way too fast now. “You’re very confident.”
“I know.”
His fingers shifted slightly against your side again, slow and distracted, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Which somehow made it worse.
You shook your head softly. “You’re trouble.”
Taehyung chuckled quietly. That lazy, teasing tone was still there—but something underneath it had changed.
“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to scare you.”
His other hand lifted, brushing lightly against the side of your hair. Not pushing. Just tucking a loose strand behind your ear.
The touch was softer than anything he’d done before. Which somehow made the tension worse.
Your fingers lightly grabbed the front of his hoodie without thinking, making Taehyung freeze for a split second. His eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to your face. “See?” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You touch me back.”
You swallowed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
He stepped closer again. Now there was barely any space between you. “You sure about that?”
His hand tightened slightly at your waist. Your gaze dropped to his mouth before you could stop yourself. Taehyung noticed it too and air between you felt thick. “Y/N,” he murmured.
Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”
For a second it really looked like he was going to kiss you. His eyes softened, the teasing gone now, replaced by something quieter. Something real.
But then—
Taehyung exhaled sharply and leaned his head back instead. A small, frustrated laugh left his mouth.
“Damn.”
You blinked. “What?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, stepping half a step away. “You’re dangerous.”
You stared at him cluelessly. “Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He looked at you again, shaking his head slightly. “I’m trying to behave.”
That made you laugh softly. “You’re doing a terrible job.”
Taehyung smirked slightly. “Yeah."
His eyes drifted to your lips one more time before meeting your gaze again.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.
He walked back into the living room after dropping you off home. His place suddenly felt too big. Every part of it now reminded him of you.
The way you stood near the door looking around like you were studying everything. The soft laugh you let out when he said something stupid. The way you said his name when he got too close.
He dropped onto the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His brain replayed the moment against the wall again. Your hand grabbing the front of his hoodie. The way you looked at him. And the way you looked at his mouth.
Taehyung groaned quietly and dragged a hand down his face. He’d been seconds away from kissing you. Seconds.
And for someone like him, that wasn’t usually a big deal. But with you, it suddenly felt like it would mean something. That was the problem.
Waiting outside your shift. Driving around the city just to talk. Letting you sit in his car for hours. Inviting you over. None of that was normal for him.
Taehyung scoffed softly, shaking his head.
Because the more he thought about you—
The more he realized he didn’t want this to stop. Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck again, staring at the ceiling.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
It was late again. Too late for most people to be outside.
The street in front of your building was quiet except for Taehyung’s car idling at the curb. You stood beside the passenger door, arms wrapped loosely around yourself against the cold.
“You don’t have to wait until I go inside,” you said.
Taehyung leaned against the side of the car, hands in his pockets. “Yeah I do.”
“You don’t.”
He shrugged. “I want to.”
That made you smile a little.
The streetlamp above you cast a soft orange glow over the sidewalk. Your apartment window light was on above you, faintly glowing through the curtains. There was a small pause. Neither of you moved toward the door yet.
You shifted slightly, looking up at him. “You’re quiet tonight.”
He studied you for a moment. “You get shy every time I get close. It's cute.”
You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. “I don't get shy.”
Taehyung stepped a little closer. The air between you changed immediately. You noticed it too.
“You’re doing that thing again,” you murmured.
“What thing?”
“This… intense staring.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Maybe I like looking at you.”
Your heart kicked a little harder. “Taehyung—”
His hand moved to your waist again, like it belonged there now. His silver rings nudging at your skin through your clothes. You didn’t move away.
“You trust me a lot,” he said. “For someone who keeps telling me I'm trouble.”
“You are trouble.”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
His thumb brushed slowly along your side. “But you keep showing up.”
You looked down for a second before meeting his eyes again. “Maybe I’m curious.”
That made something shift in his expression. Softer but more serious. He stepped closer. Now there was barely any space between you.
“You’re dangerous when you say things like that,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because I might believe you.”
The tension thickened. Your fingers lightly grabbed the front of his black leather jacket again without thinking. The same way you had that night in his apartment. Taehyung glanced down at your hand, then back at your face.
“You keep doing that,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Pulling me closer.”
“I’m not—”
Your sentence cut off. Because this time he didn’t pull back.
His hand slid slightly higher along your waist, steady and warm. His other hand lifted slowly, brushing lightly along your cheek. The touch made your breath catch.
Taehyung leaned down just a little. Close enough that your foreheads almost touched.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.
You shook your head slightly. That was all the permission he needed.
The kiss started slow. Careful. Like he was testing it. His lips brushed yours once, soft and brief.
But the moment it happened, something shifted amongst you. The hesitation disappeared.
You pulled him closer by the front of his jacket, and Taehyung responded instantly, his hand tightening slightly at your waist as he kissed you again—this time deeper, warmer, like he’d been wanting to do it for weeks.
The city around you faded into the background. Just the quiet street. The cold air. And the warmth of him standing close enough that you could feel his heartbeat through his jacket.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing a little unevenly. Taehyung rested his forehead lightly against yours.
For a second after the kiss, neither of you moved. Your hand was still gripping the front of Taehyung’s jacket. His hand still rested warm against your waist.
Taehyung looked down at you like he was trying to process what had just happened.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. But neither of you stepped away. His thumb brushed lightly along your side again. And suddenly the small distance between you felt unbearable.
You leaned in first this time. The second kiss wasn’t careful. Your hand tightened in his jacket as your lips met again, and Taehyung responded instantly, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you closer.
“Y/N—” he murmured against your mouth, but the warning didn’t last long.
You kissed him again before he could finish the sentence. That made him laugh softly under his breath, like he’d just given up pretending he had any self control.
His hand moved up your back, steady and warm, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you again—slower this time, but deeper.
The cold night air barely registered anymore. All you could feel was the warmth of him and the way his fingers traced lightly along your side.
When you pulled apart again, it only lasted a second. Taehyung looked at you like he was debating something.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured.
You raised an eyebrow. “You kissed me.”
“You grabbed my jacket.”
“You leaned in first.”
He smirked slightly. “You started it.”
But before you could argue, he kissed you again. This time his hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, steady and gentle as he pulled you closer. It felt less hesitant now, like you both finally stopped pretending.
When you finally broke apart again, you laughed softly, a little breathless. “We should probably stop.”
Taehyung glanced toward your apartment building… then back at you.
“Probably,” he agreed.
But neither of you moved. Instead, his hand slid back to your waist again, pulling you closer to his chest.
“Just one more,” he said quietly.
You rolled your eyes. And then he kissed you again anyway.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
The hallway outside your apartment felt colder than the street.
You fumbled slightly with your keys while Taehyung stood behind you, broad shoulders towering you as his hands were shoved casually in the pockets of his jacket, watching.
“You nervous?” he asked.
“I’m not nervous.”
“You missed the keyhole twice.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Stop talking.”
Taehyung smirked. The door finally clicked open.
Your apartment felt warmer than usual when you stepped inside. The soft glow from the lamps filled the small studio, the same cozy lighting Taehyung had noticed the first time he saw your window from the street. No overhead lights, just warm pools of amber light across the room.
Taehyung closed the door behind you. For a second, neither of you said anything. The silence was different now. Heavy.
You set your keys down on the small table, trying to act normal.
“So,” you said, a little breathlessly, “do you want some tea or—”
Your sentence cut off because suddenly Taehyung was right behind you. Close enough that you felt the heat of him before you even turned around.
“You trying to calm down?” he asked quietly, warmth shooting down your back.
“Maybe.”
“That’s cute.”
You turned to face him, crossing your arms slightly. “You’re not helping.”
Taehyung laughed under his breath. “I’m not doing anything.”
But his hands were already moving to your waist. Familiar now. Natural. His fingers settled there easily, thumbs brushing slowly along the fabric of your sweater.
You exhaled. “You said we should calm down.”
“I did.” His voice was lower now. “But you invited me upstairs.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
His hand slid slightly lower along your side. Not rushed, but just enough to make your breath catch again.
“You look pretty.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“You saying things like that.”
He smirked faintly. “You always look this cute or just when you see me?”
You groaned softly. “You already used that line.”
“Still true.”
His hand shifted again, fingers resting lower along your hip now. A little more daring than before, making you notice immediately.
“Taehyung.”
“Hm?”
His thumb traced a slow circle against your side. The casual confidence in the gesture made the tension spike all over again. The small studio suddenly felt even smaller.
“You should sit,” You said.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “You think sitting down’s gonna help?”
“Maybe.”
But when you tried to move toward the couch, his hand caught lightly at your waist again. Not stopping you completely; just slowing you down.
“Y/N.” His voice was quieter now.
You turned back toward him which was a big mistake. Because now you were close again. Close enough that the tension from outside came rushing back instantly.
Taehyung looked at you for a long second before shaking his head slightly.
“You really invited the wrong guy upstairs if you wanted to calm down.”
You laughed softly, though your heart was racing again. “You came anyway.”
“Yeah.”
His hand slid slowly along your waist again, pulling you just a little closer. And a second later he leaned down and kissed you again.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
20 minutes later~
The convenience store near your apartment was almost empty. Just the low hum of the refrigerators and a bored cashier behind the counter. You walked down one of the aisles, holding a basket while Taehyung followed beside you, towering over you like a personal bodyguard.
“You’re buying too many snacks,” he said.
“They’re for studying.”
“You said that last time.”
“And I studied.”
You grabbed a bag of chips and tossed it into the basket. “You’re very judgmental for someone who showed up uninvited.”
“I was invited.”
“I said you could come up.”
“Exactly.”
You reached for the drink cooler and bent slightly to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf. When you stood up again, you almost ran into someone.
“Oh—sorry.”
A guy around your age stepped aside quickly. “No worries.”
His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary and Taehyung noticed immediately.
You moved past him, heading toward the register. But Taehyung stayed where he was for a moment, watching the guy glance back once and check you out.
Something in Taehyung's expression changed. Subtle. Quiet. Then he followed you. By the time you reached the counter, Taehyung was standing close behind you. Both of his hands rested casually on your waist.
You glanced up at him. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?"
“This,” you gestured lightly toward his arm around you.
He looked down at his hands like he’d just noticed it. “Oh.”
But he didn’t move it. The cashier rang up the snacks, glancing between you with a small smile.
“You two together?”
“Yeah.”
Simple. Casual. Like it was obvious. You blinked slightly, looking up at him. But his expression stayed the same, like he hadn’t said anything strange at all.
The cashier nodded. “Thought so.”
Taehyung handed over a bill before you could act. He grabbed the bag of snacks as you walked out of the store, the cool night air hitting you again.
You turned toward him immediately. “You didn’t correct her.”
That made him smile faintly. As you reached the sidewalk, his hand returned to your waist again automatically, pulling you closer to his side as you walked.
“You’re very touchy tonight.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You mind?”
You shook your head slowly. “No.”
Taehyung hummed. “Good.”
His thumb brushed lightly along your side as you walked toward your building, sharing one of his joints together.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Taehyung didn't plan to stay much longer after helping you get your snacks. As much as he wanted to, he wanted to give you time to study. Until you both ended up on the couch again.
The same dim lamps lit the small room, the soft amber light making everything feel warm and sleepy. Some random show played on the TV. Neither of you were paying attention.
“You’re staring again,” you said.
Taehyung leaned back. “You like when I stare.”
“I do not.”
He chuckled deeply. “Sure.”
His hand rested casually on the middle of the space between you. Then, slowly, it moved. Settling naturally on your thigh. You immediately glanced down.
“Taehyung.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
His thumb traced a slow line over the fabric of your leggings like he wasn’t doing anything unusual.
“You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not.”
His hand stayed there. Warm. Heavy. Comfortable. But then his fingers shifted slightly higher. Just a little. You inhaled softly.
“What's wrong?” His tone was lazy, teasing.
But his eyes were watching you closely.
His thumb brushed along your thigh again, sliding slightly upward this time before stopping. Right at the edge of where it would definitely be too high.
You grabbed his wrist lightly. “Taehyung.”
He smirked. “What?”
“You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that.”
Your fingers were still around his wrist, but you didn't push his hand away. He noticed that immediately.
“You gonna move my hand?” he asked.
You hesitated. “…Maybe.”
But you didn’t.
Taehyung leaned a little closer.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”
The tension in the room thickened again.
You shook your head slightly. “You’re trouble.”
"I know."
After a moment he finally moved his hand, sliding it back down your thigh in a slow, almost reluctant motion.
“Relax,” he said.
“You’re the one making it difficult.”
“That’s kind of my thing.”
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
You were still leaning against Taehyung’s shoulder when he shifted slightly beside you.
“You falling asleep on me?” he murmured.
“Maybe.”
“You’re supposed to be studying tonight.”
“You’re distracting.”
He chuckled softly at that. “Yeah?”
You turned your head slightly to look at him. Big mistake. Because suddenly you were too close again. Taehyung noticed the way your eyes flicked down to his mouth. The same way you had outside your building.
“You keep doing that,” he said quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to make some trouble.”
You rolled your eyes slightly. “You’re the trouble.”
His hand slid slowly from the back of the couch to your waist again. The movement was natural now. But this time he didn’t stop there. His fingers tightened slightly at your side as he leaned closer.
“Taehyung—”
But whatever you were about to say disappeared the moment he kissed you. This kiss wasn’t careful like the first one. Or teasing like the others. It was deeper, hungrier. Like all the tension between you had finally snapped.
Your hand immediately grabbed the front of his shirt again, pulling him closer which Taehyung responded to instantly; one arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into him. Your chest was flushed against his before he manhandled you with one arm and onto his lap, straddling him.
The kiss deepened, slow but intense, weeks of teasing finally spilling over. The room felt warmer and smaller around you. Your fingers slid up into his hair without thinking, and Taehyung let out a quiet laugh against your lips.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured.
“You started it.”
“You invited me upstairs.”
“You came.”
That made him smile slightly before kissing you again. His hands moved carefully along your sides, pulling you closer until the space between you disappeared completely.
At some point the blankets and pillows fell to the floor as the TV kept playing quietly in the background. Neither of you noticed because now, you were completely wrapped up in each other. You desperately tugged at his black tee, making him groan in your mouth.
When you finally paused for breath, Taehyung rested his forehead lightly against yours.
“You sure about this?” he asked softly.
You looked up at him, eyes warm, breath still uneven. "Yes."
And then he kissed you again. This time, the softness disappeared quickly. Your tongues colliding, desperately fighting for dominance before he took over yours. One of his hands laid low at your hip while the other rested on the back of your head.
"God," he growled. "You drive me fucking insane."
His words sent chills down your spine before he pulled away, aiming at your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the back of your ear to your collarbone. He took in every noise that left your mouth, something that made him feel dizzy.
"Can't get enough of you," he murmured in your ear.
At this point, his hand was fully grabbing your ass while the other laid lazily on your neck. You were a whimpering mess beneath him as he kissed you, before his finger tugged at the neckline of your top.
"You first," you teased after shaking your head.
He growled into the kiss before quickly sliding both of his giant palms on either side of your ass, picking you up and straddling you against his chest. He settled you on one arm as he roughly opened the door to your bedroom and gently sat you down on the bed.
Then, he did it. Before you could blink, his shirt was off, his buff arms dragging the fabric up and revealing his built chest and the shoulders that now increased ten times in size. Tattoos crawled up his entire body, swirling around his arm, littered across his chest, down his steel abs and back up around his neck.
You visibly bit your lip as he watched you check him out with a large smirk. It wasn't long before he was towering over you at the edge of the bed, eyes dark.
He lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you with hunger before immediately reaching for the hem of your top and gently taking it off of you. Now, it was his turn to check you out as he visibly paused, eyes trailing up and down your figure.
"Always look so beautiful baby," he whispered in your ear.
The name was enough to make you soak through your leggings. It was then when he laid you down on the bed, kissing all over your chest and gently sucking on your tits, crawling on top of you. One veiny hand by your head while the other greedily roamed your body like it was all his.
His fingers came close to your thigh before stopping near your clit. He traced over it through the fabric which earned a breathy moan from you. He darkly chuckled at the wetness already there.
"Wet already for me baby?" He muttered into a kiss.
"These comin' off now," He tugged at your leggings, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.
Before you knew it, you were in nothing but your thong.
"Wore this for me?" he grunted, fingers tugging at the lacy material before his eyes praised your body.
"So fuckin' perfect."
Taehyung quickly pulled away to take off his already sagging jeans that revealed the hem of his Calvin Klein boxers. You got up, reaching for his belt loop. He immediately pulled his hands back, grunting as he watched you undo it for him.
You gasped once his jeans hit the floor, the belt causing a thud noise. Large tattoos wrapped around his thick, chiseled legs but you hardly noticed them. Because you were shocked-- you knew it would be big. But this? Beneath his white boxers awaited a monster, one that was clearly hungry for you. You've had boyfriends, but this is a size you've never seen before. He smirked.
"Taehyung--" you uttered.
"See what you do to me baby?" he muttered, leaning down to your ear.
He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his and pressed a brief kiss to it before dragging it along his hard cock. "Make it so hard for me to behave."
You bit your lip and palmed your hand against his length, making sure to lightly drag your nail along with it. It twitched beneath you before Taehyung let out a groan, immediately picking you up and gently tossing you onto the bed, making you giggle.
He climbed on top of you, engulfing you in a hungry kiss as he lazily traced his fingers up and down your clit. It wasn't long before he pulled your thong to the side and inserted a thick, tattooed finger in you.
You gasped as you immediately clenched around him earning a deep groan from him. It had been awhile for the both of you. Once you adjusted, he inserted another and began to go in and out.
"Fuck baby," he groaned against your neck. "Might tear you apart tonight."
You moaned at that and he couldn't ignore the way your walls got tighter around his fingers, sucking them in through your wetness.
"Like that?" he breathed. "Want me to tear you apart pretty girl?"
You nodded desperately followed by a whine, not trusting your own voice. He then leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses down your figure before stopping below your waist. He left the smallest kiss on your clit then began to gently lap at your pussy.
You cried out; your fingers immediately tangling in his dark fluffy hair and almost pulling on his head. He then dived in you like his was hungry— like he had been starved for days while his two fingers continued to thrust inside you. You quickly felt your release coming, moaning endlessly under him as his tongue greedily explored your insides.
"Taehyung, I'm--"
It was only a brief moment before Taehyung was lapping at your release, his nose practically buried in your clit as he groaned against your pussy while you breathlessly called his name.
He couldn't get over it. How beautiful you were. How you withered underneath him and how he finally had the opportunity to worship you, make you feel good, make you forget everything but you and him.
"Taste so good, baby."
After you came down from your high, you eagerly gripped at his shoulders, tugging him towards you and immediately engulfed him into a kiss. He grinded his clothed, hard member against your exposed pussy that was dripping in arousal.
He kissed you again, tugging your earlobe between his teeth before pulling away. "Got condoms baby?"
"No," you quietly admitted.
He paused, eyes staring so deeply into yours before speaking.
"Then we don't have to--"
"I still want to."
"You sure?" He asked one more time.
"Need you, Tae" you whimpered.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Say it again."
"I need you Taehyung," you cried out.
Then he snapped, darkness completely taking over his eyes before capturing you into a rough kiss again, teeth gently colliding with one another. Your nails gripped at his boxers, and without hesitation, pulled them down.
His member sprung out in front of you, revealing his true, monstrous size. You caught yourself gasping again before reaching out, your hand seeming to have shrunk in size when you wrapped it around him, slowing pumping him.
He let out a loud moan before gently pushing you back down on your pillows, getting ready to line himself up at your entrance.
"Need to be inside you," he grunted.
He teasingly rubbed his tip back and forth at your entrance, admiring you as you whimpered below him.
"Taehyung," you cried. "Please."
He gave you one last look, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly entering it in, his thick tip pushing through your tight walls. You cried out when he was barely past the entrance. He leaned closer to you, his hot breath spilling all over your neck as he pressed gentle kisses all over.
"It's okay baby," he cooed. "You're taking it so well."
After a few minutes of his encouraging praises, you became more adjusted to his size.
"Tae, you can move," you whispered.
And so, he did. He gently pushed himself all the way inside of you, moans erupting from the both of you. He kissed you as he began to thrust, slow and gentle like he was scared to break you. He was exploring every inch of you, taking his time.
"Taehyung," you moaned. "Need you to break me."
"Yeah?" he murmured, to which you nodded. "Can't take it back now, pretty girl."
His fingers dug deeper into your thighs, spreading them widely apart with his barely even a quarter of his strength. He didn't waste any time; his pace immediately quickening to an impossible speed. He hit every spot inside, earning loud moans that made him go harder.
He lifted your two legs up and placed them on either side of his shoulders, leaning down; his bare shoulders blocking your entire view. He was thrusting into you as your feet were in the air, nearly touching the headboard above your head. He was hitting places you didn't know existed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
You were a moaning mess when he picked you up with one arm and flipped you over, letting you catch your breath before softly placing you in the pillows. He slapped your ass before entering inside you once again, resuming at his brutal pace.
"All mine," he growled in your hair, leaving no space between you two.
His entire body was on yours, both of his inked hands gripping your low at your hips, fingers trailing over your ass as he trusted into you with all his force.
Everything about him had you absolutely falling apart underneath him- his warmth, his words, how deep he was inside you. He treated you like an absolute angel despite ruining you, despite bruising your insides.
"Feel so fucking good," he breathed.
He kissed your neck sloppily from behind as you cried into the pillows, wet slapping noises echoing throughout your bedroom.
"You're like a drug, Y/N." He admitted, voice low and rough. "Fucking addicted to you."
If his dick wasn't enough, that had you absolutely lost. He pounded into you before you felt yourself coming to your release. You told him through the pillow and he nodded, continuing to hit the spongy part inside of you. You released yourself on his length, crying out as he made his final, slower thrusts.
"Come on my dick baby," he said. "That's it."
"Look at how beautiful you are."
He pulled out before releasing himself all over your thigh, thick hands gripping onto your hips as he cursed.
You gasped for air, turning your head to the side as he was already up and quickly looking for a towel. Before you could even process it, he was already back with one, gently wiping the mess he made on you.
"Y/N," he called out worriedly, tossing the towel somewhere and laying beside you. "You okay baby?"
You turned onto your back, giggling in disbelief. "Yeah. You?"
His heart swelled at the sight of your smile. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your hand.
"Good," he smiled softly— a reaction that he once concealed, a reaction that was hard to get out of him. But it now became familiar to you, and only you.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Taehyung’s arm was draped loosely around your waist, his breathing slow and steady against the back of your shoulder.
You turned slightly to look at him.
His hair was messy, his face softer than you'd ever seen it. Less guarded. The version of him no one else probably got to see. You smiled faintly. He slowly opened one eye, voice rough with sleep.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. Just smiling at each other, taking it in. Then, Taehyung propped himself up with one elbow to look at you.
"You regret it?" he mumbled.
"What?" You stared at him like the question offended you. "No."
“Good.”
He looked relieved in a way he tried to hide, face almost buried in your neck.
After a moment you tilted your head slightly. “So… what does this make us?”
Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck. A rare, nervous gesture. “You want the honest answer?”
“Yes.”
He looked at you for a second. Then shrugged slightly. “I don’t really see you going anywhere.”
You smiled. “That’s not exactly romantic.”
“Didn’t say it was.”
He reached over and pulled you even closer. “But I mean it.”
You studied him. “You’re saying we’re together?”
Taehyung’s mouth tilted slightly. “Yeah.”
Then, after a pause— “If you want to be.”
You leaned forward and kissed him softly. “That’s a yes."
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
Winter had turned into early summer. Your apartment looked a little different now.
There was a bouquet of flowers on the windowsill. A hoodie hanging over the back of the chair that definitely didn’t belong to you. Taehyung sat at the small kitchen counter while you finished making something.
He watched you quietly. The way you hummed softly while you worked. The way you moved around the apartment like it was both of your spaces now. He was incredibly enamored by you every waking day; his eyes never leaving you until they absolutely had to. He treated you like a princess, spoiling you rotten on shopping and dates.
Things had changed over the past months.
You knew more about him now. About the rough neighborhood he grew up in. About dropping out of school. About the years he spent learning to survive on his own.
He didn’t tell people those things. But he told you.
And you told him about your childhood too. About the loneliness. About leaving home and building a life by yourself.
Neither of you had said those words yet. But the feeling had been there for a while. Taehyung had just never said it before, to anyone.
You set the mugs down and sat across from him.
“What?” you asked when you noticed him staring.
“Nothing.”
“Thinking too much.”
Taehyung looked down at the table for a moment. Then back at you.
“You waited,” he said.
“For what?”
“For me.”
You shrugged softly. “I wasn’t in a rush.”
He nodded slightly. His fingers tapped once against the table before he spoke again.
“Y/N.”
“Yeah?”
His voice was quieter this time. “I love you.”
The words hung in the air between you. Simple. But heavy. Like they meant everything.
You blinked, surprised. You knew how hard that must have been for him to say.
You smile grew slowly. “You took long enough.”
Taehyung scoffed softly. “Six months isn’t that long.”
He leaned across the table slightly, looking down at his hands. A nervous act you had never seen before.
“You gonna say it back?”
You reached over and took his hand. “I love you too.”
And if loving you was a bad decision, Taehyung knew one thing for sure— it was the best one he’d ever made.
☆˙ . ˎˊ˗
an: been dreaming of this fic for a minute so I decided to take matters into my own hands hehe. hope u guys like it!
jealousy rears its ugly head. jealousy is a disease, fogs up your mind, makes you taste blood. kim taehyung senses his princess is getting a whole lot of attention from guys who should most definitely keep their distance. or, that’s at least how he would put it.
pairings. kim taehyung x female reader
wc. idek i wrote ts straight into tumblr i got so excited after the mv. maybe 5k? 8k? 10k?
tags & warnings. mentions of violence, but no depictions of it (except a split lip and a black eye). grill-hyung (meaning tete has grills/tooth-gems). morally dubious taehyung. possessive!taehyung. jealous exbf!taehyung. mildly (clinically) insane taehyung. mentions of male masturbation. mentions of murder (as a joke). explicit smut. phone used as vibrator. possessive sex and dirty talk. ass slapping. blowjob. headpusher!tete. facefucking. he kinda crazy but that’s been established. oc kinda crazy too tho we good. penetrative sex. kitchen sex. doggy. taehyung kinda speaks in third person during sex cus i was drunk and it’s kinda hot and i like it okay?
— notes. wtf just happened. idk hooligans just got to me. don’t read this if the tags put u off (but i swear you’ll miss out on some good shit). i drank a few glasses of red wine during the smut so i apologize in advance if this is disguising. also listened to dracula on repeat while writing, cus that song is tete.
It’s not like you fear him or anything. You just worry. Deeply, that is. There is of course a thrill to him, a side you love.
Or loved, at least. Because you really did love him, maybe you still do. But he could sometimes just shift into someone you swore you didn’t know. A completely different Taehyung from the one you fell for.
And for some reason it got worse after you threw in the towel. Taehyung got even more possessive, like that was even possible. You had to kindly ask him to keep his distance — it frightened you that he showed up uninvited to events he should’ve had no knowledge of. It seemed like he was everywhere at one point, at your nail appointments, at your friends’ birthday parties, deep in your bones, far down your throat, pressing down on your windpipes suffocating you.
He would never hurt you. But he certainly had no problem with hurting everyone else.
About a week ago, your father set you up with someone he deemed a better match than your ex boyfriend, the black sheep. His name was Kim Namjoon, son of a respectable family. Tall, athletic, handsome, smart — all wonderful assets which could possibly be passed down to eventual offspring. Your father told you Namjoon trades art, an occupation that has granted him wealth both economically and culturally. And he did look cute, so you obliged.
The two of you met at a dimly lit restaurant, where Namjoon was to spoil you rotten. He wanted to give you a taste of his way of living, how he dealt with a common day, spending it surrounded by wine, great food and live music.
It was all well until the illusion was shattered. Poor Namjoon had nothing to do with this. You wish, in all honesty, that he would be granted a second chance. But he made the mistake of excusing himself to the restroom halfway through dinner. Rookie mistake when dealing with a woman like you — a woman with your history.
Namjoon came back with trembling hands and his tie ripped out of his blazer, hanging crookedly across his chest. When reminiscing back to that night, you remember his tousled hair, the black swallowing his brown, beautiful eyes.
“This has been—” Namjoon swallowed a lump between his words, “just great. Great, really. L-Let me show you to your car.”
You hadn’t called your driver or ordered an uber.
As you tried calming him down, asking what was the matter, Namjoon walked to pull out your chair, almost dragging you out of your seat. He was about to put a leading hand to the small of your back, before seemingly getting mentally electrocuted, stopping himself and stuffing his pockets instead.
“Namjoon, hun… are you okay? You can tell me, just—you’re kind of freaking me out here,” you whispered, trying not to cause a scene as Namjoon almost pushed you forward and through the restaurant — all without touching you for even a second. Having him sweating behind you was all you needed.
“You’re probably so tired—look, there’s your car. Have a great night!” He pointed to the window, and truthful he was. Outside was the black SUV, in the driver’s seat sat Gwansik.
How on earth did Gwansik get here?, you thought. Did Namjoon call him from the bathroom? Was the date going that badly? From your point of view Namjoon actually had a great time. Maybe he was just a great actor.
You whipped your head around, trying to meet Namjoon’s eyes. He ignored them right away, bowed humbly and rushed away from the exit.
So you stood there, all alone, clutch in hand, about to leave a date you actually had enjoyed — without any proper reason as to why it ended so abruptly.
That was of course what you thought until your eyes went to the hallway framing the restroom.
You didn’t see much, but you saw enough. The flash of those fucking diamonds. Those fucking fangs.
Taehyung is seeing red. Taehyung thought he hit rock bottom when you left him, left him to rot. But somehow you’ve outdone yourself. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.
Park Jimin. Park fucking Jimin. That little lesbian boy? What could you possibly see in him? How could you possibly stomach the sight of that walking milk carton, not only once — but twice?
Kim Namjoon was one thing. He was honorable. Taehyung felt a sense of pride in sending him out the door of that restaurant with a diaper full of shit. Namjoon was bigger, older, more influential. His only problem was that unfortunate dating scandal a few years ago — you know, the one where he left that Idol alone with a kid? Gosh, princess, he didn’t deserve you.
Park Jimin, however, is in himself fucking embarrassing.
Park Jimin spends his time at strip-clubs. Orion, to be exact. Every Saturday, 11:30 PM — like clockwork. Park Jimin walks through those doors with the same pack of hungry men each fucking Saturday. Pockets stuffed heavy, nose stuffed dumb. What a fucking embarrassing human being.
You probably don’t know this about him. You’re so naive. Gosh, it should be endearing — but at times it can be so fucking infuriating. You can’t take proper care of yourself. You should be grateful that Taehyung does so for you.
By midnight Jimin already books himself a private room.
Early on it tonight, Park Jimin. You should’ve saved yourself some time.
Taehyung sits heavy, legs spread and arms splayed wide over the couch’s headrest. He shifts his hips, the dark denim almost blending in with the black leather his thighs rest on.
When the door opens, the boxy smile spreading on Taehyung’s face shines through the dark. The bedazzled fangs giving away a faint spark.
“Yoo-hoo!” Taehyung mocks, making waves with his fingertips.
Jimin’s reaction is simply priceless. His stomach visibly drops, his face going even paler than his bleached hair, fat lips parting with a surprised gasp. Jimin remembers the man before him — on the couch where he was planning on getting his dick wet.
“Fuck off—what do you want, man?” Jimin whines, throwing his head back. He is apparently a stupid man, this Park Jimin. After clicking his tongue, he actually shuts the door behind him. Rookie mistake when dealing with a woman like you.
“Are you a stupid man, Park Jimin?” Taehyung rasps, spreading his legs even wider. He lets himself get disgustingly comfortable in the bed where Jimin should lay, pheromones seeping out of his pores. He could just as well piss on this fucking leather.
“Look—this psychotic break you’re having? Not my problem,” Jimin says with a firm tone, quite ballsy for a man who knows just how ‘psychotic’ Taehyung can get. He didn’t seem to be this brave when Taehyung butchered his bowling date last week. He left you rather quickly, not really interested in a broken nose. But he had the fucking nerve to see you again. So maybe he wanted that broken nose anyway?
“‘just wanna get to know you better, Jimin-ssi. Can’t a guy simply wish for more friends?”
Jimin snickers at Taehyung’s words — and that’s when the red in the taller’s eyes turns pitch black.
Only a few minutes later, Taehyung exits the private room with Jimin’s nape between his fingertips. He presses down harder when Jimin tries to wiggle away from his grip, having the blond wince, uttering a fragile apology through his split lip.
That’s what you get, Taehyung thinks. If this wuss ever tries kissing you again, Taehyung will do more than just damage the fat on his mouth. He’ll cut his fucking tongue out.
He’d never hurt you, though. You know that, don’t you? You know he’d never lay a hand on you. He’s just doing this to wipe the streets clean — to ensure your safety. See? He’s just trying to help. You must get that, right?
Jimin was seen with a black eye walking down Cheongdam-dong on Wednesday.
When you tried calling him, you found out you had been blocked. Park Jimin had blocked your number. Park Jimin had a black eye, a split lip, and had blocked your number from his phone.
That fucking Kim Taehyung.
You’ve had enough. You’ve had it up to here^. You’re trapped in a relationship you got out of months ago. You should be living freely, uncaring of your past. But Kim Taehyung works like a past disease, suddenly blooming inside you again, planting seeds that will eventually lead to your demise.
You decide to unblock his phone number in the morning, call him the moment you get out of bed.
“You have to stop it with this, Taehyung—I’m being dead serious.”
He chuckles on the other line, probably just blissful to hear your voice again.
“You don’t get to laugh. You’re fucking embarrassing yourself, okay? I could report you to the police, Taehyung.”
“On what grounds?” Taehyung snickers, and you actually hear him lick his lips through the phone. The image bleeds into you. He might be a lunatic — but he was once your lunatic. That will never go away. The memories of you and him will never fade.
You trip over your words, kneading a shut eye with your knuckles. “Fucking—f-fucking assault! Assault, Taehyung!”
Said man releases his tongue from the cave of his mouth with a smug click. He shifts in his seat, you hear the fabric of whatever pant he’s wearing move on the other line. It’s uncomfortably quiet, intimate, and suddenly you hear the soft breathing slipping from his lips.
Then another chuckle. More breathy this time, but still sounding like he’s enjoying himself.
“I’m a good boy, princess. You know I’d never do something like that.”
His voice is raspy, and you remember he might have just woken up. What an awful time to choose a scolding. You’ve always been weak when it comes to Taehyung’s deep voice… his morning-rasp no better.
You try physically pulling yourself out of the trance he puts you in, slapping a flat palm to your cheek. You don’t care that Taehyung laughs. He probably recognizes the sound — he knows all your tactics so well, all your habits. He can probably paint a perfect picture of your current position right now. As can you.
You can perfectly envision him in bed. Those navy, striped boxers. Blanket only covering his abdomen, cutting right below his navel. Legs spread, hand on his thigh, thumb caressing his own skin just for some simple relief. Dark hair kissing his forehead, draping his eyes.
He might be a lunatic. But he was once your lunatic.
“Tete?” you purr.
The man on the other line suddenly softens, just like that. Pathetic. How well you know him.
“Mhm?” he hums. He might as well have whined.
You hum right after him, the two of you almost melting into one and same puddle. Even if he can’t see, you bet he can imagine, and you start caressing the soft skin of your neck. It spurs you on — the fact that he can’t see you. Gives you room to do whatever, leaves him wanting and desperate on the other end.
It takes a while before you speak again. You purposely drag it out, breathe a little heavier.
“Tete… you love me… right?” you almost moan, your fingers starting to drag down your lace covered breast.
Taehyung squirms, probably nodding with the phone to his ear. “Mhm—of course I do, princess.”
“Aw, Tete…”
The silence stretches, and by the sound of Taehyung’s sudden gasp, the shift of blanket — you believe he might be touching himself. What a perfect vision. What a sad, perfect vision.
You smile, removing the hand from your breast, placing it on your hip instead.
“Then leave me alone—you fucking nut-job.”
Call ended 09:12 AM.
Taehyung fucking hates Jeon Jungkook. Hates his guts. So this should be fun.
It’s been a week and two days since the phone call. You blocked him right after, decided to not pay him any more attention.
You blocked him. It shouldn’t have been weird that you didn’t hear from him. But… you don’t know… it’s weird… you somehow wished you had? Maybe you’re starting to lose it yourself.
But he went radio silent. Didn’t show up anywhere unexpected.
On Friday you had scheduled a date with Jung Hoseok, a famous designer for Ader Error. So stupidly attractive that you had a hard time listening to his casual conversation across the table from him.
But… halfway through the date, you caught yourself counting down seconds. Not to the date’s end, God no. But for something worse, way worse.
You were counting down the seconds to the sighting of those diamond-covered teeth. Until Hoseok decided to grant himself a bathroom break, until he got ambushed by the maniac waiting for him. But when Hoseok came back from the restroom, he was just as happy as before. Sat down, chatted normally. Didn’t even have a bruise — not anywhere!
It’s not like you wished Hoseok any harm. You almost went home with him, your lust and pent up arousal acting out in strange ways. But you stopped yourself as you almost got into his car. Because deep down, there was this tiny evil thought that spread through you like wildfire.
You were sort of hoping that Taehyung would be following. That he would burst through the doors of Hoseok’s bedroom, catch you in the act and lose his mind.
Jesus Christ.
But even though you didn’t go home with Hoseok, you still couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Taehyung hadn’t made an appearance. He hadn’t interfered with the date at all.
He had never listened to you before. So why would he now? Why would he suddenly do as told, actually leave you alone? He knew all about your games — he knew you didn’t actually mean it (deep down, that is). So what’s going on?
After days and days and days of no word from Taehyung, not even a sight of him, you decided to lay down bait.
Jeon Jungkook was the only man Taehyung ever accused you of having an affair with. He knew your parents, was attractive and had in 28 years earned himself some good money. It was after a fundraiser two years ago when a picture was snapped of you and Jungkook giggling together that Taehyung first showed you how angry he could get.
In your eyes — this seemed like the perfect candidate for a next date.
Let’s also stress this again: You do not wish any harm upon Jungkook. You just want a reaction from Taehyung. Maybe. You don’t know, actually, you haven’t gotten that far yet.
When the doorbell rings, you secure your last earring, run down the stairs and slip into a pair of too high heels. Jungkook is tall, but not taller than Taehyung. Heels won’t matter anyways though, as you actually plan on going home with your date this time, praying that he might rid you off your heels before Taehyung kicks the door down and sweats blood all over Jungkook’s bedroom floor.
As you reach for the handle, you brush down the skirt of your dress in case some wrinkles appeared out of thin air. You haven’t seen Jungkook in a while, neither has he seen you. This napkin of a dress should do, he should lose his breath any minute now.
The door opens and out there stands a man.
Huh. Alright. You might’ve not seen Jungkook in a while, but the man standing outside your door most certainly is not Jeon Jungkook. Because that man right there looks strikingly similar to Kim Taehyung.
“Having fun playing this little game, are you?” the man hisses, and with that you’re most certain it is not Jeon Jungkook. Mhm. Unfortunately. Unfortunately the man before you is Kim Taehyung. Ah, you successfully summoned him. A bit faster than expected, though — you must admit.
You frown, eyebrows creasing and top lip lifting until it reaches the tip of your nose. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Without answering he invites himself in by simply walking past you and into your home. He turns around and almost cries at the sight of you. “Not in my dress.”
“Sorry—your dress? When did you last wear this?”
“It’s like you’re trying to anger me. Mhm, are you, princess?” He still seems to be ignoring all the words you say, totally lost in his own world. Taehyung closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and looks back at you, tilting his head. “When are you expecting him?”
Acting clueless might be your best option. “Who?”
“Ha-ha, funny. How long have you been waiting?”
“‘don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cross your arms over your chest, unknowingly pushing your cleavage tighter together.
Taehyung purses his lips and narrows his eyes, running a tongue over his fangs. Standing still in your hallway, he reaches for the phone buried in his pocket, whips it out and starts typing. After a few seconds of you standing there silent and confused, you hear your phone ringing. The buzz comes from the kitchen isle, where you last left it.
Jesus Christ.
You’ve obviously blocked Taehyung, so he can’t call you from his own cell. And that most certainly looks like a brand new phone.
“Go on—take it,” Taehyung purrs as he stands with the phone in hand, dark eyes eating you alive.
Debating whether or not to oblige, you roll your eyes and listen to him anyways. You strut away from the hallway, shoving your shoulder against Taehyung’s when passing him, and make your way to the kitchen. On the tall isle lies your phone, glowing and buzzing, giving away a familiar caller ID.
When you close in on it, you click your tongue before you press decline.
Jeon Jungkook is calling.
“Taehyung—what the fuck?” you sigh, even though you must admit you’re sort of satisfied. You won’t ever say that out loud though. But it is intriguing, how on earth Jungkook’s phone ended up in Taehyung’s pocket. It has to be quite the story. That is of course if Taehyung didn’t actually kill him. That’d be concerning.
“Yeah, he won’t be arriving any time soon.” Taehyung has followed you into the kitchen, walking behind you like a panter, silent and demanding. When you turn around, you’re met with a large frame closing in on you, causing you to back up into the kitchen isle.
You huff out a breath of air, trying the mask the fact that you’re a bit frightened and a lot aroused. “What, ‘cus you killed him?”
“Mhm—have his head in my trunk as we speak.”
“That’d be funny if it weren’t believable, Taehyung,” you say, pressing both hands down on the cold marble behind you, leaning back on them. Taehyung gives you very little space, his knees brushing against your thighs.
He tilts his head again, licks his lips, a trait he’ll never grow out of. “Give me your phone.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” Taehyung clicks his tongue, eying you until he sees soft goosebumps appear on your bare forearms, your bare thighs. “It’d be better for you to just comply.”
He might put you in a trance, but you’re not giving him your phone. That’s no fun, is it? So you pout, shake your head and look up at him with sorrowful eyes, almost like a frightened animal.
A large hand shoots out, grabbing for your phone before you can even react. You have to hide your flush behind narrow, scolding eyes, hoping that Taehyung can’t see just how much you’re enjoying this. There’s a part of you that has missed this. How insane he can be, all the things he’s willing to do just to be with you.
Taehyung puts the phone up before your face, reaches for your cheeks and wraps his longs fingers around your skin. He holds your head still and forces the face-ID to unlock. And, unfortunately, you’re so turned on that you can’t even bother to break loose.
“There you go,” he whispers, turns the screen away from you and works his magic. You don’t even care that he has access to all your secrets, he knows them all anyways — it’s not the first time he has your phone in hand. But this time, you hear him head straight for ‘contacts’, a ringing tone appearing before Jungkook’s cellphone starts buzzing in Taehyung’s second hand.
What is he doing?
You furrow your brows, huff out a breath of laughter before you prepare to speak — something you never get to. Because Taehyung suddenly steps in between your legs, pressing his frame heavy against yours.
