#'get him--get him off the road. he's not an animal' i was absolutely fucking gone i couldve chewed through someones hand oh my god

[buckysdoll1520]

“No!” I yell cutting him of “you don’t get to fucking blow up on me when I come down here asking if you ok that’s not how this fucking works!” you yelled, the stress from the ordeal upstairs and now him blowing up on you like that had caused a split to start. “Y/n-”Jasper start to speak. “No fuck you!” You we’re beyond pissed, when you had a your mood could go from 0-1000 really quickly.

You turn away going to open the door that when back in to the house he tried to grab you’re arm to talk to you and turn around to yell back in response. “Don’t fucking touch me right now!” you continued through the door up the stairs going to the living room.

Once in the living room you see Esme holding Liam on her knee on the couch. “Are you alright?” Esme asked in her sweet mothery tone. “Um y-yeah I’m fine,um Esme do you think it would be alright if you watched him while I run to the dollar store really quick?” You asked rushed want to get out of the house to cool off and probably have a bit of a meltdown in the car. “Yes absolutely, take as long as you need dear” Esme said sweetly, because little know to you she and everyone else had heard your and Jaspers argument. “Ok thank you I’ll be back in a few minutes” you said as you walked down the steps to get the front door. You quickly put on your shoes and grabbing a jacket and Jasper car keys, you walked out.

Once you got in the car you turned it and plugged up your phone to the cars smart stereo. You selected your $uicideBoy$ playlist and turned up the volume until it drowned out your inner voice that kept telling you were a bad person, a bad girlfriend and a horrible mom and that you should just disappear and that jasper was probably gonna breakup with you and you would have to move out of the Cullens house and move back in with your dad and not have a car again. Soon the voice got to much and you pulled over to the side of the road and put on your flashers. You sat there for a good hour-hour and a half before stopping crying screaming/yelling and banging your hands against the steering wheel out of anger and frustration.

After completing calming down you looked at the time releasing how long you had actually been gone and started to wonder if anyone had texted,because you had put your phone on dnd. So you picked it up out of the cup holder and turned down your music a bit. When you looked at your phone you saw the Jasper had called you 15 times and text 25 text messages.

You sighed let out a whispered “fuck…FUCK!”, you put your phone back into its resting place, and begin to pull out, once you pulled out you cut off your flashers and headed to the dollar store. As you pull in to the parking lot,you to a couple deep breaths and flip your visor down to make sure you looked ok-ish. Once in the dollar store you couldn’t help but stroll into the baby section looking at all the cute onesies,toys, blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. You’re heart ached at the fact you only had 15$ in your wallet, even though Carlisle and Esme had both told you they didn’t care to pay for things for the baby, you were hesitant…only because you hated taking money and help from other people.

So you bought Liam new pack of pacifiers, a bib and a stuffed chicken. The bib was blue and had a giraffe on it, the pacifiers had stars and moons on them, and the chicken was well, a stuffed chicken. You payed for everything and headed to the car. Once you get settled in the car you headed back to the Cullens house. As you pulled in the driveway you saw Jasper was on his balcony with a sour look on his face.

When you walked the door you could hear Edward laughing at Rosalie, he always laughs at her when she baby talks with Liam. It wasn’t necessary but you announced your self “I’m home!” You yelled in a sing songy voice as you laid the keys in to the dish they rested in, and taking off your shoes and coat. Walking up the stairs you heard Liam squealing out in laughter, “hey bubby, mommy got you some stuff at the store” you said in baby voice with a smile on your face. “Has he ate yet, I left a bottle in the fridge?” You asked Esme. “Uh yeah Jasper feed him a few minutes ago” she said almost hesitated to mention his name. “Ok,um..where is Jasper?” You asked looking around not seeing him anywhere. “He’s up your guys room, he’s stayed up there for a while until Liam started crying when he got hungry.” Edward said coldly, as if I had taken too long or it was an inconvenience that Liam was here and he has gotten fussy.

“Ok, I’m gonna go talk to him about earlier. Rose do you have him?” I asked. “Yeah I’ve got him take as long as you guys need” she said with a smile.

Once you got up stairs you stared at your and jasper’s bedroom door for a good five minutes, there were a million thoughts run through you head, he’s gonna break up with you, he’s gonna yell…he could hit you like your ex used to…you felt sick, you felt bile rise in your throat, burning it. You swallowed heavily and finally knocked on the door, you heard a low “come in.” You walked in the door pressing your back against it to try and ground yourself. “Jas-” “Don’t..”he cut you off before you could even get his name out. He spoke in a rushed tone as if he was holding his voice back, he stood on the balcony looking at the sky. “Do you know how worried I was!? You were gone for over 2 hours, I thought something happened the only reason I didn’t go looking for you is because of Liam!” He finally spoke clearly but when he did it came out in a yell.

You felt tears brim you’re eyes you’re nose started to burn, and you’re throat went dry. When you went to speak the words wouldn’t form all that was a sob. It sounded as if the air was trapped in your lungs. “I-I know I’m sorry, just get it over with…please I want to go see Liam, an-and Edward is already pissed at me,cause the baby was fussy a-and I known I’m a bad girlfriend and a bad mom and I’ma-shitty p-person all around! I’m sorry just get it over with please.” You stuttered and rambled out as tears streamed down your face and as you finished your sentence you began to slide down the door and started to hyperventilate. “I know I’m a pain in the ass a-and I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I know you could do so much better, you could have someone that’s skinny and pretty like Bella o-or Alice!” When you continued on your rant Jasper’s mood changed quickly.