The intimacy has you gasping suddenly, it’s been such a long time. You haven’t been with anyone since Taehyung, only kissed a little. But feeling such a tall, strong figure breathe and pump blood against your body has your toes curling inside your heels, fingertips buzzing with excitement.
“Jungkook will be so glad when he gets his phone back—” Taehyung breathes, placing both phones in his right hand, the other reaching out to draw circles into the small of your back. “—and sees that you’ve been calling… and calling… and calling.”
You inhale deeply, trying to move further away from him, but the cold kitchen isle and Taehyung’s frame caging you in. There’s nowhere for you to go, you’re trapped.
As the buzzing dies down, his right hand moves, lowers itself, and your breath hitches when it suddenly starts up again. Someone is calling someone — and the vibrations are traveling through the air, now moving dangerously close to your stomach.
“Do you worry about him?” Taehyung purrs, leaning in to steal a quick whiff of your perfume. His nose brushes against the skin of your neck, and the two phones suddenly reach your belly. “‘scared that I’ve hurt him?”
“Hah-ah, no,” you gasp, shuddering when Taehyung presses his nose against you, inhaling your scent deeply. Your fingertips scrabble for purchase against the flat surface top, instinctively parting your legs further.
Taehyung chuckles, sees this as an invitation to tease you further, move the vibrating cellphones to where you ache so badly.
With a rough tug, the hand resting on your back moves to the hem of your dress — the hem which Taehyung yanks up within a second, baring your white and already damp panties to him.
Without looking, he presses a button on one of the phones, insures the vibration to carry on a bit further, before lowering the devices directly to your clothed cunt.
“F-Fuck,” you curse, forehead meeting Taehyung’s chest as he presses the edge of the vibrating phones right to your clit. It pulses underneath the fabric, the stimulation so minimal that you almost push your hips off the isle and onto the buzzing sensation.
“Jungkook would be so glad to know he’s not left out, wouldn’t he?” Taehyung wiggles the phones against your clit, makes sure the fabric of your panties stick to the wetness you provide for him, that the pleasure you’re experiencing is just short of enough. “Would be so happy to know he’s making you feel so good.”
You don’t know what to do with yourself. Your cheeks are growing hotter, your core is pulsating and clenching around nothing, your clit stimulated by Jeon Jungkook’s fucking cellphone. You’re probably making a mess out of it — your phone too — something Taehyung will never wipe away. He’ll give the phone back to Jungkook once it’s completely drenched.
One of the hands you lean on flies up and finds rest beside your head, fisting the fabric of Taehyung’s leather jacket. Your lips are parted, panting and mewling as the vibrations continue, buzzing sweetly against your pulsating, aching clit.
Taehyung laughs at your moans. “You want him to know this, don’t you? Want Jungkookie to know how wet you are for him? That he doesn’t even need to touch you, that you’re so wet for him that you could cum just like this?”
You slam your fist down to his chest, the strength of it unimpressive. He chuckles again, moving the two phones in circles over your clit, the buzzing having you gasp for air and shut your eyes.
It’d feel so much better if it was his fingers.
“But the thing is—” Taehyung breathes, his large palm moving to your ass, kneading the supple flesh before giving it a harsh smack. You yelp, the hand on Taehyung’s chest finding his bicep instead, burying your fingernails into the leather. He chuckles, easing the sting on your ass by caressing the skin there. “Jungkookie doesn’t get to touch you. Does he, baby?”
Simply because you’re in desperate need of more stimulus, you shake your head against his chest, a sudden tear falling from the corner of your eye. You’re so horny you’re crying. Jesus.
“No, no—because you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” The vibration dies, but Taehyung revives it with a single press of a button, wiggling the phones back and forth over your pulsating nub.
Your panties are almost completely soaked through, and the man before you has dumbed you down enough that you’re starting to roll your hips against the vibrations, gasping and panting as the curling sensation in your stomach starts to bloom.
You moan into his chest, pressing yourself harder against the cellphones, forgetting all about Jungkook and his stolen device, where he might be, how Taehyung might’ve gotten this phone — and you start searching for your release.
Stars dance in your eyelids, Taehyung’s big, free hand caresses your bare ass-cheek, and you clench and clench as wetness seeps out of you and gets stuck in the soft cotton fabric.
“T-Tete… please don’t stop—please don’t stop,” are your last ragged words before being ripped from pleasure.
Taehyung laughs, shuts both phones off and shoves them into the pockets of his leather jacket.
Another tear falls as you whine openmouthed against your ex, thighs quivering as the simmering pleasure in your stomach dies down and leaves you. “Nuh-no…”
“If you think you’re cumming on Jungkook’s phone—you’re fucking stupid.”
After his deep-voiced words, Taehyung hisses and sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, having you yelp underneath him and throw your head back. The diamonds glued to his fangs sting against your skin, his tongue laps at your flesh, and his hands go to your waist, pressing you harder against him. And it is just now that you feel exactly how much he has missed you, how much he’s aching — how hard he is for you.
His teeth are set out to leave a mark, and Taehyung only lets go when you start shuddering in his grip, small hands trying to push him away.
But instead of letting go completely, his mouth finds a new purpose, lips slotting together with yours.
You gasp into his mouth, lips parting just for Taehyung’s tongue to slip in, searching for yours. He rolls the muscle with precision, mapping out the mouth he has missed so deeply, tasting every crook and crevice that you stole from him.
“Fuck—this fucking mouth,” Taehyung grunts between kisses, fangs biting down on your bottom lip until you moan. He swallows every sound you make, and slowly starts pushing his erection heavier against your abdomen. “Baby—fuck, your mouth.”
It takes no more than a second for Taehyung to push himself off you, leave you tousled and lip bitten before him. His slender fingers go to the silver belt buckle holding his pants in place, and he quickly starts undressing.
As the belt flies off, he pops the buttons of his black jeans, snapping his fingers as the fly is undone. The snap is directed towards you, gesturing for you to make your way to him.
“Knees. On your knees now.”
You bite down on your bottom lip as you take in the sate of him — unbuttoned pants, belt discarded on the floor, thighs spread just the slightest as he waits for you. His breath is no longer as steady as before, his chest moving up and down slowly as he licks his lips.
Fuck, he looks so incredibly handsome.
There’s nothing else for you to do but push yourself off the isle and drop to your knees as your mouth waters before him. You shimmy your way closer to his thighs, your dress still bunched around your waist.
As you close in on him, Taehyung places a hand on the back of your neck, pressing firm fingers into your nape as he silently tells you to free him.
You do just so, as the sight of his peeking boxers has your pupils dilating. Your right hand simply reaches for the elastic band, sparing no time — freeing his hard and long cock.
The length of him tries to slap against his stomach, but you quickly wrap a small fist around him, squeezing down at the base and angling the tip towards your mouth.
“Hah—shit,” Taehyung hisses, the head of his cock releasing precum as you give another firm squeeze. He licks his lips once locking eyes with you, humming contentedly at your wide and lust-filled orbs.
He chuckles once, caressing the back of your neck, moving his hand higher until his slender fingers curl in your hair. “‘gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? ‘gonna make your Tete cum so hard down your throat, yeah?”
You answer by nodding, loving the way he hums above you. And after a few teasing seconds, you give him just a single stroke as the tip of your tongue pokes out to get a taste of him.
The pink muscle dips into the slit of his cockhead, gathering his precum on your tongue before swirling it around. You create a mess of him, opening your mouth wider and forgetting to swallow — just so strings of saliva can drip prettily down his thick shaft, mix with his own fluids.
Taehyung groans, throwing his head back in pleasure and threading your hair between his fingers, humming as your tongue continues to play with his slit.
The color of him is so pretty, so pink and glistening — the taste even better. It’s salt, rough, masculine, everything you’ve missed about Taehyung. You want so much more of it. And in order to lure it out of him, you look up in his direction, slowly wrap your soft lips around his cockhead — solely the head — and you start sucking.
You hollow your cheeks and slurp away, trying to milk every drop of precum out of his pretty cock, ears almost wiggling with excitement as Taehyung lets out a shuddering breath, something in the likes of a moan slipping from him.
“F-Fuck, baby—making me feel so good already,” Taehyung breathes, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your tongue swirls around the head of him, all the while you suck away for dear life.
He’s quite large, Taehyung, and your pussy starts clenching untouched at the thought of pushing yourself further down onto his cock, the corners of your mouth straining and your need to gag uncontrollable. You’re practically leaking onto your newly polished floor, the white cotton panties you’re in drenched, ruined, rotten.
As you start sliding your lips further down onto his shaft, Taehyung shudders and looks down to meet your eyes.
His pupils have swallowed his eyes, the monolid one practically closed as he tries his best to hold contact. The sight has your clit pulsating against the wet fabric of its cage, and you instinctively press your thighs together, trying to receive some kind of pleasure. As if having Taehyung’s dick in your mouth isn’t already enough. Gosh, how you’ve missed him.
As saliva starts running down the corners of your mouth, Taehyung lets his free hand meet your chin, his big thumb wiping away the spit.
“Prettiest cockslut I know, aren’t you?” he hums, gently pushing your parted lips down his cock. You cough at the intrusion, swallowing harder around him, causing Taehyung’s thighs to quiver. “Fuuck—that’s it. Missed your boyfriend’s cock so badly? Wanted to make me mad until I stuffed you dumb, didn’t you?”
You blush embarrassingly at the word boyfriend, something deep inside you missing him in that way. And as Taehyung sees your reddened cheeks, he shoves you harder onto him with a strained groan, pushing your nose against his pelvis.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, feeling the head of him meet the back of your throat. You gag slightly, pressing your hands hard against your thighs, almost grinding down against the skin just to stimulate your clit in whatever way possible. The sounds he produces mixes so beautifully with your choking, with the wetness of his cock.
Suddenly, the fist in your hair tightens, and he pulls you off him until your lips cover only his head — then shoves you back down.
Tears brim the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall as saliva drips down your chin. It’s messy, it’s loud and it’s almost embarrassing. But what embarrasses you the most is that you feel your cunt leak all the more when Taehyung handles you so roughly.
The dance continues — Taehyung throws his head back and starts shamelessly fucking your parted lips down his cock, grunting and puffing his chest with every single gag and whine you let out. You feel like putty underneath him, like clay in his hands, molded perfectly to take his thick, long and relentless cock.
“Such a perfect mouth for your boyfriend,” Taehyung breathes after a moan, eyes locking with your lips, watching the way both precum and spit mixes together and coats the edges of your mouth. You nod underneath him, flattening your tongue to feel every single vein of him. You know them by heart, every ridge, and finally getting a taste of them again has your heart beating and clit pulsating without stop.
He doesn’t let you take control, doesn’t let you work your magic — he simply fucks your throat until your mouth hurts, your lips straining, threatening to split around his width. It’s all a power play, to show you who’s really in charge: And just how much you fucking love it.
The flush on your cheeks increases when you hear the change in Taehyung’s breathing, how even underneath his iron armor — he still can’t help but break once having your lips wrapped around him. You look up to meet his furrowed eyebrows, his dark pupils, his parted lips which give out shameless moans and groans. What a fucking sight, that Kim Taehyung.
But almost like he senses your pride, like he knows how well you get under his skin — he tears you off him with the fist curled up in your hair.
You don’t hiss, you don’t whine, you simply gasp for the new air you’ve been gifted, watching as a string of saliva and precum still connects you to his cock.
“Fuck!” he hisses, actually sounding mad this time, running stressed fingers through his dark hair. “Can’t do it. Get up.”
You stare at him with wide eyes, gulping.
Is he mad at you? Did you do something? Was it not to his liking? You swore he liked it. You swore you did your best.
As you finish the gulp, Taehyung bites down on his bottom lip before bending down — scooping you up into his arms bridal style. It catches you slightly off guard, but you’re so aroused that you practically work as a ragdoll, unmoving and be willingly following his lead.
He walks you only a few steps, placing you down before the kitchen isle and letting your stomach meet the cool marble. Your feet hurt as your heels bite into the sensitive skin — but nothing compares to the fingers Taehyung slide down your spine as he bends you over before him.
“Cumming won’t matter if I don’t fucking breed you.”
Your eyes widen at his words, and suddenly a new palm strikes down on one of your ass-cheeks. Taehyung chuckles, placing a hand to the back of your neck, shoving your chin down into the marble. His other hand reaches for both your wrists, and you comply without hesitation, crossing them behind your back for your ex to hold onto.
“You stay like that, princess—” Taehyung leans down to whisper in your ear, the motion suddenly having his hard and wet cock prodding your entrance. You squirm into the surface, tears falling down your nose and cheek, staining your makeup. “—and let Tete make you feel so good—like only Tete knows how to, yeah?”
Like only he knows how to. Only Taehyung. He’s the only one who can keep up with you. Only one who can satisfy you. Yeah, he might be a bit insane — but that’s your insane boyfriend. Never will be anyone else’s.
Before you can answer with words, Taehyung is already working on your panties. The hand pressing your head against the marble countertop has found new purpose. He lets his long fingers drag over the wetness, teasingly rubbing over your clit while practically laughing in your ear. You turn, forehead meeting the hard surface, moaning into the marble as Taehyung plays with your high-point like an expert.
“‘gonna make you wish you never left me, princess,” he purrs, once again biting down on your neck until the gems make their mark. “Your boyfriend is gonna take such good care of his favorite girl, isn’t he?”
You nod, whine, pushing your ass heavier against Taehyung’s bare cock, begging for him to fill you. “Yes, yes, Tete—fuck me so good, Taehyung—please!”
Taehyung groans at your whines, his hand on your clothed clit moving to the hem of your panties only to tug them down in one quick motion. As the air hits your now bare cunt, you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip. Following this, Taehyung’s slender fingers find your wetness, experimentally playing with you. “Fuck—you still get so wet, don’t you? Such a slut for your boyfriend—always have been.”
You don’t even get to finish before Taehyung aligns himself with your entrance, rubbing the pink head of him up and down your dripping cunt before slowly pushing in.
The fit is unbelievably snug, his head getting sucked in the moment he pushes forward — having Taehyung gasping for air and squeezing the hands crossed on your back even tighter.
“So fucking perfect—oh fuck, my princess feels so good.”
The air you suck in gets stuck in your throat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Taehyung’s long and thick cock splits you in half. He chuckles as he pushes deeper, trying to get you seated on his cock as soon as possible, but having to stop halfway through to catch his breath.
Your cunt clenches and squeezes around his cock, still not used to the intrusion. It has been a while since your last meeting.
But Taehyung knows just how to get you going, leaning over your body, biting down on your earlobe before surging forward with a single thrust.
“Oh my—fuck, Taehyung!”
“Shhssssh,” Taehyung whispers, licking a fat stripe from your neck to the lobe of your ear. “Just take your boyfriend’s cock and be nice and pretty for me.”
He buries himself balls deep within you, his hips suddenly snapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the kitchen. You gasp, bite down on your bottom lip trying not to make pathetic sounds at the feel of Taehyung’s cock deep in your stomach. Fuck — you can actually feel him there, so deep that your eyes roll into your skull, the air in your lungs getting punched out as he once again slaps a flat palm down on your ass.
“Fuck, Taehyung—oh my god!”
Taehyung’s hand snakes around your body after leaving a mark on your ass, fingers brushing over your belly until he can feel the outline of himself. He chuckles, bites down on your shoulder with a growl.
“There I am—fuck, you feel that, princess?” he asks, starting to slowly move inside you, pulling out shallowly only to snap his hips right back against your ass. With every gasp of air you give, with every whimper you let out, Taehyung presses down on the bulge in your stomach, every nerve in your body igniting. “No wonder you only want me. Nothing else can compare, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
You pant, the hands crossed on your back going limp, the only thing holding them there being Taehyung’s firm grip on your wrists. No words seem to form, no sentences, something Taehyung won’t allow.
He pulls out of you far enough to almost slip from your wetness — but instantly slams back in, suddenly hitting that spot inside you which makes your skin prickle, your stomach buzzing with pleasure.
You throw your head back (as far as your neck will let you), broken moans falling from your lips while you rest your chin on the marble, your body bouncing back and forth on the kitchen isle.
“You answer when your boyfriend asks you a question.”
“Yes! Yeh-yes!” you cry, your stomach burning with pleasure as Taehyung’s long and perfectly angled cock keeps on hitting that soft and precious spot within you. “Nothing can c-compare—oh fuck!”
All you can think of as he relentlessly goes at you, is the fact that you can’t see him. How you wish to see him — his dark eyes swallowed by lust, brows furrowed and bottom lip caught between diamond-covered teeth. That sick smile on him, the one no one can imitate, how he licks his lips while looking down at your ass, the wet panties bunches around your ankles, straining with how wide he has spread your legs.
You know he’s watching you with those hungry eyes, because soft praise slips from him every now and then, big bear claws slapping your ass, making the skin jiggle around his cock as he starts setting a rough and brutal pace.
Only a sick person would ever sleep with a man destroying everything around himself only to reach you, but then again — that might be why you’re so perfect for each other.
The thought of him breaking each hand that touches you — splitting open every lip that kisses you — has you clenching hard around his perfect cock, the cock which is made for you and only you.
“You wanna cum so bad, huh baby?” Taehyung grunts, pressing soft fingernails into the skin of your hips, almost like he wishes to splinter the skin and enter you from each and every hole he can make for himself. He wishes to be so deep inside you that nothing will ever be the same to you again, that your pussy will mold itself around his cock until every other dick just simply feels wrong and out of place. The image spurs him on, has him panting and gasping for air behind you as his hand suddenly searches for the pulsating, discarded clit between your pretty legs. “Wanna cum so bad all over Tete’s dick? Missed your Tete that bad—wanna drip all over him, drench him?”
The second his long, pretty fingers attach to your clit, your body starts trembling. You bite back a moan, but it somehow slips from you anyways, and you cry out a broken whine as you start breaking.
He pinches your clit between his index and middle finger, rubbing lazy circles, kissing down on your shoulder while his cock slams into you again, again and again — punching all the precious air out of your lungs, leaving you a breathless, mewling mess before him.
“Come for your boyfriend, baby. Fucking make a mess.”
His voice is what sends you over the edge, the depth and rasp of it causing your knees to give out, your body going limp over the counter as he continues rubbing your clit and slamming into you without mercy. You gasp and whine, all sounds broken with Taehyung’s pace. Your pussy clenches and pulsates around his cock, instinctively trying to push him out as he drives you into overstimulation.
Taehyung chuckles manically, releasing your wrists from his grip, letting both hands find your hips as starts searching for his own release, grunting when he sees the way you’re unable to move, speak or do anything for that matter.
“‘gonna fill you up so fucking good. Bet you’d look so pretty swollen with my kids—bet you’d look so fucking beautiful,” Taehyung rambles on, probably drunk on the sounds you produce, the way your back arches so prettily for him, despite the fact that your body has gone numb.
There’s no reason for you to tell him you’re on birth control, that you started the moment the two of you broke up in hopes of sleeping around. Telling him that would simply ruin the moment — so you let him get lost in his little wonder-world.
And the fact that you so willingly put up with his words, the way he handles you so roughly has his entire body shuddering. You still clench wildly around him, his dick twitching inside you until he slams into your ass once more — buries himself to the hilt and comes harshly.
“F-Fuuck—take it all, princess,” he gasps, moans, pants as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum inside you, painting your walls white with his release, pulsating and leaking within you.
Now that he finally stills, he falls down onto your back, wraps his forearm around your shoulders and buries his face in your neck. He breathes heavily, small whines falling from his lips as your pussy still milks him for all he’s got.
It suddenly feels strangely intimate, almost wholesome, like Taehyung isn’t clinically insane, like you aren’t either. As you both come down for your highs, it’s almost like you’re just girlfriend and boyfriend — not manic and bitching exes who fuck each other with disturbingly possessive tendencies. You actually feel like his princess, something Taehyung has to hold dear to his heart at all times.
And that is exactly what he does, pressing you harder against him until his cock softens inside you, breathing in your scent, your pheromones, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the smell.
“Missed my precious so bad—mhmm.”
You breathe out, hand curling backwards to caress the back of Taehyung’s head, playing with his hair as if he was a lost and scared pup. As your bones stop buzzing, you manage to wiggle away from him, turning to give him a soft kiss.
He looks so incredibly beautiful like this — newly fucked and irrevocably in love. Hair draped over his eyes, drenched with sweat. Lips a bit swollen from all the biting, small marks left behind from the gems in his teeth. The leather covering his torso might not help with the heat, the sweat, so you press a kiss to his cheek, ask him to undress.
It wouldn’t be so bad having him stick around. He could just spend the night, stay over, maybe never ever leave. You’d like that. It wouldn’t be all that awful.
Taehyung obliges, pulling the jacket off to reveal a black tank top, the fabric wet, causing you to giggle.
You pull on the hem of your dress, dragging it past your hips again in order to cover yourself as you make your way to the bathroom. To pee, clean yourself up, get ready for bed where you’ll sleep flush to Taehyung. You’ll have your head against his chest, you’ll get to listen to his heartbeat, to the way his breathing slows down when he falls asleep. You’ll wake up warm and uncomfortable in his tight grip — which he’ll never let you move from. He’ll keep you there forever. You got away once, and he’ll ensure that is never to happen ever again.
It only takes five minutes before you return from the bathroom, no panties on, same old dress, and a big smile plastered on your face as you lay eyes on Taehyung, who still stands in the kitchen.
The smile dies down pretty quickly.
Because there stands Taehyung, with your phone in hand, staring down at a buzzing, glowing screen. You have no idea what the screen reads, but with the way Taehyung’s eyes have gone black — you’re pretty sure it can’t be any good.
“T-Tete?” you ask with a fragile voice, walking slowly over to him, stopping a few steps before him just in case. Just in case.
He stays unmoving, looks down at the screen with an unreadable expression. It makes your stomach turn. You shouldn’t be scared, but whoever’s on the other end of that screen definitely should be. They should run for their lives.
Without speaking, simply looking up at you with dead eyes, tilted head and tongue prodding his cheek, he flips the screen — shows you the caller ID.
you were just renting your usual blockbuster from the stupidly hot guy at the video store, when it turns out you’ve been handed a tape you really shouldn’t be watching. are you an intruder, or did he give it to you on purpose?
⌗ pairings. jeon jungkook x female reader
⌗ word count. 17k
⌗ warnings and tags. pwp, don juankook (lol, jk is a ladiesman), voyeurism, penetrative sex, smitten!oc, kinda smitten!jk, weird love confession, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), oc goes limp with overstimulation lol, jk is kinda all over the places — neither dom or sub, oral pleasure (m!receiving), cum swallowing, cum eating, sloppy aftercare.
notes ! okay this is a bit overdue buttttt at least i finished it, hey! i’m so beyond amazed by my lovely girl ana’s ‘special delivery’, so i’m hoping this won’t disappoint LMAO! anyways, this is crazy. buckle up guys.
banner by @voyter obviouslyyyy
Having a stupid, all-consuming crush is something that defines girlhood. Shoving everything of importance out of your way in order to see, or spend time with set crush is really the only fair option as a young girl.
However, when the crush has lasted for almost a decade, and you still have yet to make any further progress… it borders on obsession. And it’s incredibly embarrassing.
You see, there’s this video store in town, this tiny, kind of grungy shop that contains every single piece of media imaginable. Old and dusty traveling magazines that no one bothers reading, records and CD’s you spend months saving up for… and what is seemingly a collection of every single movie ever made.
And behind the counter of that blockbuster shop, there sits a boy you’ve been pining after since the sixth grade.
Jeon Jungkook. A boy so painfully attractive and charming that he has simply ruined every other man for you, ever. And so incredibly out of reach that you feel like he’s more of a distant dream rather than a real human being.
The first spark of attraction appeared a few weeks after your twelfth birthday. You saw him through your window, which overviews the park. And there he was, the sixteen-year-old Jungkook, lighting up a cigarette near the entrance, watching patiently over the narrow path as a girl with dark hair approached him.
At your ripe age, this was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. The way his hand snaked underneath her coat when she hugged him. How he seemingly whispered something in her ear, grinning back at her when she retracted.
A few days later, you found out who the girl was. Tina Agnello’s cousin, who was in town for the week. You had overheard Tina talk about it during lunch break, sitting a few tables down from yours, and you almost choked on your yoghurt.
“Isn’t fourteen a bit young for a sixteen-year-old?” you huffed, mostly to yourself. But your friend picked it up, frowning at you.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
It shouldn’t really have surprised you that Jungkook grew up to be the town’s Don Juan.
He became sort of a community ride… a town bike, if you’d like. At first, you maybe thought there was something incredibly wrong with him, like some serious mental problems. Because why else would he be pounding around town?
But at fifteen, when you stumbled into the new video store in town, trying to escape the rain that had started pouring down outside, you unexpectedly fell head first into a real-life interaction with him. And weirdly enough, he seemed perfectly normal. Disgustingly charming, that is, but normal.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jungkook’s voice wasn’t all that deep, but it was soft, curling low in your stomach.
You stood leaning against the glass door, your wet hair clinging to your temples, droplets falling onto the floor. “What?”
He pointed towards the street behind you, “The rain.”
Maybe it was your brain short-cutting, but you didn’t understand what he meant… like at all. Your brows furrowed, and you repeated your question. “What?”
“It’s this thing I do to spark sales. Trap the costumers inside.”
“You make it rain?”
He chuckled at his own joke, incredibly stupid, but also numbingly cute, “Yeah, I find rain-dances to be very affective.”
It made you kind of mad that this guy had a captivating personality on top of his unfair looks. It would’ve honestly been better if he was just a dumb, stupid idiot, sleeping around town. But he made you laugh… and made you buy unnecessarily amounts of items from his store.
Was he a good salesman? No… not necessarily. But he was so damn flirty that you thought he might marry you if you watched the Star Trek chronicles.
And now, at your grown age of twenty fucking years old, your bookshelf is short of books and filled to the brim with Jungkook’s movie recommendations. It might be embarrassing, but it has become a weekly ritual. Every Saturday, you stop by his shop, return last week’s watch and pick up a new one.
“Now, how was it?” he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the counter. His eyes smize at you, trying to read the expression on your face.
You almost can’t answer because of how close he is. Even though you’ve known each other for five years, he still has this weird hold on you, and you have to clear your throat before you speak. “I liked that the bad guy’s name was Lord Humungus.”
He presses his lips together, his lip ring getting caught in the motion, and his eyebrows rise high on his forehead. “Yeah?” he nods, teasingly, and you want to go home and puke and cry. “That’s all… or…?”
The chuckle he lets out brushes against your face… yeah, he’s that close, and your brain short-circuits. Your eyes dart down to your hands, where the VHS tape dangles from your fingers, and you slide it across the counter. “It was better than the first one.”
“I told you it worked as a stand-alone, you didn’t have to bore yourself with the first,” he smirks, the smile tugging on only one side of his lips, bearing just a bit of his bunny-teeth.
You shrug, “I like to make up my own opinions, thanks.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
It might be a bizarre way to describe it, but his voice is laced with sex. Constantly. Like there’s always some hidden innuendo behind his words. And with the way he’s leaning forward, his biceps straining through the fabric of his navy uniform-tee, your mind runs laps, completely fogging and erasing every word you try uttering. So you just roll your eyes, trying to act casual.
“Sorry if I don’t love macho-car-movies,” you scoff, letting your hands slip away from the counter only to tremble nervously at your sides. It’s like your whole body is vibrating just by being near him, and this isn’t anything new. It’s always been like that. He’s just that charming.
Jungkook hums, nodding slowly before narrowing his eyes, a wondering look appearing on his face. Just to not seem like a lost sheep, you copy his facial expression and glower right back at him.
“Mhm,” he bites down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes skimming over your face before traveling lower. You have to compose yourself, shifting a bit in your stance, trying not to burst into flames. Jungkook takes his time before he speaks, finally locking with your eyes again. “You’d watch anything I tell you to, right?”
Holy mother of god. Of course you nod. Because you’re an idiot, and you’re certain your voice is going to crack halfway through your answer. And when Jungkook smirks at your obvious flustered state of being, your pulse spikes. His tongue flicks over the metal in his mouth, inherently seductive, even if it isn’t intended to be, and you think you might have to go cry in the backroom.
Then, without a word, he backs off from the counter and turns to the shelf behind him. He skims over the many cassettes in front of him, searching for something without speaking. You swallow behind him, finally freed from his captivating gaze, forced to stare at the way his back muscles move in waves underneath his tee while he stretches tall before the shelf.
His tattooed arm reaches out for a tape high above him, but it hesitates before it once again falls back to his side, “It’s here somewhere…”
You try waiting patiently for him to find whatever movie he’s looking for, but you can’t help yourself. Your gaze drifts, drops actually, and lands on his butt… unfortunately. It’s tightly hidden underneath his dark-washed jeans, accompanied by a pair of strong thighs. Such a nice and perky butt. Your head tilts a bit, taking in the view, if you’d like, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
It’s a shame that this is the exact moment Jungkook gives up on his search and turns abruptly. Your eyes widen, and you flinch, hoping he didn’t just see the way you were drooling over the chiseled shape of his ass.
But instead of commenting on your awkwardness, he drops to the ground, crouching down on the floor to inspect the hallow counter which contains several more blockbusters.
He grunts and groans while his fingers flick through the options, never landing on his target.
“Digging for gold?” you tease, boldly leaning over the counter to look at him. He doesn’t even meet your gaze, he just keeps searching, his eyebrows curled together in a knot on his forehead.
“Give me a second.”
You hear him pulling out a large cardboard box, watching over as his muscles tense as he drags it forward. And with a grunt, he lifts it, getting up on his feet and dropping it onto the counter. As you peek over the edge of it, you see it’s filled to the brim with identical black CD-covers, just with different scribblings on the side.
Jungkook’s slender fingers brush over the covers, flipping through the countless pieces until he finally grabs ahold of one. The one with the title Memento poorly written in white marker on the edge.
“Ah, there you are.” He pulls out the piece from the pool of covers while letting out a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d lost her.”
You lift your chin, looking over at Jungkook who is seemingly lost in his own little world that only contains him and this very neutral tape. “Memento?”
“It’s fucking great.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours, and you almost chuckle at the way they light up. It’s such a cute thing for a guy to have a hobby, to be in love with something. That is of course if you look past the excruciating mansplaining that follows. “A man with short term memory loss—so the entire movie is shot backwards. From end to beginning. You learn the plot with him, it’s insane. He uses these post-it notes to keep track of time, place and faces. Revolutionary, I’ve neve—”
“Shush,” you rip the cover from his hands, cutting off his monologue. You know just how long he can go on if he’d like. There have been times where you’d wondered if he might be on the spectrum, given the fact that he’s constantly restless, and a complete nerd when he wants to, but you don’t like to dwell on that. It’s cute, and it obviously works for him, so you let him act a bit strange. “Let me find out for myself.”
“Mhm, brat.”
You nearly gush at the new nickname, your nostrils flaring as you breathe in deeply. Your hands fall to your sides, and you unconsciously sway a bit in your stance, not really sure if you want to end the interaction here, or if you want to stay, maybe fling yourself over the counter, straddle this man like a horse. The ladder might not be the best idea, so you start searching for coins that are buried deep in the tiny back pocket of your jeans, eager to get the hell out of this place.
“4.99?” you ask, as if you don’t already know the price. You’re here every week, so it really is etched in your memory. But so is everything he tells you.
Jungkook smirks, his gum-drop eyes narrowing, “On the house. Since Mad Max wasn’t really your thing.”
“Don’t be stupid, I’ll pay.”
“Keep your money, peach, I don’t want it.”
Ugh, you hate when he calls you that. Peach. It sounds like some awful pet name that your dad would call you. So you’d really like for him to stop, but the one time you asked him to, it seemingly just fueled him. So you pray that one day he might see you as someone other than this little girl who buys stuff from him without second guessing his opinion. Maybe he’ll one day see you as a woman. Yesss that would be good. And you already know what it is he loves to do with women. Half the moms in town has slept with him.
Jesus your mind is wandering. You scrunch your nose, trying to act affronted by his arrogance, when really your mind is running through every woman in town who has gotten the taste of him. The jealousy blooming inside you is like a kid’s rage when they’re not allowed candy on a weekday. Why can’t you also have nice things?
“Fine, but I’ll repay you if I love it.”
“Deal,” he nods, his large hand reaching out before him, gesturing for you to shake it, “And don’t worry, peach. You’ll love it.”
Your entire apartment smells of butter and salt as you wait for the microwave’s timer to drop. There’s not a lot you know about this movie, but popcorn is always a good idea, so you’re hoping it won’t be too disturbing, ruining your appetite.
The CD is waiting for you inside the player, all you need to do is pad over your floor, sink down into the couch cushions and press play on your remote.
You’ve already brushed off all other plans for the night, your friends scolding you for throwing your life away only to watch some mediocre movie to please Jungkook. “You’re a source of income, you buy everything from him.”
Hah, bet they’ll be sorry when they hear you actually got this one for free. Mhm. Or maybe not. It’s been five years… it’s the least he could do.
The timer dings. Yey, showtime. You open the microwave door, the warm and salty smell travels through the air and settles deep within you. You grab the paper bag, tearing it open with a quick tug. Now you’re ready.
The cushions give in the moment your body meets the couch, and you immediately melt with them, sinking further and further down. You grab onto the soft, pink blanket that’s thrown carelessly over the armrest, and pull it over your body, letting yourself get incredibly comfortable. Although this ritual, watching a movie every Saturday, cozying up in your living room, is supposedly ‘me time’… you know deep inside you do this for him. Your friends are right, you do want his approval. So you’re hoping you’ll like this. Let’s watch, shall we?
You stretch your arm out, reaching for the remote control, and you press play.
The screen stays black for a moment. No music, no production mark. Weird. You wait for a moment, resting your head back on the soft cushion behind you. Still nothing plays. Mhm, maybe he gave you an empty disk? Or maybe your TV is broken?
You’re about to press play again, wondering if you maybe hit a wrong button the first time… when your whole body freezes.
The tape starts rolling, but it’s not Memento. Or, it possibly can’t be. That would be too bizarre. Because what plays on the screen is an amateur video… of Jungkook. Seemingly at home, staring straight into the camera, so close that his face blocks all surroundings. All you see is the concentration on his face as he fumbles with the record button, his eyes wide and searching.
You chuckle. Cute, he misplaced the CD. But what’s not so cute is when Jungkook moves out of frame.
Ho-ly-shit.
Your jaw actually drops, your mouth hanging wide open as you take in what’s playing on the television before you. Jesus fucking christ. When Jungkook is out of sight, you realize the camera is placed in his bedroom, and the sight has you gasping for air, your hand flying to cover your mouth. Because on his bed, there lies a girl… in only her underwear.
“Am I in the frame?” she asks gently, looking up at Jungkook who is still out of sight, her eyes doe-like and glistening. Pure seduction.
“Mhm,” Jungkook hums, and finally he moves forward, ushering for her to move further down the bed to make room for him by her side. And you think you might actually cry when he’s back on camera.
Walking into frame, the sight of him has your eyes widening, the hand covering your mouth slowly dragging down your chin. Leaving you gaping.
Jungkook is completely naked. Butt-ass-naked. On camera. And fully erect, that is. He walks over to the bed, eyes locked with the girls’, his large hands hanging by his side.
It’s not a modest sight. He looks absolutely insane. His shoulders broad, arms straining with veins and muscle, while his torso is rather lean, a small waist accompanied by a set of washboard abs. But that’s not really what steals your breath away. Because as he’s completely naked, your eyes immediately go to his abdomen. His hips are beautifully defined, his thighs chiseled and muscular, and his cock. Well, that’s just unfair.
He’s huge when erect, thick and heavy, the tip of him a beautiful, deep red, and as he moves closer, you see the leaking precum that drips from him, running down his veiny shaft.
You immediately pause the video, too stunned to do anything else, but that doesn’t really help as the still-frame of Jungkook’s heavy cock and deep, lust filled eyes continues to show on screen. So you turn the whole television off instead.
The screen flatlines, and you’re left frozen on the couch.
What on gods green earth did you just watch. And why the fuck did Jungkook give this to you. It has to be a mistake. He couldn’t possibly know he gave you this? It’s just a horrible fail, he misplaced the CD. Put it in the wrong cover. What the hell, you don’t even know how to make this sound reasonable.
Your eyebrows have almost reached your hairline, and your mouth still hangs wide open. The popcorn by your side remains untouched. Because you just simply can’t bring yourself to indulge in a snack right now, as you think you might vomit. Not because you’re disgusted… it’s the other way around actually. What you just saw has you feeling dizzy, a low, curling sensation building low in your stomach… and that’s what you find disturbing.
He probably never intended for anyone to ever see this, and here you are, on a Saturday, all snuggled up on your couch, watching his homemade porno.
You can’t be doing this. Let’s stop here. Here, but no further. You inhale deeply, straightening your posture as your torso lifts slowly from the couch, resting your elbows on your knees. The curling pleasure in your stomach has turned into a deep and horrific realization that this is such an invasion of privacy that you should probably be locked up for good. Even though you never intended to watch this, you still did, and you feel evil.
The black screen stares back at you. Your pulse thunders in your eardrums, you can practically hear your heart leaping out of your chest. As you reach for the remote, optioning to press ‘retract disk’, you stop. Something inside you stills. An evil thought forms.
This is like the marshmallow test. A kid with an unlimited access to a big bowl of marshmallows, which is in your case a recording of Jungkook finding his own release. Okay. Dilemma. Do you stop here, tell him about the mistake, return the tape immediately. You should. You definitely should.
Or do you continue? He won’t know just how much of it you saw…
You’ll obviously return it. Apologize. You check the small watch standing on the coffee table. It reads 7:32. The shop closes at eight. Okay. You have plenty of time. You just need to see what you’re dealing with here. Right?
You’re evil. But it’s impossible, it’s like having a gold mine before you, no one to stop you, not a single person in sight telling you for the love of god, woman, get a grip.
Your fingers curl around the remote… before you ultimately press ON — play — fast forward.
The screen turns back on, the recording forwards in quick frames, and you shut one eye as if that blocks out your shame and guilt. You land on a still that seems inviting. The girl, on all fours, Jungkook propped up behind her.
His hand comes up to his mouth. He sucks in his cheeks before spitting out a glob of saliva, moving his glistening fingers to the girl’s heat, which is perched in the air before him. Jungkook looks down at the view, gliding his fingers through her folds, immediately having her cry out with pleasure.
“Sshhh, baby, not yet. Want you crying on my dick.”
You shudder at the sound of his voice through the crispy speaker, his tone teasing with a hint of frustration. Your lips press together as you watch him line himself up, the girl’s face crinkling before it falls forward, burying her head in the pillow.
He thrust inside her with a grunt, his mouth falling open with a strained moan as he’s balls deep inside her. She whines a muted scream into the pillow, her fists clenching around the sheets. He’s probably too big for her.
Jungkook chuckles at her pleasure-filled misery, starting out with deep and slow grinds before pounding into her. The sounds are wile, having you turn down the volume with embarrassment, afraid your neighbors might tune in. Your jaw is practically on the floor as you watch Jungkook’s facial expressions. He’s smiling. His eyebrows curl together on his forehead as he plunges forward, retreating shallowly just to snap his hips against her ass once again.
Jesus. You press your legs together, trying to fight the obvious burn in your abdomen. Suddenly, your breath catches.
Jungkook looks up from the view of his cock driving into the girl’s heat… and his eyes lock with yours. Well, not yours, but he stares back at the camera, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in and out.
This just got increasingly more embarrassing. You’re indulging in something that feels very illegal here, so can he please look away? As if he’s watching you through the screen, your throat tightens. You can’t bring yourself to look away, it’s like a car crash. You can’t not stare at it. Your eyes flick from his face, to the way the muscles of his torso tighten with every snap of his hips. His palms run over the curve of her ass before it comes down to smack hard, causing her to tip her head back with a yelp. She’s so lost in pleasure that she can’t even talk.
But he does… and your brain-activity cuts short.
“Feel dirty?”
Huh? You still at his words.
He speaks again, grunts actually, “Filthy girl, wishing this was you.”
Oh my god. He’s talking to the viewer. He’s looking directly at the camera and speaking to you. Or whoever’s watching this. This was intended to be seen. Oh my god. Insert viewer porn.
You’re very certain this wasn’t for you to see, but someone was in mind when making this. Jungkook’s fingers curl around her hips as he drives harder and harder and harder into her cunt, the sound of skin on skin almost blocking out his next words.
“Wish it was my dick instead of your tiny, little fingers?” he growls, wincing as the girl wrapped around him clenches, milking him as he pounds into her. His words are stolen from him for just a second, before he bites down on his lips, continuing. “Still want you to cum for me, baby, want you to cum all over yourself.”
Help, you’ve probably fast-forwarded a bit too far into the tape, you didn’t know you were supposed to be touching yourself. Yeah, you won’t be doing that. It would just feel all too wrong.
You shift a bit in your seat, breath hitching as you feel how sensitive you’ve grown to any form of friction that brushes against your body. Jesus, you should turn this off, it has gotten really strange. Jungkook keeps looking directly at the camera, and although his eyes show nothing but need and desire, you kind of feel as though you’re being judged.
His moves turn frantic, and you realize the girl bent before him climaxes, screaming out, calling out his name in a row of desperate whines. This just fuels him to keep going, now forgetting all about the camera, his eyes darting down to her ass while his cock disappears inside her again and again and again.
He’s about to come. Your eyes widen as you see his face turn flushed, the sounds he releases being nothing short of grunted whimpers, desperate to find his own release. It’s fucking overwhelming, watching as the girl goes limp before him, listening to the sinful yet beautiful noises he’s producing.
Again you repeat here, but no further.
The remote has been resting in your soft grip ever since you turned the TV back on, and with a subtle press of your thumb — the screen goes black.
Okay. What you just saw might’ve just ruined your relationship on every level. You just electrocuted your tiny and insignificant bond, hoping it might spark something inside you. It did… but that only makes everything worse. And, sorry, are we just brushing over the fact that he’s making porn on his free time?
You’re quite overwhelmed, every forming thought being overpowered by another, more horrific one. But what you wish the strongest, is for this to just be a mistake. For you to be the idiot in this situation, sitting through about ten minutes of Jungkook’s sextape. Not for him to gift you this… knowing what’s on the disk, knowing you’re going home to watch him get his dick wet. That’s a whole other layer to this very weird scene that you don’t really want to take into consideration right now.
All you know is that his shop closes in about twenty minutes, and you can’t let this tape marinade in your video player. You’re going to have to return it, and that is tonight.
You feel like you’re about to melt with the snow that creaks underneath your boots. The CD-cover is buried in the pocket of your coat, burning its way into the fabric like some constant reminder of what an awful human being you are.
You’ve already thought over the conversation. You are to tell him about the mix-up, apologize, and sadly never show your face again. The two of you have had a good run, but it’s over now. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to ‘casually’ rent a dvd from him every week when all you can picture is his face when he’s about to… jesus, let’s not even go there.
Why did you do it — why, why, why, you stupid meatball of a woman. Why did you have to let your curiosity get the best of you?
You can see him through the windows of the store as you cross the street. He’s alone (thank god), so it’ll be less humiliating for you to admit the horrible mishap. Your breath leaves in a fog as you exhale, your mouth shaping itself in an ‘o’ as you reach the glass door. You inspect Jungkook, who stands behind the counter with a pen perched between his fingertips as he notes down whatever on a piece of paper.
Let’s do this. It won’t be that awful. You’re a grown woman, you can own up to your mistakes.
“I’m sorry!”
Jesus. The apology sort of just tumbles out of you as you push the door open, mingling with the overhead bell that notifies your arrival. You’re not sure if yelling out that you’re sorry is the best way to start this conversation, but it’s too late to take it back now. Even though you want nothing more than to grab the exclaim by its neck and shove it back down your throat.
Jungkook’s gaze lifts along with his eyebrows, staring over at you as you stand covered in snow at his doorstep. It hits you that this is sort of similar to your first official meet, you drenched in bad weather at the door, Jungkook unbothered and dry behind the cashier. Oh how you miss those times, when you were just a girl with a stupid crush, blissfully unaware. Nostalgia will be the death of you.
As you haven’t really gotten to the next part of your apology, Jungkook clears his throat, his eyebrows forming in a confused knot high on his forehead, “You’re sorry?”
“I’m sorry!” you repeat, fully entering his shop, hurrying over to Jungkook while leaving sad and wet little footprints behind you. It seems to amuse him that you’re completely out of breath and quite frankly horrified, as he tongues his cheek watching the way you rush over to him. You tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ears, ignoring the way your cheeks flush when fully exposed — even though it’s probably due to your mortification, you can brush it off as you going red by the cold.
You stop a few steps before the counter, chest heaving underneath your coat, and now that you’re here… you’ve forgotten your prepared monologue. What the hell, you know the basics of it. Let’s just give it a try.
“Euh—uh…” you stutter, now realizing you have no idea how to actually tell him this while looking him dead in the eyes. Hello, Jungkook, yes, it is true — I did in fact watch you pound away at some girl I don’t know. Yes, I could have turned it off, yes I realize that now. No, I don’t have any manners.
Jungkook frowns before you. Maybe he’s wondering if you slipped on ice on your way over, if you maybe cracked your skull open and that small bits and pieces of your consciousness is slowly seeping out of you. He crosses his arms loosely and leans over the counter, resting on his forearms. “Ah, I see,” he teases, grinning at the way your mouth hangs open.
This is getting more embarrassing by the minute. You try snapping out of it, putting one hand out in front of you, a flat palm. Okay here it goes.
“You gave me the wrong tape.”
Your shoulders slump the moment the words leave you, finally ridding you of the heavy burden. All you hope is that he might not ask about the tape, that he’ll take it back, maybe watch over it in private, realize his mistake and then not wonder why you’re not returning to his shop.
Because you quite frankly can’t ever set foot in here after what you just watched, not when all you can picture is the way his eyebrows crease when the girl wrapped around him pulsates, spasms, sucking him dry. Fuck, it was beautiful, but oh so inappropriate. So wildly inappropriate. You can’t ever see him the same way. Not that he was some virgin Mary before this, you’ve always known what kind of guy he was. But knowing he makes his own pornos just makes it absolutely impossible for you to keep your cool around him.
Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, letting your words sink in. The piercing catches between his teeth, making a small clicking sound that cuts right through the unbearable silence that fills his shop. Pursing his lips, examining you, he prepares to speak. “Mhm, did I?”
“Yeah,” you say, taking another step forward. You fish out the CD-cover buried in your pocket, handing it to Jungkook once you’re close enough to reach him. He doesn’t grab for it, so instead you place it down on the counter, trying not to look at it. It’s just this little black, plastic item — something that has managed to ruin your life (or so it seems like). “I just—I’m sorry. I wanted to return it as fast as I could.”
He stares at you for a moment before reaching for the tape, fingers curling around the plastic then picking it up. You’re kind of weirded out by this. He doesn’t ask any questions, nor does the contains of the tape you watched seem to matter to him. Instead, his eyes skim over the cover’s back for a second, before he puts it down again and shoves it out of sight.
“That’s too bad, huh?” His eyes meet yours again, and you almost faint. There’s this sparkle in them, a flash of glisten that disappears the moment he blinks. His eyebrows raise just a tad on his forehead, giving him just a teeny tiny pleading look. Alright, this has to be intentional — he knows what effect he has on women.
You can’t deal with him anymore. It was fine before, when it was just a stupid crush. But it’s slowly turning into something else, something shameful. You want him so bad that you could cry, because there is no way in hell he would ever lay a hand on a girl like you. And now you’ve seen all of him — every admirable inch of him. There’s no way you can keep him in your life without going insane.
Your lips curl into a thin line, and just as you’re about to speak, Jungkook cuts you off.
“Is there anything I could do for you?”
Quite frankly, no. You just need to be left alone, honestly. Curl up underneath your covers and die of embarrassment and lust. So you shake your head, trying to get out of this shop as quickly as possible. You don’t want the actual movie you rented, you just wanted to return the faulted one and flee the crime scene.
“No-no,” you say, waving a hand in front of you. “There really isn’t. Again, I’m sorry.”
You haven’t told him what the CD contains, but he’ll find out eventually. And there is absolutely no way that you’ll be here when that time comes. You have to get out of here. This didn’t really go as planned, you apparently don’t have enough courage to own up to your mistake. But you’ve returned the tape nonetheless, so your mission is complete.
You give Jungkook an almost believable smile, and prepare to walk off. Your feet are about to send you off, and you turn away from Jungkook, setting out on your journey to the door — when you feel a tug on your coat.
Jungkook has wrapped his fingers in the soft fabric, tugging on your back, keeping you from leaving. Reaching for you over the counter.
Neither of you speak for a moment, you just still the moment you feel resistance. Your chest heaves, you have no idea what’s going on, why he’s holding you back. It’s almost like all the air in your lungs in ripped from you, and when you hear his voice, your knees almost buckle.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want me to do?”
You can’t see his face, but his voice is enough to send you over the edge. It’s a low purr, but you also detect some worry. He can’t possibly be that sorry for lending you the wrong tape. It would at least make him great with costumers, but it can’t just be that. Oh god. He can’t possibly know… can he?
“W-what?” you ask, still not turning to face him. You just stare straight ahead at the snow that falls outside the window, the glass door. And Jungkook’s hand stays knotted in your coat, making it impossible for you to move.
“Come on…” he rasps, tugging you closer. Your feet stumble backwards, but you still don’t turn, honestly just because you don’t dare to. Looking him in his beautiful eyes right now might make you jump over that counter and fling your arms over his shoulders. So you stand still, your lower back meeting the edge of the counter. And after a while, after you’ve gotten used to the way Jungkook’s breath keeps brushing against the back of your head, he speaks again. “I know you like me.”
Mary mother of christ. There it is. He knows. Of course he knows — how could you be so stupid? You’ve been pining after him for almost a decade. How could he not know?
Goosebumps bloom on the back of your neck and your breathing turns shallow. This can really only mean one thing.
He didn’t give you the wrong tape.
You slip from his hand, turning abruptly, looking at him with wide and frightened eyes. For some reason, you can’t control your breathing. Your chest moves in heaves, and every sentence you try forming in your head dies on its way out. His nostrils flare before you, and as if you’re not having a hard enough time breathing, Jungkook’s eyes roam over your body, taking in your state of shock.
“Wha—what?” you repeat, still not sure any of this is real. Because how can it be. It’s straight out of a very weird and long porno. Fitting, given the tape he’s gifted you.
“Look—I’m sorry about the video,” he starts, running stressed fingers through his hair. You’ve never seen him like this, it’s out of character for him to not be teasing or mocking you. But he’s allowed to be nervous, as he has just confirmed to renting you a porno of himself. That has to be some sort of felony. When he’s done messing up his hair, he places his hands flat on the counter, chuckling at his own words. “I just—I don’t know. Thought you needed a push.”
“Needed a push?” You stick your neck out, baffled and not really sure if you just heard right. Was this an attempt to seduce you? In what messed up world would that work? “I’m sure you could’ve thought of some other way to wring the truth out of me.”
Jungkook shrugs, keeping his eyes glued to yours. “Sure. But I wanted you to see what I could do to you.”
Your pulse drops, and it almost feels as if someone has spilled a bucket of ice water down your neck. Oh my god, this has to be some kind of joke. Maybe he’s recording this too, and that he might just be a very messed up guy. Because never in your twenty years of living would you have thought that Jeon Jungkook could ever come onto you. Especially not like this.
For some reason, you can’t speak. But your face gets embarrassingly warm, your cheeks heating up and doing absolutely nothing to hide just how flustered you are. You try cooling it off, letting your knuckles meet the warm skin, not even caring how stupid it looks.
“Also,” Jungkook tilts his head, smiling at you. You immediately avoid his eyes, looking down at his hands instead, the thick, silver ring that’s wrapped around his left thumb. He notices, bending a bit down trying to search for your eyes. “It’s fun making you blush like this.”
“You’re—” you start, blushing even more when he points it out. Trying to recover some kind of bravery, you jerk your neck, flaring your nostrils. “This is insane behavior.”
“Romeo killed himself for Juliet—I would argue I’m not insane enough.”
You instantly frown, very taken aback by this absurd analogy. “Are you seriously comparing you giving me porn—your own porn—to Romeo and Juliet?”
“Yeah,” he says dead serious while straightening his posture. His eyes sparkle in your direction, and you gulp as you keep getting lost in them. He has apparently lost his damn mind… but it seems it might be because of you. That can’t be right.
“I'm sorry—but are we just brushing over the fact that you make your own porn?” Your eyebrows crease so bad it's actually hurting, but you can't for the life of you understand what on earth is going on.
Jungkook scratches the back of his head. “It was—it's something I do for fun—sometimes!” he tries explaining, tumbling over his own words. “I'd never do that to you—I just thought giving you the tape might open your eyes. Show you what I bring to the table.”
What a crazy mindset. Also, you already know what he brings to the table — every girl in town knows. He could’ve just told you ‘hey, I like you’ and it probably wouldn’t have been as strange.
As you part your lips, preparing to speak, your words are ripped from you. Because the moment your words are about to leave you, Jungkook decides to move. He takes a step back from the counter, eyes never leaving you, and starts making his way around, fingertips tracing the flat surface. The veins on his forearm strain against his skin as he moves, as his arm stretches, follows where he goes. And in a matter of no time, he manages to snake around the counter and take his first steps towards you.
There’s nothing else for you to do but tumble backwards, not knowing if its all because you’re trying to keep your distance from him or if it’s your brain subconsciously keeping you from making a stupid decision — keeping you from flinging yourself over Jungkook’s neck.
“I swear I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he stresses, slowly walking towards you. “And I know it was a crazy gesture—but the thing is… I kinda am crazy about you.”
You stop in your tracks, letting him close up on you. Your throat clogs as you hear his confession, a row of words you’ve only encountered in your dreams. Maybe you’re dumb and naive, but you’ve been so insatiably in love with him for these past years that the thought of him maybe feeling the same way has your vision blurring.
What snaps you back to reality is the tape, the way he spoke. How he carries himself, the fact that every girl in town has gotten a taste of him. He must be calculated. This isn’t a love confession — this is a damn ploy.
“That’s not funny,” you say, nostrils flaring.
He’s close enough to touch you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops before you, eyes skimming over your flushed face, moving from one eye to the other before settling on your lips for way too long. He takes a deep breath, one that has his shoulders lifting with the large intake. “I’m not trying to be funny, peach.”
That fucking nickname. Just this once, you wish he might’ve been able to drop it… just this once.
His fingers twitch with restraint at his sides, and his tongue brushes past his lips as his eyes are still fixed on your mouth. “If you think I’m just saying all this to win you over—do you really think I’d wait this long?”
“Uh, n-no,” you stutter, and your voice comes out more strained than you hoped, almost like every word you’re trying to say hurts in your throat.
One second passes, and without noticing at first, you see Jungkook’s hand lift. His palm comes to cup your cheek, his ring-covered thumb brushing against your warm skin. Your breathing comes out ragged, and your eyes flick over his face like a deer-caught-in-headlights. Trying to ease you, Jungkook brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your skin along the way.
“That tape was just a snivel of what I’d do to you if you let me.”
Oh god, maybe you’re in over your head here. You know you want this, that you want nothing less, but as you’ve established — Jungkook is crazy. And this might just be Jungkook’s brilliant way with words, but every single nerve in your body is tuned to him, and you find yourself glued to the floor, unable and not wanting to move.
Just dive in without thinking. Allow yourself this indulgence. You never do anything fun, you never take any fucking risks. So just take the leap.
You tip your chin up, better meeting his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Then what’s stopping you?”
A small, devilish smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips, before they surge forward, colliding with yours without giving you a second to breathe. The metal in his mouth brushes against your bottom lip, the strength of his kiss urging for you to open your mouth for him, bare him your tongue.
You do so without thinking, inviting him in, letting the wet muscle of his tongue roll against yours in an addictive dance, while his hand shoves your face harder against his. You’re on your tippy-toes now, stretching as far as possible to reach his mouth. He chuckles against your kiss, but not for long, not when he hears how your breathing has slowed and a small moan escapes you. Because it unfurls something in him, and soon enough his free hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him.
He groans at the feel of your thick coat against his chest, probably eager to rip it the fuck off, but trying to keep his cool nonetheless. It doesn’t work all that well. “Is it that cold out?”
His words aren’t teasing this time, he actually seems more furious. So you immediately find it funny, smiling still when he keeps kissing your stretched lips. “What, you don’t like my coat?”
“Hate it, actually,” he purrs, nudging your face away with his forehead just so he can latch onto your neck. You shiver the moment his lips meet your jugular, the wetness of them sending sparks all the way to your fingertips. He licks and sucks as if to mark you, while the hand on your waist takes on a new road, coming to fiddle with the top button of your coat.
You giggle as the button resists, catching in the soft fabric, refusing to give in. As Jungkook hears this, he retracts from your neck, straightening his posture to look at you with narrow eyes.
“Oh, we’re laughing, are we?” He tilts his head, giving you just a teeny tiny smile that’s almost unnoticeable. His lips have gone slightly red, a bit swollen, giving him a disheveled look that’s enough for you to lose your damn mind. You pout, looking up at him with wide and unknowing eyes, trying to lure his lips back to yours, but instead you feel his hand move from your button. “Laugh, again—I dare you.”
In one easy motion both his hands grab ahold of the back of your thighs underneath the long coat, and without struggle he manages to lift you, wrapping you around his waist. Your breath hitches, the fabric of your coat rides up, and you instinctively fold your knees around his torso, steading yourself. And as the small breath of air leaves you, Jungkook swallows it with another kiss.
It's like you’re nothing in his arms with the way he so easily handles you. He manages to turn, walk further into the store, still lavishing you in openmouthed and wet kisses. Your arms have wrapped around his neck, and soon enough your fingers are tangled in his silky hair, brushing through the strands that form the rough mullet. Until you remember something crucial.
“W-waitwaitwait—” you hiss against his lips, retracting to look him in the eyes. They haven’t gone heavy lidded like you’re used to when lathering boys in kisses, Jungkook’s eyes have actually doubled in size, it seems. He stares back at you with two black, glistening voids, wondering why you’re cutting his pleasure short. You raise your eyebrows, because the door remains unlocked. And you’re not so sure if you’re all that keen on going at it with Jungkook while someone could just simply walk in without restraint. “The door?”
Jungkook chuckles as he keeps moving both your bodies across the room, walking past shelves, different sections, until he stops for a second. “There’s another door here, peach.”
And just like that, almost like it magically appeared with his words, he pushes open a door — already slightly ajar — with the tip of his boot, a door which seems to lead to the backroom. It’s filled with boxes, shelves. It’s just a mess, honestly. And without any further words, Jungkook turns the lock and walks to one of the shorter CD-shelves, propping you up on it.
Your feet barely dangle above the floor, and you immediately miss the feel of his lips once he leaves you. Needy as you are, you reach for his shirt, trying to pull him back, but he stops you right away.
“I’m gonna need that coat on the floor before anything else.”
Fuck.
You were honestly hoping it wouldn’t come to this. Maybe that he would let you sleep with him fully dressed.
It’s not because you’re self-conscious in any way, you’re actually quite proud of your figure. No, this is way worse. Because underneath your coat lies a dark secret: Your horrible sense of style when it comes to lounging around at home.
To be honest, you thought you’d spend the night all alone. Well, it’s movie night, so you usually do spend it alone, on your couch, with soda stains on your chest. But you set out on a quest tonight — honestly just to return the tape and never see Jungkook again. You didn’t think he’d be undressing you by the end of the meet, so you didn’t bother to change your clothes… which now you realize was a grand mistake.
You look up at Jungkook with wide and pleading eyes, “May the coat stay on?”
He just frowns in response before taking matters into own hands, lunging forward and shutting you up with a kiss so harsh your lips might bruise. Jungkook sucks down on your bottom lip, causing you to let out a soft moan in his mouth as he distracts you from the way he’s roughly tearing open your coat, not caring if the buttons rip at the seams. Suddenly, the coat hangs open, and with a begrudging lift of your hips, you let him slip it off your frame.
Your hands come up to cup his neck, the hair that grows long there, forcing him to not look down. But he does anyways… and stops completely.
His hands rest by your waist, and his eyes roam over your body, eyebrows creasing with something that might read as disgust, or maybe just utter confusion.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he scoffs, skimming over your outfit. Rightfully so, because what the hell are you wearing?
It’s embarrassing, but it’s comfortable. And you don’t care if you stain it. You tread it over your body the minute you get home, you always make sure to wash it before going to bed just so you’ll be able to wear it again the day after. We are of course speaking of your Snoopy-suit.
Weird name, yes, but there’s no other way to describe it. Because it is a Snoopy-suit. A white sweater with tiny nightgown-Snoopy-figurines all over, everywhere, no inch left uncovered — with a pair of matching sweatpants. The text on your chest reads ‘Sleepy Snoops’. We won’t even get into what’s written on your ass.
You part your lips, but no sound comes out, which has Jungkook frowning ugly in front of you. With minimal strength, you shove at his chest. It does little, as he comes right back again, leaning forward while his palms rest on either side of you down on the shelf’s surface. The veins in his forearms pop as he rests his weight on them.
“Wha—well I didn’t think I’d be stripping when I got here!” You try defending yourself, but realize it still doesn’t answer Jungkook’s question. Because you quite frankly have no idea what it is that you’re wearing. Thankfully, Jungkook latches onto your words instead of keeping his attention glued to your outfit.
“You so did,” he chuckles, planting a soft kiss on your temple.
You keep trying to defend yourself while his kisses continue. “I didn’t!”
“Yeah-yeah, okay—I can’t have you wearing that, though.” He starts by letting one hand brush over your thighs, a move that immediately sends shivers down your spine and all the way to your cervix. Jesus, he must be a sorcerer. The hand keeps moving, fingers brushing underneath the hem of your sweater, lifting it slowly while still kissing you, lips moving down your neck, biting down on your skin as his fingers meets your stomach.
Eager to strip out of this god-awful outfit, you help him, reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and giving it a quick tug. Jungkook’s hand replaces yours, and he lifts the fabric off your body, over your head, over your lifted arms, until it falls completely off and is thrown forgotten to the floor alongside your coat.
The moment you’re bared to him, he chuckles against your skin, pleased to know you’re not wearing a bra. His hand which is not holding onto your waist comes to cup one of your soft breasts, rolling it in his palm where it fits so perfectly.
You mewl underneath his touch, back arching instinctively as he keeps kneading your breast with his warm palm. He steps in between your parted knees, the hand on your waist pulling you further into him, and the moment you meet his hips, you let out a breathy moan.
He’s straining against his jeans, a bulge so big it still surprises you, even though you’ve already seen all of him. You’ve seen every vein, every inch — just not up close. And the anticipation is killing you.
“Take the sweatpants off,” he breathes against your neck, now starting to move lower, kissing your collarbone, your chest, before his lips meet the gentle curve of your breast — the one not trapped in his palm.
In a hurried motion, your fingers find your waistband, and you rip the soft fabric off, lifting your hips and wiggling out of the pants, kicking off your boots along with the legs of your sweats. Thankfully, your panties aren’t atrocious as well, just a simple, white lace that you’re hoping to be rid of soon enough.
Jungkook grinds into you the second you lose the pants, breathing roughly against your skin when he feels your bare figure hug his frame the moment his hips roll forwards. His mouth moves lower, and after giving your already hard nipple a soft lick, he closes his mouth around it to suck down on it. The hand on your breast gives your skin a deep knead before brushing lower, letting his fingers play with the waistband of your panties, snapping the band against your hip.
“Kook—please,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Jungkook’s tongue starts circling your nipple, flicking over the nub, coating it in his spit. “Don’t hold back with me.”
He groans against you, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over your hard nipple, “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
His fingers move from the waistband, and in a motion so sudden his palm cups your wetness, squeezing tight, feeling how you’re dripping through the lace fabric. Your breath hitches, and your head lolls back as the friction of his hand cupped so tightly against your clothed cunt. Chasing his touch, your hips buck forward, a move which steals a hummed laughter from him.
Your completely soaked through. There’s no inch of lace left untouched by your wetness, and the fabric clings to you like a second skin. You’re so wet it almost embarrassing, and every squeeze Jungkook’s large palm bestows upon you has you gasping for air.
He sucks down on your nipple, releasing it with a slick pop. “Fuck, you’re soaked through,” he almost whispers, his breath against your breast sending sparks through your body.
“Mm-hm,” you hum in agreement, a needy sound you try repressing as you bite down on your bottom lip. But it doesn’t work that well, especially not when Jungkook runs a single finger all the way from your core to your clit, which both are spasming underneath the drenched lace. Your forehead drops to Jungkook’s shoulder for some kind of support, but suddenly the surface is removed. Because Jungkook has taken on a new path.
Tracing your bare torso in wet kisses, he makes his way down, both hands now coming to tug on the waistband of your panties, ripping it of in one go with the help of a compliant lift of your hips.
“Have been dreaming of this,” he purrs, “… for so fucking long.”
His palms slowly spread your knees apart, thumbs pressing into the supple skin of your inner thigs, and you feel it like a pulse in your core. You almost can’t think straight, seeing him on his knees between your legs. Although he might be teasing — you actually have been dreaming of this. And now that it’s finally happening, every nerve in your body feels ignited.
As you let out a small whimper, Jungkook’s eyes flick up, catching yours from between your legs, and you swear your lungs collapse when he smirks, so slight it’s nearly imperceptible.
Still keeping eye contact, his knuckles brush the slick that’s already coating your folds. Your eyebrows crease at the touch, and your mouth falls open without letting any sound release, just a row of desperate breaths. He lets his fingers stretch, the pads of them trailing down your slit, feeling the way your juices cling to him. It’s a sight he can’t keep away from.
His eyes dart down, now fixed on the sight of you bare and dripping. The way your clit pulsates, begging and needing to be touched. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
You’re too wet to be embarrassed, to fucking wrecked from the anticipation to be coy or smart. All you want is to audibly beg for him, but you still have some pride you’re hoping to keep intact. You’ll fuck him in the backroom of his shop, alright — but you’re not begging. Well, not yet, at least.
There’s apparently no need for you to beg this time, as the next thing you feel is Jungkook’s mouth pressing a kiss on your parted lips, right to your clit.
You immediately jolt forwards, the feel of his lips so unreal that stars start dancing in your vision. But he holds you back with his palms, and with a low rumble, he darts his tongue out, dragging an experimental lick through your folds. He parts them with ease, his tongue flat and broad, starting from the bottom and gliding all the way up to your clit. Your thighs shudder, but he still doesn’t let you move. His arms snake around your legs, pinning you down and locking you open for him.
“You taste so fucking good,” he purrs in between licks, the tip of his tongue circling your clit, flicking over it once or twice to feel the way your twitch in his grip. You throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as his sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with obscene precision. The suction is gentle, at first, just enough to have your back arching and your fingers flying into his soft hair.
You feel the piercing in his lip move as he shifts, the cool of it slipping through your folds when he sucks down harder, tearing uncontrollable whines from you. Easing you after the harsh suction, he presses his tongue flat against your clit and rolls it, slow and so incredibly fucking skilled.
“Oh fuck—fuck, Jungkook—”
He only groans in response, the vibration of it traveling through your entire body. When he shifts his mouth again, you think you might black out. He locks eyes with you, his black marbles staring back up at you as a sly smile appears on his face. His tongue rapidly flicks up and down your clit, and just when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, he delves down wrap his lips around the nub, sucking tightly at it.
You can’t see shit. You don’t know if it’s your eyes who have retreated to your skull, or if it’s your vision blurring due to the intense pleasure — whatever it is, it’s too damn good to care about right now. And with the way he chuckles against your cunt, you bet your ass he’s watching your every reaction.
Because he loves it, he drinks it in. Every moan, every twitch of your hips, every grip of your fingers in his hair — he can’t get enough of it. Especially when he retracts, licking a fat stripe over your pulsating clit, and you let out a breathy whine, desperate for the orgasm he just teased you with.
Unapologetic and lost in deep pleasure, you look back down at him, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening. “I loved the tape you gave me,” you breathe, tugging gently on his hair.
“Yeah?” He smiles against your wetness, locking eyes with you as his licks turn slow and torturous. His lips have gone all shiny, his chin too, probably, although you can’t see it.
A smile tugs on your lips, and you nod, slowly starting to roll your hips against him, following the movement of his tongue. “Yeah,” you purr, your eyes fluttering shut every time Jungkook’s flat tongue moves over the most sensitive spot of your clit. “Loved seeing you. Your arms, your thighs, your dick.”
Your words come out breathy and seductive, egging him on. It works immediately, as he seals his lips around your clit, sucking down while his tongue messily laps over the nub. His spit and your slick mix together in a thick liquid that coats both him and your thighs, running down to the slit that parts your cheeks.
“Anything else?” He lets up from his sucking as his tongue explores you more deeply, slipping down to your entrance, circling it before slowly pushing inside.
Your entire body jerks. “Ah—yes!”
He starts shamelessly fucking you with his tongue in low, deep strokes, his nose pressed against your clit, his grip on your thighs tightening as you writhe against his face.
“I wished it was me—so bad Kook.” The words roll of your tongue, and you ramble mindlessly as his tongue curls inside you, his nose rubbing tightly over your clit. “Wished you’d fuck me just like that—fuck me until I can’t walk.”
He loves the sound of your breathy praise, loves the way you keep spasming whenever he hits the sweet-spot buried deep inside you. He knows exactly what it is you need. So he pulls his tongue out, licks his way back up and circles your clit again — but this time, his fingers join in.
You’re so wet and pliant you almost don’t notice them at first, but when he goes deeper, your eyes widen. There’s two of them, thick and lock, who push inside you so smoothly that your mouth drops open, a broken sound escaping you before you can stop it. His mouth doesn’t let up during the intrusion, his tongue flicks fast over your clit as his fingers curl inside you, exactly where you crave pleasure the most. Your walls pulsate around his digits the moment he teases the spot.
“Ah—fuck, right there—oh my god—” you pant, eyelids fluttering shut as he keeps stroking in rhythmic pulses, his mouth never leaving your clit. The combination is unbearable, and your hips involuntarily rock into his touch. You tug on his hair, pull him closer, and you feel the pleasure in your stomach starting to knot together. “Oh my god, Kook—I’m so close—”
Jungkook flicks his tongue faster, circles your clit tighter, until your vision wipes out, until your legs are shaking around his shoulders, your orgasm building so fiercely you can almost taste blood.
No one has ever known their way around your body this way, and you thank god for his previous experience, because with the way he’s working you over right now — there’s nothing else for you to do. His long fingers keep curling inside you, not even caring about the fact that your juices run down his palm, his wrist, coating his forearm. He instead hums in appreciation against your clit, wrapping his lips around it, his lip ring slipping inside your glistening folds, and he sucks down viscously on your clit like a starved animal.
“Fuck—Kook, I’m cu—” is all you’re able to get out before your orgasm hits you. Your legs quiver, your whole body breaks open against his mouth, your head lolls back and you cry out. You grind against his face because you simply can’t not, because you need him deeper, everywhere, you’re actually losing your mind in this orgasm. And Jungkook eats it up, literally. He moans into your climax, tongue lapping ever drop of arousal, fingers starting to pump in and out of you, meeting every grind of your hip.
Even when your thighs begin to twitch in overstimulation, he doesn’t stop. He slows, of course, but he stays, licking lazy strokes over your cunt as if he’s cleaning up his mess. And under his touch, your body is melting. You actually feel boneless, a trembling mess — who has also seemingly made a mess out of the boy between your legs.
His hair is a mess from your hands, his lips have gone red, swollen and shiny, and his chest heaves like he’s the one who just came. And when he feels you starting to tug harder on his hair, trying to pry him off your body, he lets up, giving a final peck to your clit. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, eyes never leaving yours. It doesn’t really help, his lips are still a wet mess, a mess he doesn’t seem to bother. His tongue darts out again, brushing over his lower lip, savoring the taste of you.
“Voila,” he jokes, bracing his hands on his thighs as his posture straightens.
You don’t even care that he’s being a cocky asshole now, all you want is for him to rid himself of those god damn clothes. It’s all you can think of when your vision comes back — how he’s still covered. How the tight tee he’s wearing hides his glorious figure from you, how his pants cage in the length and width of his. A cock so big your mouth is already watering.
Your voice comes out softer and a bit more embarrassing than you expect, “C-can you… take it off?”
Jungkook tilts his head, eyebrows lifting, being a little shit. “Take what off?”
You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes darting toward his still clothed body, toward the heavy bulge that’s straining visibly through the dark denim. Jungkook grins viciously when he notices your lingering and hopeful grin.
“Everything?” he asks, still in that oblivious and teasing tone that weirdly enough turns you on so much that a new wave of arousal seeps from you. You instinctively press your knees together, suddenly a bit self-conscious about being the only one butt-naked here. So you nod, shyly, letting him know you do want him to take everything off.
His hands move immediately, but his breath hitches and his mouth opens in a wide gape. Of course, teasing you. “Such a forward young girl,” he says as if he’s affronted by your demand. You just roll your eyes at him, even though you’re screaming internally.
He rises to his feet, towering over you with a frame so broad you gulp, his shoulders squared, hair falling into his eyes as he glances down at you with hunger. Eyes never leaving you, his fingers start moving to the hem of his tee. And it’s torture, the way he peels it off, revealing himself inch by inch. The fabric clings to his back as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside.
Jesus fucking christ, it’s even better up close. A camera can’t possibly do such a man justice, the way he looks as if he’s sculpted by the gods. Sharp collarbones, thick chest, deep dips between every line of muscle, and somehow a lean waist. Unfair is what it is. And his inked up left arm is just too stunning, the way the tattoos curl around his biceps, his veins. Unfair.
Your gaze traces his torso, licking your lips subconsciously.
“Like what you see?” he asks, extremely cocky.
“Shush,” you say as you shake your head, hoping to might snap out of the weird horned up trance he has you in by just removing his tee.
He chuckles, dragging one hand down over his own stomach, flexing his abs. “Not something I usually show the customers. You’re getting some real special treatment here, peach.”
“I somehow don’t believe that,” you frown, trying your hardest not to laugh when he grunts, flexing even harder. He might be ridiculously hot, but he still can’t escape the idiocy that comes with being a boy.
His mouth opens, gape widens, and his eyebrows crease. “Are you slut-shaming me?”
“I so am.” You brace your hands on either side of your body, leaning backwards, stretching subtly before him. Gloating in the way he’s undressing before you. Because next go his boots. He tows them off one at a time and they land somewhere far off in the small room. Then go the jeans.
The second the belt is out from its loops, your stomach flips. He pops the button, drags the zipper down, and your mouth dries when he peels them off. The denim clings to his thighs, and you see now just how thick they are. His legs are strong, dense with muscle, strength that only comes from real, physical work — carrying boxes, lifting crates, whatnot. He can maybe add ‘carrying you around’ to that list, if he wants, of course.
Now, there’s only one barrier left between you and every inch of him. His black boxer-briefs. And what’s underneath them is already impossible to ignore.
He’s hard, so hard, straining against the fabric, the outline of his cock bulging beneath the waistband. Long and thick, his girth alone has your core clenching in anticipation. You saw him in the self-tape, of course, you know he’s big already. But knowing he’ll bestow the length upon you feels like you’re maybe in way over your head. The tip of him presses against the cotton, and there’s a darkened spot where he’s already leaking.
Jungkook giggles (weirdly enough) at the way you swallow hard before him, and jerks his head to the side. “Three—two—one.”
He actually counts down the big reveal, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and dragging the fabric down.
Your jaw almost reaches the floor.
Jungkook springs free flushed, veiny and think in a way that’s almost greedy. The head of him is swollen and red, glistening and leaking at the tip, and you feel drool trying to make its way down your chin. You shut your mouth immediately, but you take a big breath in through your nose. He’s absolutely, obesely big. This can’t be good for neither you or him.
Upon seeing you so baffled, he chuckles low in his chest, stroking himself once from base to tip — just for you to watch, and for him to see your reaction. “You said you didn’t want me to hold back, right?”
Your thighs squeeze together and part your lips, “Uhm.” God you’re an idiot. Uhm? Well, your reaction is kind of fair, you didn’t expect him to be this absurdly big. But maybe you’ll grow accustomed to him, to his size. You pray to god that you will, because you’re not backing out now. “Right—right. I’m ready.”
He lets out a chuckle and steps in close, close enough that your knees part for him again, close enough that his cologne and body scent wraps around you like a second skin. He leans forward until his hands land on either side of you, palms flat against the shelf.
You’re caged in. His arms bracket you completely, veins standing out along his forearms, sleeve tattoo stretching and flexing as his weight settles in. There’s nowhere for you to go — not that there’s anywhere else in the world you’d like to be right now. You could absurdly enough die happily in this position, naked underneath the eyes of equally naked Jungkook. His face is inches away from yours, breath warm, eyes glistening as they flick between your eyes, mouth, chest.
“Need another countdown?” he asks as he leans in, softly kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear.
You shudder, eyes fluttering shut. But still — please don’t count down. It was weird enough the first time. “Rather not,” you giggle, wiggling away from his kisses as they start to tingle. This only eggs Jungkook on more, resulting in him blowing air behind your ear, biting down on your skin, humming in appreciation as you try shoving him away. “Stop Kook, it tickles—oh—”
Oh. It was a distraction.
Because suddenly you feel him… all of him, pressing heavy against you. He shifts his hip as he feels you still completely, and drags the length of him upwards, through your folds, coating himself in your slick.
“Shiit, you’re so soft.” Jungkook’s voice is no more than a whisper, speaking directly into your ear before biting down on your earlobe. One of his hands come to rest on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh there, as his other hand moves between you to grab himself — guiding himself as he drag his cock upwards to circle your clit with his heavy tip.
You gasp, and your head falls to Jungkook’s shoulder. It’s obscene how sensitive you are, how easily your body reacts to him. You’re still slick from his mouth, and the slide of him against your soaked cunt has you toes curling instantly.
Jungkook groans under his breath, retracting from your neck to watch how you drip all over him, how his cock slips so easily through you, how the head of him catches at your clit and makes you tremble. “Fuck—looks so pretty.” The thick length of him glides through you from bottom to top, the head pressing against your clit, guiding his leaking tip just right, flicking it up and down your spasming nub that crowns your mound in torturous drags.
“Oh—” your breath stutters and your hips jolt forward, hands snaking around his frame to drag your long fingernails down his back, hard enough to make him hiss. As your head falls back, Jungkook lets the hand on your thigh move to your neck, and he presses your mouth against his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you melt into it immediately, lips parting, moaning softly when you feel his cock glide through you yet again.
He doesn’t push inside you, he just drags himself through your slick over and over again. Each pass is wonderful, the head of his cock nudges your clit, circles it, presses into it to hear how you whine into his mouth. The size of him is impossible to ignore. He’s so heavy, so thick, that you’re starting to worry about how on earth he’s going to fit inside you.
You lift your arms and tug at his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. “You f-feel—ah—so good.”
Upon hearing your praise, he chuckles softly and kisses you harder, pushing to tighter against his lips. His tongue strokes slow, his open mouth steals every sound you make, swallowing your moans while his cock continues its relentless pass through your folds.
You’re soaking him, his cock slipping as it reaches your clit again, involuntarily flicking over your clit as you're so wet his cock can't even keep a straight path. You feel yourself pulsing around nothing, clenching with the hope that he’ll soon fill you, that he’ll soon give you exactly what you want. And as you start growing impatient, tugging harder on his hair — Jungkook starts to play with you.
He nudges your clit side to side, the hand wrapped around his own length guiding his cock precisely where you’re spasming. New waves of arousal leak from you, mixing with the pearls of precum that continues to run down Jungkook’s shaft. With a gasp, you break from the kiss, feeling your legs starting to shake and the coiling pleasure low in your belly building by the second. “N-no more—”
“Fuuck, but—” he breathes out a low growl, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Feel how hard I am for you, peach.”
His hips roll forward, his own hand making sure he slips perfectly though your folds. He flattens the length of him against your slick heat, and when you feel him twitch, when you feel just how close he is himself, a sharp pulse travels straight through your core. Your hands slide down his back, nails digging into his skin, your whole body arching up into him. You can’t take it anymore — he has teased you for long enough. All you want is for him to fill you so good, to actually split you in half, all you want is for him to make you cry in overwhelming pleasure.
“I could probably cum like this,” Jungkook rasps, still resting against your shoulder. You feel his eyes flutter shut, his eyelashes tingling against your skin. He lets out a deep breath, and actually whines when he presses one last, heavy glide through your folds. As he reaches your clit again, he lingers there, circling thrice until your nails scrape harshly along his back, until your back arches and all you’re able to do is moan his name. He chuckles, although there’s absolutely nothing funny right now, “I bet you could too.”
Well, apparently you’re not allowed to, as his hands find your hips in a sudden motion. Before you can fully catch your breath, let out one last moan, he’s lifting you off the bench, pressing your body flush to him. All the while his cock is still nuzzled between your folds.
The change of scenery has you gasping for air, arms flinging over his shoulders and legs wrapping tightly around his slender waist. You try balancing yourself, although there seems to be no need as Jungkook doesn’t falter. It doesn’t look like the lift strains him, he doesn’t even blink. He just holds you like you weigh nothing, easily hopping with you in his arms, making you whimper as his cock once again presses against your clit.
“I don’t know if it’s you that’s light as fuck—or if I’m just stupidly strong,” Jungkook laughs, and there’s a grin tucked into the corner of his mouth, a grin you kind of want to wipe right off his face, no matter how much you want him right now.
He turns with you cradled against him, your bare chest pressed to his, and he walks the two of you a few feet across the backroom, his bare feet making duck-like waddling sounds against the concrete floor. As sensual as this is supposed to be, you giggle, kissing his cheek for the first time. And oh my god. They’re so incredibly soft. They swell up when he smiles, grinning as you continue pressing tiny pecks all over both his cheeks.
“I’m about to fuck you dense and you’re babying me?”
You continue smothering him in kisses, not caring if his words actually kind of frighten you… because how much denser could you possibly become after this? The thought doesn’t stick for long, as you’re suddenly being pinned back against one of the tall VHS-shelves. It’s cold against your spine, and you gasp as the wood presses harshly against your skin.
And yet again — you’re caged in. Oh no… you’re trapped beneath Jeon Jungkook, his body flush against you, the hard line of his cock now pressed hot between your legs… oh no, how awful.
You’re still dripping for him, and you swear you can feel your slick smear across his skin as he shifts. Because he leans in, his mouth immediately latching onto your neck again. And as his mouth works you over, he slowly puts you down, without any tremble in his arms, without any struggle whatsoever, until your bare feet meet the floor.
At this height, you have to get on your tip-toes if you want Jungkook to continue his kisses down your neck — so you do. You lift your heels off the floor and invite his mouth, his mouth which softly presses just beneath your ear. He drags his lips down the line of your throat until you’re tilting your head back to give him more. But then his mouth opens, and he starts sucking, tongue and teeth coming into play as he bruises the skin above your collarbone.
You inhale a soft gasp or moan, you have no idea, and you subconsciously arch your back off the shelf, your hips nudging against his abdomen.
He groans against your skin, and shifts his grip, suddenly losing all the strength he has used to hold himself back. His tattooed arm slides under your thigh, lifting one leg up and hooking it over his forearm. The stretch of it opens you up for him completely, your core exposed, flushed and needy. He reaches between your bodies with his other hand, wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, and lines himself up.
“Ah—Kook.” Your stomach flips, and your nails drag against his shoulders.
The head of him is nestled right at your entrance, obscenely thick, already slick from both the teasing from earlier and the precum that leaks from him. Just the feel of him has your walls fluttering for him, begging shamelessly. “Split me open.”
He groans against your neck, a guttural sound that comes from hearing you plead so submissively, wanting him to tear you apart with the width and length of his cock. Lifting his mouth from you skin, he looks down at where his cock presses into you, circling your swollen entrance with a sick grin on his face. The deep red of him disappears so beautifully inside you, causing your head to loll back in pleasure-pain. As his tip retracts from you again, your walls clench around nothing, and you breathe out his name, making Jungkook look up at you, lock his eyes with yours.
“Hold onto me,” is all he says, before slowly pushing into you — agonizingly slow.
Your breath stills in your lungs the moment the thick crown of his cock starts to breach you, stretching your entrance around him. The pressure is immediate, he’s so big that your muscles clench without permission, trying to accommodate him. But you arch your back further off the shelf, shoving yourself further onto his cock as he’s still not even halfway through yet.
“Fuuck,” he grits with his jaw clenched, eyebrows knotted, eyes locked on where your bodies melt togheter. “You’re so tight—jesus.” He only sinks in an inch more, and still, your breath hitches like it’s being pulled from the base of your spine. You might’ve asked for him to split you open, but now that he actually might, your vision blurs and your mouth falls open.
His hand slips from your thigh to your hip, and he uses the hold to pull you down, just a little, just enough to sink another inch into you — then he holds you there. He pants like a madman, almost going cross-eyed from the unbelievable tightness of your heat, the way you already clench and pulsate around his cock, so un-accustomed to the width of him.
“Shit—okay, ready?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. They’ve gone completely dark now, swallowed by his black pupils, and there’s a strange, pleading look to him. You’ve never seen this in him, the way his eyebrows crease high on his forehead, the way he nods at you for permission. It sends a wave of pleasure through you, and your walls start fluttering uncontrollably around him, causing his head to tip back, his lips to part as soft gasps leave him.
You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding back at him. “R-ready when you are.”
The second your breathy confirmation slips past your lips, he exhales something between a moan and a curse and begins pushing in again, torturous inch by inch. The drag of his cock through your walls has your mouth falling open, head thumping softly against the shelf behind you. Because you finally feel every part of him, every thick ridge, every beautiful vein as he opens you in a way that’s probably going to ruin you forever.