He rushed over to you as you sat with your back against the door banging you head against it trying to stop the yelling in your head, that little voice in your head that told you Liam deserved better, that he deserved a mother like Esme or Rosalie that was put together and had it all figured out. “Sugar look at me, please come on don’t do that you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Jasper spoke in a soft sweet tone, putting his hands behind your head to soften the blows you were giving yourself as you hit you head. “No! Why aren’t you screaming or hitting me? Get mad! Get mad at me Damnit!” you screamed through your tears. As you screamed the last part you hit his chest as hard as you could. “D-do something…tell ho-how I’m a bad mom o-or, how I’m never gonna be good enough for you, or you’re fucking perfect family!”

Sobs shook your body as jasper looked at you as if he didn’t hear you. “Look at me…please doll look at me.” He begged you as you sobbed hanging your head low, picking at the skin around your fingers. You finally shook your head, so you had left him no choice. He pulled you into his lap as he sat in the floor beside you. “Baby…I need you to look at me…please” he said softly with is thick Southern draw. Jasper sat there for what felt like an eternity, before he realized that you were shutting down. His worst nightmare was coming true he was losing you. He couldn’t lose you. He pressed pressed a firm kiss on your hair line, as he mumbled in to your hair line. “Doll please don’t shut me out. I can’t loose you y/n,I can’t” As he spoke softly you could hear his voice breaking at the end of his sentence.

Jasper sat with you straddling his thighs for almost two and a half hours. You head was against his chest, your breathing had finally calmed down. Jasper’s hands ran up and down your sides and back. You still refused to look at him. “Hey darling, you still with me?” Jasper questioned slowly stopping his hands. You shook your head in to his chest. “Alright, do you want to talk?” Jasper asked hesitantly. You shook your head,feeling tear prick your eyes once more.

Then Jaspers phone vibrated against the floor where it sat beside you both. He leaned to pick it up from its resting place. It was a message from Esme.

Esme :Liam is asleep if you want to come get him or I could bring him upstairs but if you and Y/n aren’t done talking then I keep him down here with me and Carlisle.

Jasper sat his phone back on “Do you want me to go get the baby and bring him up here or do you want to leave down there while we talk?” Jasper asked as he began running his hands down your sides again. “Can you bring him up here.” You said in a scratchy voice, from all the crying and yelling. “Ok,I’ll be right back darling,you want anything from downstairs?”

This is my teaser let me know what y’all think !

[farenmaddox]

saw the WIP challenge from @wanderingcas about posting a snippet from something you're working on and getting some motivation for it. I've gotten all in my head about my post-canon SPN fic and completely stalled out on it, so I thought I'd just... try this and see if it helps.

“You’re in heaven?” Sam speaks up, when Dean can’t seem to find any words.

“Oh. Yes. I suppose that would be news. To be fair, Jack having the power to bring me there was news to me.”

Dean is so, so fucking stupid. Obviously Jack came to get Cas, that would still be part of fixing all of the shit from before, not interfering in new stuff. Obviously Cas isn’t just suffering in the Empty for eternity, holy shit. It makes him so relieved that he kind of has to lean on one of the posts for a minute.

“Dean?” Cas asks, tensing up immediately.

“M’good,” he mumbles, waving him off. He just… needs to breathe.

Sam rushes in and pulls Cas into an absolutely crushing hug, saying, “Thanks for coming. Is… is Jack...?”

“He can’t visit without violating the rules. He asked me to say hello on his behalf, though.”

“Oh,” Sam says, deflating a little. “That’s okay. Glad you’re here, anyway. Are you, uh, do you have to go back right away? Does the interference thing include, you know, talking to us?”

“I’m not Jack. I am free to do as I wish,” Cas says.

“Man, it would be nice if you wished to help us get rid of some vamp bodies,” Dean mutters, because the enormity of what just happened is slamming into him like a truck, and he kind of wants to do the rest of this debrief somewhere that isn’t covered in his own blood, maybe after getting those kids home to their deeply traumatized mother.

Cas just looks at him for a long time, but that’s not new. Dean just looks back. He’s so, so tired and there’s work to do, and this is how they operate, right? Do the job until the job’s done, and then they do the celebrating. Cas knows that as well as anybody.

“Fine,” Cas says, short and clipped. And then the bodies are just gone, and so is the blood, from one blink to the next.

Dean chuckles in spite of himself. “You that eager to get to the part where you yell at me, ya big fuckin’ hypocrite?”

Read the rest (approx. 500 more words) under the cut

Cas flinches away from that, actually, and goes striding back out of the barn. “The children are hiding behind a large tree roughly fifteen yards that direction,” he says, waving vaguely. “I assume there wouldn’t be room in the car if you need to transport them, so I’ll meet you in town.”

Sam and Dean stare at each other.

“Jesus,” Dean mutters. “Well, it’s definitely Cas, huh?”

Sam’s face twitches. Dean’s twitches right back.

A few seconds later, they are fully busting-up, clutching-their-guts, howling-like-animals laughing. They collapse into each other’s arms, and yeah, there are a couple of tears thrown in there. Just like, a few. Because hell, Dean had been dying, literally and actually dying, and they had been having a fucking Moment, and it’s not that easy to shake off.

Eventually they get their shit together and find the boys, and they bring them to their mom, who is not great, but is obviously better for having her kids back. There’s a lot of crying going on when Sam and Dean retreat, but their job is done and the part with the tissues and trying to put lives back together doesn’t have anything to do with them.

Cas is waiting by the car when they come back out. Sam immediately rushes in and gives him another hug, the sap, saying, “Sorry, man, I just… it’s really good to see you.”

Cas gives him a huge smile and return hug. “You too, Sam,” he says.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean says, already making for the driver’s seat. “I can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Sam says immediately.

“What?”

“Dean, it’s a fourteen-hour drive to get home from here.”

“And?”

“And I’m not having this conversation in the car! And no, I’m not sitting in the world’s most uncomfortable silence for fourteen hours either! We’re taking our happy asses to a motel or something and finishing what we started in the barn, and it wouldn’t kill us to get some sleep, either.”