Your eyes squeeze shut when he sinks deeper, but Jungkook’s threaded voice pulls them open again. “Eyes on me,” he pants, cupping your jaw his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he holds your face. “Wanna see your pretty face when I’m bottomed out.”
Who the hell would say no to that? Probably someone who haven’t laid their eyes on Jungkook and his eyes which are so big you could easily get lost in them, even though you’ve spent years mapping them out.
So you watch him closely, watch the strain in his expression as he slowly feeds you more of his cock, his brows tights and his lips parted. You feel the tremble in his thigh, the flex of his arm beneath your leg, how even he is fighting to stay in control. He’s all flushed muscle and restraint, every inch of his body working to not wreck you… yet. He’ll get to it, don’t you worry.
But as of now, he keeps sinking deeper into you — and it feels fucking endless, the stretch so incredibly slow and agonizing that you might decent into madness soon. By the time he’s nearly fully inside you, your legs start shaking, your nails carving half-moons into his inked shoulder. “K-kook—” you pant, the snug fit of him starting to ache inside you. “You have to move.”
It surprises you when he moans loudly, shuddering against you while holding eye contact — something so extremely attractive that you almost come undone right then and there. He pants wildly, groaning as he tries entering you fully. “Almost there,” he whines, eyes glued to yours.
And then finally, finally, his hips press flush to yours. He bottoms completely out, something that has the two of you moaning out loudly in the small backroom.
His head falls to your shoulder, and you feel his sweat drip down from his forehead and onto your collarbone. You moan out yet again at the fullness, the way he presses impossibly deep, stealing all the air from your lungs. He stays still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, letting your walls pulse and quiver around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck.
“Fucking fuck,” he mutters against your skin. His next words have him sounding like he’s in disbelief. “I’m actually gonna split you in half.”
You nod as your head lolls back, feeling stretched to the edge of your limits, but somehow you’re burning for him, needing more from him. Because he doesn’t move yet, he savors the way your body molds around him, his nose nudging your neck as his lips brushes over your skin with shaky exhales. And he prepares himself to pull out.
When he does, it’s only an inch, but he thrusts right back in with a quiet growl, grinding his hips into yours — his abdomen rubbing beautifully against your clit. You whimper, back arching as the motion drags along your inner walls. And just like this, the head of him nudges at the sweet spot buried deep inside you, causing your moans to die in your throat and your core to clench around his cock.
“Found it on the first fucking try,” he chuckles, biting down on the soft skin of your shoulder when your spasming tries milking him for every drop he’s got. “Shit, just like that.”
You’re barely able to find your voice as he’s pressed heavily against your g-spot. “K-kook—more please—”
He needs no more encouragement, because as the words leave you, Jungkook starts setting a rhythm. It starts out slow, letting you feel all his girth with every stroke. His cock drags out of you almost completely before sliding back in, every inch punching a moan out of both your lungs. You’re equally lost in pleasure, him panting against your neck, you melting with the shelf.
His arm trembles beneath your thigh, and as he breathes out a quick breath, he decides to pick up the pace.
“Yes, r-right there—oh my god,” you ramble mindlessly as his thrusts grow sharper. You can hear the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking into you, your slick coating him, dripping down both your thighs. The shelf behind you shakes with every thrust, VHS tapes toppling onto the floor, forgotten as the two of you moan uncontrollably with pleasure.
You’re a fucking mess — crying out over his shoulder, your body bouncing with every stroke, and he’s right there with you, his voice raw in your ear. “It’s good we didn’t do this earlier,” he grunts, his nose scrunching with every rapid thrust. “I’d be doing this all day—and you’d be fucking limp by now.”
The hand on your hip snakes between your bodies, and somehow he finds your clit even without looking. Two of his fingers press against you, working tight circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, slick from your arousal, his mouth brushing the edge of your jaw as his cock drives rapidly inside you. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s handling you, the sounds he produces, the sounds of his hips slamming into you and the wetness that coats his dick. You’re being taken apart in degrees.
You can fucking feel him in your ribs, if that’s even possible, the weight of him in your belly — and all of it is spiraling higher and higher with every pass of his fingers over your clit. It doesn’t help that you feel your tits pressing so tightly against his plump and delicious chest, that you feel him kissing your throat, open-mouthed and desperate, licking and sucking on your skin. You’re being stimulated at every end, and it feels like you’re about to light on fire.
“Yes—yes—yes—god yes—” The words coming out of you just fall off your tongue as your mind is clouded, thinking about nothing but the feel of his cock against your g-spot and his fingers rubbing your clit. You’ve been teased for so long that you’ve entered a strange, delirious state, not even caring about how desperate and needy you sound. “Fuck me just like that, Jungkook—ah—oh god—”
You cry out, choking on your words as his cock slams into you, the unbearable length of him punching into the spot that makes your vision go white.
“Shit—you’re gonna cum,” Jungkook grits out against your collarbone, almost as if it’s a revelation. His hand on your clit moves in sloppy motions, because he’s simply just trying to push you over the edge, pinching the swollen bundle of nerves between two fingers, rubbing lazily over it. “Holy f-fuuck, yeah—fucking soak me.”
It’s like you’ve entered the gates of heaven, or something in the likes of it — because you never knew such pleasure could ever exist. His cock hits your sweet spot so perfectly with every erratic thrust, his fingers working you open like your release is the only thing Jungkook wants right now… which it kind of is.
So who are you to hold back?
The coiling pleasure in your stomach is almost overbearing now, and you can’t seem to produce any words, just sound, just breathy moans that Jungkook immediately swallow with a deep kiss. When he rolls his tongue into your mouth, you almost choke, unprepared for the sensation. You taste the sweat that’s dripping from his upper lip, and somehow it’s enough to send you over the edge.
“Oh my god—I’m cumming—oh my god, Jungkook—don’t stop—”
You clench and pulsate viciously around his cock, gasping for air as the euphoria of your orgasm takes ahold of you and causes your vision to wipe out. Your hands move to his hair, tugging on the dark and sweaty strands as he continues to fuck himself into you again and again and again. It’s absolutely unbearable, right as your orgasm hits you, you somehow lose your consciousness. Your thighs start trembling uncontrollably, the shake so extreme that the leg which is not help up in his arms actually gives out, completely overpowered by his size and speed.
“Oh fuck—” Jungkook immediately hooks your limp leg over his arm, holding onto your ass, trying to keep you upright. He repositions, lifting you with a tiny hop, his arms wrapping around you, one right around your waist, the other in between your shoulder blades, pressing your dead body flush against him. His cock is still buried deep inside you, and his thrusts slow down, reaching deeper and deeper inside you as your body lies weightless in his arms. Your head has fallen to his shoulders, your fingers are tangled and unmoving in his hair, and all you’re able to do is breathe against him. “Are you—are you good?” Jungkook asks, pressing a reassuring kiss to your shoulder.
“Y-yes—I just—” your voice comes out shaky, but you try clearing your head. And that is for the sole purpose of holding out, keeping him inside you with a deep need to feel him cum — to feel the thick ropes coating your walls and clinging to you, seeping out of you once he pulls out. “—I need your cum.”
Jungkook chuckles, biting down on your skin. He starts caressing the skin between your shoulder blades with the pad of his middle finger, just as lazy strokes as the ones of his cock. Although lazy, you still feel the burn of him, wincing every time he goes too deep, or even deep at all.
“You’ll get my cum, alright,” he purrs, nudging your head to face his, stealing a kiss from your swollen lips. “Can you stand?”
You only shake your head.
“Alright, then—” He smiles against the next kiss, not even closing his eyes. “Get on your knees. Wanna cum in that pretty mouth.”
Oh my god — roundabout. You might be a bit sad that he won’t paint your walls with his cum, but the thought of tasting him on your tongue almost gives your body new life. It takes a second for your muscles to respond, but he’s already helping you get down, his hands guiding your legs and knees on the floor. The loss of his cock is a sharp ache, well, a deep sting actually, but it’s replaced by something else entirely when you’re all the way down on the floor, looking up at his tall, bare and sweat-covered frame.
His cock stands proud before you, glistening with your slick, twitching in the open air. He fists himself once, twice, brushing his thumb over the tip, spreading both your and his arousal over his length. You can tell he’s close, incredibly so, as he’s swollen, leaking constantly — something that has your mouth watering.
“Open up,” he demands with a gentle voice, moving closer to you.
You do just as he says, mouth parting obediently, tongue falling out slightly to meet him. He brushes the tip along your tongue first, letting your taste the mix of both of you. And as you want him to break, as you’re so desperate for his cum, you stick your tongue out furthermore, circling the head of him, flicking over the slit gently, teasing before your lips wrap around him.
“Ohhfuuck, just like that,” he moans hoarsely, and his hands go to your head, cradling it while his eyebrows knot high on his forehead. He tastes of you, of himself — it’s strange and addictive. But he hasn’t exactly shrunken in the past minute, so just getting him down your throat is a task so hard tears immediately brim your eyes. A sight which apparently has Jungkook losing his mind.
“Fuck—are you crying on my dick?” he asks in disbelief, moaning uncontrollably when you hollow your cheeks to take him in deeper. You slide your lips down his shaft, hands wrapping around what won’t fit — because he is quite frankly that big. Jungkook’s whole body shudders. “You look so fucking beautiful.”
You try hiding the fact that you flush immediately at his words, and let one of your hands tug on his balls, playing gently with them as you suck him as deep as his cock can go. It’s a straining task, and you unfortunately gag when you take him in too deep, moaning around him — the vibrations traveling straight through Jungkook’s spine.
He looks down at you with wild eyes, sweat clinging to his temples, and as you cradle one of his balls, you feel it tense. He’s stupidly close.
His hips jerk forward without warning, letting you know just how close to the edge he really is. The sound he makes is so beautiful, so sinful, that you kind of wish you were recording this — so you could pocket his moan, keep it with you wherever you go. His eyes never leave you, and he’s sweating and panting like what you’re doing to him actually makes him lose his mind.
“F-fuck, peach—your mouth—shit,” Jungkook pants, his voice torn open and uneven, one hand slipping down from your cheek as you suck him deeper. “You’ve got some fucking mouth—ah—”
Your eyes are brimming with tears now, real ones, from the sheer stretch and effort of taking him. Your jaw aches, throat tight around the thick girth of him, your lips puffy and soaked. But you don’t stop — not even when it hurts your throat so bad that the unshed tears finally fall down your cheeks. Because you need to feel him cum.
And judging by the frantic way his hips twitch against your mouth, the way his hand tightens in your hair — you believe he might be close to losing it. And you’re right by that.
“Shit—shit—I’m gonna cum—fuck, baby, I’m—”
Both your hands move to the back of his thighs, digging your nails gently into his flesh, shoving your head all the way down his cock, not caring that your throat hurts so bad you could scream. Because when you look up at him, when you see his eyes roll to the back of his head, see the way sweat runs down his temple, down his plump chest, there’s no stopping you.
His entire body shudders. “I’m cumming—baby, I’m cumming—holy fuck—”
With a deep, desperate moan, he spills into your mouth, thick and hot ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat before you can blink. You moan around him, swallowing as fast as you can, not wasting a single drop.
Jungkook doesn’t stop twitching. He pulses again and again, his free hand trembling on your jaw as he now watches you gulp down on his cum, watches as both his release and your spit seeps from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. He watches in complete awe. Would you look at that? You’ve got the Jeon Jungkook, your fucking childhood crush, your fucking real time crush, wrapped around your finger. Or wrapped around your tongue, would maybe be better wording here.
“Fucking look at you,” he moans, voice unhinged. “How are you real?”
You keep going, soft sucks to his oversensitive tip, tongue tracing along the underside of his shaft where a veins throbs beneath the skin. You want him clean, completely. So you don’t stop until there’s nothing left, until his cock is wet with only your spit, your tongue dragging slowly along every vein.
He shudders, twitches again, and suddenly retracts from you, leaving your throat sore and hurting. “Stop—stop,” he pants franticly, suddenly getting down on his knees before you, almost meeting your height. Without further notice, he wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you flush to him, closing the distance with a sloppy kiss. “Fuck—you’ll be the death of me.”
You’ve never had a guy do this — kiss the mouth that just swallowed ropes own his own cum. His tongue rolls into your mouth, not even caring about the bitter aftertaste of his release, moaning against you as you press your tits against his sweaty chest.
So there you are, on the floor of the backroom, VHS tapes scattered across the floor alongside all your clothes, making out heavily as if you haven’t just ruined each other completely.
“Think you can walk outta here?” Jungkook laughs against your lips, not even letting you answer before his tongue breaches your mouth again.
You gasp for air, running your fingernails down his chest, leaving white marks all over him that will certainly turn red in a moment. “Probably not.”
“Too bad then,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, eating you up. “I’ll have to carry you everywhere now. What a drag,” he teases, not leaving as much as an inch of your skin untouched by his lips.
“Oh no,” you mock, trembling in his arms as his kisses find the sensitive spot of your neck.
“Can I ask you something weird?” he breathes against your collarbone, licking and sucking on your skin as he waits for your answer. You only nod above him, eyes shutting close as he lavishes you in wet kisses. His next words come out low, almost unnoticeable, but your eyes widen the moment you hear them.
“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone over a blowjob?”
summary: Maybe running away from your hybrids wasn't a good idea.
or,
Y/N leaves her family home to go UNI, leaving behind six hybrids. Leaving a second time is proving to be nearly impossible.
warnings: this series will deal with body image issues, toxic relationships, family issues, sexual themes, Non-con, possible rape, abusive themes and more. If that isn't your cup of tea please continue scrolling.
Authors note: yet another story. This one i have been posting on my ao3 account! feel free to sus it out there as well at King_myg
As always, my stories follow dark themes so if this is something you aren't comfortable with I suggest looking elsewhere :) Enjoy! feedback is always appreciated.
Hybrids had been commonplace in your youth, growing up with five in your home before you turned 16. Hybrids had become a hot commodity two years after your birth, being revealed to the public after years, and years, of perfection. It took roughly a year before the hybrid trend caught on, with celebrities and other wealthy people sparking the trend, you didn’t doubt now that they had been paid to promote the latest species added to the planet, and like always, it worked. Your parents were slow to fall into the trend considering their status, purchasing a hybrid a few years older than their eldest child when you turned 10, a male Sea Otter named Seokjin. Your parents were enamored by the male, raising the new addition almost as a son. There was always an invisible line, something everyone knew not to cross when it came to the relationship between human and hybrid, while Seokjin, or Jinnie as your parents had called him, seemed content with the care, you never understood it. His presence was confusing, his creation baffling. You found it hard to connect, and not just because of the 6-year difference in age. Hybrids were created to get along with anyone of any age, and while he had tried his best to be friendly and form a friendship with you, it always fell flat. Your parents loved having Seokjin around, he was helpful toward your mother, doing all the things you and your siblings refused to do. He joined her on shopping trips, and coffee trips and kept her company in salons. Meanwhile, he kept your father company with his outdoorsy activities your brother had never taken an interest in. Seokjin was always thrilled to join your father for early-hour fishing trips hours away, and it seemed to be something they genuinely bonded over.
For your brother's 16th birthday, he had requested a hybrid of his own, and your parents happily obliged, thrilled that your brother had taken an interest. The month before his actual birthday they had taken him into the city to pick his very own hybrid. The process would take some time, so they had tried to get onto it as quickly as possible so that the hybrid would be home by the time his birthday hit. There were a million and one steps to the adoption process, they checked income and work status, looked at your homes, interviewed all household occupants, and made sure any other hybrids in the home were well cared for and open to sharing their ‘territory’. You were sure most adoption centers weren’t as thorough, but your parents were always keen to go about things the right way, especially when their children's well-being came into play.
Exactly 1 month and 2 weeks later, the afternoon before your brother's birthday, the trio returned with the newest addition to the household (or 'family' as your parents had proudly announced!) Jiho, your brother, had introduced his hybrid Hoseok, a ferret the same age as him. Jiho and Hoseok had become incredibly close in the year they had spent one-on-one. They had similar personalities, bright and bubbly, and enjoyed a few of the same hobbies. It was around the time of your sister's sixteenth birthday the following year when she had requested 2 hybrids. She got along well with Seokjin, and Hoseok, but rarely got to spend time with the latter your brother not wanting to share his gift, often gloating. Following the same steps as they had with your brother, this time starting earlier due to your sister's pickiness, the hunt for your sister's lifelong companions commenced. Eventually, she settled on two from the same adoption center, which made the process much easier on your parents. By this point your parents had pulled back from their parental duties, starting to enjoy their retirement. They had run their own business for longer than you could remember, they had made more money than you could ever spend and they decided it was time to take a break. With your brother only a year off of adulthood, and two hybrids of similar ages to Jiho, your parents were more than happy to entrust their daughters' safety to the three– soon to be five– men.
Your sister had proudly shown off her hybrids, claiming to have gotten the most handsome ones ever. While you were sure that wasn’t entirely true, even you as a child could agree that your sister had picked two very attractive boys. Jiyoo, your sister, had ended up picking Jimin, a Swift Fox, something you hadn’t heard of, and Taehyung, a coyote. They were polite, shy men who had playful personalities once they settled in. They garnered plenty of attention from Jiyoo’s school friends, the mass of young teen girls that had started amassing your home had been overwhelming. Jiho had quickly become jealous of Jiyoo and demanded a second hybrid only weeks after her birthday. It didn’t take much convincing from your parents, who agreed that if Jiyoo could have two, why couldn’t Jiho? Lucky for Jiho, his previous adoption made the process much quicker when it came to bringing home his next hybrid. The entire thing took roughly two weeks, and suddenly the fifth hybrid was home, another male of the same age as Jiho, a dingo named Namjoon. After Namjoon's arrival, life had settled into an easy flow. Your parents' presence was always coming and going, but their constant calls and messages filled some of the holes in their absence.
Over the next four years you had noticed your siblings coming and going attention to their hybrids, proudly showing them off to friends and online, but behind closed doors, their frustration had built up. Annoyance with their clinginess, the constant need to be near was beginning to be more of a nuisance to your siblings. They were careful to hide their growing frustrations from their parents whenever they returned home, always showing off new talents and changes to their appearances, piercings, or haircuts they had recently gotten. You had kept your distance from anything hybrid-related as much as you could, and whilst it had taken some time for them to catch on to your carefully planned avoidance, they eventually caught on and left you alone. The only hybrid you had actively sought out and spent any time with had been Namjoon. Your ‘friendship’, if you could even call it that, had formed after you were caught struggling with a school assignment. Namjoon had asked to take a look and was quick to help you out with what seemed to be a never-ending supply of knowledge. From then on, all your homework and assignments were completed with Namjoon close by whenever your brother and Hoseok went to tennis. Whilst it wasn't a close relationship, you were content in the dingo hybrid presence, often forgetting he wasn’t just your brother's friend from school, but an actual hybrid.
As your 16th approached, your siblings grew excited, and curious about what kind of hybrid you would choose. The three of you weren’t very close, always some kind of divide had existed between you all, stopping any kind of sibling bond from forming. You weren’t too bitter about it, you found their personalities far from pleasant. You had tried your best to explain to your parents that you didn't want or need a hybrid, you had never expressed any interest in one, so why would you suddenly change your mind? When pestered about gifts, you had given a list of what you wanted, and perhaps you should have been more specific with your words. You had been an animal lover, something that was still popular among the middle to lower class. You had always wanted a cat, just a regular house cat like your school friends had. You should have assumed your parents were only skimming over your list, maybe you should have just waited until they were home before you requested a pet.
You were uneasy when you came home from a friend's day out to celebrate your birthday to find your siblings excitedly waving you over.
“Y/n, you said you weren’t getting one!” your brother grinned, knocking your shoulder as if you had told a joke.
Your blank face must've been enough for your eldest sibling to catch on to your lack of understanding. He had rolled his eyes, your sister cutting him off once he reopened his mouth, she was quick to tell you to go to your room to see the ‘surprise’ your parents had dropped off. The giddiness in her words had your chest constricting, but you did as told despite every cell in your body screaming to turn around. Your bedroom door had been left ajar, already a red flag. Your door was always left shut. Using the tips of your fingers you pushed your door open, a breath you weren’t aware to had been holding fell past your lips as you stepped into your room, empty.
At least you had thought it was.
You had walked further into your room, tossing your backpack onto your bed as you eyed over everything. Not a single thing looked to be out of place. All the anxiety that had built up in your body when you ascended the stairs had melted out of you, relief washing over you far too early. The click of your door behind you falling shut behind you had you tense back up, your brain had refused to let you turn around to face whoever (whatever) was behind you.
“Do you have no survival instincts at all, Master?” The last word fell out harsher, almost as if the word had been spat onto the hardwood of your floor.
Your jaw clenched, irked at the attitude of the man who broke into your room. You turned on your heel, arms crossed over your chest. The male in front of you looked roughly your age, your parents keeping to the theme. He was taller than you, small-framed, and soft-faced. His hair was short and dark, complimenting his honey skin. He looked at you with annoyance, like you had intruded into his own home. His eyes were a striking blue, standing out vibrantly against the dark color of his hair, and he stared at you so coldly that you felt like your skin was trying to peel itself away to hide.
The male opened his lips once more but was quickly cut off by your brother and sister barging into the room, the door barely missing the stranger in your room. His jaw clenched, his gaze staying glued on you as your siblings invaded your space more than it already had been.
“Surprise! Isn’t he such a cutie?” Jiyoo cooed, looking the younger male over with a grin. “He was dropped off this afternoon, dad had it all arranged, but Mom picked him out for you! A black cat, right?”
A choked sound left the hybrid's throat, his eyes narrowing in on your sister. “Leopard.” He corrected, his eyebrow twitching in what you assumed was annoyance.
Jiyoo sent him a nasty look, her lips pursed as she looked the boy over. “Cat ears, cat tail..” She trailed off, before crossing her arms. “Pretty sure you fall under the cat category, kid.”
Your sister's words seemed to have snapped something in the hybrid, his eyes hardening in silent rage. Despite the look that made you want to melt between the cracks of your floorboards, your sister stood her ground, a smug smirk on her lips. A perfectly plucked brow quirked up, as if silently taunting the boy, ‘What are you gonna do?’
This day had seemed to spark a lifelong feud between the two.
Your relationship with the hybrid, whom you later learned was named Jeongguk, had been tense. You weren’t too sure about how he felt, his eyes always regarded you with disdain, and on a good day, boredom. Despite this, he followed you everywhere. The only escape you had from the leopard hybrid was your days at school. He lingered everywhere you went, be it at home or out with your friends. His poor attitude had soiled many friendships, a lot of your friends found his company uncomfortable and since you had unknowingly become a package deal, your friends dropped like flies. Even poor Namjoon had backed off, leaving you lost in a sea of assignments. On the few occasions you had given in to your pride and asked Namjoon for help, he had kept a considerable amount of distance from you, much different from the way he used to hover over you or sit shoulder to shoulder as he walked you through everything.
Jeongguk’s presence had proven to be lonely, whether he had meant it to be or not, you weren’t sure. He seemed to lack, or maybe just didn’t care for social cues. He ignored you, bossed you around, and was often too rough. He didn’t form any kind of relationship with the other hybrids of the house, he tolerated them and would sit in the same room as them until you returned home, using them to fill your absence. You quickly learned Jeongguk had unparalleled loyalty, devoted endlessly to you. Your brother had quickly picked up on your hybrid's strength, and his interests in physical activities. In the times you managed to slip away and have space for yourself, and Jeongguk was forced to be alone, he would often hang out in the home gym, or join Seokjin and Jiho for video games in the living room. Jiho had decided he and Jeongguk had far more common interests than the two of you had shared, and he proposed a swap. He offered you a choice of whichever of his hybrids in return for yours. There was no denying the thrill of getting rid of Jeongguk once and for all, you had been quick to bring the offer up to the leopard hybrid, who looked at you in disgust.
“No Master.”
Jiho had been bitter about the rejection, claiming you were being selfish. Your older sibling wasn’t informed that the rejection had come for Jeongguk himself, who had some choice words about your brother. To keep the peace between the men of the house, human and not, you took the blame.
Three years couldn't have passed fast enough. You finished your final year of school, got accepted to the university of your choice, and organized an apartment in the city with roommates, which meant no ‘pets’. You were finally free of hybrids. All your plans had been kept away from Jeongguk, and you were thankful that your brother didn’t care enough to speak about you to the hybrid, and your sister spent no time around Jeongguk, so your secret never slipped. It wasn’t until the night before you were due to leave, that the bags you had managed to pack over the last few weeks were stacked up in your emptied room and ready to go. You were going over a mental checklist, eyes fluttering over everything in your room to ensure you hadn’t missed anything important when your door flew open. You had yelped, your socked foot kicking into your suitcase. Cursing you looked over your shoulder with narrowed eyes, only for the anger to melt away at the sight of an enraged-looking Jeongguk. His chest which had grown muscular over the last few years was heaving as if he had just run the entire length of the Great Wall of China twice, his eyes looked crazed, looking over you and your empty room. His eyes finally landed on yours, an accusatory look that almost made you regret everything you had planned.
“Where are we going, Master?” his voice straining, as if trying to control the obvious rage bubbling under his skin.
“Not we, Jeongguk.” You sighed, leaning against your bedpost to keep the weight off your aching toes. “Just me.”
The leopard gave a very forced laugh, sounding more like he was choking. It honestly looked like he was in pain trying to keep himself in check. His knuckles that gripped the doorway had turned bone white, his jaw flexing as if trying to hold back his words. You watched as his eyes fell shut, his eyelids squeezing shut as if he were in pain. Maybe he was. When his eyes flew back open, locking back on yours all anger had seemed to fade away, back was the blank look he usually regarded you with.
“Master doesn't go anywhere without her pet.” He gritted out, once again seeming to be in pain.
Your shoulders sagged, and all the oxygen in your body seemed to deflate out. Part of you wanted to snap at him, ask him why you never went anywhere without him. Why did he have to be so clingy? You gave him the space to be his own person, why couldn’t he just go against what he was taught? Why did he have to be this way? Maybe if he had been nicer, more open like Jimin or Hoseok you could’ve tried to be his friend. Jeongguk was too moody, his presence often left you on edge and made you feel miserable, you didn’t want friends like that.
“I don't have any pets.” Your shoulders shrugged, finally looking back to the hybrid who looked like he had the wind once again knocked out of him.
“Master has me.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
You shook your head, sucking in a long breath. “You aren’t my pet Jeongguk, you're a hybrid. You’re too human to be a pet.”
Confusion flickered across the man's eyes before the same hard look settled back. Why did he always have to look so angry?
“But I'm not human.” He said matter-of-factly.
You snorted, nodding in agreement. He wasn't. Jeongguk, despite his mostly humanoid features, wasn't… Human. Getting along with Jeongguk had been impossible, and exhausting. Despite all your common interests, all the grounds you both stood on that could have made an impressive friendship, his attitude had made it impossible. He was blunt and abrasive. The way he looked at you made you want to shrivel away from his eyesight, and yet every time you tried he followed. If you strayed too far his fingers wrapped around your wrist, an unforgiving grip that left your bones aching. He scared away your friends, boys you liked, there wasn’t a life for you with Jeongguk lurking around. You had tried so hard to reach Jeongguk, to break that trained way he behaved. You hated the way he referred to you as Master, and himself as a pet. It always makes your stomach churn painfully. You had all but begged the hybrid to treat you as an equal, and he had always refused. You had given up a year ago, whatever hybrids are taught was too far ingrained into them for you to help.
“No, you're not.” You agreed bitterly.
The leopard cocked his head, his brow raising in silent questioning. Maybe he expected more from you, an explanation of what you meant, but you said nothing. There was nothing. You were sick of trying to maintain, and fix, all the issues you had with Jeongguk. You felt like a middle-aged woman stuck in a loveless marriage.
“Master, where are we going?” He questioned again, his words firmer.
“Not we, me.” You reiterated, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
"Master doesn’t leave with–”
A frustrated groan cut Jeongguk off, and you were surprised that it had come from you. His jaw clenched shut, his hands now gripped by his side.
“I do, Jeongguk, and I will.” The sternness of your words seemed to bother the hybrid across from you, his shoulders shaking.
“No.” He spat out.
You scoffed, years of resentment bubbling up your throat. “So now you can make decisions, go against me?” Your voice verges on hysterical laughter. “Honestly Jeongguk, go fuck yourself. Go away.”
Your words seemed to snap whatever invisible rope had been holding Jeongguk back, his body lurching forward. There wasn’t enough time to react, Jeongguk knocking you off your feet and onto your back, the softness of your mattress hitting saving your spine. Your eyes looked up at the hybrid who stood over you, the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glared down at your shocked eyes.
“Master doesn’t leave.” He hissed, his body vibrating. The muscles in his throat flexed like he was trying to physically keep the words down. “Stay with Jeongguk, safe.” His words were chopped as if it were his first time speaking the language.
Shaking your head, your heart clenched nervously in your ribs. Jeongguk has always been rough, but nothing like this. He had never shoved you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, trying to wiggle back, your legs stuck between Jeongguks. He quickly caught onto what you were trying to do, his hands shooting down to your thighs, tugging you back down the bed. He quickly climbed on top of you, his thighs on either side of your hips as he continued to scowl down at you.
“Jeongguk, get off.” You huffed, hand reaching to his chest trying to shove him away. To absolutely zero shock, his body didn't even budge.
“Stay safe here, Master.” He repeated.
The desperate, crazed look Jeongguk stared down at you with, had your skin burning in discomfort, and for the first time in three years, you were scared of him. Never had you felt any fear toward any of the hybrids that resided in your family home, even with Jeongguk’s less than stellar personality, had you ever felt threatened or fearful of him until this moment. So, instead of arguing with him, instead of attempting to fight back, you gave in. You went limp, all the fight you had left in you was breathed out in a heavy sigh.
“Okay, I’ll stay.” You agreed, hoping he couldn’t see any hint of the lie that fell from your tongue. “I’ll stay here, safe. You can help me unpack in the morning.”
The hybrid kept a steady gaze on you, his eyes reading over every inch of your face before slowly nodding all previous tension in his body melting away. For the first time since you had met Jeongguk, his features relaxed. There wasn’t any hostile glower, no tension or aggression left in his body. You noticed the twitch in the corner of his lips, his attempt to fight back a smile. His hand shakily moved toward your face, moving at a snail's pace. Fingers lightly grazing over your jugular before his palm took up resting on your cheek, his thumb running along your cheekbone. For the first time ever, Jeongguk looked at you with something you could only describe as adoration, and that scared you more than his icy eyes ever have.
It had taken hours, but Jeongguk eventually went back to his own room that was shared with Seokjin, the hesitation clear as day. You didn’t get a single second of sleep, eyes glued to your phone's clock waiting for the hours to pass. As soon as your phone hit 4:30 am you got to work, creeping through the halls with your bags. You were sure your heart was in your throat, trying to force itself out of your mouth. You had never felt as much anxiety as you did at this moment. The possibility of Jeongguk hearing your footsteps, your breath, even your heart, was far too real.
Your muscles don't relax until the cab's tires crunched against the gravel, the main road coming into view as you approached the gates of your home, you were approaching freedom. Out of habit, your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror upfront, taking a peek at your childhood home that you'll miss for the next few years, all relief seemed to freeze as your eyes connected with Jeongguk’s furious eyes through the mirror.
18+ content. MDNI. Please be mindful of what you read
This is part one of my series "Friends help Friends". This part sets up a majority of the plot, as 80% of this series will just be pure smut. For more info check the masterlist <3
Summary: The tour was creeping up on them, after years the anxiety was getting to them. Namjoon and Yoongi were in his office trying to decompress like old times. The conversation wasn't one they typically went towards, but it happened and now Namjoon can't stop imagining his girlfriend with his friend. Lucky for him, she believes that friends help friends.
Includes: Established relationship (Rm&Reader), anxious talks, threesome, Men kiss (briefly), oral (reader recieving), hair pulling, scratching, overstim, Namjoon kinda has a cuck chair (idk how else to say it), protected and unprotected PinV, "baby, babygirl, honey, sweetheart, good girl." Praise kink, dry humping, Yoongi shoulder injury, Men bickering/verbally teasing each other.
6.2k words ~ Series Masterlist ~ Regular masterlist
Namjoons hand was soft against your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone every so often as you both melted into the kiss. His other had a loose grip on your waist, helping you to keep your balance as you rocked your hips slowly in his lap.
It'd been like this for just shy of an hour you thought; the entire thing just a lazy connection between the two of you after he returned home from a day full of promos.
It helps according to him. Helps his body release all the pent of energy and anxiety that builds up. It helps him just to be around you in all fairness, but he's not going to deny the relaxation that comes from the physicality of it all.
"Wanna go faster." You whispered against his lips, trying to move your hips quicker without falling.
"Go for it baby." He smiled, sliding his arm further across your back to keep you from falling.
Namjoon kept his lips against yours as you sped up your hips, grinding yourself against his growing cock. His slight groans were drowned out by your desperate whines, the small touches of the past hour starting to catch up to you.
You were quick to find a grip against him, one of your hands settling on his shoulder and the other sliding through his hair. His teeth dragged against your lip as you pulled on the strands slightly, a weakness of his.
"You're perfect, you know that?" He whispered, pushing his hips into yours just enough to send send your head back. "Absolutely perfect."
—
Promos were killing him, all of them really. He was sure one of the videos was going to make him come off as absolutely insane when in reality he'd just drank his 7th cup of coffee to stay awake.
Tour started soon, and as much as they were excited to be performing again, there was also a lot of fear surrounding it. Being the leader, Namjoon was everyone's person to talk to about it. He tried helping, but there was only so much words could do.
"I'm sorry man." Namjoon sighed, leaning back into his office chair. "I wish I could help, especially with tour so close."
Yoongi chuckled, taking a sip of his soju before speaking. "Sometimes it makes me wish it was still like when we were younger."
Namjoon started at the other man, a questioning look evident on his face. He didn't really understand what he meant. It was obvious Yoongi could tell, sighing slightly as he leaned forward.
"Before the fame, when you could just go out and hookup with someone at a bar with no fear."
"Do that often back then?" They both laughed, mumbling out something along the lines of it working between laughs. "Besides, we're in our thirties, doubt it'd be easy to do either way."
The room softened, both men settling into a comfortable silence. It was normal for them, long drawn out silences where the room felt at peace. It was what happened when you'd known someone for half your life.
It wasn't until some of the members ran by, laughing at something unknown that the silence broke a bit. Yoongi mumbled something to himself pulling Namjoons attention.
"Sorry?" He asked turning towards his friend. "I didn't hear you with them being crazy out there."
"You don't have to worry about all that stuff." Yoongi spoke, a smirk on his face.
"I mean I do, I am the leader so-"
"No I meant the stress relief bullshit." He laughed taking a rather large drink of the soju he'd been nursing. "Trying to find a physical way to get it all out, your girlfriend is a big help I imagine."
Namjoon paused, the other man's words giving him ideas that any half decent man wouldn't be thinking. You were the best stress relief he had, even if a good part of it was the romance aspect, he hadn't felt the physical discomfort from the stress of their lives since you came home with him that first night.
He had to look away from his friend, thoughts of his you could "help out" consuming his mind like a drug. You'd always liked the other members, you two had talked about your Fangirl days, but you'd never told him who your favorite was back then.
Maybe it was Yoongi, maybe he could help his friend and fulfill a fantasy for you all in the same day. He liked the idea, more than he wanted to admit. The thought of you and Yoongi together, he'd be able to see every aspect of you that way, see the things he'd miss when it was just the two of you.
He didn't say anything, even when he looked back up at the other man after ages of creating months worth of daydreams. For a moment he thought Yoongi was reading his mind, the smirk still prominent on his face.
"The way your face looks I know I'm right." Yoongi laughed, maybe the alcohol was getting to him.
"Do you think she's pretty?" Namjoon stuttered out without thinking.
"No shit." His laugh continued. "I think every one of us has at some point, Jungkook cried over the 'betrayal' once it was fucking hilarious." The exaggerated air quotes the man did made Namjoon laugh more than the statement.
"Would've paid to see that."
It was all he could say, his friend didn't need to know how much fuel he just gave the thoughts flooding his head.
—
"Have you ever thought about having a threesome?" Namjoon's voice broke through the comfortable silence that had built up as you got ready for bed.
You turned to him, eyes wide at the sudden and explicit question. He looked nervous to even ask it, small in his place under the covers as he watched your reaction. It was weird seeing him like that, which only enhanced your confusion.
"I'm guessing you have?" He sighed, sinking further into the pillows.
"Yoongi and I had a conversation today, it brought up— well it made me start to think about that type of stuff." He got quiet towards the end. "He wasn't even talking about that specifically, but he brought you up and I-"
"Wait, so he wasn't talking about threesomes, but brought me up and you like, instantly thought of threesomes?"
Namjoon went quiet, pursing his lips together before nodding. "I'm sorry." Was all he managed to get out.
"No no—you don't have to be sorry. I'm just—do you want to have a threesome with Yoongi?" He stared at you, the bluntness catching him off guard.
"It didn't start like that. At first he brought up the whole stressed hookup thing and then I thought of the two of you together and—okay note taken." He cut himself off, the sour look on your face at the idea of you and Yoongi, without Namjoon, prevalent on your face.
"Sorry please continue." You whispered, making your way over to the bed and finally sitting above the covers.
"It just spiraled after that I guess. He seems so stressed, and sex helps? Sex with you helps me and it would probably help him and then he brought up the other members also finding you pretty and— fuck I think I do, I haven't stopped thinking about it."
He sunk his face into his hands, dragging them down his face dramatically. Attempting to comfort him you managed to get yourself under the covers, scooting over until you could rest your head on his shoulder with ease.
Namjoon reacted almost instantly. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his allowing you to hear his racing heartbeat. You melted into him, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you.
"If you really want to we can, if it'd help you both, I'm more than willing."
—
The conversation didn't get brought up in the morning, if you didn't trust your memory as much as you did you may have thought it was a dream. He left the same way he did every morning, this morning however he seemed happier than normal, especially with the early wake up due to Hoseoks own nerves.
You didn't expect much to come out of it; maybe just knowing you weren't mad was enough to calm his mind about the newfound fantasy. Granted, it didn't help much that now you were thinking about it. Half of your morning was spent scrolling past promotions pictures of them all, trying to ignore the lingering glances you took whenever Yoongi showed up.
It shocked you when your boyfriend texted you in the afternoon when you knew he was at an interview. The text itself was simple enough, far from innocent in your mind. "Can Yoongi-hyung stay over tonight?" He didn't need to say it aloud, the implication was enough for you.
You typed back a yes without much thought before throwing your phone. Everything felt too real, you couldn't tell if you were more terrified or excited. In an embarrassing moment you ran to the shower, staying in there for who knows how long, bringing up flashbacks of when you would do this before every date with Namjoon.
The shower managed to calm you down enough to be able to resume what you were doing. That was until you remembered your phone was lying on the floor.
Picking it up was a mistake for your sanity. In the midst of random notification was a single text from the man invading your relationship and your mind. "If you want me to bring anything let me know, we both know Namjoon won't."
He was right. You both knew your boyfriend better than yourselves. Soon you'd both know every part of him, parts only you had known originally shared. It was weird how easily that thought crossed your mind, and how quickly it made your heart race.
"Only yourself and a change of clothes." Was your response. Your nerves were on fire once again, resulting in you spending the next few hours panic cleaning every inch of your house before you got the text that the two men were on their way home.
You felt like your chest was going to explode when the car pulled up. Trying to act cool when they walked it the door, takeout in their hands with small smiles.
"He insisted on buying us food." Your boyfriend spoke, walking towards you with a bag from your favorite fast food place. "He was driving so I couldn't stop him." He laughed, pressing his lips against your cheek as he handed you one of the bags.
"When have you ever stopped me from buying you food?" Yoongis voice rang out, already sitting at the table and taking out his order.
The two started bickering as they ate, leaving you to watch as you did the same. God you were so fucked.
—
"We don't have to do this if you're nervous baby." Namjoon whispered as he pulled you into him.
It was an out. Yoongi was within speaking distance, in the bathroom just on the other side of the wall. You'd spoken about it, just enough to know it was actually happening. There was enough trust between the three of you to know that was enough.
You decided not to respond, instead closing the distance between you and Namjoon. The kiss started off slow, allowing you to feel him smile into it. His hands rested on your waist, keeping you close as your hand rested on broad shoulders.
It was easy to fall back into your normal routine. The endless kisses while grinding into one another. For a minute or so you both seemed to forget what was happening, but it didn't seem like the other man minded.
"Comfortable?" Yoongis voice shocked both of you for a moment.
"Fuck man you scared me." Your boyfriend laughed as he pulled away from you making you grin.
Namjoon beckoned Yoongi onto the bed, his orders being followed with no resistance. You suddenly found yourself between the two of them, sitting on Namjoons lap with your back now against him.
Yoongi had a soft smile on his face, head tilted slightly as he took in the scene; more specifically you. You'd manage to catch the subtle way his teeth sunk into his lip for a split second as his eyes trailed across you.
Slowly you reached your hand towards him, brushing a fallen strand of hair away from the edge of his glasses. It was so soft you almost missed it, but he attempted to lean into your hand. The act made something twist inside of you.
Before you knew it you were leaning forward. Your lips barely pressed against his, eyes fluttering shut at the act. He waited for your next move, staying still until you started to move your lips against his.
Yoongi smiled against your lips as you giggled into the kiss, tasting his citrusy lip balm he no doubt applied copious amounts of in the bathroom. "It's been a while, wanted them to be soft for you." He whispered, catching onto what your laughter was.
"You succeeded." You replied, connecting your lips once again.
It moved faster from there. His hands made their way to you. One resting on your knee while the other held your cheek. Your own tangled themselves in the newly short hair with ease, trying to keep him close to you.
His tongue slid against your lips, pushing through at your allowance. Yoongi dominated the kiss, sloppy at first, taking a moment to remember how.
Carefully, his hand slid higher on your leg. He was slow moving, not faltering in the kiss as it climbed to your thigh resting below the edge of your pajama shorts. The grip just enough to know the hand was there.
Soon you felt Namjoons breath against your neck, his chest now pressed directly against your back. You gasped into the kiss as his lips pressed against your skin, not staying in one place for longer than a second.
His hands traveled to your waist, keeping you still between the two men. Even as you tried to shift your hips back into his own, his grip tightened making you whine against the other mans lips.
"Really? Already?" Namjoon laughed, pulling away from your neck and sitting his shoulder against your chin.
"Hmm?" Yoongi hummed, barely moving from your lips. "What's wrong?"
"He won't let me move." You pouted, leaning into Yoongi dramatically.
You heard an exasperated sigh come from your boyfriend, no doubt a reaction from what was probably a scolding look from the man you were currently pressing into.
"She's trying to grind into me, already." You groaned into Yoongis shoulder at the accusation.
Yoongi scoffed. His hands migrated to your waist, hovering above Namjoons for a moment before shoving them off of you. You both gasped as his hands replaced the others, lifting you off of your boyfriends lap and placing you down on his own.