Dean stutters something that is trying to be a protest, but isn’t. Sam’s just scowling at him and still pitching a bitch-fit.

“And you’re talking to Cas, too, because you obviously need to!”

“Do I get a say in this?” Cas asks with his eyebrows raised.

“No!” Dean and Sam snap at him at the same time.

“The most recent person to do self-sacrificial bullshit in this family loses voting privileges until the next person screws up,” Dean adds. Cas opens his mouth, scowling, and Dean points a finger at him. “Just now in there does not count, because I did not fucking do that on purpose and you know it.”

Cas closes his mouth.

[havemybackanyday]

6x10 won’t leave me alone, so, uh, here. Have this. (First time posting 911 fic, so... be gentle?)

The roaring in Eddie’s head only stopped once Buck disappeared behind the hospital doors. He watched them swing shut, cutting off the sounds of frantic activity, and leaving Eddie with nothing but the tremor in his knees and the bile in his throat. However bad the last few minutes had been—and he can’t say for sure that he entirely remembers them—this silence was worse.

He tore his gaze away from the wake of Buck’s exit. Behind him, the rest of the 118 stood, their own versions of Eddie’s helplessness behind their eyes. Bobby reached a hand toward Eddie’s shoulder, and without thinking, Eddie jerked backward. It was too much. Everything was too much.

“I…” He didn’t know what the rest of the sentence should be. He dropped his head. Eddie needed to be anywhere but here. Not to run from it, just… just to breathe. Just until he could get his head around it. 

Eddie strode wordlessly toward the exit, and behind him, he heard Bobby saying to the others, “It’s okay. Give him a minute.”

Outside, the rain still hammered down. Eddie felt the old familiar clutching in his chest, and pressed his forehead against a damp concrete wall, breathing slowly. Something inside him had been torn out, had gone through those doors with Buck. But it would come back out. It had to. The alternative was… incomprehensible. 

A tingling started in his fingers, but he breathed through it, riding the waves of panic until they lessened. He didn’t know what to do next. No, that was a lie… He did. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. Didn’t know how to do it. Wanted to ask Buck. 

That pulled a miserable laugh out of him, which turned into a sob, and then the tears came hot and fast.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there before a hand came to rest, warm and light, on his shoulder. Eddie turned into Bobby’s crushing hug and bunched the back of his captain’s turnout in his fists. 

“I know,” said Bobby. “We’ve got you.”

Eddie pulled back and ran a hand over his face, swiping away some of the tears. “I gotta go home. I have to… I have to tell Chris.”

Bobby’s hand tightened on Eddie’s shoulder, silently agreeing. 

“He’s such an… an open-hearted kid, Cap. He loves everybody. Loves big.” Eddie cleared his throat and laughed wetly. “He sure as hell doesn’t get that from me. You know exactly how long a road it was for me to start letting people in.”

Bobby shook Eddie’s shoulder gently. “I do. But you put in the work-”

“And look what it got me.” Eddie couldn’t keep the rank bitterness out of his voice. “I have to go tell my kid that another one of the people that we- that he loves most in the world…” Fuck. Eddie wasn’t going to speak that into the universe, screaming or no.

Bobby leaned to catch his eye. “A big heart will get you hurt, sure. But it’s that kind of love that keeps us going.”

“Oh, I know it,” muttered Eddie, wiping another tear. “Chris may not get it from me, but I have a pretty good idea who he does get it from. And that guy’s one of the toughest sonsabitches I know.”

Bobby wrapped his hand around the back of Eddie’s neck. “You’re damn right he is.” Bobby raised his eyes toward the ER doors as if he could see Buck beyond them, and Eddie followed his gaze. “We’ve gotta hold on to that.”

They stood like that for a few minutes, watching the rain come down.

It wasn’t long before the silence bore in again on the edges of Eddie’s mind. It was a heavy stillness, the unshifting weight of massive grief that he’d known absolutely enough of in his life, thanks, and standing there with Bobby, he felt it stalking him again. His mind was going around in circles like a frightened animal, looking for something to grab hold of, reaching for Buck, remembering that Buck was…

“Bobby. He…” It burst out of Eddie, in spite of himself, and he didn’t know what words came next. Fear was climbing up his throat, fear that this… thing that was him and Buck was on the verge of suffocation under all the quiet. “He… we…” His voice gave out on him, and fresh tears spilled down his face. 

Bobby rubbed a soothing thumb across his shoulder, in a way that made Eddie think maybe he heard what Eddie couldn’t find a way to say. Eddie closed his eyes, regrouping. Deep breath in. Out slowly. 

“It’s brave, that kind of love. Chris, and Buck? They’re brave.” He turned to look at Bobby. “Braver than me.”

Bobby’s composure flickered, just for a moment, lines of pain appearing beside his eyes. He pulled Eddie into another suffocating hug.

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll drive you home.”

[masked-disciple]

ayo all 5 seasons of Storm Chasers is on Youtube for free so like. if u want Tornado Time. it's there

(From my email inbox and my own tweet reply from earlier today.)

Delighted to tell you I am Already Aware of that show, although I haven't sat down and watched it in full because I've had zero time. Mostly when it's Tornado Time I run through my favourite Pecos Hank videos, or I find every single video that's ever done coverage of the El Reno 2013 EF-5. Skip Talbot did a two hour panel on it that was recorded and I've watched it several times.

Mind you, the fact I could identify Ivey's run with the TIV2 on a single screenshot of a video reposted twice without even reading the credit watermark is probably impressive.

Did you know that thing was more or less an armoured jeep, with hydraulic spikes that drove several feet into the ground to keep it from being flung? They lost two doors and most of the antennae and other recording equipment on top to that EF-4 in the video. Given that they lost the doors, and as my tweet says that was actual sheet metal across the windshield, it's a miracle neither of them died.

I dug up Ivey's original tweet about it way back when, quote-tweeted it just to remark on his steel balls, and the fucker liked my quote tweet within the day. Bro.

I wholly, 100% recommend Pecos Hank (Hank Schyma)'s channel for good tornado content, he's also a sweetheart with animals and absolutely understands that the moment the tornadoes are gone, stormchasers are now first responders. He's got a few videos pretty much entirely on rescuing people from debris and reporting to authorities that there's tornadoes on the ground.

Skip Talbot's great, much as I think he looks like baby Josh Hutcherson. Reed Timmer's aight, although I think he's a bit on the loud-streamer side personally. Dr. Anton Seimon's a treat whenever you can catch his footage on Youtube. Brandon Ivey has less of a Youtube presence than the others, but he also lets people do tours with him, which is a great way to see tornadoes and also Not Get In The Way Of The Actual Chasers.

But also like, catch y'all in a few days to a few weeks when Hank's done with the outbreak he put in my email and has the videos out for it. I've seen some lovely footage off twitter from the locals, can't wait to see the professional stuff on youtube.

To end things off, heavy heavy reminder to not chase tornadoes yourself. If you are not a chaser, get the fuck off the roads, and if you have safe shelter, get the fuck into your shelter. Tornadoes are lethal. Just because you're moving faster than it is doesn't mean you can deal with them pulling u-turns, swelling, and throwing trees and semis in your way. If you cannot identify the RFD in a matter of seconds, then you are in the way of actual chasers and you need to get the fuck off the road and into shelter. If you want to be there that bad, pay them to let you ride in the backseat and let them drive. You are probably not a scientist, these people are, and if things turn south (or north, I guess, most tornadoes don't track south) that's how you get people killed.

And now I must go to bed before I end up watching a ton of tornado videos all night when I have shit to do tomorrow. F in chat. Tornado time should be Always.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (889): Sun 25th Aug 2024

This morning as I went from my hotel room to the breakfast area the hotel staff were parading around some dude dressed in a King Kong costume to wave at the kids. This is absolutely fucking cruel. It’s 36 god damn degrees in Greece at the moment you can’t be forcing some poor fucker into a gorilla suit in this heat the poor cunt won’t be able to breath. What’s worse is that if you get a reputation for having your actors appear in animal costumes then that is the perfect way to start abusing animals because after a while you could just get a real gorilla, force it into this suit and then the authorities will just assume that it’s one of the human performers. Anywho, after I realised there was nothing I could do to make the above paragraph about animal suits entertaining I found a stream to watch AEW’s All In. Had I not been on holiday I don’t think would’ve gone to this years event because although I enjoyed last years event the travel and all the faff really put me off going to see live wrestling again (unless it’s a decent local indie show). The stream I was using kept cutting off and I had to keep exiting and re-entering the stream but it was an illegal stream so I can’t exactly complain. I think this year they did a good job of spreading the fans out so the empty section was less noticeable though it could have been argued they could have done even more by starting to build towards this show MUCH earlier than they did so that the same amount of people would come as did last year. The big surprises coming out of this years show is that Ricochet is All Elite, debuting in the Casino Gauntlet. Even though I’m glad he’s joined the company I thought they could’ve done a much better job of debuting him. Could they have had someone hold an open challenge and have Ricochet answer it? Sting made his return to save Darby Allin from being set alight after he lost a coffin match to Jack Perry who I have to say, major props for getting as over as he did. I think initially the AEW faithful were pissed at him for costing them Punk but now I think they’ve realised that Punk was in the wrong. Britt vs Mercedes was okay. It started off really slow and the two ladies were fighting an uphill battle since the fans were knackered after MJF and Ospreay but I think eventually both ladies got the crowd pumped up again. Hearing 50,000 fans (don’t quote me on that) singing along to The Final Countdown might be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard in wrestling and the one thing that makes me regret not going to this show. I’m so happy for Bryan winning the world title and I don’t think this will damage Swerve’s star power at all, he can always win it back down the road.

[miiishra]

So it's gonna still be a little while before a fic update between weekend things, Diablo IV, and getting my new tablet set up, so here's a continuation of the Oko/Rowan travel scene. And if you wanna know more about it, you can read the first three chapters of The Witch of Thunder Junction on AO3.

---

The elk bellowed and reared up, and Rowan clutched at its neck to keep from being thrown off. But that only seemed to make matters worse, because too late she saw the sparks zapping wildly from her hands, and the next thing she knew, she had hit the dirt hard. 

“Rowan, what the fuck!?” 

Sore, Rowan sat up to see Oko glaring at her. There was no pretense, no alluring masks, he was pissed. She knew, absolutely knew, this was the real him she was looking at. No one could fake that kind of rage. In that moment, teeth and truth bared, he looked like a caged animal ready to pounce. 

And just like that, it was gone when Oko stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. He took a breath, making a show of pulling himself back together, straightening his hat, careful not to touch the thorns that lined its wide brim. “I would appreciate it, Princess, if you would stop zapping me every five minutes.” He flashed her a pleasant smile, but she did not miss the way his eyebrow twitched. “It really, really hurts, actually.” 

Of all the people Rowan didn’t want to hurt on accident, Oko wasn’t even on that list. And yet, guilt washed over her all the same. She bit her lip, trying to keep the words in because, even though she hated him, she really hated him, three years later she was still that stupid naive girl. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Oko’s expression was too surprised to not be real. Rowan brushed past him, following the road toward town without another word. 

He stood there for another heartbeat or two, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, damn it. Hey, Rowan, wait up! If it was an accident, then okay, that’s understandable. You can’t control your powers, yeah? Then we can figure it out – “ 

She whirled on him so fast he nearly slammed into her. Oko jumped back like a rabbit, his skin tingling from the sudden sharp static in the air. “We are not friends,” she hissed. 