"You can do whatever you want with me baby." Yoongi whispered, slowly guiding your hips against his until you started to move on your own accord.
Quickly you glanced back to Namjoon, the shocked expression still stuck on his face. His eyes were wide, staring unapologetically at the place where your hips rested on his friend.
Turning back around you connected your lips to Yoongis once more. This time the kiss was quickly reciprocated, there was no longer hesitation in his touches.
His grip tightened against you as you sped up your hips, now pushing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, bucking his hips against yours carefully, waiting for your reaction before repeating it.
You pulled away from his lips, a moan leaving you as the friction against your covered clit started to build. Yoongi didn't let up, forcing your hips to keep the new pace as you started to lose your balance. His lips were quick to find your neck at the loss of yours, teeth scraping against the skin bordering on painful.
"She'll cum like that if you let her." Namjoon spoke, deep voice now filling the room.
It was meant as a warning, you think. Yoongi didn't seem to take it as one.
"Yeah? Like making a mess, ruining our clothes hm?" You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder as he dug his hands tighter into you. "Go ahead, make a mess on my lap baby. That's what I'm here for isn't it?"
"Keep doing that." Namjoons voice was close to you once again, you could feel the bed shifting as he moved. "She loves being talked through it."
You whined into the other mans shoulder, hips starting to move against him with a desperate rhythm. You dug your hand into his arm to try and regain your balance, your other reaching behind you trying to find your boyfriend.
"Should I tell her she's good, or does she like it meaner?" Yoongi asked, voice vibrating against you.
"She loves being good, don't you honey?" Namjoon whispered as he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through with yours. "Always so good for me."
His lips were suddenly on the other side of your neck, chest pressed against your back once more. Every move of your hips pushed your ass into him. You almost felt suffocated, pushed perfectly between both men, two sets of lips on your neck. It was enough to push you over the edge, shaking between them as your orgasm rolled over you.
Yoongi pulled away from you, focus switching to watch your face as you came, ignoring the small whine that left when lips disappeared. Namjoon stayed close, smiling against you as he continued biting kisses into the skin.
"Fuck you look so pretty." Yoongis hand moved to rest under your chin, lifting it just enough for your eyes to meet his. "Soaked through my sweats, can feel it on my skin."
"Guess he should take them off then, right baby?" Namjoon asked you, a hypothetical really.
You nodded, trying, and failing, to push yourself off of the mans lap so he could, pulling you back onto his. The other man caught on and helped you onto his after laughing slightly at your failure.
Namjoon held you close to him as you continued to calm down, both of your eyes watching as Yoongis hands slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats. Slowly, he pushed them off of his hips, sitting up slightly to do so. You couldn't help but stare as dark boxers came into view, a small whimper leaving you as you noticed the dark spot covering his cock.
"Want the boxers off too?" He asked, thumb toying with the elastic with a smirk. Once again you nodded, having difficulty pulling your eyes away from him. "I'll do it, but I don't want to be the only one half naked baby."
You looked back at Namjoon who smiled, giving you a look that screamed agreement. His actions were louder. The hands that were keeping you tethered to him moved, sliding his hands beneath your shirt before pulling it up your torso.
Before you knew it the shirt was thrown somewhere in the room, and everyone was now heavily aware that you went without a bra for the occasion. You'd expected a comment from one of them, but instead Namjoons hand practically flew to your breast.
Yoongis eyes were wide as he watched Namjoon massage your breast, his hand slow moving but heavy with every grasp.
"I wasn't just talking to her." His voice was quiet as his eyes flickered up to your boyfriends for a moment before returning to your chest.
He chuckled behind you, not putting up a fight as he used his spare hand to pull off his own shirt and adding it to the pile of discarded clothes. You didn't have to look back to know, feeling his warm skin against your back.
"Better?" He didn't answer, instead he kept to his word and pushed the elastic band down allowing his cock to spring free.
"Can I?" You asked, reaching out to rest your hand on his thigh while waiting for permission.
"Yeah you can." He whispered, leaning into press his lips against yours once again.
You moved your hand onto him as you kissed back, slowly dragging your hand along the shaft. He whined into the kiss with every pass of your thumb over his tip, hips bucking slightly into your grip.
Yoongi let out a quiet moan as you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip, matching it with a tightening grip on his cock.
"Shit don't do that."
"Close already?" Namjoon asked before you could apologize.
"Listen it—fuck baby—it's been a while. that's the whole reason we're here." He pulled away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.
Namjoon gripped your wrist, making your movements slow much to the dismay of the other man. "Don't whine at me." He laughed, guiding your hand off of him. "Thought you had other things you wanted to do? Can't do those if you cum within two minutes of her touching you."
Yoongi groaned, falling back onto the mattress dramatically. He quickly tried to slow his breathing, falling under watchful eyes. His cock twitched as he craned his head up to look at you, the red color growing darker with every passing second.
He whispered something to himself before shooting back up again. "I hate you." He said to the man behind you with a grimace.
His hands went to your thighs, trailing over the thin fabric of your shorts until he made it to your waistband. Without warning he started to pull them down, waiting for the other man to lift your hips in aid. You kicked them off once they made it below your knee, following suit with your soaked panties, trying to ignore the difficulty of it.
Before you could ask what the things the two had obviously discussed before hand were, Yoongi pressed his lips against yours once again. You gasped against his mouth as his hand ghosted over your cunt, fingertip brushing against your swollen clit.
"Think he wants to show you his tongue technology." Namjoon whispered, cutting himself off with a failed attempt at hiding his laughter.
"I'm going to fucking kill him." Yoongi whispered to you between breaths.
"Is he wrong?" You giggled, sliding your hand down the mans arm until you could press his hand against you.
The man had a look on his face that you couldn't quite read. Namjoon could apparently. His presence left as you were stuck sitting on the sheets. They didn't allow you to question it; within seconds your back was flat against the same sheets and Yoongi was sliding off the bed.
He winked at your shocked expression before pressing his lips inches away from your entrance. His hands landed on your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders, wincing slightly at first before repositioning himself.
He continued to tease, pressing soft kisses around your clit, allowing his breath to breeze past it. You were starting to grow desperate, trying to push your hips against him with minimal success.
Namjoon made his way back to you, lifting your head and resting it comfortably on his thigh. Without a word he reached down, carding his hand through yours and lifting it into the air. He guided you both to the back of the other mans skull, Namjoon helping you slide your fingers through the strands before placing his hand on the back of yours.
"Be a good girl for me and take what you want okay?" He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.
You nodded, tightening your grip on Yoongis hair before pulling him towards where you wanted him. He let out a moan at the action, laughing a bit before pressing his lips against your clit.
He started slow, soft kisses against your cunt before increasing the pressure. He moved to focus on your entrance, nose nudging against your clit just enough to keep your focus.
It didn't take long for him to move, dragging his finger against your now drenched core. You gasped as he slowly pushed the digit into you, curling it the second it was all in. His tongue focused now on your clit, trying to match the movement of his tongue to the now moving finger.
You pulled him closer, thighs now trying to tighten around his head against your will. Yoongi didn't seem to mind, eyes staring up at you with an evil glint present. You barely registered him adding the second finger, him managing to time it at the same time that Namjoons large hands returned to your breasts.
"Close baby?" Namjoon asked, smiling above you when you nodded. Yoongi, still watching you, moaned against you at the fact. "Go ahead, he's practically begging for it the way hes humping the fucking air."
He laughed as the other man flipped him off, proving him right by not stopping and only increasing the speed of his other hand. You managed to catch the way his hips were shifting for a split second before he sucked harder on your clit making your head fly backwards.
Soon your grip tightened, your second orgasm barrelling towards you before you could warn Yoongi. You pulled him impossibly closer, the man putting up no reisitence at the act as you came. He removed his fingers, replacing them with his tongue with a moan as your taste exploded across his it.
You heard muffled praises fill the air as your body started relax once more, which man they were coming from you truthfully had no idea.
"Shit I need a minute." Yoongis voice broke through pulling your gaze towards him.
His face was covered in you, the sheen made more apparent by the lamp off to the side. His tongue was running along his bottom lip with a hum as he spoke. Namjoon moved as well, taking his hands off of your breasts to brush the fallen hair off of your face.
Both men laughed as you whined, groaning at the sudden lack of touch. You tried to drag Namjoons hands back to no avail.
"Want me to do something baby girl?" He smiled as you nodded dramatically. He looked to his friend, cocking his head slightly before asking. "Want to watch me fuck her? That enough of a break for you?"
"I hate how hot that sounds." Yoongi mumbled, standing up to sit on the edge of the bed nearest you.
"Please Joonie." You whispered, sitting up to press your lips against his.
He kissed back, allowing to control the pace as he pushed his pants down to his knees. Boxers followed soon after, letting his cock bounce against his stomach.
You climbed onto his lap, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands slid across your back, making its way to the base of your neck keeping you still as he pulled out of the kiss.
You felt eyes on you as you reached between the two of you, grabbing Namjoons cock with ease. He let out a sharp gasp as you dragged your hand along the shaft.
Shifting upwards your knees dug into the mattress. You gripped the base of his cock, positioning it below you, your legs shaking as you hover above it.
"You sure you want to ride me? You're shaking babe." He sighed as you nodded, nudging the tip against your soaked entrance. "Tell me when it's too much alright?" He pressed his lips against yours as you nodded once again.
You both let out a moan as the tip of his cock breached you, meeting little resistance thanks to the other man. You wasted no time sinking down onto him, unable to control the noises leaving your mouth as your hips hit his thighs.
Namjoon pulled your head closer to him, resting his forehead against yours. His mouth was parted, breathing heavily against yours as he waited for you to move.
Yoongis presence moved closer as you lifted yourself up on shaky thighs before dropping yourself back down. You felt his hand ghost over your back as you moved, his breath loud enough to register over your moans.
"You're so hot." He whispered, shuffling closer. "Using his cock perfectly. Does it feel good?"
"So good Yoongi."You moaned, pressing further into Namjoon with a failed attempt to speed yourself up. "Too—fuck joon—need help."
Within seconds his hands found your waist, holding you still as his hips thrusted into yours. You moved your head into the crook of his shoulder, trying to muffle yourself.
Neither man seemed to like that idea. Yoongis hand slid against yours scalp, gripping your hair in a similar manner to yours earlier before pulling you back. The act made your voice even louder.
"Can feel you getting close baby, clenching around me so tight." You nodded, trying to grind yourself against him as he kept up his thrusts from below. "Go ahead and cum, think someone is getting impatient." Yoongi groaned from behind you.
Despite the annoyance, Yoongi moved closer once again. His hand wrapped around your waist, sliding down until his fingers brushed over your clit. He wasted no time drawing shapes against it, pushing you over the edge.
You shook between them, slumping forward until all of your body weight rested against your boyfriend. He lifted you up just enough to slip his hard cock out of you before allowing you to rest on him once again.
"Feeling alright?" You whined in response , nodding against his shoulder. "Think you can take him?"
"Mhm, wanna do it." You words were a bit slurred, but they didn't mind.
You heard them talking as you tried to control your breathing, your mind still static like. Soon Yoongis presence left, you could hear him leaving the room making your stomach turn.
Lifting your head up you looked at Namjoon with a grimace, thinking something went wrong and the man was leaving fully. He coo'd at you, peppering soft kisses against your face.
"He's coming back, promise." He reassured. "Idiot forgot to grab the condom out of his jacket, no way he's fucking you without one."
"You did." You whispered, giggling at your comment.
"You're my girlfriend baby." He whispered, smiling as you continued to giggle at him. "I'm the only one allowed to do that silly." You agreed with a grin, messily pressing your lips against his as you waited for Yoongi to return.
He did moments later, returning to his place on the bed easily. You pulled away from Namjoon once you felt the slight dip in the mattress.
Turning to look at him you noticed the nervous expression he was trying to hide on his face. Your brain was still a bit fuzzy, making your own nerves quieter; giving you a lot more confidence to lighten the mood.
"How do ya want me?" You asked, plucking the condom out of his hand. "Expect for on top my poor legs." Both men laughed as you pouted.
"I think-" He started, leaning closer to you and grabbing the item back. "You can just lay back and let me make you feel good? That work for you sweetheart?" Yoongis tone was slightly mocking, but the way his voice dipped towards the final word had you silently agreeing.
It didn't take long for Yoongi to be between your thighs once again. Namjoon moved off to the side, mumbling something about a view. So it left the two of you, in what was probably the most vulnerable state you'd ever be with one another.
Yoongi wasn't phased, the way you were looking up at him had his confidence soaring. You heard your boyfriend whisper something, unable to make the words out.
Whatever it was, it was for your benefit. Right before your eyes Yoongi stripped his shirt off, throwing it towards the floor with a smirk, something that only grew the longer you stared.
"Ready? Or do you need more viewing time?" You heard your boyfriend laugh from his seat.
"Think you should fuck me before I fall asleep laying here." The snarky comment made his eyes narrow, keeping eye contact with you as he ripped the condom open.
You watched as he rolled it across his cock, a deeper red than when you saw it earlier. It twitched in his palm with passing second, the look on his face evident to how close he was.
He pressed it against your folds, running the head along them a few times before pausing at the entrance. You tried to nudge him forward by pushing your hips towards him. He instead placed a hand on your hip, holding you still.
Slowly, almost to slowly, he pushed forward. He wasn't as big as Namjoon, but the stretch still caught your breath the further he pushed.
Once his hips met the backs of your thighs, the hand that was guiding his cock quickly found your clit. Yoongi groaned as you clenched around him at the act.
"Fuck I'm not gonna last long." He whispered, leaning down until his head rested in the crook of your neck.
"Neither am I, just fuck me Yoongi."
That's all it took. Within seconds he pulled himself out of you before slamming his hips back against you. You threw your head back at the sudden pace, his thrusts matching the speed of his thumb on your clit.
You could feel him groan into your neck, teeth sinking in as you started to tighten around him. Your hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. Yoongi winced as you drew past his scar, but he didn't stop you.
"Fucking amazing." Yoongi groaned, lifting his head just enough to kiss you.
He continued his thrusts, cock sliding perfectly against your walls as your fourth orgasm grew closer. You were grinding yourself down on him at this point, unable to decide which part of him against you to focus on.
As he started to stutter against your lips, you turned to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you. Namjoons hand was on his cock, the tip leaking across it as he quickly moved it along himself.
He caught your eye, smiling at you in a way that made your chest feel warm. He winked as you moaned before turning your head back to the other man.
Yoongi's hips were beginning to lose rhythm, cock twitching against your walls. His breathing was growing erratic, matching your own.
Yoongi pulled away, sitting up straight like how he was when you started. Both of his hands traveled to your hips, managing a tight grip before using the leverage to pull you against him, cock hitting deeper than before. You borderline screamed, pulling new noises from both men.
One final thrust and he was done for. His hips stuttered as he came. You brought your hand down to your clit, barely needing to touch it before you followed.
"Thank you thank you thank…" He trailed off, falling onto the mattress beside you.
You hardly had any energy to reply, only turning your head to look at him with a smile. Thankfully it allowed you to see the tail end of your boyfriends orgasm, his cum shooting across his hand and landing across the expanse of his torso.
"How do you feel? Both of you really." Namjoon asked as he walked back over to the bed.
"I owe the both of you, I don't know what I owe you but I do." Yoongi replied as you gave a thumbs up.
Namjoon helped you sit up, allowing you to rest against him as your body grew sore. Yoongi sat up as well, pulling the condom off of himself with an annoyed groan before tying and throwing it away.
There was a comfortable silence that grew over the three of you. Nobody moved, everyone catching their breath. Eventually Namjoon spoke again.
"Is there anything you want baby? Anything we didn't do that you were thinking about?" His voice was soft, words echoed by the other man.
"You guys could kiss, that'd be nice." You said, words mostly a joke.
So it caught you off guard when they both looked at each other with a questioning look. No laughter like you expected.
Before you could backtrack the comment, Yoongi leaned closer to the two of you. His head went passed yours, allowing you to just barely see his lips connect to your boyfriends.
Your eyes went wide, not knowing how to react at the scene in front of you. You hardly managed to lean back enough to see both men's faces, their eyes closed as their lips moved slowly against one another.
They stayed that way, the speed of the kiss never changing, their hands resting on you throughout it all. You didn't know how long it lasted, it didn't really matter because the image was burned into your head.
"Was that good?" Namjoon asked again, laughing slightly as you immediately nodded.
Yoongi laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder. His hand trailed across your back absentmindedly.
jealousy rears its ugly head. jealousy is a disease, fogs up your mind, makes you taste blood. kim taehyung senses his princess is getting a whole lot of attention from guys who should most definitely keep their distance. or, that’s at least how he would put it.
pairings. kim taehyung x female reader
wc. idek i wrote ts straight into tumblr i got so excited after the mv. maybe 5k? 8k? 10k?
tags & warnings. mentions of violence, but no depictions of it (except a split lip and a black eye). grill-hyung (meaning tete has grills/tooth-gems). morally dubious taehyung. possessive!taehyung. jealous exbf!taehyung. mildly (clinically) insane taehyung. mentions of male masturbation. mentions of murder (as a joke). explicit smut. phone used as vibrator. possessive sex and dirty talk. ass slapping. blowjob. headpusher!tete. facefucking. he kinda crazy but that’s been established. oc kinda crazy too tho we good. penetrative sex. kitchen sex. doggy. taehyung kinda speaks in third person during sex cus i was drunk and it’s kinda hot and i like it okay?
— notes. wtf just happened. idk hooligans just got to me. don’t read this if the tags put u off (but i swear you’ll miss out on some good shit). i drank a few glasses of red wine during the smut so i apologize in advance if this is disguising. also listened to dracula on repeat while writing, cus that song is tete.
It’s not like you fear him or anything. You just worry. Deeply, that is. There is of course a thrill to him, a side you love.
Or loved, at least. Because you really did love him, maybe you still do. But he could sometimes just shift into someone you swore you didn’t know. A completely different Taehyung from the one you fell for.
And for some reason it got worse after you threw in the towel. Taehyung got even more possessive, like that was even possible. You had to kindly ask him to keep his distance — it frightened you that he showed up uninvited to events he should’ve had no knowledge of. It seemed like he was everywhere at one point, at your nail appointments, at your friends’ birthday parties, deep in your bones, far down your throat, pressing down on your windpipes suffocating you.
He would never hurt you. But he certainly had no problem with hurting everyone else.
About a week ago, your father set you up with someone he deemed a better match than your ex boyfriend, the black sheep. His name was Kim Namjoon, son of a respectable family. Tall, athletic, handsome, smart — all wonderful assets which could possibly be passed down to eventual offspring. Your father told you Namjoon trades art, an occupation that has granted him wealth both economically and culturally. And he did look cute, so you obliged.
The two of you met at a dimly lit restaurant, where Namjoon was to spoil you rotten. He wanted to give you a taste of his way of living, how he dealt with a common day, spending it surrounded by wine, great food and live music.
It was all well until the illusion was shattered. Poor Namjoon had nothing to do with this. You wish, in all honesty, that he would be granted a second chance. But he made the mistake of excusing himself to the restroom halfway through dinner. Rookie mistake when dealing with a woman like you — a woman with your history.
Namjoon came back with trembling hands and his tie ripped out of his blazer, hanging crookedly across his chest. When reminiscing back to that night, you remember his tousled hair, the black swallowing his brown, beautiful eyes.
“This has been—” Namjoon swallowed a lump between his words, “just great. Great, really. L-Let me show you to your car.”
You hadn’t called your driver or ordered an uber.
As you tried calming him down, asking what was the matter, Namjoon walked to pull out your chair, almost dragging you out of your seat. He was about to put a leading hand to the small of your back, before seemingly getting mentally electrocuted, stopping himself and stuffing his pockets instead.
“Namjoon, hun… are you okay? You can tell me, just—you’re kind of freaking me out here,” you whispered, trying not to cause a scene as Namjoon almost pushed you forward and through the restaurant — all without touching you for even a second. Having him sweating behind you was all you needed.
“You’re probably so tired—look, there’s your car. Have a great night!” He pointed to the window, and truthful he was. Outside was the black SUV, in the driver’s seat sat Gwansik.
How on earth did Gwansik get here?, you thought. Did Namjoon call him from the bathroom? Was the date going that badly? From your point of view Namjoon actually had a great time. Maybe he was just a great actor.
You whipped your head around, trying to meet Namjoon’s eyes. He ignored them right away, bowed humbly and rushed away from the exit.
So you stood there, all alone, clutch in hand, about to leave a date you actually had enjoyed — without any proper reason as to why it ended so abruptly.
That was of course what you thought until your eyes went to the hallway framing the restroom.
You didn’t see much, but you saw enough. The flash of those fucking diamonds. Those fucking fangs.
Taehyung is seeing red. Taehyung thought he hit rock bottom when you left him, left him to rot. But somehow you’ve outdone yourself. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.
Park Jimin. Park fucking Jimin. That little lesbian boy? What could you possibly see in him? How could you possibly stomach the sight of that walking milk carton, not only once — but twice?
Kim Namjoon was one thing. He was honorable. Taehyung felt a sense of pride in sending him out the door of that restaurant with a diaper full of shit. Namjoon was bigger, older, more influential. His only problem was that unfortunate dating scandal a few years ago — you know, the one where he left that Idol alone with a kid? Gosh, princess, he didn’t deserve you.
Park Jimin, however, is in himself fucking embarrassing.
Park Jimin spends his time at strip-clubs. Orion, to be exact. Every Saturday, 11:30 PM — like clockwork. Park Jimin walks through those doors with the same pack of hungry men each fucking Saturday. Pockets stuffed heavy, nose stuffed dumb. What a fucking embarrassing human being.
You probably don’t know this about him. You’re so naive. Gosh, it should be endearing — but at times it can be so fucking infuriating. You can’t take proper care of yourself. You should be grateful that Taehyung does so for you.
By midnight Jimin already books himself a private room.
Early on it tonight, Park Jimin. You should’ve saved yourself some time.
Taehyung sits heavy, legs spread and arms splayed wide over the couch’s headrest. He shifts his hips, the dark denim almost blending in with the black leather his thighs rest on.
When the door opens, the boxy smile spreading on Taehyung’s face shines through the dark. The bedazzled fangs giving away a faint spark.
“Yoo-hoo!” Taehyung mocks, making waves with his fingertips.
Jimin’s reaction is simply priceless. His stomach visibly drops, his face going even paler than his bleached hair, fat lips parting with a surprised gasp. Jimin remembers the man before him — on the couch where he was planning on getting his dick wet.
“Fuck off—what do you want, man?” Jimin whines, throwing his head back. He is apparently a stupid man, this Park Jimin. After clicking his tongue, he actually shuts the door behind him. Rookie mistake when dealing with a woman like you.
“Are you a stupid man, Park Jimin?” Taehyung rasps, spreading his legs even wider. He lets himself get disgustingly comfortable in the bed where Jimin should lay, pheromones seeping out of his pores. He could just as well piss on this fucking leather.
“Look—this psychotic break you’re having? Not my problem,” Jimin says with a firm tone, quite ballsy for a man who knows just how ‘psychotic’ Taehyung can get. He didn’t seem to be this brave when Taehyung butchered his bowling date last week. He left you rather quickly, not really interested in a broken nose. But he had the fucking nerve to see you again. So maybe he wanted that broken nose anyway?
“‘just wanna get to know you better, Jimin-ssi. Can’t a guy simply wish for more friends?”
Jimin snickers at Taehyung’s words — and that’s when the red in the taller’s eyes turns pitch black.
Only a few minutes later, Taehyung exits the private room with Jimin’s nape between his fingertips. He presses down harder when Jimin tries to wiggle away from his grip, having the blond wince, uttering a fragile apology through his split lip.
That’s what you get, Taehyung thinks. If this wuss ever tries kissing you again, Taehyung will do more than just damage the fat on his mouth. He’ll cut his fucking tongue out.
He’d never hurt you, though. You know that, don’t you? You know he’d never lay a hand on you. He’s just doing this to wipe the streets clean — to ensure your safety. See? He’s just trying to help. You must get that, right?
Jimin was seen with a black eye walking down Cheongdam-dong on Wednesday.
When you tried calling him, you found out you had been blocked. Park Jimin had blocked your number. Park Jimin had a black eye, a split lip, and had blocked your number from his phone.
That fucking Kim Taehyung.
You’ve had enough. You’ve had it up to here^. You’re trapped in a relationship you got out of months ago. You should be living freely, uncaring of your past. But Kim Taehyung works like a past disease, suddenly blooming inside you again, planting seeds that will eventually lead to your demise.
You decide to unblock his phone number in the morning, call him the moment you get out of bed.
“You have to stop it with this, Taehyung—I’m being dead serious.”
He chuckles on the other line, probably just blissful to hear your voice again.
“You don’t get to laugh. You’re fucking embarrassing yourself, okay? I could report you to the police, Taehyung.”
“On what grounds?” Taehyung snickers, and you actually hear him lick his lips through the phone. The image bleeds into you. He might be a lunatic — but he was once your lunatic. That will never go away. The memories of you and him will never fade.
You trip over your words, kneading a shut eye with your knuckles. “Fucking—f-fucking assault! Assault, Taehyung!”
Said man releases his tongue from the cave of his mouth with a smug click. He shifts in his seat, you hear the fabric of whatever pant he’s wearing move on the other line. It’s uncomfortably quiet, intimate, and suddenly you hear the soft breathing slipping from his lips.
Then another chuckle. More breathy this time, but still sounding like he’s enjoying himself.
“I’m a good boy, princess. You know I’d never do something like that.”
His voice is raspy, and you remember he might have just woken up. What an awful time to choose a scolding. You’ve always been weak when it comes to Taehyung’s deep voice… his morning-rasp no better.
You try physically pulling yourself out of the trance he puts you in, slapping a flat palm to your cheek. You don’t care that Taehyung laughs. He probably recognizes the sound — he knows all your tactics so well, all your habits. He can probably paint a perfect picture of your current position right now. As can you.
You can perfectly envision him in bed. Those navy, striped boxers. Blanket only covering his abdomen, cutting right below his navel. Legs spread, hand on his thigh, thumb caressing his own skin just for some simple relief. Dark hair kissing his forehead, draping his eyes.
He might be a lunatic. But he was once your lunatic.
“Tete?” you purr.
The man on the other line suddenly softens, just like that. Pathetic. How well you know him.
“Mhm?” he hums. He might as well have whined.
You hum right after him, the two of you almost melting into one and same puddle. Even if he can’t see, you bet he can imagine, and you start caressing the soft skin of your neck. It spurs you on — the fact that he can’t see you. Gives you room to do whatever, leaves him wanting and desperate on the other end.
It takes a while before you speak again. You purposely drag it out, breathe a little heavier.
“Tete… you love me… right?” you almost moan, your fingers starting to drag down your lace covered breast.
Taehyung squirms, probably nodding with the phone to his ear. “Mhm—of course I do, princess.”
“Aw, Tete…”
The silence stretches, and by the sound of Taehyung’s sudden gasp, the shift of blanket — you believe he might be touching himself. What a perfect vision. What a sad, perfect vision.
You smile, removing the hand from your breast, placing it on your hip instead.
“Then leave me alone—you fucking nut-job.”
Call ended 09:12 AM.
Taehyung fucking hates Jeon Jungkook. Hates his guts. So this should be fun.
It’s been a week and two days since the phone call. You blocked him right after, decided to not pay him any more attention.
You blocked him. It shouldn’t have been weird that you didn’t hear from him. But… you don’t know… it’s weird… you somehow wished you had? Maybe you’re starting to lose it yourself.
But he went radio silent. Didn’t show up anywhere unexpected.
On Friday you had scheduled a date with Jung Hoseok, a famous designer for Ader Error. So stupidly attractive that you had a hard time listening to his casual conversation across the table from him.
But… halfway through the date, you caught yourself counting down seconds. Not to the date’s end, God no. But for something worse, way worse.
You were counting down the seconds to the sighting of those diamond-covered teeth. Until Hoseok decided to grant himself a bathroom break, until he got ambushed by the maniac waiting for him. But when Hoseok came back from the restroom, he was just as happy as before. Sat down, chatted normally. Didn’t even have a bruise — not anywhere!
It’s not like you wished Hoseok any harm. You almost went home with him, your lust and pent up arousal acting out in strange ways. But you stopped yourself as you almost got into his car. Because deep down, there was this tiny evil thought that spread through you like wildfire.
You were sort of hoping that Taehyung would be following. That he would burst through the doors of Hoseok’s bedroom, catch you in the act and lose his mind.
Jesus Christ.
But even though you didn’t go home with Hoseok, you still couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Taehyung hadn’t made an appearance. He hadn’t interfered with the date at all.
He had never listened to you before. So why would he now? Why would he suddenly do as told, actually leave you alone? He knew all about your games — he knew you didn’t actually mean it (deep down, that is). So what’s going on?
After days and days and days of no word from Taehyung, not even a sight of him, you decided to lay down bait.
Jeon Jungkook was the only man Taehyung ever accused you of having an affair with. He knew your parents, was attractive and had in 28 years earned himself some good money. It was after a fundraiser two years ago when a picture was snapped of you and Jungkook giggling together that Taehyung first showed you how angry he could get.
In your eyes — this seemed like the perfect candidate for a next date.
Let’s also stress this again: You do not wish any harm upon Jungkook. You just want a reaction from Taehyung. Maybe. You don’t know, actually, you haven’t gotten that far yet.
When the doorbell rings, you secure your last earring, run down the stairs and slip into a pair of too high heels. Jungkook is tall, but not taller than Taehyung. Heels won’t matter anyways though, as you actually plan on going home with your date this time, praying that he might rid you off your heels before Taehyung kicks the door down and sweats blood all over Jungkook’s bedroom floor.
As you reach for the handle, you brush down the skirt of your dress in case some wrinkles appeared out of thin air. You haven’t seen Jungkook in a while, neither has he seen you. This napkin of a dress should do, he should lose his breath any minute now.
The door opens and out there stands a man.
Huh. Alright. You might’ve not seen Jungkook in a while, but the man standing outside your door most certainly is not Jeon Jungkook. Because that man right there looks strikingly similar to Kim Taehyung.
“Having fun playing this little game, are you?” the man hisses, and with that you’re most certain it is not Jeon Jungkook. Mhm. Unfortunately. Unfortunately the man before you is Kim Taehyung. Ah, you successfully summoned him. A bit faster than expected, though — you must admit.
You frown, eyebrows creasing and top lip lifting until it reaches the tip of your nose. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Without answering he invites himself in by simply walking past you and into your home. He turns around and almost cries at the sight of you. “Not in my dress.”
“Sorry—your dress? When did you last wear this?”
“It’s like you’re trying to anger me. Mhm, are you, princess?” He still seems to be ignoring all the words you say, totally lost in his own world. Taehyung closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and looks back at you, tilting his head. “When are you expecting him?”
Acting clueless might be your best option. “Who?”
“Ha-ha, funny. How long have you been waiting?”
“‘don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cross your arms over your chest, unknowingly pushing your cleavage tighter together.
Taehyung purses his lips and narrows his eyes, running a tongue over his fangs. Standing still in your hallway, he reaches for the phone buried in his pocket, whips it out and starts typing. After a few seconds of you standing there silent and confused, you hear your phone ringing. The buzz comes from the kitchen isle, where you last left it.
Jesus Christ.
You’ve obviously blocked Taehyung, so he can’t call you from his own cell. And that most certainly looks like a brand new phone.
“Go on—take it,” Taehyung purrs as he stands with the phone in hand, dark eyes eating you alive.
Debating whether or not to oblige, you roll your eyes and listen to him anyways. You strut away from the hallway, shoving your shoulder against Taehyung’s when passing him, and make your way to the kitchen. On the tall isle lies your phone, glowing and buzzing, giving away a familiar caller ID.
When you close in on it, you click your tongue before you press decline.
Jeon Jungkook is calling.
“Taehyung—what the fuck?” you sigh, even though you must admit you’re sort of satisfied. You won’t ever say that out loud though. But it is intriguing, how on earth Jungkook’s phone ended up in Taehyung’s pocket. It has to be quite the story. That is of course if Taehyung didn’t actually kill him. That’d be concerning.
“Yeah, he won’t be arriving any time soon.” Taehyung has followed you into the kitchen, walking behind you like a panter, silent and demanding. When you turn around, you’re met with a large frame closing in on you, causing you to back up into the kitchen isle.
You huff out a breath of air, trying the mask the fact that you’re a bit frightened and a lot aroused. “What, ‘cus you killed him?”
“Mhm—have his head in my trunk as we speak.”
“That’d be funny if it weren’t believable, Taehyung,” you say, pressing both hands down on the cold marble behind you, leaning back on them. Taehyung gives you very little space, his knees brushing against your thighs.
He tilts his head again, licks his lips, a trait he’ll never grow out of. “Give me your phone.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” Taehyung clicks his tongue, eying you until he sees soft goosebumps appear on your bare forearms, your bare thighs. “It’d be better for you to just comply.”
He might put you in a trance, but you’re not giving him your phone. That’s no fun, is it? So you pout, shake your head and look up at him with sorrowful eyes, almost like a frightened animal.
A large hand shoots out, grabbing for your phone before you can even react. You have to hide your flush behind narrow, scolding eyes, hoping that Taehyung can’t see just how much you’re enjoying this. There’s a part of you that has missed this. How insane he can be, all the things he’s willing to do just to be with you.
Taehyung puts the phone up before your face, reaches for your cheeks and wraps his longs fingers around your skin. He holds your head still and forces the face-ID to unlock. And, unfortunately, you’re so turned on that you can’t even bother to break loose.
“There you go,” he whispers, turns the screen away from you and works his magic. You don’t even care that he has access to all your secrets, he knows them all anyways — it’s not the first time he has your phone in hand. But this time, you hear him head straight for ‘contacts’, a ringing tone appearing before Jungkook’s cellphone starts buzzing in Taehyung’s second hand.
What is he doing?
You furrow your brows, huff out a breath of laughter before you prepare to speak — something you never get to. Because Taehyung suddenly steps in between your legs, pressing his frame heavy against yours.
The intimacy has you gasping suddenly, it’s been such a long time. You haven’t been with anyone since Taehyung, only kissed a little. But feeling such a tall, strong figure breathe and pump blood against your body has your toes curling inside your heels, fingertips buzzing with excitement.
“Jungkook will be so glad when he gets his phone back—” Taehyung breathes, placing both phones in his right hand, the other reaching out to draw circles into the small of your back. “—and sees that you’ve been calling… and calling… and calling.”
You inhale deeply, trying to move further away from him, but the cold kitchen isle and Taehyung’s frame caging you in. There’s nowhere for you to go, you’re trapped.
As the buzzing dies down, his right hand moves, lowers itself, and your breath hitches when it suddenly starts up again. Someone is calling someone — and the vibrations are traveling through the air, now moving dangerously close to your stomach.
“Do you worry about him?” Taehyung purrs, leaning in to steal a quick whiff of your perfume. His nose brushes against the skin of your neck, and the two phones suddenly reach your belly. “‘scared that I’ve hurt him?”
“Hah-ah, no,” you gasp, shuddering when Taehyung presses his nose against you, inhaling your scent deeply. Your fingertips scrabble for purchase against the flat surface top, instinctively parting your legs further.
Taehyung chuckles, sees this as an invitation to tease you further, move the vibrating cellphones to where you ache so badly.
With a rough tug, the hand resting on your back moves to the hem of your dress — the hem which Taehyung yanks up within a second, baring your white and already damp panties to him.
Without looking, he presses a button on one of the phones, insures the vibration to carry on a bit further, before lowering the devices directly to your clothed cunt.
“F-Fuck,” you curse, forehead meeting Taehyung’s chest as he presses the edge of the vibrating phones right to your clit. It pulses underneath the fabric, the stimulation so minimal that you almost push your hips off the isle and onto the buzzing sensation.
“Jungkook would be so glad to know he’s not left out, wouldn’t he?” Taehyung wiggles the phones against your clit, makes sure the fabric of your panties stick to the wetness you provide for him, that the pleasure you’re experiencing is just short of enough. “Would be so happy to know he’s making you feel so good.”
You don’t know what to do with yourself. Your cheeks are growing hotter, your core is pulsating and clenching around nothing, your clit stimulated by Jeon Jungkook’s fucking cellphone. You’re probably making a mess out of it — your phone too — something Taehyung will never wipe away. He’ll give the phone back to Jungkook once it’s completely drenched.
One of the hands you lean on flies up and finds rest beside your head, fisting the fabric of Taehyung’s leather jacket. Your lips are parted, panting and mewling as the vibrations continue, buzzing sweetly against your pulsating, aching clit.
Taehyung laughs at your moans. “You want him to know this, don’t you? Want Jungkookie to know how wet you are for him? That he doesn’t even need to touch you, that you’re so wet for him that you could cum just like this?”
You slam your fist down to his chest, the strength of it unimpressive. He chuckles again, moving the two phones in circles over your clit, the buzzing having you gasp for air and shut your eyes.
It’d feel so much better if it was his fingers.
“But the thing is—” Taehyung breathes, his large palm moving to your ass, kneading the supple flesh before giving it a harsh smack. You yelp, the hand on Taehyung’s chest finding his bicep instead, burying your fingernails into the leather. He chuckles, easing the sting on your ass by caressing the skin there. “Jungkookie doesn’t get to touch you. Does he, baby?”
Simply because you’re in desperate need of more stimulus, you shake your head against his chest, a sudden tear falling from the corner of your eye. You’re so horny you’re crying. Jesus.
“No, no—because you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” The vibration dies, but Taehyung revives it with a single press of a button, wiggling the phones back and forth over your pulsating nub.
Your panties are almost completely soaked through, and the man before you has dumbed you down enough that you’re starting to roll your hips against the vibrations, gasping and panting as the curling sensation in your stomach starts to bloom.
You moan into his chest, pressing yourself harder against the cellphones, forgetting all about Jungkook and his stolen device, where he might be, how Taehyung might’ve gotten this phone — and you start searching for your release.
Stars dance in your eyelids, Taehyung’s big, free hand caresses your bare ass-cheek, and you clench and clench as wetness seeps out of you and gets stuck in the soft cotton fabric.
“T-Tete… please don’t stop—please don’t stop,” are your last ragged words before being ripped from pleasure.
Taehyung laughs, shuts both phones off and shoves them into the pockets of his leather jacket.
Another tear falls as you whine openmouthed against your ex, thighs quivering as the simmering pleasure in your stomach dies down and leaves you. “Nuh-no…”
“If you think you’re cumming on Jungkook’s phone—you’re fucking stupid.”
After his deep-voiced words, Taehyung hisses and sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, having you yelp underneath him and throw your head back. The diamonds glued to his fangs sting against your skin, his tongue laps at your flesh, and his hands go to your waist, pressing you harder against him. And it is just now that you feel exactly how much he has missed you, how much he’s aching — how hard he is for you.
His teeth are set out to leave a mark, and Taehyung only lets go when you start shuddering in his grip, small hands trying to push him away.
But instead of letting go completely, his mouth finds a new purpose, lips slotting together with yours.
You gasp into his mouth, lips parting just for Taehyung’s tongue to slip in, searching for yours. He rolls the muscle with precision, mapping out the mouth he has missed so deeply, tasting every crook and crevice that you stole from him.
“Fuck—this fucking mouth,” Taehyung grunts between kisses, fangs biting down on your bottom lip until you moan. He swallows every sound you make, and slowly starts pushing his erection heavier against your abdomen. “Baby—fuck, your mouth.”
It takes no more than a second for Taehyung to push himself off you, leave you tousled and lip bitten before him. His slender fingers go to the silver belt buckle holding his pants in place, and he quickly starts undressing.
As the belt flies off, he pops the buttons of his black jeans, snapping his fingers as the fly is undone. The snap is directed towards you, gesturing for you to make your way to him.
“Knees. On your knees now.”
You bite down on your bottom lip as you take in the sate of him — unbuttoned pants, belt discarded on the floor, thighs spread just the slightest as he waits for you. His breath is no longer as steady as before, his chest moving up and down slowly as he licks his lips.
Fuck, he looks so incredibly handsome.
There’s nothing else for you to do but push yourself off the isle and drop to your knees as your mouth waters before him. You shimmy your way closer to his thighs, your dress still bunched around your waist.
As you close in on him, Taehyung places a hand on the back of your neck, pressing firm fingers into your nape as he silently tells you to free him.
You do just so, as the sight of his peeking boxers has your pupils dilating. Your right hand simply reaches for the elastic band, sparing no time — freeing his hard and long cock.
The length of him tries to slap against his stomach, but you quickly wrap a small fist around him, squeezing down at the base and angling the tip towards your mouth.
“Hah—shit,” Taehyung hisses, the head of his cock releasing precum as you give another firm squeeze. He licks his lips once locking eyes with you, humming contentedly at your wide and lust-filled orbs.
He chuckles once, caressing the back of your neck, moving his hand higher until his slender fingers curl in your hair. “‘gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? ‘gonna make your Tete cum so hard down your throat, yeah?”
You answer by nodding, loving the way he hums above you. And after a few teasing seconds, you give him just a single stroke as the tip of your tongue pokes out to get a taste of him.
The pink muscle dips into the slit of his cockhead, gathering his precum on your tongue before swirling it around. You create a mess of him, opening your mouth wider and forgetting to swallow — just so strings of saliva can drip prettily down his thick shaft, mix with his own fluids.
Taehyung groans, throwing his head back in pleasure and threading your hair between his fingers, humming as your tongue continues to play with his slit.
The color of him is so pretty, so pink and glistening — the taste even better. It’s salt, rough, masculine, everything you’ve missed about Taehyung. You want so much more of it. And in order to lure it out of him, you look up in his direction, slowly wrap your soft lips around his cockhead — solely the head — and you start sucking.
You hollow your cheeks and slurp away, trying to milk every drop of precum out of his pretty cock, ears almost wiggling with excitement as Taehyung lets out a shuddering breath, something in the likes of a moan slipping from him.
“F-Fuck, baby—making me feel so good already,” Taehyung breathes, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your tongue swirls around the head of him, all the while you suck away for dear life.
He’s quite large, Taehyung, and your pussy starts clenching untouched at the thought of pushing yourself further down onto his cock, the corners of your mouth straining and your need to gag uncontrollable. You’re practically leaking onto your newly polished floor, the white cotton panties you’re in drenched, ruined, rotten.
As you start sliding your lips further down onto his shaft, Taehyung shudders and looks down to meet your eyes.
His pupils have swallowed his eyes, the monolid one practically closed as he tries his best to hold contact. The sight has your clit pulsating against the wet fabric of its cage, and you instinctively press your thighs together, trying to receive some kind of pleasure. As if having Taehyung’s dick in your mouth isn’t already enough. Gosh, how you’ve missed him.
As saliva starts running down the corners of your mouth, Taehyung lets his free hand meet your chin, his big thumb wiping away the spit.
“Prettiest cockslut I know, aren’t you?” he hums, gently pushing your parted lips down his cock. You cough at the intrusion, swallowing harder around him, causing Taehyung’s thighs to quiver. “Fuuck—that’s it. Missed your boyfriend’s cock so badly? Wanted to make me mad until I stuffed you dumb, didn’t you?”
You blush embarrassingly at the word boyfriend, something deep inside you missing him in that way. And as Taehyung sees your reddened cheeks, he shoves you harder onto him with a strained groan, pushing your nose against his pelvis.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, feeling the head of him meet the back of your throat. You gag slightly, pressing your hands hard against your thighs, almost grinding down against the skin just to stimulate your clit in whatever way possible. The sounds he produces mixes so beautifully with your choking, with the wetness of his cock.
Suddenly, the fist in your hair tightens, and he pulls you off him until your lips cover only his head — then shoves you back down.
Tears brim the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall as saliva drips down your chin. It’s messy, it’s loud and it’s almost embarrassing. But what embarrasses you the most is that you feel your cunt leak all the more when Taehyung handles you so roughly.
The dance continues — Taehyung throws his head back and starts shamelessly fucking your parted lips down his cock, grunting and puffing his chest with every single gag and whine you let out. You feel like putty underneath him, like clay in his hands, molded perfectly to take his thick, long and relentless cock.
“Such a perfect mouth for your boyfriend,” Taehyung breathes after a moan, eyes locking with your lips, watching the way both precum and spit mixes together and coats the edges of your mouth. You nod underneath him, flattening your tongue to feel every single vein of him. You know them by heart, every ridge, and finally getting a taste of them again has your heart beating and clit pulsating without stop.
He doesn’t let you take control, doesn’t let you work your magic — he simply fucks your throat until your mouth hurts, your lips straining, threatening to split around his width. It’s all a power play, to show you who’s really in charge: And just how much you fucking love it.
The flush on your cheeks increases when you hear the change in Taehyung’s breathing, how even underneath his iron armor — he still can’t help but break once having your lips wrapped around him. You look up to meet his furrowed eyebrows, his dark pupils, his parted lips which give out shameless moans and groans. What a fucking sight, that Kim Taehyung.
But almost like he senses your pride, like he knows how well you get under his skin — he tears you off him with the fist curled up in your hair.
You don’t hiss, you don’t whine, you simply gasp for the new air you’ve been gifted, watching as a string of saliva and precum still connects you to his cock.
“Fuck!” he hisses, actually sounding mad this time, running stressed fingers through his dark hair. “Can’t do it. Get up.”
You stare at him with wide eyes, gulping.
Is he mad at you? Did you do something? Was it not to his liking? You swore he liked it. You swore you did your best.
As you finish the gulp, Taehyung bites down on his bottom lip before bending down — scooping you up into his arms bridal style. It catches you slightly off guard, but you’re so aroused that you practically work as a ragdoll, unmoving and be willingly following his lead.
He walks you only a few steps, placing you down before the kitchen isle and letting your stomach meet the cool marble. Your feet hurt as your heels bite into the sensitive skin — but nothing compares to the fingers Taehyung slide down your spine as he bends you over before him.
“Cumming won’t matter if I don’t fucking breed you.”
Your eyes widen at his words, and suddenly a new palm strikes down on one of your ass-cheeks. Taehyung chuckles, placing a hand to the back of your neck, shoving your chin down into the marble. His other hand reaches for both your wrists, and you comply without hesitation, crossing them behind your back for your ex to hold onto.
“You stay like that, princess—” Taehyung leans down to whisper in your ear, the motion suddenly having his hard and wet cock prodding your entrance. You squirm into the surface, tears falling down your nose and cheek, staining your makeup. “—and let Tete make you feel so good—like only Tete knows how to, yeah?”
Like only he knows how to. Only Taehyung. He’s the only one who can keep up with you. Only one who can satisfy you. Yeah, he might be a bit insane — but that’s your insane boyfriend. Never will be anyone else’s.
Before you can answer with words, Taehyung is already working on your panties. The hand pressing your head against the marble countertop has found new purpose. He lets his long fingers drag over the wetness, teasingly rubbing over your clit while practically laughing in your ear. You turn, forehead meeting the hard surface, moaning into the marble as Taehyung plays with your high-point like an expert.
“‘gonna make you wish you never left me, princess,” he purrs, once again biting down on your neck until the gems make their mark. “Your boyfriend is gonna take such good care of his favorite girl, isn’t he?”
You nod, whine, pushing your ass heavier against Taehyung’s bare cock, begging for him to fill you. “Yes, yes, Tete—fuck me so good, Taehyung—please!”
Taehyung groans at your whines, his hand on your clothed clit moving to the hem of your panties only to tug them down in one quick motion. As the air hits your now bare cunt, you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip. Following this, Taehyung’s slender fingers find your wetness, experimentally playing with you. “Fuck—you still get so wet, don’t you? Such a slut for your boyfriend—always have been.”
You don’t even get to finish before Taehyung aligns himself with your entrance, rubbing the pink head of him up and down your dripping cunt before slowly pushing in.
The fit is unbelievably snug, his head getting sucked in the moment he pushes forward — having Taehyung gasping for air and squeezing the hands crossed on your back even tighter.
“So fucking perfect—oh fuck, my princess feels so good.”
The air you suck in gets stuck in your throat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Taehyung’s long and thick cock splits you in half. He chuckles as he pushes deeper, trying to get you seated on his cock as soon as possible, but having to stop halfway through to catch his breath.
Your cunt clenches and squeezes around his cock, still not used to the intrusion. It has been a while since your last meeting.
But Taehyung knows just how to get you going, leaning over your body, biting down on your earlobe before surging forward with a single thrust.
“Oh my—fuck, Taehyung!”
“Shhssssh,” Taehyung whispers, licking a fat stripe from your neck to the lobe of your ear. “Just take your boyfriend’s cock and be nice and pretty for me.”
He buries himself balls deep within you, his hips suddenly snapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the kitchen. You gasp, bite down on your bottom lip trying not to make pathetic sounds at the feel of Taehyung’s cock deep in your stomach. Fuck — you can actually feel him there, so deep that your eyes roll into your skull, the air in your lungs getting punched out as he once again slaps a flat palm down on your ass.
“Fuck, Taehyung—oh my god!”
Taehyung’s hand snakes around your body after leaving a mark on your ass, fingers brushing over your belly until he can feel the outline of himself. He chuckles, bites down on your shoulder with a growl.
“There I am—fuck, you feel that, princess?” he asks, starting to slowly move inside you, pulling out shallowly only to snap his hips right back against your ass. With every gasp of air you give, with every whimper you let out, Taehyung presses down on the bulge in your stomach, every nerve in your body igniting. “No wonder you only want me. Nothing else can compare, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
You pant, the hands crossed on your back going limp, the only thing holding them there being Taehyung’s firm grip on your wrists. No words seem to form, no sentences, something Taehyung won’t allow.
He pulls out of you far enough to almost slip from your wetness — but instantly slams back in, suddenly hitting that spot inside you which makes your skin prickle, your stomach buzzing with pleasure.
You throw your head back (as far as your neck will let you), broken moans falling from your lips while you rest your chin on the marble, your body bouncing back and forth on the kitchen isle.
“You answer when your boyfriend asks you a question.”
“Yes! Yeh-yes!” you cry, your stomach burning with pleasure as Taehyung’s long and perfectly angled cock keeps on hitting that soft and precious spot within you. “Nothing can c-compare—oh fuck!”
All you can think of as he relentlessly goes at you, is the fact that you can’t see him. How you wish to see him — his dark eyes swallowed by lust, brows furrowed and bottom lip caught between diamond-covered teeth. That sick smile on him, the one no one can imitate, how he licks his lips while looking down at your ass, the wet panties bunches around your ankles, straining with how wide he has spread your legs.
You know he’s watching you with those hungry eyes, because soft praise slips from him every now and then, big bear claws slapping your ass, making the skin jiggle around his cock as he starts setting a rough and brutal pace.
Only a sick person would ever sleep with a man destroying everything around himself only to reach you, but then again — that might be why you’re so perfect for each other.
The thought of him breaking each hand that touches you — splitting open every lip that kisses you — has you clenching hard around his perfect cock, the cock which is made for you and only you.
“You wanna cum so bad, huh baby?” Taehyung grunts, pressing soft fingernails into the skin of your hips, almost like he wishes to splinter the skin and enter you from each and every hole he can make for himself. He wishes to be so deep inside you that nothing will ever be the same to you again, that your pussy will mold itself around his cock until every other dick just simply feels wrong and out of place. The image spurs him on, has him panting and gasping for air behind you as his hand suddenly searches for the pulsating, discarded clit between your pretty legs. “Wanna cum so bad all over Tete’s dick? Missed your Tete that bad—wanna drip all over him, drench him?”
The second his long, pretty fingers attach to your clit, your body starts trembling. You bite back a moan, but it somehow slips from you anyways, and you cry out a broken whine as you start breaking.
He pinches your clit between his index and middle finger, rubbing lazy circles, kissing down on your shoulder while his cock slams into you again, again and again — punching all the precious air out of your lungs, leaving you a breathless, mewling mess before him.
“Come for your boyfriend, baby. Fucking make a mess.”
His voice is what sends you over the edge, the depth and rasp of it causing your knees to give out, your body going limp over the counter as he continues rubbing your clit and slamming into you without mercy. You gasp and whine, all sounds broken with Taehyung’s pace. Your pussy clenches and pulsates around his cock, instinctively trying to push him out as he drives you into overstimulation.
Taehyung chuckles manically, releasing your wrists from his grip, letting both hands find your hips as starts searching for his own release, grunting when he sees the way you’re unable to move, speak or do anything for that matter.
“‘gonna fill you up so fucking good. Bet you’d look so pretty swollen with my kids—bet you’d look so fucking beautiful,” Taehyung rambles on, probably drunk on the sounds you produce, the way your back arches so prettily for him, despite the fact that your body has gone numb.
There’s no reason for you to tell him you’re on birth control, that you started the moment the two of you broke up in hopes of sleeping around. Telling him that would simply ruin the moment — so you let him get lost in his little wonder-world.
And the fact that you so willingly put up with his words, the way he handles you so roughly has his entire body shuddering. You still clench wildly around him, his dick twitching inside you until he slams into your ass once more — buries himself to the hilt and comes harshly.
“F-Fuuck—take it all, princess,” he gasps, moans, pants as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum inside you, painting your walls white with his release, pulsating and leaking within you.
Now that he finally stills, he falls down onto your back, wraps his forearm around your shoulders and buries his face in your neck. He breathes heavily, small whines falling from his lips as your pussy still milks him for all he’s got.
It suddenly feels strangely intimate, almost wholesome, like Taehyung isn’t clinically insane, like you aren’t either. As you both come down for your highs, it’s almost like you’re just girlfriend and boyfriend — not manic and bitching exes who fuck each other with disturbingly possessive tendencies. You actually feel like his princess, something Taehyung has to hold dear to his heart at all times.
And that is exactly what he does, pressing you harder against him until his cock softens inside you, breathing in your scent, your pheromones, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the smell.
“Missed my precious so bad—mhmm.”
You breathe out, hand curling backwards to caress the back of Taehyung’s head, playing with his hair as if he was a lost and scared pup. As your bones stop buzzing, you manage to wiggle away from him, turning to give him a soft kiss.
He looks so incredibly beautiful like this — newly fucked and irrevocably in love. Hair draped over his eyes, drenched with sweat. Lips a bit swollen from all the biting, small marks left behind from the gems in his teeth. The leather covering his torso might not help with the heat, the sweat, so you press a kiss to his cheek, ask him to undress.
It wouldn’t be so bad having him stick around. He could just spend the night, stay over, maybe never ever leave. You’d like that. It wouldn’t be all that awful.
Taehyung obliges, pulling the jacket off to reveal a black tank top, the fabric wet, causing you to giggle.
You pull on the hem of your dress, dragging it past your hips again in order to cover yourself as you make your way to the bathroom. To pee, clean yourself up, get ready for bed where you’ll sleep flush to Taehyung. You’ll have your head against his chest, you’ll get to listen to his heartbeat, to the way his breathing slows down when he falls asleep. You’ll wake up warm and uncomfortable in his tight grip — which he’ll never let you move from. He’ll keep you there forever. You got away once, and he’ll ensure that is never to happen ever again.
It only takes five minutes before you return from the bathroom, no panties on, same old dress, and a big smile plastered on your face as you lay eyes on Taehyung, who still stands in the kitchen.
The smile dies down pretty quickly.
Because there stands Taehyung, with your phone in hand, staring down at a buzzing, glowing screen. You have no idea what the screen reads, but with the way Taehyung’s eyes have gone black — you’re pretty sure it can’t be any good.
“T-Tete?” you ask with a fragile voice, walking slowly over to him, stopping a few steps before him just in case. Just in case.
He stays unmoving, looks down at the screen with an unreadable expression. It makes your stomach turn. You shouldn’t be scared, but whoever’s on the other end of that screen definitely should be. They should run for their lives.
Without speaking, simply looking up at you with dead eyes, tilted head and tongue prodding his cheek, he flips the screen — shows you the caller ID.
Summary: Kim Namjoon finally got out of military and back to the unwilling makeup artist. You may or may not have promised to marry him after the military service just so he would leave you alone. And well, he was now out to collect your promise (One shot)
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Smut, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: First of all, Happy birthday to me. Second of all, I love Namjoon okay bye I hope you enjoy
The kings were back and you were still here.
It was as though the entire eighteen months did not happen. Hybe, their own kingdom, welcomed them with open arms, fans were roaming the streets in show of their unwavering support for the group and media from all over the world were broadcasting of their return. Likewise, the boys headed straight to the company as soon as they stepped out of the military compound as though they couldn’t wait a single second to reclaim their thrones.
Except for the apparent changes in their bodies as they adapted to the rigorous routine of the military, it was like nothing changed. It was evident by the way he was shamelessly staring at you as the meeting presided. Unwavering. Unblinking. You could feel the hair at the back of your neck stood up from the crushing uncomfortableness brought by his unwanted attention. You kept your gaze fixed forward, refusing to meet his eyes, except for that one slip—when you caught him sitting back, arms crossed, eyes heavy on you. Taehyung chuckled lowly at the sight of his hyung who looked like he was barely constraining himself. Meanwhile, you wanted to leave the building and perhaps if not for the ironclad contract, the country.
You had gone without this for eighteen months.
You thought those months were enough to extinguish whatever fire he had for you.
You couldn’t have been more wrong.
You should have known that a man such as Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone who let go so easily as evident by the way he persevered to lead BTS from a small company’s gamble to a worldwide phenomenon.
You should have known that he was someone who held promises in high regard, especially when it came from you.
“And so, that concludes our meeting!” Bang PD announced with a clap before addressing Namjoon and Taehyung. “Welcome back, boys and let’s take over the music industry once again.”
The staff cheered for them, some clapped their backs, congratulating them. You, on the other hand, were already one foot out of the room, so close to freedom when Bang PD called you. You groaned inwardly. There just went your escape. “I’m sorry for pulling you out of the TXT team. I know how much you like working with them. But you know how particular Namjoon is,” he sighed, his tone apologetic. “He didn’t want to proceed with his schedule if his usual team is not there.”
You didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t that he was particular with his team. No. It was just that he was particular when it came to you. You must admit that the entire time you spent working for them was one of the best years of your life. Despite the job being demanding, the boys made it worthwhile with the salary, benefits and of course, the friendship you built with them. The job honestly opened a lot of doors for you, doors that you could walk through any moment had it not been for one foolish mistake.
Everyday felt like living your dreams. You were literally living the life people dreamed of until he turned it into a nightmare. Or was it you who sabotaged yourself? Was it you who flew too close to the fire only to find out that the fire would rather burnout than let go?
It honestly started with a simple, harmless admiration.
You were with them almost every single day. You weren’t blind. You saw how the boys held this unexplainable charm that inevitably drew the fans. You noticed. But it was harder not to notice Namjoon more. He was charming, polite, a true leader in every sense of the word, intelligent, and well… he was like a man written by a woman.
As someone who had to work closely with his face, you could see the dark bags in his eyes, the tiredness that could only be hidden by makeup. He was always quiet while you worked with him, only greeting you a quiet good morning before closing his eyes and letting you do the work while the other members filled the room with noise and energy.
The next schedule with him, you were sure to buy him coffee after asking around the staff what he preferred. When you placed it on the table in front of him, he blinked at it, bleary-eyed.
He looked surprised, blinking his sleepy eyes before slowly drinking the coffee, hiding his dimpled smile. It became a quiet ritual after that. You’d bring the coffee; he’d give you a warm smile and a soft “thank you.” And each time, those simple gestures were enough to warm you far more than the drink ever could. It started with coffee.
Then came the conversations—short at first, until one day he asked about the book in your bag. The next thing you knew, the two of you were trading thoughts about novels while you brushed powder across his skin.
He smiled more now. His eyes seemed brighter. And in those moments, it was easy to believe he was warmer too.
If there was a thing such as a slow burn, yours was probably the slowest.
You didn’t even think your crush would turn out to something more, and at that point you just truly felt bad for the guy. He was falling asleep from working too hard. You’d been pulled from your usual schedule and assigned to another group, accompanying them overseas for an entire week. By the third day, you were exhausted, halfway through a late dinner in your hotel room, when your phone lit up.
Where are you?
You stared at the unknown number.
I’m sorry. Who’s this?
A pause. Then—
Namjoon.
Before you could even process, another message came through.
Where are you?
You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.
I’m in Japan. Do you need anything?
When will you come back?
On the 28th. Why?
The next day, you were asked by the company to come back immediately. You weren’t told why.
When you walked in the makeup room once again, you heard someone muttered thank god.
Namjoon was already there, one leg crossed over the other, glancing up from his phone—not at you, but at your reflection in the mirror. His gaze was sharp, unblinking, the kind of look that pinned you in place.
Looking back, that should have been the first red flag.
You weren’t assigned to another group since then.
Suffice to say, it was the beginning of Namjoon monopolizing your time —one subtle scheduling change at a time, until every shift, every day, every hour seemed to circle back to him.
“What are you two?” Hoseok once asked, the ever-present smile in his face was as wide as ever.
His question caught you off guard you until he clarified that he was asking about you and the group’s leader. You said that you were friends. Hoseok lost his smile right then and there.
You weren’t delusional to hope that a simple harmless crush of yours would turn into a relationship. First, you didn’t think you would survive being in a relationship with an idol and second, Namjoon didn’t even like you.
You shrugged off that peculiar interaction.
“You should come to the party!”
You were already shaking your head before they could even finish their sentence. Parties weren’t your scene, and after the exhausting wrap on their album shoot, all you wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.
“Just stop by, noona! We promise we’ll have the drivers take you straight to your apartment!” Jimin pleaded, leaning forward with that disarming smile that made it harder to say no.
“I don’t want to be an imposition, really—” you began, already rehearsing your polite refusal.
“I’ll give out a bonus if you come,” Namjoon said suddenly, his voice cutting cleanly through the room.
You turned to him, startled. He’d been quiet through the entire exchange, absorbed in his phone—or so you thought. But now his eyes were on you, calm, unreadable, as if he’d been listening the whole time.
“…I’m going.”
Jimin whooped in victory. Namjoon just went back to his phone, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth in the mirror.
It was where it all truly went down.
The party was exclusive only for Hybe, everyone was having fun with all the drinks, food and the music. The members were obviously enjoying themselves as they should. They deserved it after the crucial several months of back-to-back schedule. You’d been content to ride the wave of celebration for a while, but the alcohol was beginning to blur your thoughts, the heat of the room pressing in. Fresh air seemed like the only solution. You weren’t sure why the balcony called to you, but you went, slipping out into the cool night. The muted bass of the party thudded faintly behind you as you inhaled deeply, the crisp air clearing your head.
Leaning against the railing, you tilted your head back to admire the stars—until a puff of smoke curled into the air on your right.
You turned.
There, half-swallowed by the shadows, stood Namjoon. The glow of the ember lit the edge of his face, the cigarette resting casually between his lips. His eyes met yours through the haze, unreadable.
You blinked, owlishly.
He looked at your lips, heat in his eyes apparent. It was quiet, no one dared to say a word. Namjoon stepped closer to you, his thick thighs enclosed by dark slacks and he didn’t stop until he was just a shy inch from you.
Your eyes were at his chest, and ever so slowly, you met his draconic eyes.
He smiled.
And you were gone.
His hand was on the back of your head, the other tilting your jaw up to meet his as he kissed you.
It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, ravenous, dangerous. Namjoon drove you back until your spine hit the wall, hidden in shadow. His lips devoured yours, his tongue claiming without asking, playing with yours as if it already belonged to him. He tasted right—alarmingly right.
His hands roamed lower, gripping your thigh, thumb tracing along the strip of skin your dress exposed. The restraint in his touch was thin, trembling.
“I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled against your mouth, “every single fucking day.”
A beat.
Your breaths filling the air.
“…What’s stopping you?”
That was your second mistake.
The night was a blur.
Not because it was unmemorable, but because everything happened so fast.
Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. You heard the door click shut behind you, and as ominous as it sounded, you remembered thinking you just sealed your fate. Namjoon was looking at you, the apartment dark saved by the moonlight from the floor to ceiling window.
His hand slid across your jaw, his eyes fascinated by you.
You touched his hand, grappling with a semblance of control even when his erection was pressing against your stomach. “I..I don’t usually do this-”
His smile was slow, dangerous, the kind that promised nothing good.
“Good.”
It was all he said before he lifted you by the waist and hoisted you up the table. He pushed your legs apart, his hips in between them as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You couldn’t help but moan as he peppered kisses down your shoulders then his lips landed on top of your breast.
He was patient, but not when it came to this as he ripped down your bra and suck on your nipples like he had been starving for so long. His fingers went down to your core, pressing on your clothed clit and without any preamble, ripped your panties.
“Fuck, baby, you’re wet just for me,” he growled before he lifted your legs over his broad shoulders. He thrusted his tongue while sucking your clit. He was animalistic, hungry, savage as he made you come and come again until your begged him to stop. At one point you did try to crawl off the table only to be stopped by his strong arms.
“Where are you going, baby? We’re not yet done,” he crooned at you as he fingered you, too overstimulated to notice that you didn’t once discuss about protection.
“N-Namjoon–”
“Yes, baby girl?” he whispered and you heard zipper and the buckle of belt. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size.
“I…I don’t think that’s going to fit..”
“Of course it will,” he assured and wondered what you were talking about when you were made for him.
He guided the bulbous head of his cock, bumping your clit every so often. You mewled from the sensation. You were a mess. He knew it and he loved it.
“Namjoon…baby, please daddy–”
“What do you need baby?”
“Y-your cock. Daddy please!”
“Hmm,” he pushed the head of his cock in you and you knew you came a little from being so overstimulated, his thumb rubbing your wet clit. “I only take what’s mine,” he murmured. “Are you mine?”
“D-daddy –”
“Are you mine, baby girl?”
“Y-yours –”
You didn’t even finish when he slammed in you. you were squeezing your tight cunt around his hard cock. You could feel everything. You could feel the vein, the hardness and how deep he was in you. To Namjoon, this was nirvana. He could feel himself already becoming addicted. Obsessive, even. This was why he never allowed himself to indulge on his desires.
He was an obsessive man.
He never expected it to feel this fucking good. His fingers were going to leave marks, your neck would display his ownership.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby. You feel incredible.”
He could feel you tremble as he shuddered out of his orgasm, his hot cum inside you.
You remembered waking up the next day with your body sore and his arm wrapped around you. You didn’t know how you made it out of his apartment quietly, but you did.
Shame burned through you, vivid and suffocating. You kept replaying the night in your mind—his hands, his voice, the way you’d let go of every line you’d sworn you wouldn’t cross. It wasn’t just unprofessional. It was reckless.
He must think you were the kind of person who let desire dictate their choices. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blame him if he did.
So when your phone began lighting up with message after message from him, you didn’t open a single one. You didn’t have to—not when you’d already decided you were taking the month off. No work, no meetings, no chance encounters in dim-lit rooms with him standing far too close.
“What do you mean I am off the group’s shoot?”
The manager exhaled heavily, like he’d been dreading this conversation. Around the conference table, the other staff avoided your eyes, staring down at papers, coffee cups, anything but you.
“Y/N,” he began carefully, “I wish I could give you a better answer, but… BTS specifically requested for you to be exclusive to them.” He hesitated before adding, “They said Kim Namjoon is… very particular.”
And there it was.
The consequence of your actions. The price for leaving his bed.
The weight of it settled in your chest, cold and suffocating. You didn’t have to ask why. You already knew.
It only worsened from there. Namjoon wanted you around all the time—on sets, in meetings, in the shadows of every event. You weren’t just working with BTS anymore; you were orbiting him, tethered by something you didn’t remember agreeing to but somehow couldn’t break free from.
You were starting to suffocate. How could you even know that that horrendous mistake would turn your life into a nightmare?
You didn’t want to be in this situation, much less being in a pseudo-relationship with the leader of one of the biggest groups in the world. You wanted your old life back. In fact, you tried to break it off whatever was between the two of you one dinner.
“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not… right. I want things to go back to normal.”
Namjoon, with that practiced calm that made you want to scream, simply asked, “And what happens if the industry finds out you left because you fucked one of the members… and you’re in a relationship with one of them?”
You blinked at him, pulse skipping.
“You’re not my boyfriend—”
He tilted his head slightly, setting down his chopsticks with deliberate slowness. “You’re right,” he said, voice soft but unyielding. “A husband and wife sounds better. More ironclad.”
Your stomach dropped. “Are you insane?” you asked, half-hoping he would laugh and tell you this was all some sick joke.
But he just shrugged, like the idea of marrying you on paper to keep you locked in his orbit was the most natural thing in the world.
The air in the meeting room was already taut, but the moment the door opened, the tension doubled.
Seokjin walked in during his rare break from service—still in casual military uniform, the air of authority he’d gained during service clinging to him.
You and the other staff scrambled to your feet out of habit, but Seokjin’s eyes didn’t waver from Namjoon.
“Stay,” he said—not to the room, but to you specifically.
You froze, halfway standing.
His gaze slid back to Namjoon. “Are you changing our plans because of her?”
Namjoon leaned back in his chair, hands folded loosely on the table as if this was nothing more than a routine discussion.
“She’s going to leave once I’m in there.”
The bluntness of it hit like a slap.
You opened your mouth to protest, but Seokjin’s eyes cut to you sharp, assessing before returning to Namjoon.
“That’s not a reason to disrupt the schedule,” he said, voice clipped.
“It’s reason enough for me,” Namjoon replied calmly, though his eyes flicked toward you like a silent warning.
And suddenly you understood: This wasn’t just about enlistment. It was about making sure you had nowhere to run.
And now, you saw an out. A rare opportunity for you to be free from him.
Eighteen months of freedom.
Eighteen months of breathing space.
Seokjin rubbed his forehead, the kind of motion that said he’d been dragged into too many of Namjoon’s storms before. He leveled his gaze at his younger brother.
“This isn’t you, Namjoon.”
“Is she not going to run?” Namjoon asked, voice calm, but the words were like a blade. “If I enlist?”
Your stomach sank. Hypothetical, he said—except you knew he already believed the answer.
Seokjin exhaled through his nose. “What if we get her to sign a contract? Will that be enough?”
Namjoon didn’t hesitate. “I want her to promise me that she’ll marry me after.”
Your head snapped toward him. “What?!”
He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you—steady, deliberate—like the idea was no more outrageous than asking you to pass the salt.
“Promise me,” he said quietly, “and I’ll go.”
What would a false promise cost you, right?
This.
This was what it cost you—eighteen months of deliberate silence.
Eighteen months of ignoring every call, every text, every midnight voicemail where his voice cracked as he told you he couldn’t sleep without you. That he was wasting away. That he didn’t know how to breathe in a world where you didn’t look at him.
And maybe you should’ve felt something—guilt, pity, even the faint ache of what used to be but you didn’t. You were just counting days, waiting for the lock on your cage to rust.
Your contract was almost up. One more month and you could be free from HYBE, from the constant eyes, from him.
You’d already mapped out your exit like a military operation. No forwarding address. No lingering contacts. No chance encounters in dim-lit corridors with him standing too close.
You thought he got over you now.
You were wrong.
“It’s just for one two days. Think of it as the last thing you’ll have to do for the company before you leave,” Bang PD said with a smile before leaving the room. You sighed, shoulders sagging, and turned—only to freeze.
There he was, blocking the hallway like he’d been waiting all morning just for this exact moment.
You blinked, owlish and unprepared, words stuttering in your throat. What did you say to someone you’d ghosted for almost two years? Someone whose messages you’d ignored, whose calls you’d silenced until the sound of his ringtone felt like a warning siren?
“W-welcome back, Namjoon,” you managed, voice too soft, too unsure.
He didn’t return the greeting. His eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, his arms folded across his chest as though he had every second in the world to stand there and dissect you.
“You’re resigning?”
It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a question, not really. More like a quiet confirmation of something he already knew.
You hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
A beat passed.
“Okay,” he said finally, turning slightly to let you pass. “See you in the shoot.”
And that was it. No anger. No plea. No demand.
For a second—just a fleeting second—you thought maybe he really had gotten over it. That maybe eighteen months had dulled whatever hold he thought he had on you.
The shoot happened to be six hours away from Seoul. The company car dropped you off with your things in front of what seemed to be a rest house.
It was too quiet to be a shoot.
You were used to chaos—the constant hum of chatter, the thud of heavy equipment being hauled around, cars lined up outside ready to transport anything that needed moving. But now? Nothing. Not even the faintest echo of footsteps.
Peculiar didn’t even begin to cover it.
But still, this was your last work for the company. After this, you were done, you told yourself. You just had to suck it up.
You opened the door only to be met with silence. Despite the house being homey filled with paintings and books, there was something eerie about it that you just couldn’t put your finger to. You walked deeper into the house, your phone on your hand calling your co-worker about where they could possibly be.
“Honey, what shoot? We are all in a break.”
You froze. “What?”
A low, velvety whisper brushed against your ear. “Welcome home, baby.”
You gasped, spinning around only to find Kim Namjoon standing far too close. Shirtless, his broad chest damp and glistening, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair was tousled, droplets still sliding down his temple.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “I didn’t know you’d be this early, but I cooked just in case. Come on.”
Before you could process, his hand wrapped around yours, warm and firm, pulling you toward the kitchen.
You struggled, twisting your wrist. “W-what’s going on? Where’s the shoot? W-ha—”
Namjoon chuckled, finally stopping. He turned to face you, closing the distance in a single step, his hand sliding to your waist until your bodies were flush. His breath was warm on your skin as he dipped his head to inhale at your neck.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured. “I barely slept in there, did you know that? I was losing my mind not being able to get to you.” His grip tightened, possessive. “Ah, but regardless… you’re here now.”
You attempted to push him away to no avail. “Namjoon, seriously, where is everyone? My team was supposed to—”
“They’re not coming.” His tone was casual, almost lazy, but it landed like a brick in your chest.
Your phone was still in your hand. You glanced at it, thumb hovering over the screen to call again only for him to pluck it away with ease. He set it down on the counter like it was nothing.
“You…” Your mouth went dry. “…you set this up.”
Namjoon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in again, brushing his lips against your temple. “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to make sure you were here alone?” he murmured, almost proudly. “No interruptions. No distractions. Just you and me.”
The warmth of the house now felt suffocating. Your gaze darted toward the front door, but Namjoon’s body shifted subtly, blocking the way without even touching you.
The air between you crackled with something you couldn’t quite name—part longing, part danger.
You swallowed hard. “Namjoon… what do you want from me?”
He grinned then, eyes crinkling in a way that would’ve been charming anywhere else, with anyone else.
“Your promise, my dear wife.”
You froze. “That was… I didn’t mean it, Namjoon. We would never work out, and you know that.”
His gaze darkened—not with anger, but with a strange, unshakable certainty. “You know what I realized in there? I realized that I want… no. I crave a family. I was hoping the seed I kept on planting in you would bear us a child, but maybe it wasn’t time. I was so disappointed every time your period came. But we have all the time in the world now… wife.”
Your stomach churned. “I’m not your wife. I will never be your wife—”
“Baby,” he interrupted softly, almost pitying. “You already are. Didn’t you think I wouldn’t… pull strings for you?”
You shook your head, taking a step back, but his hand caught your wrist with the precision of someone who had imagined this moment a thousand times.
“What strings?” you demanded.
Namjoon’s smirk deepened. “Immigration can be so… accommodating when the right documents cross their desk. You signed things you didn’t read, remember? When you thought it was just for a work visa?” He leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “Turns out you signed our marriage license, too.”
The room tilted. The paintings on the wall blurred. “No—”
“Yes,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw, as if comforting you. “And now there’s nowhere for you to go. Korea is home. I am home.”
You tore your wrist free, stumbling back, breath ragged. “You can’t—”
“I already did.” His voice was gentle, final.
And then, as if to seal it, he reached over to the counter and slid a small velvet box toward you. Inside was a simple gold band.
months into dating namjoon, you learn the language of him without realizing it’s a language at all.
it’s the way he always walks on the side closer to the street. how he memorizes your coffee order after hearing it once, then pretends it’s a coincidence every time he gets it right.
the way his hand finds the small of your back in crowded places, grounding you, steady, like he’s reminding both of you that you’re real and here together.
he loves quietly, but thoroughly.
you notice it in the details. how he listens, really listens—when you talk, even about the smallest things.
he sends you photos of the sky when it’s especially pretty, no explanation attached, as if he knows you’ll understand.
and you do.
you’ve wanted to tell him you love him for a long time.
it started somewhere around the two-month mark, sneaking up on you when you weren’t paying attention.
it landed on the tip of your tongue during late nights tangled together on the couch, when his thumb traced absent shapes into your arm while you watched something neither of you were really following.
during mornings when he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead before getting out of bed, careful not to wake you, even though you always woke up anyway.
there were moments (too many) where the words almost escaped.
when he kissed you slow and unhurried, like he wasn’t trying to go anywhere but right there. when you were half-asleep, face tucked into his chest, breathing him in. when he laughed, head tipped back, dimples deep, eyes crinkled.
but you swallowed it down every time.
you didn’t want to rush him. namjoon feels like someone who carries his heart carefully, like he needs to know it’s safe before he sets it down anywhere.
and you’re patient. you can wait. you’re content loving him quietly for now, even if it sometimes aches.
tonight is ordinary.
you’re at his place, curled up on the couch, legs draped over his lap. it’s late enough that the city outside is quieter, the lights softer.
he’s reading something on his phone, brow slightly furrowed, glasses slipping just a little down his nose. you reach up without thinking and push them back into place.
he smiles at you like you’ve just done something profound.
“what?” you ask, already smiling back.
“nothing,” he says, fondly. “you’re just… you.”
he puts his phone away after that, like nothing else matters more than this moment. his hands settle on you—warm, familiar. one resting on your knee, the other brushing your arm. you lean into him, head against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
there’s a comfortable silence between you.
“can i tell you something?” he asks eventually, voice softer than usual.
you lift your head, heart stuttering just a little. “yeah, of course.”
he looks nervous.
it’s subtle, most people wouldn’t notice, but you do. his jaw tightens and his thumb goes still against your skin. he stares ahead for a second too long, like he’s lining up his thoughts, making sure they won’t trip over themselves.
you wait.
he turns to you then, fully, like he wants your entire attention.
“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, then lets out a small, breathy laugh. “actually, i’ve been thinking for a while.”
your chest feels tight, but warm.
“about us,” he continues. “about you.”
your heart is loud now and you wonder if he can hear it.
he reaches up, fingers brushing your cheek, gentle, reverent. the room feels smaller somehow, like everything has narrowed down to just the two of you, suspended in this quiet space.
“i’m not always good at saying things right away,” he says. “you know that. i like to be sure. i like to… understand my feelings before i put words to them.”
you nod, because you do know that. you’ve always known that.
his eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that makes your breath catch.
“but i’ve been sure for a long time,” he says softly. “every time i think about my day, you’re there. every time something good happens, i want to tell you first. when things are hard, you’re who i want beside me.”
you smile even though your throat tightens.
he swallows, then mirrors your smile—small, nervous, sincere.
“i love you.”
the words land gently, like they’ve been waiting for the right place to rest.
for a second, you can’t move. can’t breathe. it feels like something inside you has finally exhaled after holding its breath for months.
your eyes sting, and you laugh a little.
he looks worried immediately. “oh shit. is that—did i—”
you cut him off by leaning forward, crashing your lips onto his. slow, deep, full of everything you’ve been holding back. it feels different now, fuller.
namjoon groans softly, fingers curling into your hair to keep your head in place as he kisses you back with just as much intensity.
he breaks the kiss, only to mouth along your jaw as he murmurs. “you love me that much, baby?”
you chuckle, though it’s breathless as his kisses trail down to your collarbone where you feel his teeth graze as the corners of his mouth lift. “yeah.”
he smirks, placing a wet, open mouthed kiss to your skin before returning to your lips. the kiss is deeper, full of tongue and it makes your head spin.
his hands slide down your body, rubbing up and down your sides before one snakes underneath your (his) shirt. he immediately bunches the material up and around your waist to expose your breasts to the cool air of the apartment.
luckily, more often than not, you’re wearing nothing underneath. which gives him easy access to your nipples.
you gasp softly as he tilts his head down, latching onto one of the hardened peaks—he begins sucking, swirling his tongue just to hear you moan softly.
you tug your shirt off the rest of the way, and namjoon all but growls to himself, before diving back in.
your fingers rake through his hair, tightening with each circle of his wet muscle. namjoon groans when you tug, popping off your breast to give the other equal attention.
you arch into him, purely from instinct and the amount of times you’ve been in this exact situation. though, this time it feels special.
his hands immediately sliding to your hips and you grind down for some form of pressure on your aching core.
he groans, pulling off your breasts with a wet pop. “baby..” he warns, though there’s no heat in it, only the tremor of someone already giving in.
you whimper, rocking against him, the pressure is subtle but deliberate. you can feel the ridge of his cock tenting under his pants and rubbing against the thin barrier of your panties.
you shiver.
namjoon groans, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed. “fuck, jagi.. you’re gonna ruin me.”
you roll your hips harder, firmer this time, and his grip tightens on your hips, guiding the movement. the friction is perfect, harsh in a way that makes your thighs tremble, the drag of fabric delicious and so filthy.
his lips find your neck, teeth grazing just below your ear. “shit, you’re driving me crazy.” he mutters against your skin. “you need me that bad?”
“yes,” you whisper, shameless, gasping when he bucks up against you. “i need it so bad, joon.”
his laugh is low and rough, more a growl than anything. he presses your body down firmly, making you feel how hard he is, the head of his cock pressing directly to your clit.
“so needy, my pretty baby.” he smirks, hand sliding from your hips, skimming over the damp fabric of your panties and sliding it aside.
you moan softly when his fingers tease your plush folds, thumb teasing your clit. namjoon hums, glancing up at you through his eyelashes.
“so wet,” he comments.
the words make you whimper. he kisses you then—messy, urgent, his tongue tangling with yours.
with the barrier of your panties being pushed aside, the friction is mind consuming—making you work your hips faster.
your arousal coats his lower half, forming a wet spot on his sweats.
his hands roam greedily, alternating between squeezing your waist, and holding you flush to him as you rut against each other.
the heat builds quickly, every drag of his cock against your soaked folds sending sparks down your spine. namjoons sounds alone make your pussy weep, and you shoot forward to crash your lips to his as you teeter on the edge.
your breath comes in broken gasps, muffled against his mouth as he kisses you, sloppy and desperate. he breaks away only to groan, forehead pressed to yours. “cum for me, baby. right here, give it to me.”
that alone tips you over the edge—hips stuttering, thighs trembling as you shatter against him, clutching at his shoulders as waves of heat ripple through you.
he holds you through it, rubbing soothing motions up and down your back. his own hips jerking, teeth clenched as if barely holding himself back.
when you finally collapse against his chest, breathless, he kisses your temple. he lets you catch your breath for only a moment, before shifting so he can lay you down on the plush cushions of the couch.
he dips down, mouth brushing your jaw now. “back with me?” his fingers slide higher, dragging the lace of your panties down your ankles slowly.
you nod weakly, chest rising and falling. you watch him through hooded eyes, nails scratching his scalp gently.
he grins against your neck, already shifting lower, tugging the lace the rest of the way down like it personally offended him. he pushes your legs apart, firm but gentle at the same time, hands spreading your thighs like he’s unwrapping something just for him.
you feel the air hit you—cool against how warm you are. how wet, glistening under the dim light filtering the room. and he hasn’t even touched you properly yet. you feel light and warm under his gaze, heart full because he looks at you with so much tenderness.
he groans softly at the sight, his own desire evident. “fuck, baby.. look at you. so so beautiful.”
the way he speaks, voice deep and raspy only adds to your arousal, biting your lip as he runs a soothing hand over your thighs. his hands hold your thighs open, moving your ankles over his shoulders for leverage. his mouth is so close you can feel the heat of him before it even lands.
“you’re so pretty, baby. always dripping for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, right beside where you need him most.
you nod, barely able to speak, hips lifting into him on instinct.
he smiles, kissing your other thigh.
then he finally leans in, tongue flat and slow, licking a stripe up your slit. you gasp, legs twitching in his grip, but he just groans, hungrier this time.
he eats you out like it’s his favorite meal. like he’s starved. soft, deliberate licks turning into messier, wetter one. he focuses on your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, then sucking it into his mouth until your hand is fisted in the couch. the sounds are obscene, wet, slick sounds that fill the room along with your breathless moans.
“joon,” you whimper.
“mhm..” he hums against you, then goes right back in, trying to pull more of those sounds out of you with his tongue. his fingers join in next—one finger sliding in with practiced ease, curling just right. he watches your face while he does it, eyes dark and soft all at once.
“feels good?” he breathes.
you nod again, barely able to think clearly for yourself. your mind is completely consumed by him. his finger pumps in and out, then he adds a second—stretching you open while his mouth keeps working your clit, never missing a beat.
you can’t stop moving, moaning his name. everything’s too much in the best way—his tongue, fingers, all adding to the heat building fast and low in your belly.
and he knows your close. he can feel it in the way you’re practically sucking him in. “that’s it baby,” he says between licks, voice wrecked. “give it to me. wanna taste you.”
your whole body tenses—hips bucking into his mouth, grinding against his face. he groans, sending vibration through you—and then you’re gone. your orgasm crashes through you hard and sudden, white-hot and blinding.
namjoon doesn’t stop, no, he works you through it. his tongue relentless, lapping up every drop of your release. his fingers slowing when your body starts to tremble from the aftershocks.
your completely spent, glowing.
he kisses his way up your body, dipping down to let you taste yourself on his tongue.