“Come again?” 

“This,” Rowan continued, gesturing between them. “Whatever this is. We’re not friends. We’re not partners, comrades, or even allies in the loosest sense of the word. We are two people stuck together due to circumstances beyond our control.” 

He shrugged, his smile not wavering as if he already knew this fact. “I mean, this is all technically your fault.” 

“Shut up.” Rowan’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I don’t need your lip, either.” 

“Oh?” Oko’s eyes danced, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the cliff. “Then what do you need from me, Princess? You’re the one who called to me, after all. You were the one who said to Miss Annie that you needed me. Don’t be shy, Princess~ tell me. It’s a little cruel to lead a guy on like this, don’t you think? I might get the wrong impression.”

The gleeful grin on his face made her sick. The bastard was enjoying this. 

Rowan took a step back. This man was dangerous. This man had once tried to take everything from her. 

She must never, ever forget that. Never forget what she had seen in the faery ring.

“Look,” she said slowly, determined to take back control of the conversation. “All I’m saying is that even though we mean nothing to each other – and don’t even try to pretend otherwise – I would never hurt you. I mean, not on purpose, at least. Not without reason. That’s it. So stop making things weird. Everything is already complicated enough as it is without your foolishness.” 

And with that, Rowan turned on her heel, throwing over her shoulder, “The town is close. I can walk on my own from here.” 

---

If he were to continue pushing her buttons like this…

What more wonderful expressions would she make for him?   

How much longer would she continue to surprise him? 

How far could he make her go?

[catscraftsandcommentary]

If you love kittens, I have good news:

I have THREE, they are are all ADORABLE, and I LOVE sharing their pictures!

(Also I heard you've been having a rough time, so fuzzy animal pics, am I right?)

My oldest is Leo

He just turned 8, he's very friendly with new people, he LOVES neck scratches and cat treats of every type, he grows a thick, magnificent fur coat with a glorious lion's mane every winter that he refuses to let me brush, the absolute dumbass, and when he's in a cuddly mood, he'll sometimes let me use him as a pillow if I keep scratching his neck. A purring, floofy cat pillow is the HEIGHT of luxury, let me tell you.

Fun fact: Leo was (sort of) a wedding favor from my cousin's wedding. My aunt was taking care of a mama cat and her five kittens, she begged my dad to take one of the babies right as we were headed out of town, Dad is weak for helping his little sister AND for cute baby animals...it's at least the fourth time we've made an eight hour (or longer) road trip home with an unexpected new pet.

Next are the twins, 3.5 year old daughters Angie and Peggy.

(Peggy has the white nose, Angie has the gray nose)

Angie's my baby girl. She's here snuggling me right now and was the other day; she's usually stuck to me like glue. She genuinely LOVES crawling under the blankets and being the little spoon as long as I don't lay too many blankets on top of her. (Or at least prop the blankets up to make a little cave for her.) She'll lick my nose and face raw if I let her; I've literally gotten scabs from it before. She chirps when I walk in the room or look at her and it's the cutest damn thing - one day I'll get a video of it. She tries to do the cute "roll over, show her belly" thing that Peggy does, but half the time she rolls off of something or into something, bless her. She greets me at the door when I get home from work and has the prettiest green eyes.

*boops her nose*

Peggy is my shy baby. Well. Really she's my DAD'S shy baby, as she bonded to him more than anyone. If it's just family at home, she's confident and flirty, perched on the dining room table or one of the chairs, looking for attention however she can get it. She loves a good neck scratch and will walk all over you and headbutt your hand to get what she wants. She ABSOLUTELY knows how cute she is, and will roll over, show her fluffy white tummy, and then STRETCH just to get your attention. And it works. Every time. She gets so many belly rubs (that she turns into neck scratches) that way.

HOWEVER. As soon as a non-family person nears the house? Goodbye, fuck y'all, see you never, she is GONE. There is only ONE time that I know of when she WILLINGLY came within sight of a stranger, however briefly, and that was after our house had been empty the entire day. (Four adults live here, and 3-4 of us are home basically all the time. Even having just 2 people home is unusual.) Also I had pre-warned my friend to be quiet and not startle our cats.

The disappearing act is a PROBLEM because...well...just look at her! How am I supposed to share her if she keeps hiding?!?

Ma'am how are you so cute stop being so cute that is ILLEGAL

Went to your AO3 hoping to find the batcrack, and instead found poly Witcher crack! Unexpected but still excellent! My fuzzy daughter also enjoyed it...or at least enjoyed snuggling me while I read it.

Oh yeah, I should try and finish that at some point. I liked that story. My head just became full of knives for a while.

And thank you! I do love writing crackfic. And kittens!

[oc-aita]

AITA for not wanting to get my belt dirty?

Context una: I (28, M) happen to be part of a certain group with some people I'll be calling JB (29, M), AC (32, M), CZ (56, M), PA (35-ish?, M), and LK (24, F), with PA being the "leader". We live separate lives for the most part, but we share a career that requires us to also share a vehicle, the Battle Van (26, Chevy G20).

Context dooey: out of this group, I consider JB and LK to be my best friends, but the problem is that they fucking hate each other. LK is Russian, and the rest of us are either American, Canadian, or whatever PA is, but I personally think the hostility is less about JB not trusting Europeans, more about LK being an open Stalin apologist. I honestly don't care, though.

Context tray: at the time of the incident, I had recently purchased this absolutely wonderful light tan Maroquin belt with a neat little embroidered herringbone pattern on the edges that not only goes perfectly with my favourite pair of shoes, but is also exactly the right width for most of my clip-on knife holsters.