“you’re unbelievable.” he says against your mouth, tongue sweeping every corner.
you smile against his lips, because you’re not done. you’re still catching your breath, but already reaching for him.
he shifts above you, and you feel his cock still hard and aching against his zipper. you hum softly, sitting back up to look at him. your hand moves to his pants, undoing his fly and palming him through the fabric of his boxers, when he stops you abruptly.
you pout, glancing up at him.
his hand cradles your cheek like you’re precious, but his eyes are pure heat. “baby, you don’t have to—“ he starts.
you cut him off, brows furrowed in confusion. “i want to.”
he chuckles at your expression—though his eyes are soft as he gazes back at you, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek before leaning in for a chaste kiss. “okay, my love.”
your heart flutters at that, and you smile sheepishly.
you place your palms against his chest until he leans back. his shirt rides up, exposing smooth skin and the hard lines of his stomach, and you trail your hand down, following the warmth of him.
you kiss down his chest, taking your time. letting your teeth scrape gently, lips leaving heat. he props himself on his elbows to watch you, jaw clenched, eyes locked on your mouth as you hook your fingers into his waistband and tug it down.
his cock springs free—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.
you wrap your hand around him first, giving slow, deliberate strokes, thumb circling his head. his hips twitch, a sharp hiss falling from his lips.
“oh my god,” he groans, breathless.
you don’t answer, just lower your head, tongue flicking over the tip first—salty, hot. then you flatten your tongue and lick a slow stripe from base to head, watching the way his thighs tense under your touch.
you take him in slowly, lips stretching around him, inch by inch. you know exactly how he likes it—wet, slow, messy at first. your tongue swirls under the head, then you sink further down, hollowing out your cheeks.
his hand pulls your hair back, caressing your jaw as you slowly bob your head up and down.
“shit,” he mutters, his voice strangled.
you hum around him, loving the way he shudders, the way he falls apart for you.
you can tell he’s right there on the edge, his entire body tensing but he pulls you off him right before he can let go.
you pull off him with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to his cock. then you pump him with your hand while you peer up at him with a playful scowl, eyes glassy and lips swollen. he only chuckles softly, pulling you up. “lie down for me, hm? want to cum inside you.”
you almost choke on your own spit but you quickly recover and nod your head almost too excitedly.
he lifts off you for a second, stands to tug off his sweats and boxers the rest of the way, his body lean and strong in the soft light. you sit up slightly, eyes tracing over him—broad shoulders, toned stomach, cock flushed and heavy, thick at the base and curved just enough to make your stomach flutter.
he leans over you again, bracing his hands beside your head. he lines himself up to your entrance, kissing your neck. “i’m not going to last long.”
you smile, caressing his cheek before giving him a small peck. “it’s okay, me either.”
he grins boyishly, and nuzzles his nose against yours.
then he pushes in—slow, so slow, giving your body time to adjust. you were already wet from before so the slide is easy, and he’s gentle, his hands anchoring to your hips as he pushes in inch by inch.
you whimper as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.
he stills completely, breathing ragged. “fuck, baby you feel so good. always so tight.”
you let out an audible whine at that.
he groans, sweaty forehead pressed to yours. “i’ll go slow,” he breathes, “okay?”
you nod. both of you want to drag this out as long as possible, even if it may be hard. you’re both beyond needy, needing to be close.
small strokes at first—slow and steady. he watches your face with every thrust of his hips, adjusting his rhythm when you moan, when you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back.
he buries his face in your neck, panting, gasping your name when you tighten.
it’s overwhelming—his constant praise, the wet kisses over your skin. the way he pumps into you. his pace picks up, still slow but desperate now. his thrusts are deeper, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you then slamming back in, angling his hips until you cry out.
you arch beneath him, breath catching as his tip repeatedly hits that spot inside you. you feel the way he shudders as you clench around him, how his rhythm falters as your nails drag down his back.
“i’m so close,” you admit through a moan.
“i’ve got you,” he says, kissing your cheek, then your mouth, lips swollen and wet. “always got you.”
your orgasm builds quick, crashing over you with a loud, broken moan. your walls pulse around him and he groans, thrusts stuttering as he fucks you through it.
his hips pump harder, chasing it. his lips trail from your cheek to your neck, to your shoulder, murmuring your name like a prayer.
“i love you,” he groans, voice breaking. “so much—fuck—i’m.. i’m gonna cum, baby—please.”
he buries himself deep one last time, whole body tensing, emptying himself into you with a helpless cry, muffled against your skin. and you feel it, the warmth of him, filling you up and dripping onto the cushions below.
you lay there together in silence for a long moment, chests pressed together, bodies still tangled.
he kisses your shoulder, then your temple. “you okay?”
you nod, smiling softly. “that was.. perfect.”
he just grins, proud and a little dazed. “you’re perfect.”
you blush, which makes him chuckle and lean forward to kiss you—although, you whine from the added pressure on your sensitive area.
he whispers an apology, bracing himself as he pulls out. immediately his release trickles down your thighs, and you cringe at the sticky feeling.
he just smirks in satisfaction, and you slap his chest. eventually you two make it out of bed, and he runs a shower for you both.
the steam is warm, quiet, unhurried. afterward, everything slows down—the easy comfort of being together. when you crawl back into bed, he pulls you into his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you fit there perfectly. his arm wraps around you, thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.
“i love you,” he murmurs, voice low and full.
you smile into him, sleepy and safe, holding him a little tighter.
satoru gojo’s been your roommate for six goddamn months, and every single night he’s been losing his mind over you.
he’s obsessed — full-blown, sick-in-the-head obsessed. the second you leave for class or work, he’s in your room like a ghost, rifling through your laundry basket until his long fingers snag the prettiest pair of panties you own. the lacy black ones with the little bow? yeah, those are his favorites. he shoves them straight to his face, inhales deep like a fucking addict, then wraps the soaked crotch around his massive cock and strokes himself stupid in your bed.
“fuck… smell so good, baby,” he groans every time, white lashes fluttering, those insane blue eyes rolling back while he pumps his thick, veiny length. he’s huge — stupidly huge — the kind of dick that makes your useless boyfriend look like a sad little joke. satoru’s cock is pale, flushed angry red at the tip, curved just enough to ruin you, with a fat vein running up the underside that he knows would drag perfectly against your walls. he’s thought about it a thousand times. thought about hiding a tiny camera right above your headboard so he could watch your pathetic boyfriend try (and fail) to fuck you properly while satoru jerks himself raw in the next room, biting your stolen panties between his teeth.
tonight, though, everything changes.
you’re in the living room yelling at your boyfriend over the phone, voice cracking with frustration. “you’re seriously choosing your stupid game over me again? after i waited up for you?” the argument escalates fast — he calls you dramatic, you tell him to fuck off and hang up. the front door doesn’t even slam because he’s not even here; he’s probably still glued to his controller somewhere else. you’re left standing there in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, tears of pure rage glittering in your eyes.
satoru’s leaning against the kitchen doorway the whole time, arms crossed over his broad chest, that signature blindfold pushed up into his messy white hair so those glowing blue eyes can drink you in. he’s only wearing low-slung grey sweatpants, the outline of his half-hard cock already obscene against the fabric. he’s been listening. of course he has. he always listens.
“damn,” he drawls, voice low and lazy but dripping with something darker. “he really left you this pissed off? what a fucking loser.”
you whip around, ready to snap at him too, but the way he’s looking at you stops the words dead. hungry. starving. like he’s been waiting for this exact moment for months.
“satoru… not now,” you mutter, but your voice wavers. you know exactly how much of a perv he is. you’ve caught him staring at your ass when you bend over, seen your panties mysteriously reappear in your drawer smelling faintly of his cologne and something thicker. you’ve heard the low, guttural groans through the thin wall separating your rooms at 2 a.m. you know.
he pushes off the doorframe and stalks toward you, all six-foot-three of smug, toned menace. “c’mon. you’ve been letting that useless prick fumble around in your pretty little cunt for how long now?” he stops right in front of you, towering, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body. one big hand comes up, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “bet he’s never even made you cum properly, has he? not like i could.”
your breath hitches. “you’re such a fucking perv, toru—”
“yeah? and you love it.” his grin is sharp, feral. “i steal your panties every week just to wrap ‘em around my cock and fuck my fist thinking about this exact moment. i’ve jerked off to the thought of replacing that sad excuse of a boyfriend so many times i lost count. wanted to be buried balls-deep in this pussy while he cried about it on the phone.” his other hand slides down, bold as hell, cupping your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. “let me show you, baby. right now. let me fuck you the way you deserve — the way that little bitch never could.”
you should say no. you should push him away.
instead, your fingers curl into the waistband of his sweats and yank.
satoru doesn’t waste a single second.
he lifts you like you weigh nothing, tosses you over his shoulder, and carries you straight to his room — the one that smells like him, like expensive cologne and pure sin. he drops you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he crawls over you, white hair falling into his eyes like a halo from hell.
“been dreaming about this cunt for months,” he growls, ripping your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. he spreads your thighs wide, staring like a man possessed at how wet you already are. “look at her… already drooling for me. knew you were a slut for your perverted roommate.”
he doesn’t even bother with foreplay — not the gentle kind. he shoves two long fingers inside you immediately, curling them hard against that spongy spot that makes your back arch clean off the bed. “f-fuck— satoru!”
“that’s right, scream my name. not his. never his again.” he pumps his fingers fast, nasty, wet squelching sounds filling the room as he scissors you open. his thumb circles your clit in tight, mean little strokes. “gonna stretch this pussy so good. gonna ruin you for anyone else. especially that limp-dick loser.”
you’re already shaking, thighs trembling around his wrist, when he suddenly pulls his fingers out and yanks his sweats down. his cock springs free — heavy, thick, leaking precum like a faucet. the head is flushed dark pink, slit glistening, veins pulsing angrily along the shaft. it’s bigger than you imagined, and you’ve imagined it plenty.
“open up, hottie,” he orders, fisting his length and tapping the fat head against your clit. “gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel me in your throat.”
he lines up and slams in with one brutal thrust.
you scream.
he’s so thick it burns in the best way, stretching you wide, the curved tip kissing your cervix instantly. satoru’s eyes roll back, a guttural “fuuuuck” ripping out of his throat as your walls clamp down around him like a vice.
“so goddamn tight— shit, she’s sucking me in. greedy little cunt.” he doesn’t give you time to adjust. he pulls back until just the tip remains, then snaps his hips forward again, burying himself to the hilt. the slap of skin on skin is loud, obscene. “take it. take every fucking inch. this is what you’ve been missing.”
he sets a punishing rhythm right away — hips snapping like a machine, balls smacking wetly against your ass with every thrust. the bed creaks violently. your tits bounce under your shirt until he rips that off too, latching onto one nipple with his teeth while he pounds you into the mattress.
“ngh— satoru— too big— fuck—!” you’re babbling, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across all that toned muscle.
“yeah? too big for your useless boyfriend’s tiny dick, but perfect for me.” he chuckles darkly against your skin, biting down harder. “look at you. already creaming all over my cock and i’ve barely started. gonna fill this womb up so good you’ll be leaking me for days.”
he flips you suddenly, manhandling you onto all fours, ass up high. one huge hand presses between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the pillows just like toji did in that story you loved so much. he re-enters in a single savage thrust, even deeper from this angle.
“arch it, baby— just like that. fuck, look at this ass bouncing for me.” he spanks you hard, the crack echoing. then again. and again. each slap leaves a pretty red handprint on your skin. “c’mon, hottie. entertain this dick. entertain me.”
you’re drooling into the sheets, tongue hanging out, eyes crossed from how deep he’s hitting. every brutal slam kisses your cervix, the fat head bullying that spongy spot inside you until you’re seeing stars. “gonna— gonna cum— satoru—!”
“yeah? cum then. cum all over your roommate’s cock like the desperate little whore you are.” he reaches around, fingers flying over your swollen clit. “let me feel her milk me.”
you shatter — hard. your pussy spasms wildly around him, gushing slick down his heavy balls as you scream his name loud enough for the whole building to hear. satoru groans, hips stuttering, but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you straight through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking and sobbing.
“good girl— good fucking girl. but we’re not done. not even close.”
he pulls out just long enough to flip you onto your back again, then hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half. the new angle has him even deeper, pressing right against your cervix with every thrust. his balls slap against your ass, the wet pap! pap! pap! growing louder, nastier.
“gonna breed this pussy,” he pants, white hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his sharp jaw. “gonna pump you so full you’ll be swollen with my cum. bet your boyfriend never even got close to this spot, huh? pathetic.”
you can only moan brokenly, nails digging into his biceps as he rails you mercilessly. his cock throbs inside you, swelling even bigger, veins dragging against your sensitive walls.
“satoru— cum— please— fill me—!”
he snarls, hips snapping erratically now. “yeah? want my load? want me to stuff you like the cumdump you were always meant to be for me?”
you nod frantically, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming pleasure.
with a guttural groan that sounds more animal than human, satoru buries himself to the hilt and cums — hard. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, painting your walls white, so much it immediately starts leaking out around his cock. he grinds deep, making sure every drop stays inside, hips twitching as he empties himself completely.
“fuck— take it all. every last drop. gonna keep you plugged up so none of it wastes.” he collapses on top of you, still buried deep, cock twitching with aftershocks. his lips brush your ear, voice hoarse and satisfied. “knew you’d be better than any fantasy. and we’re just getting started, hottie. gonna fuck you all night until you forget that loser’s name.”
he kisses your neck, then lower, sucking a dark hickey right above your collarbone like a claim.
“welcome to your new favorite addiction, baby. me.”
TOJI FUSHIGURO
toji’s been your roommate for three months, and you never once suspected the sick, greedy pervert he really was.
you stumble through the front door of the apartment in a daze, keys rattling in your shaking hand. your mind is still replaying the scene you walked in on twenty minutes ago — your boyfriend on all fours in his own bed, moaning like a whore while some other guy railed him from behind. the sounds, the sight, the way he looked back at that stranger with pure bliss on his face. he was gay. your boyfriend of eight months was fucking gay and you never had a clue. no tears came. just this numb, buzzing confusion that made your stomach twist and your thighs press together without meaning to.
the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the ac. you kick off your shoes, drop your bag, and head straight for your room. you need a shower. you need to forget. you need—
the door to your bedroom is cracked open.
a low, guttural groan slips out from inside. heavy breathing. the wet, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.
your brows furrow. you push the door open.
toji’s there.
shirtless, sweat-slicked muscles gleaming under the low lamp light, that ugly scar pulling at the corner of his mouth as he pants. his black sweatpants are shoved down just enough to free his massive cock — thick, veiny, flushed dark and angry, the fat head glistening with precum. one of your favorite lace panties is wrapped tight around his huge shaft, the crotch pressed right against his leaking slit while his fist pumps furiously. your panties drawer is yanked open, half your collection scattered across your bed like evidence.
he doesn’t even notice you at first, too lost in it — hips bucking up into his hand, low grunts rumbling from deep in his chest. “fuckin’ smell so good… tight little cunt probably tastes even better…”
you stand there frozen, shock piling on top of shock.
toji’s head snaps up. his green eyes blow wide for half a second before that lazy, dangerous smirk curls his lips. he doesn’t stop stroking. if anything, his grip tightens, slow and deliberate now, letting you see every inch of that monstrous dick.
“shit… you’re home early.”
your voice comes out hoarse. “what the fuck, toji.”
he chuckles, low and rough, still lazily fucking your stolen panties. “was in the middle of somethin’. heard the door and— well. guess the cat’s outta the bag.” he lifts the lace to his face, inhales deep, then licks a slow stripe across the wet crotch. “mmm. still warm from you wearin’ ‘em yesterday. been jerkin’ my cock to these for weeks. every time you leave. every fuckin’ time.”
heat floods your face. confusion, anger, and something darker twist together low in your belly. you should scream. you should call the cops. instead you step inside and slam the door behind you.
“oh and i was about to clean up,” he lies smoothly, that scarred grin widening as he stands. his cock bobs heavily between his thick thighs, still wrapped in your ruined panties. sweatpants pooled at his ankles. he’s huge everywhere — broad shoulders, scarred abs, that obscene dick twitching like it has a heartbeat of its own. “but since you’re here…”
you stare. “you’re a fucking pervert.”
“yeah?” toji stalks forward, towering over you, cock brushing against your stomach through your clothes. the heat of it burns. “and you’re soaked just from seein’ it. cute.”
your back hits the wall. “toji—”
he doesn’t let you finish. one massive hand clamps over your mouth, the other yanking your skirt up roughly. thick fingers shove your panties aside and plunge two straight into your cunt without warning.
“ngh—!” your muffled cry vibrates against his palm.
“fuck, she’s tight,” he groans, pumping his fingers deep, curling them hard against that spongy spot that makes your knees buckle. “and drippin’ like a faucet. poor little thing. that useless gay boy never stretched this pussy right, did he?” he adds a third finger, scissoring you open brutally. wet, filthy squelching fills the room. “gonna fix that right now.”
"how the fuck—ngh! did you knew he was gay?!"
"oh, one time he tried to hit on me," he said simply.
"t-the hell?"
he rips his hand away from your mouth only to grab your hips and toss you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. your back bounces on the mattress, legs splayed. toji kicks his sweatpants off fully and crawls over you, cock dragging a thick trail of precum up your thigh.
“been dreamin’ about this cunt since you moved in,” he growls, shoving your legs wide apart. he yanks your top up, exposing your tits, and latches onto one nipple with his teeth while he lines up that fat, leaking head against your entrance. “gonna fuck you stupid. gonna ruin you for anyone else. especially that guy who couldn’t even get it up for you.”
he slams in.
one brutal, merciless thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, balls-deep, stretching you so wide it burns deliciously. you scream, back arching clean off the bed.
“fuuuuck— that’s it. take it, princess. take every fuckin’ inch.” toji’s voice drops into a nasty snarl as he bottoms out, grinding his pelvis against your clit. he’s huge — thicker than anything you’ve ever taken, the curved head kissing your cervix instantly. “shit, she’s suckin’ me in like she missed me. greedy little whore.”
he doesn’t give you time to breathe. he pulls back until just the tip remains, then snaps his hips forward again, harder. the wet slap of skin on skin is obscene. he sets a punishing pace immediately — hips slamming like a machine, heavy balls smacking your ass with every thrust. pap! pap! pap!
“toji— too big— fuck—!” you’re already drooling, eyes rolling back, fingers clawing at his scarred shoulders.
“yeah? too big for that pathetic excuse you called a boyfriend?” he laughs darkly, spanking your ass hard enough to sting. “look at you. already creamin’ all over my cock and i’ve barely started.” he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you deeper, driving even further inside. the new angle has his fat tip bullying your cervix with every savage thrust.
he fucks you like an animal — raw, mean, relentless. sweat drips from his messy black hair onto your tits as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed creaks violently. your juices soak his heavy balls, dripping down to stain the sheets.
“mngh— toji—!” you sob, pleasure crashing through you so hard your vision whites out.
“that’s right. scream my name. not his. never his again.” he reaches down, thumb grinding rough circles on your swollen clit. “gonna make this pussy cum so many times you forget what his face even looks like.”
you shatter hard — pussy clamping down around his massive cock like a vice, gushing slick all over him as you wail. toji groans, hips stuttering, but he keeps fucking you straight through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking and twitching.
“good fuckin’ girl.” he pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your stomach, and yanks your hips up high. “arch it. just like that. fuck— look at this ass!” he spanks you again, twice, leaving red handprints, then shoves back in with a single brutal thrust.
from behind he’s even deeper. his cock curves perfectly, dragging against that sensitive spot with every punishing snap of his hips. he presses a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the pillows while he rails you mercilessly.
“c’mon, pretty thing. entertain this dick. entertain me.” his voice is gravelly, breath hot against your ear. he reaches around and gropes your bouncing tits, pinching your nipples hard. “been jerkin’ off in your bed for weeks thinkin’ about this. stealin’ your dirty panties, lickin’ the crotch while i cum. now i got the real thing. gonna fill this womb up until you’re leakin’ me for days.”
"w-what the hell—ah!" you’re a mess — drooling into the sheets, tongue hanging out, ass rippling with every savage thrust. the sounds are filthy: wet squelching, skin slapping, his low grunts and your broken whimpers.
toji leans down, biting the back of your neck as his hips stutter. “gonna cum, princess. gonna pump you so full. take it— fuck— take every drop like the cumslut you are.”
he buries himself to the hilt with a guttural roar and explodes. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, painting your walls white, so much it immediately starts squirting out around his cock with every twitch. he grinds deep, making sure it stays plugged inside you, hips rolling lazily as he rides out the aftershocks.
“haaaah… good girl. milked me dry.” he stays buried, heavy cock still twitching inside your overfilled cunt. one big hand slides down, thumb circling your clit again. “but we’re not done. not even close. gonna fuck you all night until you can’t walk straight. until the only name you remember is mine.”
he pulls out with a wet pop, cum gushing down your thighs. before you can catch your breath he flips you again, spreads your legs obscenely wide, and leans down to drag his tongue through the messy creampie leaking from your abused hole.
“mhm— taste even better mixed with my cum,” he growls against your pussy, sucking greedily. “keep that arch, baby. ‘m still fuckin’ starved.”
and then he’s hard again — monstrous cock slapping against your thigh, ready for round two.
toji grins, scarred lips glistening with your combined mess.
“so how about you dump that gay guy?"
CHOSO KAMO
choso’s been your roommate for months, and you’ve known exactly what kind of perverted little freak he is since the very first week.
you’ve caught him staring at your ass when you walk around in tiny shorts. you’ve heard the muffled, desperate groans through the wall at night — low, broken whimpers of your name while he fucks his fist. you’ve found your panties mysteriously missing from the laundry, only to reappear days later, stiff with dried cum and smelling like him. it should’ve disgusted you. instead it made your pussy throb every single time. your boyfriend was sweet, loving, perfect on paper… but he didn’t make you drip like choso’s pathetic obsession did.
tonight you’re both in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed while he talks quietly about some random curse technique shit. his voice is deep, calm, but his dark eyes keep flicking down to your thighs. he’s wearing a loose black tank that clings to his broad, muscular chest, tattoos snaking over his arms and shoulders. you’re teasing him on purpose — legs crossed, leaning back so your tits strain against your thin top.
then it happens.
a pair of your black lace panties slips from his pocket and flutters to the floor between you.
choso freezes. his face drains of color, then floods bright red. “f-fuck—”
you smirk, slow and wicked, picking them up with two fingers. the crotch is still damp. “wow, these are mine, choso. care to explain?”
he drops to his knees instantly, hands shaking as they rest on his thick thighs. “i’m sorry— i’m so fucking sorry. i didn’t mean for you to see— i just… i can’t stop thinking about you. your smell. your body. please… i’ll do anything.”
you tilt your head, heart pounding with dark excitement. “anything?”
“yes,” he breathes, voice cracking. the big, muscular man on his knees in front of you looks devastatingly submissive.
“come here.”
choso doesn’t hesitate. he crawls. on all fours like a trained dog, powerful shoulders rolling, dark hair falling into his face as he moves toward you. every flex of his back and arms makes your cunt clench. when he gets too close, you lift your bare foot and press it firmly against the top of his head, pushing his face down toward the floor.
“lower,” you command softly.
he obeys instantly, forehead pressing to the carpet, ass up slightly, trembling with need. a broken whimper slips from his throat.
you stand up slowly, peeling off your top first. your tits bounce free, nipples already hard. then your shorts and soaked panties slide down your legs. you kick them aside and sit back on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open right in front of his lowered face.
choso dares to lift his head just enough to look.
his jaw tightens so hard you hear his teeth click. his eyes — those pretty dark eyes — blow wide, pupils swallowing the color as he stares at your dripping pussy. “oh my god…” he whispers, voice wrecked. “you’re… you’re so fucking perfect. so wet. is that… because of me?”
you smirk and slide two fingers down your slick folds, spreading them so he can see everything. you circle your swollen clit slowly, letting out a soft moan just to torture him. choso’s breathing turns ragged, chest heaving, the massive bulge in his sweats straining obscenely.
“stay back,” you warn when he instinctively leans forward.
he whines — actually whines — but stays on all fours, watching hungrily as you finger yourself. wet, lewd sounds fill the room while you pump two fingers in and out, scissoring them, showing him exactly how you like it. his cock twitches visibly in his pants, a wet spot growing at the front.
you keep going, building yourself up, moaning louder, until you fake a frustrated little huff.
“choso~” you purr, voice dripping with need. “i need a hand… this isn’t enough.”
he snaps.
choso surges forward like a man possessed, crawling the last inch and burying his face between your thighs. his tongue is desperate, sloppy, lapping at your cunt like he’s starving. long, thick muscle dragging through your folds, sucking on your clit, moaning shamelessly into your pussy. “thank you— fuck, thank you— you taste so good, so sweet, i’ve dreamed about this every night— mmmph—”
you grab his hair and grind against his tongue, riding his face while he whimpers and sucks like the pathetic sub he is. his strong hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, but he never takes control — just serves.
after you cum hard on his tongue, shaking and soaking his chin, you push him back.
“pants off. now.”
choso yanks them down so fast he nearly falls over. his cock springs free — long, thick, painfully hard, the flushed head already drooling precum in thick strings. he’s huge, veiny, curved slightly upward, and twitching wildly. tattoos disappear under the dark happy trail leading to that gorgeous dick.
“please…” he begs, voice hoarse. “let me fuck you. i’ll be good— i’ll be so good for you.”
you lie back and crook your finger. “come here, cho.”
he climbs over you, muscular body trembling with restraint. the moment his fat cockhead nudges your slick entrance, choso lets out a broken, high-pitched moan — straight-up moaning like a bitch in heat.
“ohhh— fuck—!” he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, eyes rolling back as your tight walls swallow him. “so warm… so fucking tight— you’re squeezing me— hah— i can’t— i’ve wanted this for so long— your pussy is perfect, made for me— nghhh!”
the second he bottoms out, balls pressed against your ass, he loses it. his hips stutter, cock throbbing violently inside you as he fights not to cum instantly.
“did you just cum?” you chuckled, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"n-no—fuck!—i mean y-yeah?"
choso starts fucking you like he’s praying — deep, desperate strokes, every thrust accompanied by filthy, worshipful praise. “you feel so good— so wet and hot around my cock— i don’t deserve this— fuck— your pussy’s sucking me in, milking me— you’re so beautiful, taking me so well— ah— ah—!”
his muscular body hovers over yours, hips snapping harder, faster. the wet pap! pap! pap! of skin on skin mixes with his slutty moans and your own gasps. every time he bottoms out, his cock kisses your cervix, the curved head dragging perfectly against that spongy spot inside you.
“choso— harder—”
“yes— yes, anything— i’ll give you everything,” he pants, burying his face in your neck as he rails you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust. sweat drips from his dark hair onto your tits. “i’ve jerked off to you so many times— stole your panties and came all over them— imagined this pussy creaming on my cock— and it’s better— so much better— you’re ruining me— hah—!”
you flip him suddenly, straddling his waist. choso’s eyes widen in awe as you sink back down on his cock, riding him hard. his big hands grip your hips, not guiding, just holding on while you use him.
“fuck— ride me— please— use my cock— it’s yours— all yours—!” he moans like a whore, head thrown back, abs flexing with every roll of your hips. his cock twitches and swells inside you, veins pulsing against your walls.
you grind down, clit rubbing against his pelvis, and cum hard — pussy clamping around him like a vice, gushing slick all over his abs. choso’s moan cracks into a whimpering sob.
“cumming— you’re making me cum— inside— please let me— i need to fill you— been dreaming of breeding this perfect pussy— please—!”
“cum for me, cho!”
he shatters.
with a loud, broken cry that sounds nothing like the quiet man you know, choso thrusts up wildly and explodes. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, pulse after pulse, so much it leaks out around his cock immediately. his entire muscular body convulses under you, hips jerking, eyes crossed, tongue hanging out as he moans and babbles praises through his orgasm.
“thank you— thank you— filling you up— so good— your pussy’s taking all of it— i love you— fuck— i’m yours— i’m your good boy—!”
even after he finishes, he keeps grinding up into you weakly, overstimulated and still rock hard, whimpering every time your walls flutter around him.
you lean down, kissing his sweaty forehead while he pants and trembles beneath you.
“good boy, choso,” you whisper, clenching around his spent cock. “we’re just getting started.”
his eyes flutter, a dazed, blissed-out smile spreading across his face as fresh precum leaks into your cum-filled cunt.
“yes… please… use me more…anytime.”
SUGURU GETO
geto suguru has been your roommate for four months, and on the surface he’s the perfect one — calm, polite, always cleaning up after himself, cooking meals that make your knees weak, and never once making things weird. his voice is smooth like velvet, that lazy half-smile always playing on his lips, long black hair tied in a neat bun that makes him look effortlessly handsome. you never noticed the way his dark eyes linger on your ass when you bend over to grab something from the fridge. you never caught the way he steals your used panties from the hamper, wraps them around his thick cock at night, and strokes himself slow and quiet until he paints them white with your name whispered like a prayer. he’s a pervert, through and through, but he hides it behind layers of nonchalant elegance so well you think he’s just a chill, slightly mysterious guy.
until tonight.
you come home frustrated, boyfriend canceling plans again for the third time this week, leaving you aching and needy. geto is on the couch, scrolling through his phone in loose grey sweatpants and a black tank top that shows off his toned arms and the faint lines of his tattoos. you drop onto the cushion beside him with a heavy sigh.
“suguru… can you help me out?” you ask, voice small but direct. “i’m so fucking horny and my boyfriend’s useless tonight. i just… need to cum. no strings. please?”
he blinks once, slow and calm, then sets his phone aside like you asked him to pass the salt. “sure,” he says evenly, as if you’d asked him to help move furniture. “turn around, then.”
you don’t expect the way he manhandles you — gentle but firm. he guides you onto all fours right there on the wide couch, your knees sinking into the cushions, ass arched high. he tugs your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, exposing your already dripping pussy to the cool air.
“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, like he’s commenting on the weather. inside, his heart is hammering, cock throbbing painfully against his sweats at the sight of your glistening folds. finally. he’s imagined this exact view a thousand times while jerking off with your stolen panties. “already soaked. been needing this bad, huh?”
you nod,hiding your flustered face. “no, you fuck! just fuck me, suguru.”
he doesn’t rush. he frees his cock — long, thick, beautifully veined, the flushed head already leaking precum. it’s bigger than you expected, heavy and curved just right. he rubs the fat tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your slick, teasing your clit until you whine.
then he pushes in.
one long, deliberate stroke and he bottoms out, stretching your walls wide around his girth. a quiet “fuck” slips from his lips — the only crack in his composure — but he recovers instantly, voice smooth again. “tight. feels good.”
you moan loud, fingers gripping the couch. he’s so deep already, the head of his cock kissing your cervix on the first thrust. geto starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that make your ass ripple with every impact. the wet pap… pap… pap… of skin meeting skin fills the room as he gives you the best backshots of your life.
he fucks like he does everything else — controlled, precise, devastating. every thrust is angled perfectly, dragging along that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his big hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with measured strength. his abs flex under the tank top, sweat already starting to bead on his skin.
“that’s it,” he says casually, voice steady even as his cock twitches wildly inside you. “take it nice and deep. good girl.”
inside his head he’s losing it — so fucking tight, so wet, her pussy’s creaming all over me, better than i imagined, gonna ruin her—
your phone rings.
the screen lights up with your boyfriend’s name. you freeze.
geto stops moving instantly, buried to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed against your clit. he doesn’t pull out. he just stays there, throbbing, waiting with that same nonchalant expression.
“answer it,” he says quietly, almost soothingly.
you hesitate, then swipe to accept, bringing the phone to your ear. “h-hey babe…”
the second you start speaking, geto starts moving again — harder.
his hips snap forward with filthy precision, driving his thick cock deep into your cunt while you try to keep your voice normal. the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass grows louder, more obscene. he’s going crazy inside, eyes dark with lust, but his face remains calm, almost bored, like he’s just stretching after a long day.
“mm— yeah, i’m… i’m fine,” you manage, biting your lip hard as he angles his hips and nails that perfect spot. a broken whimper tries to escape — you slap a hand over your mouth. geto’s cock drags against your walls on the pull-out, then slams back in so deep your eyes roll back.
“what was that?” your boyfriend asks on the line.
“n-nothing— just… stubbed my toe, ahah—ah!” you lie breathlessly. geto chuckles silently behind you, low and dark, then starts pounding you harder. his heavy balls smack rhythmically against your clit with every brutal thrust. your juices drip down your thighs, soaking the couch.
“suguru’s— ah— really deep— i mean, the conversation’s really deep tonight,” you stammer, voice cracking as he reaches around and rubs tight, mean circles on your swollen clit without missing a stroke. “we’re just… talking about… stuff—”
geto leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, voice a silky whisper only you can hear. “tell him how full you feel right now.” he punctuates the words with a particularly vicious thrust that makes your pussy flutter hard around him.
you choke on a moan, turning it into a cough. “yeah— i’m listening, babe, keep going— mhm—”
inside, geto is feral. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he rails you mercilessly from behind. his long hair has fallen loose from the bun, strands sticking to his sweat-slicked neck. every time you clench around him he has to bite back a groan, but outwardly he stays composed — breathing steady, expression neutral, like he’s not currently rearranging your guts while you talk to your boyfriend.
“y-yes— fuck— i mean, yes, i’m fine,” you whimper, eyes crossing as geto speeds up. the couch creaks violently under the force of his thrusts. his cock is so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach. “just… tired. long day.”
geto’s hand slides up your back and pushes your chest down harder into the cushions, forcing your ass higher. the new angle has him slamming directly into your cervix with every snap of his hips. you’re drooling onto the fabric, biting the pillow to muffle the pornographic sounds trying to rip out of you.
“good girl,” he mouths silently against your shoulder, then sinks his teeth in just enough to mark you. “keep talking normal while i fuck this sloppy cunt.”
your walls clamp down hard around him. you’re so close it hurts.
“babe— i gotta go— something came up— ah— talk later,” you gasp, barely managing to hang up before a broken moan tears from your throat. the second the call ends, geto drops all pretense of calm.
he fucks you like a man possessed — hips snapping brutally fast, the wet squelching of your creaming pussy echoing obscenely. one hand fists your hair, yanking your head back while the other spanks your ass hard, leaving red handprints on your skin.
“finally,” he growls, voice dropping that nonchalant tone into something raw and hungry. “been dying to hear you scream on my cock. that bitch of a boyfriend’s never fucked you like this, has he? never made this pretty pussy gush like a whore.”
“no— fuck— suguru—!” you sob, pushing back to meet his thrusts, ass rippling with every savage impact.
“that’s right. this cunt belongs to me now.” he reaches around again, rubbing your clit viciously. “cum for me, princess. let me feel you milk my cock while i’m buried so deep.”
you shatter — hard. your pussy spasms wildly around his thick length, gushing slick down his balls as you scream his name. geto groans, low and guttural, but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you straight through your orgasm, drawing it out until you’re shaking and twitching.
only then does he bury himself to the hilt and cum — thick, hot ropes flooding your insides, so much it leaks out around his cock with every lazy grind of his hips.
“good girl… taking all my cum like you were made for it,” he pants, still buried deep, voice regaining that lazy smoothness even as his cock twitches with aftershocks. he leans down, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your sweaty shoulder.
“we’re not done,” he murmurs calmly, pulling out just enough to watch his cum drip from your abused hole before sliding back in with a wet squelch. “i’ve waited months to ruin you properly. tonight you’re going to learn exactly how well your perverted roommate can fuck.”
he starts moving again — slow, deep, devastating strokes once more, like the phone call never happened.
“now arch that back again, hottness. let me give you round two. then three, then four, th-”
"chill out, you fuck!"
HIGURUMA HIROMI
higuruma hiromi had been your roommate for five months, and behind that tired-lawyer exterior — messy dark hair, perpetual stubble, sharp suit jackets thrown over the couch — he was a complete, unhinged pervert.
every time you left for class or work, he was in your room like a shadow. he’d pull open your panties drawer with reverent hands, pick out the pair you’d worn the day before, and wrap the still-warm crotch around his thick, heavy cock. he’d stroke himself slow and filthy, groaning low in his throat until he came hard — thick, creamy ropes of cum splattering all over the fabric. then he’d carefully lay them flat on your windowsill, letting them dry stiff with his seed before folding them neatly and slipping them back into your drawer. he got off on the thought of you unknowingly wearing his dried cum against your pretty pussy all day.
he’d cum untouched just from pressing his ear to the thin wall when he heard you masturbating at night — soft, frustrated little moans while you were on the phone with your useless boyfriend. the way your voice would crack when you tried to stay quiet always made his cock twitch and spill in his pants like a teenager.
and the bathroom… he’d figured out the lock weeks ago. a quiet click, a tiny gap in the door, and he could watch you strip, watch water cascade down your naked body, watch your hands glide over your tits and between your thighs while you showered. he’d stand there in the dark hallway, fist pumping his leaking cock until he painted the wall white.
you never suspected a thing.
until tonight.
you’re both in the living room after a long day, you curled up on the couch in tiny sleep shorts and a loose tank, him lounging in grey sweatpants and a black button-up that’s half undone. the conversation drifts, and you suddenly blurt it out, half-joking, half-frustrated.
“hey, hiromi… your girlfriend — does she cum when you give her cunnilingus?”
he freezes mid-sip of his whiskey, dark eyes widening behind his glasses. the glass lowers slowly. “yeah… for sure,” he answers, voice a little rough, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
you sigh, shifting uncomfortably. “mine doesn’t. my boyfriend’s tried so many times and i’ve never once come on his tongue. it’s always just… okay. never enough.”
higuruma stares at you for a long second, throat working. then, shyly, almost hesitantly, he murmurs, “want me to show you how you can explain it to him? properly?”
your heart stutters. heat floods between your legs. you bite your lip and nod.
“yeah… show me.”
he doesn’t waste time. higuruma drops to his knees right there on the living room floor, big hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them wide. he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, yanking your shorts and panties off in one smooth tug. his breath ghosts over your already slick pussy as he pushes his glasses up into his messy hair.
“pay attention,” he says quietly, voice low and instructional, even as his eyes are dark with hunger. “most guys rush it. they go straight for the clit like it’s a button. you have to tease first.”
his tongue drags slowly up your slit — flat, warm, deliberate. a long, lazy stripe from your leaking hole to your swollen clit. you jerk, a soft whimper escaping.
“see? start slow. taste her. savor her.” he licks again, slower, circling your entrance before dipping inside just enough to make your hips twitch. “she’s already dripping… so sweet.”
you try to listen. you really do. but the moment his skilled tongue starts working, all thoughts evaporate.
higuruma eats pussy like a man who’s been starving for it. his mouth is filthy and precise at the same time — sucking your folds between his lips, tongue fucking into your tight hole in deep, wet strokes, then dragging back up to swirl around your clit with perfect pressure. he moans into your cunt like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, the vibrations shooting straight through you.
“h-hiromi— fuck—!”
“shh. lesson one,” he murmurs against your pussy, voice muffled but steady, “when she starts getting loud, you don’t stop. you double down.”
he seals his lips around your clit and sucks — hard — while two long fingers slide into you, curling instantly against that spongy spot. your back arches clean off the couch, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
first orgasm hits you like a freight train.
your thighs clamp around his head, hips grinding desperately against his face as you gush on his tongue. higuruma groans loudly, drinking every drop, fingers pumping steadily through your spasms. he doesn’t pull away. he keeps sucking, keeps licking, keeps praising.
“good girl… that’s it. first one. see how fast she came when you actually know what you’re doing?”
you’re shaking, panting, but he doesn’t stop.
“lesson two — she gets sensitive after the first. you use that.” his tongue goes softer, flatter, lapping at your overstimulated clit in gentle, relentless strokes while his fingers scissor you open. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth devouring you fill the room.
second orgasm crashes over you even harder. your eyes roll back, toes curling, a sob tearing from your chest as you squirt — actually squirt — a clear gush soaking his chin and the couch beneath you. higuruma moans like he’s the one cumming, eagerly licking up every drop, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive folds.
“fuck— hiromi— too much—!”
“third one’s the best,” he growls, voice losing that instructional tone, turning rough and hungry. “let me show you.”
he buries his face completely, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue fucks into you deep and fast. three fingers stretch you now, curling ruthlessly, his other hand gripping your ass hard enough to bruise as he holds you down. he’s moaning continuously into your pussy, lost in it, devouring you like a man possessed.
you cum a third time — screaming his name, thighs trembling violently around his head, vision whiting out as pleasure borders on pain. your whole body convulses, fresh squirt spraying across his tongue as he drinks you down greedily.
higuruma finally pulls back, lips and chin glistening with your cum, glasses slightly fogged. he looks wrecked — pupils blown, hair messy, breathing ragged. his cock is straining obscenely against his sweatpants, a huge wet spot already soaking through.
“did you… learn anything?” he asks, voice hoarse, a shy little smirk tugging at his lips even as his eyes scream pure lust.
you can barely speak. your pussy is still twitching, thighs soaked, chest heaving.
“i— i couldn’t even listen, asshole,” you whimper, reaching down to grab his hair. “again… please, hiromi. i need your tongue again.”
he chuckles lowly, that tired, perverted lawyer completely gone, replaced by the freak who’s been fantasizing about this for months.
“good. because i’m nowhere near done with this pretty pussy.”
he dives back in without hesitation, tongue and fingers working you over again, drawing out even more desperate moans and orgasms until you’re a sobbing, squirting mess on his face — exactly where he’s always wanted you.
and somewhere in the back of his perverted mind, he’s already thinking about how many more pairs of your panties he’s going to ruin after this.
kurt’s hands are shaking on the steering wheel even after he parks. his car smells like old fast food and his nervous sweat. the little red recording light on the dash is off tonight-he didn’t even ask if he could film. too scared you’d say no.
you’re in the passenger seat, legs crossed, watching him. he keeps glancing over, then away, licking his lips like he’s about to pitch the ride of a lifetime but can’t find the words. his cheeks are already pink.
“so uh… this is the spot,” he mumbles, voice cracking a little. “quiet. no one around. i come here sometimes when… when i need to think. or whatever.”
you don’t say anything at first. just unbuckle your seatbelt and climb straight into the back seat. kurt’s eyes go wide, following every move.
“come here,” you tell him, he almost trips getting out of the driver seat. climbs into the back after you, all long limbs and awkward elbows, nearly banging his head on the roof. when he sits down his knees are bouncing. you can see the bulge in his jeans already, half-hard just from you existing in his car.
you straddle his lap without warning, settling your weight on him. kurt lets out a shaky breath, hands hovering like he doesn’t know where he’s allowed to touch.
“i… i didn’t think you’d actually-” he starts, but you cut him off.
“i wanna fuck kurt.”
his mouth opens, closes. his cock twitches hard under you. “y-yeah? like… r-right now? in here?”
“right now.” you reach down and palm him through his jeans. he’s already leaking, a small wet spot forming. “you’re nervous.”