Anyways, as I was going to say, we'd just barely managed to drive out of Chicago after the whole thing with the museum (you've probably heard about it on the news), and we had pulled the Battle Van over on the side of a back road due to a little scuffle we had with a police vehicle (long story short, AC and I were trying to steal the Cubs bumper sticker using a claw on a stick, and the cop got out and said some objectionable things to PA).

We'd found a public cottage, and we were having a little argument about whether we should dump the lacoddy out back, destroy it, or frame it as a suicide. Something about pigs (as in the animal) came up, I don't remember what was said for certain, but, anyways, it led to LK biting out old Lilly Law's jugular vein.

So then LK started choking, so CZ (who's kind of like her adopted father or something?) jabbed her in the chest with his cane a few times, which dislodged what she was choking on, which was the cop's badge. It bounced off the floor a few times, then fell down an open grate on the floor. PA, who'd been trying to make the bite wound look more like a gunshot wound (y'know, so suicide still looked like an option), made JB run out to the Battle Van for the claw on a stick, grabbed it out of his fambles, and told me to take off my belt.

I asked why, and he said he wanted to use it to fish the badge out of the sewer through the grate so as to return it to the corpse. JB objected, saying to give it to him for his badge collection instead. I said no to the both of them, just as they were about to start shouting at each other, because I loved this belt and it was expensive, and no way was I about to dip it in some manky fucking sewer (LK couldn't join the argument because she was still wheezing on the floor, and CZ had gone outside to take some ibuprofen, and AC was busy trying to position the cop on his lallies so that he was face-down in the urinal, so it was just us three).

We kept arguing, and I got so mad I tried to stab PA in the face, but I luckily missed in the heat of the moment and stabbed the air in his empty ogle socket. We only wound up shutting up because CZ came back in to tell us he'd just watched someone steal one of our tires, so JB started yelling at him instead about why he didn't do anything about it.

How we got our tire back is another story, but the whole belt thing never really had a conclusion, so, if you don't mind me asking: am I the asshole?

[steelycunt]

finished trk today. next mutual to recommend me a book is going to have to suffer through a lengthy bureaucratic process including a screening and lots of frivolous forms to fill out in order to guarantee my wellbeing and sanity before i decide to read...frankly i don't trust anybody anymore i don't quite know what to do with myself my bedroom has become a liminal space where time is no longer linear. like an airport early in the morning or a supermarket after dark. christ

[islenthatur]

So we all know the stories where Jaskier collects Witchers like dnd players and dice, how could he not!? And we all know that the ones where Witchers collect Jaskiers friendship too.

But honestly, I just want a fic where the Witchers mounts and lil bleater just collect the noisy-colourful-being-withsnacks...

Animals are smart okay, the horses talk to eachother because how else would they get civilised conversation and of course they'd brag about who carried the heaviest for longest, how many times their stupid people got hurt...

Roach starts off complaining about the noisy-being that followed them one day that just never stopped making noises or trying to pet her. The years pass and the complaints turn into fondess and she comes home more full and cared for than she had in a long time and her witcher does too.

The others, Scorpion, horse, lil bleater all want to meet the human, try to ease their own witchers burdens and just... does.

Jaskier is away from geralt for a competition, and suddenly, he has a very insistent goat bleating at him, pushing him off the road towards Eskel who was injured.

It just goes on from there... Lambert's mount Horse finds him, lips at the pants roach knew held sugar cubes and both Lambert and Jaskier stare at eachother awkwardly while he feeds horse the cubes.

Word travels between the mounts, a hawk that was a familiar to a Griffin flys down and rests on Jaskiers lute while playing, scaring the fuck out of him but shows him to another injured witcher.

Then the mountain happens

Roach loses her horse mind in anger at her Witcher, there would be no more soft songs, no more flowers in her main or apples, her Noisy-foal gone...

The animals revolt, it's a hard season for all witchers and when Geralt gets back after Cintra and Jaskier is with him the animals just go absolutely ballistic in joy and surround him

All the witchers are just watching with the most adorable wtf faces ever.

[justicefanged]

Linus' recklessness ended in only two ways: surprising success, or expected failure. Luckily, despite his sort of nervous and quiet nature, Pelleas was quick to react and keep up with him, if only in an effort to keep any further injury to a minimum. But hey, it worked, right? While his blow hadn't been enough to end the bear, it had capitalized on the shock the animal had been stuck in and made it reel, leaving it wide open to Pelleas' magic.

With a sickening finality, the spikes penetrate the bear's skull and the massive beast topples to the ground. In the moments following its collapse, the forest is quiet around them beyond the sounds of their own labored breaths.

Catching his breath, Linus can't help laughing -- adrenaline still coursing through his body, but ebbing away, leaving him to come down from the rush of near death combat. He leans against his axe, the head of it sinking into the damp earth.

Saints, he missed that rush. Feeling that thread of life tense and bend against the blade of death, but not snapping under the pressure. There really wasn't anything quite like it--

“ I can’t believe you… you did that! I-I thought you were going to DIE! ”

Oh, huh...Kid was way more stressed about this than he thought. They didn't really know each other, so the level of concern sort of caught Linus by surprise. Well, shoot, maybe he shouldn't have gone so hard about it all? Hadn't entirely had a choice in the matter, what with how the bear charged them -- and he'd much rather get chunks taken out of his own hide than Pelleas. Linus could take the pain, he wasn't so sure about the other.

"Uh...Figured that's what I was here for? Like, not the whole dyin' bit, but ya look more like the backline sort," Linus frowned in confusion, following the other's movements as he went about checking wounds. He made a face at the staff, but it was easy enough to pretend like it was a grimace of pain than unease.

To be fair, pain was leaking back into his awareness now that things were calming down. Linus absolutely felt like he'd been tossed around by a big fucking bear.

"Wasn't exactly to plan--" There had been no plan, there was never a plan beyond tracking the beast down and dispatching it. "But I did what I was supposed to do: take the brunt of the damage so you don't. 'Sides, now ya got a good story to tell, right? Show off a li'l! Ya took that ugly bugger down!"

He wasn't sure Pelleas was the sort to do that, though, and it was now in this quiet moment after everything that Linus felt out of his element. He was used to loud, stupid affirmations of being a man. Tough but well-meaning men that slapped you on the back and told you to rub some dirt in it and walk it off, you did a good job and that's what mattered.

"Well, I didn't, so...Ya know, thanks for that. C'mon, 'nough of that. 'M good to walk you and that sorry carcass back to the school. Ya look whipped enough as it is, and I ain't gonna drop dead on the way back. Promise," Linus mulled over, waving off any further aid to his wounds, not sure that was the right thing to say here or not. "Ever butchered somethin' like this before? Can show ya how to do it, if not."

They had a horse and small game wagon back closer to the road, left tied to a tree so that it didn't get in the way or spooked. They'd need to do a lot of the work here, but it'd be easier to get it wrapped up here than to try and navigate the wagon through to this spot.

Bear Steak Sounds Just Right

justicefanged·:

The bear hadn’t been deterred at all by Linus’ efforts to get himself free, but with another quick reaction from Pelleas, a crackling pillar of lightning struck down before the animal could rip into him worse. The bear made a Saints awful noise above him, its shaggy bulk going rigid above him as electricity coursed through it…and through him because the damned bear was right on top of him. Linus grit his teeth against the surge of lightning, feeling the way his body tensed up against his own will.

In the next moment, Linus is blinking up dazedly at the swaying leaves in the forest canopy as Pelleas – and his…magic? the fuck – drags him out from under the weight of the bear. It must have been just as stunned from that magic as he was, as it remained rigid and didn’t seem to notice them moving away.

“Ooouurgh, fu-ck,” Linus gargled out, head lolling a bit as he tried to force his body to move under his own will again.

Tingly…but not, like…in a good way.

“’S fine, ya…good, did good.” Man, he couldn’t feel his tongue, made it real hard to fucking talk. But Pelleas was doing good, absolutely saving his ass right now, that was for sure.

Okay, shake it the fuck off. They weren’t done here, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Pelleas to handle all of this on his own when that bear eventually did come around. So he needed to suck it up, get back on his feet. Definitely easier said than done when he couldn’t…feel where he was putting his damn feet, but he was wobbling back up more or less under his own power.

One benefit of this numb-tingly feeling all over was he couldn’t feel the gouges taken out of his middle or the very much dislocated shoulder. Linus glared down woozily at his arm, unable to move it like he wanted.

Well, okay then.

Grabbing the wrist of his limp arm, Linus pulled it forward so that it was straight and let out a terse breath at the organic pop that followed as he forced his arm back into the socket.

Fuckin’ ouch.

“M'kay, good to fuckin’ go.” Not really, it hurt like an absolute bitch if he moved it, but they still had a bear to kill so he’d muscle through it like he always did. Glancing around for a moment, Linus grinned when he spotted his dropped axe, picking it up with his good arm and turning back to Pelleas.

“You ready to finish the ugly bastard off?”

It was the only warning the other man got before Linus was charging back into it. He definitely wasn’t going to be able to put as much power behind his attack with his dominant arm like this, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity Pelleas had given them by stunning the bear for this long either. Winding up as best he could, both hands on the throat of the weapon, Linus gave a shout as he brought the axe down on the beast’s mighty skull.

The bear roared and reared back, uncoordinated and struggling; axe lodged in its head – but, stubbornly, still alive.

( tw: animal death )

       There was no actual way that Linus was good to go as he said, right? Pelleas watches with great alarm after helping free the man from the bear’s grasp: the pop of his arm, the terse breath, the way his movement swayed on his legs, relying upon one arm more than the other.

There was absolutely no way…!

But the Mad Dog rushes forward anyway before he can even wait for Pelleas’s answer, not giving the dark sage a say in the matter. They were ending this now; they had to, or else… or else…!

Who knows what might happen after that?! What might happen if Pelleas failed here and now, failed to act and bring this man the support he needs in order to avoid a grisly end? Had Linus not suffered enough? One might not think so by the way the man acted, but Pelleas did not hear those noises and think he was fighting alongside a god of a man.

A god of a man would not have those reactions— that way of breathing and unsteady movement. A god of a man would not give signs of weakness, of pain.

Linus was merely a man, and a man can die all the same as any other animal out there!

And so when Linus brings his axe down, Pelleas had already begun to cast his next spell moments before, one final charge of dark spikes… and he drives the sharp implements right there in between the creature’s eyes, finishing it off in an explosive hit.

“ Haah… Haah… Haaaaaaah… ”  Pelleas takes a moment to catch his breath, wide-eyed as the scene halts to a still, the worst of their danger gone— a moment to soak in that they really were truly safe now.

And then he snaps back up, looking over to Linus and running back toward him again, staff in hand.  “ I can’t believe you… you did that! I-I thought you were going to DIE! ”

Pelleas suppresses the urge to gag as he inspects the other man, looking him over before he works to tend to his injuries, flinching through it all the while as he presses forth his magical energy into him. It is an exhausting effort, overwhelming in its force as the seconds tick by, worry overtaking the shaman…

[piecksz]

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by 

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.  

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket.  “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.  

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.  

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.  

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #24: Mine: Katsuki Bakugou

On the way home from a night out with Bakugou, you realize that things may not have gone as smoothly as you’d hoped. 

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, jealous!bakugou, rough sex, rough oral sex (both m and f-receiving), cum swallowing, marathon fucking, spanking, choking if you squint, a little aftercare

Notes: This is f i l t h y. And kind of brutal, to be honest. But if anyone’s going to be an absolute animal in bed, it’s Bakugou when he’s feeling jealous. 