“no i’m not,” he lies instantly, voice pitching up. then, quieter, “okay yeah i’m nervous. you’re… you’re really hot and i’m just-”
he stops what he’s saying when you begin to unzip him slowly. his cock springs out, flushed and dripping at the tip, curving slightly up. he’s thicker than he looks in those baggy clothes. kurt hisses when you wrap your hand around him and give one slow stroke.
“fuck-okay. okay. you’re serious,” he whispers, eyes glued to your fingers moving on him. his hips jerk up without permission. “i’ve thought about this. like… a lot. every time you got in the car i had to try not to get hard on stream.”
you push your panties to the side and line him up. kurt’s breathing is already ragged, chest rising fast under his stupid graphic tee.
“wait-! condom?” he squeaks, even as his hands finally land on your waist, fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
“no condom baby,” you say, sinking down on him in one smooth motion.
kurt’s head slams back against the seat, a broken whine ripping out of his throat. “oh my god- oh fuck you’re so warm-so tight-i can’t-m’gonna”
you start moving, rolling your hips slow and deep, taking every inch. he fills you perfectly, stretching you just right. kurt’s eyes are squeezed shut at first, then they fly open, staring at where you’re joined like he can’t believe it’s real.
“look at me,” you tell him.
he does. his face is flushed, lips parted, that pathetic little desperate expression he gets when he’s trying so hard to act cool. one hand slides up under your shirt, thumb brushing your nipple like he’s testing if you’ll let him. when you don’t stop him he gets bolder, squeezing, pinching gently while his other hand grips your ass, trying to help you ride him.
but he’s bad at it. his rhythm is off, too eager, hips stuttering up into you every few thrusts like he can’t control himself. “you feel- you feel so fu-fuucking good,” he pants, voice cracking again. “better than i imagined. i’m sorry i’m-i’m not lasting-i’m trying but you’re riding me so nice and i’ve wanted this for so long-”
you lean down, catch his mouth in a messy kiss. he moans into it, tongue clumsy and hungry, chasing your lips when you pull back. his forehead presses to yours, breath shaky.
“m’not even joking. i’d do anything-fuck-anything you want. just keep-keep using me like this.” he mumbles, half-laughing, half-whining as you grind down harder.
you speed up, bouncing on his cock, the car creaking under you. kurt’s losing it completely now-little punched-out sounds every time you sink down, eyes glassy, cheeks wet at the corners like he might actually cry from how good it feels.
“gonna cum,” he chokes out, panic and pleasure mixing in his voice. “i’m gonna come inside you-is that okay? please say it’s okay i can’t hold it- you’re too perfect a-and-”
“cum for me, kurtie,” and he does, instantly. hips jerking up hard as he spills deep inside you with a loud, broken moan that sounds way too pathetic for the ‘confident’ streamer he pretends to be. his whole body shakes, fingers digging bruises into your hips while he rides it out, whispering “thank you thank you fuck thank you” against your neck like you just gave him the best gift in the world.
after he just wraps his arms around you, hiding his face in your chest, still twitching inside you. his voice is muffled.
“can we… can we do that again sometime? like… a lot? i’ll drive you anywhere. free rides forever. just-just use me whenever you want. please” you stroke his hair and he melts even more, pressing a shy little kiss to your collarbone.
"Hi [name]! I'm happy to see you didn't run out on me or anything!"
You slowly open your eyes, staring ahead at the white-haired boy with the blue bug-eyes in front of you. You stay quiet for a few moments, clutching the hem of your shirt. After that cute little mini-game styled segment, you thought the dream would've ended.
Is it...still going?
"Uh..yeah. Don't worry, wouldn't do something like that..."
Your back in the classroom. All the others are at the big, conjoined table.
"[name]." You turn your head to Suguru, seeing him look at you with a sincere smile. "Thanks a lot for keeping your promise."
Now it was Sukuna's turn to talk. "Like they deserve any sort of slack just for showing up..make sure you take us seriously, okay? This isn't some hangout spot."
"Sukuna, you talk so boldly for someone who eats all the whole time your here." Satoru chuckled.
"Sss─" The boy began to stumble over his words, an embarrassed expression etching itself into his face.
"SAVORING FOOD IS THE POINT OF THIS CLUB!!!"
Choso lets out a soft chuckle at his clubmate's outburst.
"Don't worry, everyone. [name] doesn't lazy around, they help me with stuff without asking. Like cleaning my room..."
"You and [name] are good friends, huh? I might be a little jealous..." Suguru plays with his bangs.
"I'm sure you can become good friends with them too."
The long-haired boy goes silent. Choso stares at him with a confused expression, clearly oblivious to the situation that he put Suguru and you into. He then turns to look at you.
"Suguru even brought something with you today."
"Choso..." he furrows his eyebrows, looking down at his lap for a few seconds before looking back to you.
"It's...nothing really. I don't want you to feel left out, so I picked out something that I believed you'd like."
He reaches into his school bag and pulls out an adorable notebook, which just so happens to be your favorite color!!!
"Obviously, you can use it to do the club activities...and I could also..." He looks away. "...help you write stuff."
This is...so damn sexy.
How is this guy being the sexiest guy in the world just by caring about you enough to get you a notebook!?!?!?
"Suguru, thank you. I'll definitely use it!" you thank him, enthusiastically taking it from his extended hands.
You sit down in your seat. While you examine at the pretty present you've been gifted, you begin to listen in on Satoru's conversation with Choso.
"Don't you think our club will seem really...uninteresting compared to the others?" Choso tilts his head, looking up at the other boy.
"Hmmm.." Satoru hums for a moment, tapping his foot.
"Well, I don't think that's true, y'know? This festival is our chance to show everyone what desserts and writing is really about! The only problem is that the name of our club gives off the impression that we're serious. We gotta do something that proves that mindset wrong."
"That still doesn't solve our problem, Satoru."
"Whatta mean?"
"Even if we come up with the most exciting, engaging event ever, nobody'll come in the first place 'cause of the 'Writing' part in 'Sweets & Creative Writing Club.' It's more important to figure out how to get students to show up in the first place. Then after we can prove their mindset wrong."
"That's a good point." The President huffed, slumping into his chair. "Then...do ya think food will do the trick?"
"What kind?"
"Well, I was thinking─"
"Pudding, with a cherry on top."
"Good thinking, Choso!" Satoru clapped his hands together. "Let's work out the details of the event itself."
You close your eyes.
Choso seems to be really dedicated to this festival. It's admirable, really. He put his mind to this thing, and he's going to make it come to life. That's the type of boy that you'd fall in love with if this was real.
"Uuuooh─!"
You open your eyes slightly just to see the same boy you were thinking about staring at you. You nearly fall out of your seat His face is blank and devoid of emotion, the type of blank that sends a shiver down your spine.
"Oh, sorry." He gains some type of emotion once again, a soft apologetic smile appearing. "But you shouldn't be sleeping like that. This isn't the sleeping club."
That actually sounds pretty neat.
"Have you been going to sleep late again? I told you to stop that..." His face fell a little. He was clearly worrying about you.
"I...guess I have?" Uh..don't worry about that. But, how 'bout you? You look like you were in a rush this morning." You say, seeing his slightly messy appearance.
"Your hair is sticking out here." You stand up, leaning over the desk to straighten a stray hair down. "And your bow, it's not right either. And your blazer isn't buttoned up either..."
You run your hands over his body, trying to fix him up. You're oblivious to the way he jolts whenever your fingers brush a sensitive part of him. You begin to button his blazer.
Choso's cheeks flush a little. "This is...kind of funny."
"What is?"
"It makes me feel a little strange, doing things that usually couples do."
"Huhh!? D-don't say that, that'll make me feel weird too."
"It's okay though." He mumbles, putting a hand on your cheek. There's a glint of gratefulness and something else that you can't quite decipher in his eyes. "I'm happy that we're close like this. Thanks, [name]."
A tingly, fuzzy feeling begins to envelop your chest. "Uhh...no problem."
You finish buttoning up his blazer, taking a step back to admire how you've cleaned him up.
"Oooookay everyone!!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. "Why don't we all share the things we wrote now?" His eyes dart to you.
As everyone begins to dig into their bag to take out the assignment, Satoru leans over your shoulder. "You remembered to write something, right?"
"Um..yeah. I did.." you respond.
"Well now that everyone's ready, how about you find someone to share your thing with?"
Four floating boxes suddenly show up in front of you, each one having a boy's name on it. It seems no one else can see it besides you.
𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗼
𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮
𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂
𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂
After some moments of pondering, you begin with Satoru. He said he was looking forward to seeing your work, and you don't want to disappoint him!
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
"Hi [name]! Ready to share?" He smiled.
"I guess, sure...it's kind of embarrassing though." You hand him the loose leaf you wrote on.
He takes it with two hands, eyes roaming over each line you wrote carefully. After about a minute or so, he looks up at you.
"I like this one! You have a creative spark, it's obvious through this poem. Writing about something as simple as a dessert and being able to transform it into something heartfelt, that's exactly what I was going for with this assignment. You did it wonderfully, [name]."
"Thanks, Satoru.
"No problem! Want to read mine now?"
"Yeah, sure."
He hands you a piece of paper with neat handwriting.
The One I Love Most
My favorite thing, delicious and sweet.
My code stuck in a state of wanting to be.
You are the best thing in this world, good enough to eat.
Why can everyone else have you, except for me?
...uhhh.
Out of everyone in this club, you wouldn't have expected Satoru to be so...well, this. He seems so carefree and positive, but in his writing it's a completely different story.
"So, what do you think?"
"...it's good. I just...wasn't expecting something like this. It seems...ah...never mind. I like it. You never wrote specifically what was your favorite dessert though, why is that?"
"I wanted it to seem like I was writing to my favorite instead of about it. And besides, I'm not programmed to one specific dessert, so I just ended up being mysterious about it.
"What?"
"Nothing. Anyways, thanks for listening!"
.─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
Now, only 3 boxes appear.
𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗼
𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮
𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂
You think once again, eventually coming to the decision of Sukuna.
.─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
Sukuna narrows his eyes at the paper, then at you.
"...well, it's what I expected from someone like you."
What's that supposed to mean?
"It's not bad, just not my style."
"Since you like haikus, right? I could tell by your reaction the other day─"
"You wanna get punched, brat?"
"My bad..."
He let out a sigh, looking over to the side.
"That's what I thought. Anyways, here's mine. Not that something like mine would match your writing anyways."
Glutton
Endless love for meat
Flesh fills my tongue and guts
My ache now sated
"So...is your favorite dessert...meat?"
"Yeah. By the look on your face, I can tell you don't like it." He said.
"I do. It's just...so...it seems a little violent outside of context."
"That was kinda the point. Everyone always writes calmly and fancy about things, so people don't take things like mine seriously. They think I'm constantly this monster hungry for fights 'n stuff whenever I write like this."
"Isn't the point of writing expressing yourself?"
"Exactly! If I wanna write about eating until I'm full, then I'll do that. I don't wanna be judged for that. Craving something and finally getting it and taking it in more and more until your full, that's what this whole thing is about. It's not about aggressiveness and being violent, it's just about eating."
"I guess more went into it than I realized."
"That's what it means to be an expert, I'm glad you're learning!" Sukuna smiles proudly.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗼
𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂
Well, saving Suguru for last wouldn't be too much of an issue, right?
.─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
"Th
is is super good, [name]. I had no idea how good of a writer you were." Choso says, continuing to read your poem.
"That's...not true. Your being too kind."
"I'm not! I just really like it. It's like I can feel the feelings and hard work you put into it."
He hugs the paper close to his chest.
"This paper reminds me that you're really a part of this club now. Trying out something new, it makes me happy, you know."
"Uh...thanks." You blush. "Can I see your thing now?"
"Sure, but I can't promise I'm any good at it though."
Me and My Brother
My brother and I sit around a table
His head is hung low, tears clinging to his eyelashes
The feeling of sorrow wafts around the house
We are left alone once again.
I want to make him feel better.
I get a plate of pudding and two spoons
He looks up at me, and I wipe away his tears.
Without a word, we begin to eat.
We joke and laugh, and he hugs me tightly
"Thank you, big brother."
Now when I eat the dessert
I think of my little brother and I together at that table.
"This is really nice, Choso. It's good, and it sounds just like you. Is pudding your favorite dessert, because of your little brother?"
"Yes, a warm feeling grows inside my chest every time I eat pudding. It's like the taste replays that good memory."
"That's really nice to hear. Thank you for sharing this with me." You smile. Choso cares a lot about his brother, huh?
"Of course, [name]."
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂
"Mm...mmm..." Suguru hums. A few minutes pass, more than enough time for him to finish reading.
"Uhh..Suguru?"
"Oh! Sorry, I was just...reading it thoroughly. It's good. It's just right, not too deep and not too simple. Also, having that as your favorite dessert is pretty cute."
A nervous smile creeps onto your lips. "Hah..thanks. Um, may I see yours now?"
"Please do! If you'd like, I can explain my thought process behind it."
He hands you his paper.
Eat Until You Can't
Drench the sickening food with syrup and sugar,
The taste still remains
Swallow it whole and in one gulp, eat it as quickly as possibly
Yet the taste will never truly go away
Eat at it any longer
And it will slowly start to eat at you too
"...I like this one, Suguru. Even though it's short, it's descriptive. Like Satoru, you didn't exactly say your favorite dessert.
"Well, I wanted it to seem symbolical, I guess. You know how you have a favorite meal, but then you eat it so often that it begins to taste gross? That's what I kind of wanted to do with the idea of writing about a favorite dessert."
"That...is a sort of melancholy twist to something so good. Your writing is impressive, Suguru."
Suguru smiles, a soft pink dusting his face. "Thank you, I'm glad to hear how appreciative you are of this."
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
That...was interesting.
You sit down in a seat with a sigh. Satoru and Choso are chatting away, while Sukuna and Suguru look at each other's papers with conflicted faces.
"I guess you could say...yours is...interesting." Sukuna says, handing Suguru's paper back to him.
"Thanks? Yours is...intimating."
"Intimating? Did you completely miss the point or something??? It's clearly about eating until you're full, how can that be intimating?"
"Well, I know that. I just meant it's really simple."
"It's a haiku, that's the point."
"I was just trying to say something nice."
"You have to try that hard to come up with somethin' nice to say? Thanks but it didn't come out nice at all."
"Uh...I do have a couple of suggestions."
"If I was looking for suggestions, I'd ask someone who actually likes it! Which people did, Suguru. Choso liked it and [name] did too. So based on what your saying, I'll gladly give you some suggestions of my own."
"Excuse me. I've spent a while figuring out my own writing style, and I don't plan to change it unless something inspires me significantly. Which I haven't."
"Ugh─!"
"And [name] like my poem too, they said it was impressive."
Sukuna stands up. "Oh? I didn't realize that was so invested in trying to impress our new member."
"Huh!? That's not what...I...you're just..."
Suguru stands up as well, pointing a finger to Sukuna's chest. "I think you're just jealous that [name] appreciates my advice more than they appreciate yours!!!"
"Oh!? And how do you know that?? I didn't know our Vice President was so full of himself."
"If I was so full of himself, I would go out of my way to make everything I do overly aggressive!"
"AGGRESSIVE!?" The pink-haired boy barks.
"Uh.." Choso tries to interject. "Is...everything alright?"
"Well ya know what? I wasn't the one who grows a hard-on the moment [name] shows up!!"
"This doesn't have anything to do with you!!!" Both of the arguing boys say.
Suddenly, they both turn towards you.
"[name]! He's just trying to make me look horrible!" Suguru clutches his hand to his chest.
Sukuna glares. "That's not true, he started it! If Suguru could just get over himself and learn to appreciate simple writing, then all this wouldn't have happened! There's no point in forcibly making the reader find out the meaning, it should stick out to them."
"There's a reason we have such deep words; it's the only way to convey complex meaning effectively! Not using expressive language like that is a waste. You understand, right [name]?"
"Uhh..." you mumble.
"Well???" They say.
How did you even get dragged into this!?!?! After looking at both the boys, you finally make a decision.
"Satoru!!!"
Said boy perks up. You don't want to pick sides, so you decide to get someone else to de-escalate the situation.
"Y-yeah! Your guys' fighting...it's making Satoru super uncomfortably!! How can you two fight like this when you know how it makes our President feel!?"
"[name]..."
"Well...that's his problem, this isn't about him! Unless Satoru wants to tell Suguru what a huge idiot he's being!"
"He would never! It's you that has made him upset in the first place!" Suguru says in rebuttal.
"Excuse me? Do you even hear the words comin' out of you? Y'know, this is exactly why you─"
"Stop!!"
Sukuna and Suguru both go quiet.
"You two are my friends! Everyone needs to get along and be happy; my friends are wonderful people and I love your differences! Everyone is so talented and creative, so why do we fight?"
"Also! Sukuna is a little aggressive, yeah, but there's nothing wrong with that! And Suguru's thing is the same as always, big and beautiful!!"
...what?
Satoru stands up, Choso having a surprised expression behind him.
"I...I will go make some tea!!" Suguru bolts out of the room. Sukuna sits down with a huff, staring at nothing.
You look over to Satoru, only to see him already staring at you.
"..thanks a lot...for that."
"Ah─! No problem. I was just...surprised that you said my name. Sometimes I forget you don't follow a script." He whispered that last part.
"What was that?"
"I just said I'm glad you relied on me to help the whole deal, that's all. Thanks for counting on me, [name]." He smiled sweetly at you, causing your stomach to knot.
"Yeah, o-of course."
You avert your gaze to the floor. It was really nice reading everyone's things; all four of these boys are so good at expressing themselves through words. It also has been a lot of fun being friends with all of them, but a little part of your mind wonders just a little...
Does it have to stop at just that?
Well, whatever else ends up happening inside the future of this dream, you hope that you'll be able to grow closer with these boys.
But until then, you'll just have to wait and see.
a/n: hiii everyone!!!! im so so so sorry for the delay of this chapter!! ive been busy with schoolwork and other stuff!! i hope everyone likes the poems ive wrote for each member, I tried to make them reference something thats canon to them in the actual jjk series (except for satoru) i also changed up the "help me, sayori!" scene a little i hope thats okay! i would've added it to be choso but honestly i just dont think he'd care enough to de-escalate a fight unless it was involving you or yuji or it got out of hand.. im also super excited for the specialized hangouts! who knows maybe you'll get some affection from them ooohhh 👀👀👀👀
━ ACT 1: FIRST DAY, LET'S MEET ALL THE CLUB MEMBERS!
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
"What...the hell?"
Where am I? What is this?
You look forward, your heart racing and your brain full of questions. The world around you...is animated. It's a residential area; there's houses, trees, a road, the sun ─ but it's not real life. You then caught sight of your hand. It's animated. In fact, all of you is animated.
You press your palms against the sides of your head, throat growing dry.
"I don't feel real. What the fuck? Why don't I feel real?????? Where's...my skin." You drag your hands all over your face, trying desperately to find the feeling of real flesh. But you don't. You just feel...smooth, in the most unnatural, horrible way possible.
"What is happening to me, what is this place??? Stop. stopstopstop. Oh gosh, please... anyone, make it sto-"
Before you can panic any further, a sudden upbeat track of music begins to play.
And then, you hear footsteps pattering behind you.
"Heyyyyy!!!! [nameeeeeeeee]!!!"
You whip your head around, seeing a boy running towards you. He looks...recognizable?
He has two spiky buns, the rest of his hair falling into wispy bangs that covered his forehead. His most obvious feature, a straight black mark running vertically across the bridge of his nose.
You stare at him and observe his appearance, up until he makes his way right in front of you. He lets out heavy pants as he catches his breath.
"Ohhhh...I overslept again..." he began to stand up straight, eyebags prominent and etched onto his face. "But, I caught up to you."
You blinked a few times, eyes running up and down his figure multiple times.
He's...cute.
"Uhhh...you..sure did...."
The boy raised an eyebrow at your lack of words, seeing your face go a little red.
"You okay, [name]? You're acting like I'm a stranger." He pouts, leaning down to your face. "That's no way to treat a childhood friend, you know!"
Your face heats up at the proximity of your faces, your body instinctively backing up.
"Oh..uhm...sorry. I'm not...feeling well..."
You rubbed the nape of your neck, looking down at the floor. His expression softens.
"Well, if that's all...but I don't want you to go to school sick. Let me know in advance so I could....take care of you properly."
He trails off a little at the end, clearly realizing how that sounds. His cheeks flush.
"A-anyways...we should start walking."
He mumbles, grabbing ahold of your hand and beginning to walk.
While you walk hand-in-hand with the mystery boy, you began to think.
This is...probably a dream. Last thing I remember is...me at my computer, so I probably fell asleep there.
"By the way, [name], have you thought of which club you're going to be joining?" The guy's voice cuts through your thoughts.
"A club? I..." Since your belief of this being a dream was now fully cemented into your brain, you decided that you might as well play along. Besides, talking to such a hot boy didn't seem half-bad. "...haven't thought of one yet."
"Oh. You really need to, [name]. I'm worried that when you're in college, you still won't have any social skills."
...What's that supposed to mean?
"I...have social skills." you argued, even though you knew damn well that you had like 4 friends max.
"...when you talked to my younger brother a few days ago you couldn't even get a 'hello' out." he sighed. "Your happiness is super important to me, and I know you're happy now...but I'd die at the thought of you becoming a shut-in because you can't talk to people properly."
He pauses. "You trust me, right? Please, don't make me worried about you..."
You saw the pitiful look on his face as he spoke. There was so much genuine worry on his face for you that it was adorable. This guy seemed to really care for you...
"Alright alright, I'll look at some clubs if it makes you happy."
He smiled warmly at that.
"That makes me glad." He squeezed your hand a little. "Thank you, [name]."
You nodded. A boy holding your hand like this, being so worried about you, smiling at you with such emotion...it was addictive. When's the last time you've felt like this?
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
"Oh!"
You gasp in surprise as your vision fades to black. When you regain your sight, you're sat in a classroom.
A cutscene? Didn't even know dreams could do that.
You think, looking down at your hands. You think back to what your "childhood friend" said about looking at some clubs. Yet, even in a dream, you still can't seem to grasp onto an ounce of motivation. What clubs even are there?
"[name]?"
The boy from earlier pops his head into the classroom, his face lighting up once his eyes land on you. He walks up to the side of your desk.
"Goodness, you really aren't feeling well. I thought I'd catch you walking while on the way to my club, but you're just in here spacing out."
"You don't have to 'catch' me if it'd make you late to your...club."
You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling a little guilty for making this poor boy worry.
"Uh..well, I thought you needed a little encouragement to finally join a club, so..."
"So?"
"...I told all the members of my club that I'd bring in a new member. And...Sukuna ended up making food for everyone."
He looked away, looking a little worried. He knew he should've told you, but he didn't know if you say yes or no if he asked. Besides, he just wanted what was best for you!!!
"Food?" You perked up, standing up from your chair which left the dark-haired a little surprised.
"Sure, we can go! Let's go now!"
Safe to say, he knows that if there's food involved ─ it invokes a positive response from you.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
You follow the boy across the school and upstairs until eventually stopping at a classroom door. With enthusiasm, he opens the door.
"Everyone, I brought the new member."
You looked around the room, eyes widening in absolute delight.
"Ah, welcome to the Sweets and Creative Writing Club. It's nice to finally meet you." The sound of a male's calm voice fills your ears. Said male has a cool demeanor to him, with amethyst-colored eyes that draw in you. His hair is kept in a bun with a little strand hanging out in the front. "Choso says the sweetest things about you."
"So this is who you blabber on and on 'bout.." A deep, husky voice emits from behind you. You whip your head around just to be immediately intimidated by the appearance of this dude. He's absolutely huge, with tattoos inked into his skin and piercings decorating his ears and lips.
" [name]!! Oh, what a fun surprise!!!!"
Someone says to the right of you cheerfully. He has fluffy white hair and glittering, blazing blue eyes staring deep into your soul. He looks unreal, angelic in a way. The way he smiles at you like you're the only person in that room made your mind go a little blank.
All words escape you. Looking at all of them makes you realize something...
This club...
...is full of the incredibly cute boys that were in that dating sim!!!!!!
You can practically feel your heart exploding with pure joy.
What a gift, to have a dream about such sexy boys and have them look at me and talk to me and breathe the same air as me─
"What are you lookin' at?" The muscular, tattooed boy barked, noticing how your gaze lingered on them. "If ya want to say something, then say it."
"Ah..m-my bad." This guy was hot as hell, but gosh he was a little scary. Not that you disliked that factor in a guy though.
"Sukuna..." The boy with the bun said.
"...mmph." The boy, whose name is apparently Sukuna, crossed his arms.
Oh my gosh his biceps are fucking huge.
"You can just ignore him when he gets all aggressive.." Choso whispers quietly into your ear, his breath dusting the shell of your ear.
"Anyway. This is Sukuna." he leans back.
"And this is Suguru, the Vice President. And by far the most competent member."
Suguru chuckles, clearly a bit embarrassed by Choso's praise. "...everyone in the club is...competent."
"And it sounds like you already know Satoru, our President."
"Thatttttt's right!"
The albino says happily. "I'm so glad to see you again, [name]!"
He says while grinning sweetly.
Having this boy, who would be completely out of league in real life, smile at you feels so... "Uhh...nice to..s-see you again too, Satoru."
You don't notice the way he shivers when you say his name.
Choso puts a hand on your shoulder "Please, come sit. We made room for you at the table."
"I'll get the cookies." Sukuna speaks. "Since I know if I trust a certain president to do the job─" He turns to Satoru, glaring daggers at him. "─he'll probably eat them all."
The white-haired boy shrugged, sticking out his tongue playfully.
"I'll make some tea." Suguru chimed in.
Sukuna and Suguru walk over to the cabinet, where they prepare the food and drinks.
Desks are pushed together in the center of the classroom to form a table. Additionally, one desk is put between Choso and Satoru (which makes you do jumping jacks in your head).
Sukuna marches over to the table, a tray in hand. He then tears off the foil on top to reveal delicious looking chocolate chip looks!
"Woooaahhhh!!!"
The two boys in between you exclaim. Satoru, who seems to have a sweet tooth, hurries to grab one. Then Choso, and then you.
"Sukuna, it's delicious!!!!" The President chirps, who has his mouth full.
You turn and eye the cookie, trying to find which part has the perfect ratio of chocolate chips and cookie dough. Sukuna stays silent as he looks at you, waiting for your reaction.
You finally bite down, letting out a pleased sigh as you chew. "'s so good...thank you, Sukuna.."
"Why are you thanking me, it's not like I...made them specifically for you." He narrowed his eyes, turning his head away.
Oh, he's one of those.
Shortly after, Suguru comes to the table with a tea set. He places a cup full of purple tea down in front of each person.
"So, what made you consider this club, [name]?"
Satoru leans in, resting his cheek on his fist as he awaits your answer.
You wince at the question. You can't exactly answer with Choso making you come.
"Well, I just...like the atmosphere here.."
His expression didn't change, but you had a feeling that he knew you were kinda full of shit. "That's okay, you don't have to be embarrassed! I'll make sure you feel right at home, alright? It's my duty as the President after all."
"Speaking of being President, Satoru, weren't you the President of the student council last year?" Sukuna said.
"Yeah, I remember that too. Why'd you even quit in the first place?" Choso adds.
Satoru smiles, circling the rim of his cup with his index finger.
"Honestly, it all felt kind of meaningless. Major clubs like the student council only care about politics and popularity, and it bored me to death. If I want to be the leader of a club, I want to make it fun and exciting. And if it encourages others to be fun and exciting too...then that's what matters most."
Your heart began to thumb loudly. Seeing guys get so passionate about things like that was always so attractive. "You're...a great President."
Now it was Satoru's turn to have his heart race. "Thank you.."
"[name], what kind of things do you like to write?" Suguru suddenly buds in, resulting in a very subtle twitch of the eye from Satoru.
What's up with all these questions I can't answer without sounding like a geek?
Considering that the only thing you willingly write about is fanfiction, you don't really have a good way of answering that.
"...oh, you know...stuff...i guess..haikus..?"
Sukuna suddenly perks up. His eyes sparkle in a way that makes it seem like he's about to say something, but he ends up staying quiet.
"Oh? Well, that gives me an idea!" Satoru stands up. "How about we go home and each of us write something of our own? Say...how 'bout our favorite dessert? And then tomorrow, we'll share them with each other!"
Suguru and Sukuna both shrink a little, letting out a sigh. Maybe they have embarrassing favorite desserts?
"I think it's a good idea." Choso smiles at you.
"It's only right that we give our new member something to look forward to next time we see each other! Right, [name]?" The President tilts his head.
"Uhh..h-hold on. I...never said..I'd join this club. You guys are really nice and wonderful and all..but..uhh."
You lose your train of thought almost immediately. All four of the boys stare at you with downcast eyes.
I can't even speak, I'm totally defenseless against them...they're just too cute. I can't think straight when they're all looking at me like this.
Well, if I have to write in exchange to stay afterschool everyday with these gorgeous boys...then it's 10000% worth it.
"but...I already know my choice, and...I'm going to join the Sweets & Creative Writing Club!"
All the boys' eyes begin to light up. Choso wraps his arms around you, clearly glad that you said yes.
"Well, that settles today's meeting!" Satoru exclaims. As the boys begin to converse with each other, he walks over to you and leans down.
"I'm especially excited to see your work, [name]." He giggled a little before pulling away, leaving you to basically melt into a puddle of yourself from how flustered that made you. Will you really be able to impress everyone?
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
As you walk home with Choso, (after he so nicely asked) your mind wanders back to the four boys from today.
Sukuna,
Suguru,
Choso,
And of course, Satoru.
All so interesting and so different from each other, yet they are able to bond over some club. It's adorable, really.
But it really is too bad that this is a dream. It was really fun to talk with them all. You secretly make a promise to yourself that when you wake up, you'll play the actual game...and you'll win the hearts of each one!
> _
act 1. day 2 implemented successfully.
a/n: hi everyone!! sorry it took me a while to make this one! [name]'s perverse side is definitely coming out now! also i have to say that sukuna is a little ooc for this story since i want him to be more like natsuki but tsundere kuna is so cute i wanna shove my tongue down his throat!! thank you so much for all the likes i got on my previous posts! i cant express how happy i feel whenever i get a new follower or like!! also MIGHT post a one-shot soon, most likely a modern! sukuna one yayy!!
𝜗𝜚 hot loser bf x streamer gf who turns him into an internet sensation by accident, then fucks him senseless on purpose . . .
( mdni. cw: crack vibes, fluffy fluff, age gap, praise/light degredation, possessive!toji, switch!toji but he leans more subby in this, spit kink, slight overstim, creampie )
you swear your twitch chat is starting to gaslight you.
“okay but real talk,” you say mid-gameplay, lazily slouched in your chair as your character reloads, “how many times do i have to tell y’all i do have a boyfriend. he’s real. i see him every day. he lives here. he exists.”
chat disagrees.
isucktoes1234356: no u don’t lmao
stanloonaordie: we would’ve been seen him by now girl stop lying 😭
popwheeliesnotmolly: this an imaginary boyfriend arc???
yaoiluvrx: bitchless behavior tbh
“y’all are so toxic,” you snort, sipping your iced tea as your dms light up with even more chaos. “just because he’s not chronically online doesn’t mean he’s fake—”
you don’t even get to finish the sentence before your fake boyfriend suddenly becomes very, very real.
there’s a click of the hallway light. a shuffle of bare feet on hardwood. then:
“babe,” comes a low, gravelly voice from off-camera, “you want the big half or the small half of the sub?”
you freeze. so does chat.
he walks into frame like it’s nothing. messy black hair, shirtless, grey sweats hanging dangerously low. a bottle of beer in one hand, a paper-wrapped sandwich in the other. he squints at your screen like he can’t even see the chat, even though it’s moving a mile a minute.
tittymcgee420: WHO IS THATTTTTT
only1braincell: THE BOYFRIEND IS REAL WTF
user21313: OMG?2?;72?17/)27?:72?;
coochiecrumbz: THE TIDDIES
bongwaterenthusiast: WHO IS BIG MEAT DADDY 😭😭😭
you scramble to mute the mic.
“toji,” you hiss, leaning in close. “baby i’m live right now.”
he blinks. “oh. my bad.” he scratches his abs and takes a swig of beer. “just didn’t wanna eat without you.”
“that’s sweet,” you say, “but you’re shirtless and the internet is going crazy right now.”
he glances at the screen again, brows furrowed. “…they can see me?”
“yes.”
“…fuck.” he squints. “which button do i hit to flip them off?”
“toji!”
he just shrugs and saunters off, totally unfazed, calling over his shoulder. “anyway, the sandwich is on the counter. you better hurry up or i’m eating your half.”
you unmute the stream, face hot, jaw slack, throat dry. chat is losing its mind.
ifuckturanus: BITCHLESS NO MOREEEE
user50637: I OWE Y/N AN APOLOGY
ynslapdog: i forgive u for lying abt the sims woohoo cheat
cumslushiez: I’D RISK IT ALL FOR HIM
ovulationstation: HE GOT ANY BROTHERS ???
certifiedfreakazoid: i want him to split me like a sub sandwich
ynistheloml: wait does this mean my chance with y/n is officially dead 💔
-> ih8monkeyslol: oh! i fear it was never alive 😕
-> ynistheloml: MANNNNNNNN FUCK YOU
you let your head fall against the desk with a groan, iced tea forgotten, your character long dead on screen.
“i hate it here.”
+
later, after the horny hysteria dies down and the stream ends, you find him exactly where you expect— spread out on the couch in the dim glow of the kitchen light, one arm behind his head, the other holding the remote, tv volume low as he lazily flips through channels he doesn’t even care about.
you plop down next to him, straddling his lap with a wicked little grin. “you broke my chat.”
“hm?” his hands naturally settle on your hips. “what’d i do?”
“you walked in shirtless, looking hot, and holding a sandwich.”
“…and that broke the internet?”
“yes, you fucking cryptid,” you laugh. “there’s already screenshots. people were simping. you even trended for a second. someone called you ‘feral lumberjack energy.’”
“what the fuck does that even mean?”
you giggle and press a kiss to his jaw, voice sugary sweet. “means they wanna climb you like a tree.”
he grunts, large hands tightening slightly around your waist. “they can’t.”
“oh? why not?”
his eyes flick to yours, low and warm. “’cause you already did.”
your heart stutters. he’s so effortlessly him. dumb, hot, out of touch, older than you by a decade, never knows what twitch is doing but always knows what you need.
“…by the way,” you add, brushing your fingers over his chest, “you know that donation from ‘big meat daddy’? during my last stream?”
“…yeah?”
“was that you?”
he looks smug. “well, i am your big meat daddy.”
you wheeze. “toji—”
“what?” he shrugs. “i was supporting your business. capitalism or whatever.”
you collapse against him in laughter, nearly choking on your own breath, and he just holds you like that— grinning softly while you bury your face in his neck.
“you’re unreal,” you murmur, lips ghosting his skin.
“so are you,” he says, voice rough. “and all those thirsty fucks can keep dreaming. ‘cause you’re mine.”
his grip tightens.
and you feel the shift.
the playful edge in his voice is gone now. replaced by something heavier. darker. possessive.
you glance up at him. he’s staring at you like he’s ready to prove it.
you hum, smiling. “make me believe it then.”
he exhales, slow and deep, hands sliding down to your thighs.
“bed. now.”
+
you lead him by the hand, both of you tripping over your own feet, giggling in that breathless way that happens when the tension snaps all at once and it’s been building all fucking night.
he drops down onto the mattress first, already kicking his sweats down, cock half-hard and twitching with need.
“jesus,” you tease, crawling over him slowly, “you were really about to fuck me over a sub sandwich, huh?”
“‘s not my fault,” he groans, hands already gripping your waist. “you wore those tiny ass shorts and called me hot in front of a thousand horny strangers.”
“jealous?” you grin.
“yeah,” he says, dead serious. “hate when people look at what’s mine.”
you press your hips down against his, your bare pussy rubbing against his stiffening cock. “then show me.”
he doesn’t hesitate— just flips you beneath him, already grinding into you, one hand pushing your wrists down, breath ragged against your ear. but he’s sloppy. desperate. eyes blown wide and mouth open like he’s begging for it.
and you know exactly how to break him.
“nah,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear, “you get on your back.”
he hesitates. only for a second.
then: “fuck. yeah. okay.”
you flip him again and straddle his hips, dragging your soaked cunt over his cock. he twitches, trying to rut up, but you grip his stomach and pin him down.
“ah-ah,” you pout, feigning innocence. “you don’t get to move, baby. just wanna see how desperate you get.”
“already am desperate,” he grits out, biting his lip. “you see what you do to me?”
you hum. then spit on his chest.
“god, you’re so fucking nasty,” you murmur, smearing it over his pec with your palm. “my big, stupid, tech-illiterate slut.”
he lets out a broken moan— full-on whines— when you sink down onto him. the stretch makes your legs shake, makes your cunt flutter around him with the sheer force of it. he’s fucking massive, girth splitting you open inch by inch.
“fuckfuckfuck,” he hisses, head tilting back. “s-so fuckin’ tight—”
“you gonna cry?” you purr, hands pressed to his chest. “can’t handle your own cock?”
“you’re so mean,” he slurs, and it sounds more like a compliment. “you were sweet as hell on stream, now you’re- fuck- fuckin’ milking me—”
you roll your hips harder, faster, bouncing now, your thighs smacking his with each wet slap of skin. toji grabs handfuls of your ass, squeezing and groaning, but never moving his hips like you told him.
“look at you,” you pant. “let your whole dick get bullied by your younger girlfriend.”
he gasps when you slam down all the way, grinding hard against the base.
“shit- baby, please—”
“please what?”
“let me cum,” he begs, completely wrecked. “lemme fuckin’ breed you, please—”
you slow down instantly.
he whines. whimpers.
“mm, no,” you hum. “not yet. not until i say.”
“you’re evil,” he groans, blinking up at you with dazed, glassy eyes. “mean little streamer brat. makin’ me sit through all that twitch bullshit just to torture me like this…”
“i think you like it.”
you lean down and kiss him. slow, wet, filthy. he moans into your mouth, his body trembling under yours.
“you do everything i say,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “subscribed to me. followed me. sent a dumbass donation with ‘big meat daddy’ as the name.”
“‘s a good name,” he mumbles, fucked out and smiling.
you laugh, kissing him again— then slam your hips down.
he yelps. like he wasn’t expecting it. like he’s a live wire under your hands.
you bounce harder, faster, now fully riding him. his cock hits deep, your soaked cunt swallowing him whole with every thrust. he’s so fucking loud— groaning, gasping, mumbling fuck and baby and too good, too much, fuuuckk you’re perfect—
you grab his throat.
“shut up and take it.”
his eyes roll back. “yes, ma’am—”
you lean in, panting against his ear. “daddy wants to be bred but can’t even hold it together.”
he thrusts up once— instinctual, needy.
you slap his chest. “i said still.”
“fuck- fuck,” he cries, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.
you ride him like a pornstar— like it’s your job— until he’s sobbing under his breath, hands trembling around your waist, and your pussy’s dripping with the mess of it all.
“okay,” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “you can cum.”
he cums instantly. loud. desperate. so much of it.
his hips twitch, then buck. he moans your name— slurred and broken— and fucks up into you with each pulse of his cock. you ride him through it, cooing in his ear, licking the sweat from his neck, hands all over him while he spills everything inside you like he’s waited all day for it.
“good boy,” you breathe. “just for me.”
he’s still twitching. still holding you tight. whispering little fuck, fuck, baby as he starts to come down.
you clench around him one last time, grinding slow.
“hope the chat sees this.”
he wheezes a laugh. “put that shit behind a paywall.”
this may or may not be the dumbest thing i ever made but hey, at least i had fun writing it ;p
synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.
cw: MDNI, time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)
notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!
song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots
Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer.
His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult.
He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.
Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him.
And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs.
He’s exhausted.
The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak.
Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him.
He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things?
One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark.
That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way.
“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery.
He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this.
“Oh hey, you’re home.”
Home?
He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.
You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago.
You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”
First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?
Second, who even are you?
Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger.
Fuck.
“Honey–”
Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again.
“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”
Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth.
There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru.
Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.
“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”
He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”
“You also liked to argue, too.”
“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?”
“No.”
“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“
You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?”
“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you.
“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.”
–
“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”
The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere.
“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”
Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”
“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”
“31.”
Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.”
Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.
“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”
“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody.
Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude.
“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion.
He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”
Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?”
“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”
“I tried my best! I swear!”
“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”
“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”
“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”
The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.
“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.
The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed.
—
You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand.
“Is the food good?”
“Sure.”
“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement.
“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.”
Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”
“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?”
Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.
“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being.
A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.
“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”
It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital.
“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.
“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake.
“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”
Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.
“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”
Sai wasn’t having that.
Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite.
But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.
“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”
“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself.
You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous.
“What?”
There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”
“She’s weird.”
“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”
“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid.
He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind.
“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious.
He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad.
For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear.
—
It’s been over a month.
Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.
But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort.
Over his dead body.
Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.
So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.
Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising.
Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married.
Satoru looks over your body once.
Twice.
He totally understands his future self.
He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks.
It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you.
You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure.
“Hey… any good news?”
“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.”
“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“
“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”
You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.
After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.
“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”
“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”
The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine.
But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him.
You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.”
It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here.
“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered.
He’s always had a thing for milfs.
Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now.
“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”
You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you.
“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you.
And you fucking miss that.
He opens his mouth to respond.
Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you.
Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid.
His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”
Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”
It’s starting to sound more natural.
“Y-yeah,” she sniffles.
Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried.
His little girl was a dream.
—
Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.
It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world.
He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does.
It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.
With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table.
The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions.
You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off.
“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”
He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?”
“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.”
You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact.
Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.
It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake.
Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”
Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now.
“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone.
Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”
“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”
“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“
“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”
“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“
“Kay’ good night.”
Click.
Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head.
He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning.
“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?”
“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.”
“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him.
“So is waking me up.”
“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”
“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?”
“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.”
Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.”
“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden.
And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.
You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?”
“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.
“I can take care of that, you know.”
“What?”
“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.
“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”
“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?”
“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.”
“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.”
Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock.
“Feel good?”
His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”
You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.
“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask.
“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient.
His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”
“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”
You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are.
His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all.
"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.”
“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.
It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that— lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him.
"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."
You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out.
You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort.
"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."
You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder.
He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”
“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”
“You want me to fuck you harder?”
“Yeah.”
Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper.
“Better?”
He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”
“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.”
He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life.
Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”
“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”
He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch.
Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you.
“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself.
When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him.
You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.
And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.
—
It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back.
What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?
He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.
Acceptance.
He likes his life here.
You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.
No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second.
With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life.
You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache.
He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start.
You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.
“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.
There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”
He’s back.
“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”
—
Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.
Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers.
Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly.
Satoru was fucking devastated.
Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo.
God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point.
One Year Later
“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone.
It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job.
“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”
“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.”
The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable.
He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit.
It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him.
The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time.
“And what can I get started for you today?”
His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.
“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”
“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie.
“Name for the order?”
“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”
He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”
“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind:
He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number.