It’s a little more proofread than usual. And kind of on the longish side (~3.5k), so strap in.

You’re welcome? I think? 

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s not until you’re halfway home that you realize something’s up.

Another Friday night, another agency gala. Bakugou hates black tie until you remind him how good he looks in a suit, and he loves to see you in those body-hugging silk dresses as often as possible, so he’s usually happy to suck it up for the occasion.

He’s such a misanthrope that you weren’t even surprised when he tugged you out of there in a hurry, whisking you into the car and driving off in sullen silence.

You’ve been trying to make conversation all the way home- it was nice to see Denki again, I hear Kiri’s teaching at UA these days, did you know Iida’s going back for his Master’s degree- but every time you mention a name from his past, Bakugou’s shoulders draw up tighter around his ears.

Fair enough.

You keep the radio low and distract yourself with the passing downtown lights. You feign serenity, but inside your mind is coming to pieces. If Bakugou’s annoyed at something- comically, playfully, extravagantly annoyed- he’s got road rage like nothing you’ve ever seen. But tonight, he pulls silently up to each red light. Jaw set. Crimson eyes steady on the road.

Something’s really up with him tonight.

He turns smoothly into your underground garage, pulling the car into his parking spot and killing the engine. He shoots you one smouldering, solid glare, then gets out of the car and slams the door nearly hard enough to dent it.

“Baby?” Your voice is tiny as it echoes across the concrete garage, and you shuffle to catch up with him in your narrow skirt and heels. As he pushes open the heavy glass door and you follow him into the elevator bay, your patience narrows.

“Okay,” you sigh, folding your arms over your chest. “You’ve had your time to pout. You’ve made it clear, you’re mad at me. So, are you going to tell me what I did, or do I have to figure that part out for myself?”

The doors roll open. Bakugou grabs your wrist.

He tugs you into the elevator and slams you against the wall so fast you see spots in the bright fluorescent lights over your head. Before you can even process the change in his character, he’s pressed his whole torso along yours, pinning you to the cool granite wall and crushing his mouth on yours.

You kind of hate how into it you are.

You let him kiss you for a minute, but you’re not backing down from this fight. Bakugou’s never been good at communication. You’re working on it. There’s no way you’re letting this one slide.

“Katsuki,” you bark, jerking your face harshly to one side and planting your hands on his shoulders. He gives a vicious snarl, but he’s not forcing you to kiss him.

“Stop it,” you hiss. “If something’s wrong, tell me.”

“You mean you really haven’t figured it out by now?” His voice is low and gravelly and edged by wildness. It’s clear he’s been barely holding on to his temper all the way home.

“No. I haven’t.” The elevator starts to move. It’s a tall building- and it’s a long way up to the penthouse.

“Course you didn’t,” he grunts, still pinning you hard. He draws his mouth along the edge of your jaw. “Shoulda known you wouldn’t notice the way they were all lookin’ at you.”

“Who?”

His temper cracks again and he snarls, shoving you more firmly against the wall again. One hand slides up your chest and his fingers grip tightly at your shoulder, teasing at the hollow of your throat.

Oh.

So it’s gonna be like that.

“Everyone,” he hisses. “Kirishima. Denki. Everyone. You wore that tight little fuckin’ dress and they couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

“Katsuki,” you croon low and smooth, even though you know you’re gonna regret it. “don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

The palm that teased at your throat closes around it now, using its gentle grip to push your head against the wall. He knows exactly how hard to squeeze to get a rise out of you. And he squeezes.

“Don’t.”

He’s warning you, but you’re too relieved to know that you never actually did anything wrong. This is just another one of Bakugou’s temper tantrums that you’re going to benefit from.

“You are,” you hiss, grinning wider. “Jealous of your old classmates? C’mon, baby, you know better than that.”

“Shut up.”

His mouth covers yours again. His thumb brushes over the flutter of your pulse point as he licks into your mouth, biting down hard and sucking at your lower lip.

The elevator chimes. Before the doors can roll open, he stoops and grabs you by the thighs. He slings you over his shoulder and straightens easily, delivering a harsh slap to your ass.

“Katsuki!” You squirm over his shoulder, beating at the back of his coat as your face goes hot. There are two apartments on this floor, and the chances that one of your very respectable neighbours is standing in the hallway aren’t zero.

Smack.

Another blow, to the other cheek this time, and you go still.

“Quit strugglin’,” Bakugou barks, “or I’ll drop you on your head.”

He shifts your weight easily into one arm, digging into his pants pocket and producing his key. Deftly, he unlocks the door to your condo and pushes it in with his shoulder. As soon as he kicks the door shut behind him, he sets you on your feet.

Before you can scold him for your burning cheeks, he shoves both hands under the edges of your coat, wedging it off your shoulders.

“C’mere,” he snarls. He slides one hand down your back, between the wool and the silk, and palms the swell of your ass. Your coat hits the floor in a swath of black tweed and then he’s stooping again to pick you up, forcing your thighs apart around his hips. The smirk that decorates his features is vicious. His cheeks have gone pink.

You’re a sucker for him when he gets like this.

“Listen to me.” He sets you on the kitchen counter and steps up between your thighs, shoving your long skirt up and sideways around its high slit. “I am not. Jealous. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re fuckin’ mine, okay?”

“You’d think the fact that we’re-hmmmph.”

He kisses you again before you get to finish your sentence, then rips himself from your lips. He tugs your body closer by the hips and buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, nipping and sucking hard at the skin there in his best attempt at leaving a mark. All the while, his fingers fumble with the straps on your dress, slipping them off your shoulders.

He wraps his hands in the silk bodice and tugs. Hard. One of the straps snaps over your upper arm as he shoves your dress down around your waist, exposing your chest.

“Baby,” you whine, but you know he’ll make it up to you later.

“All fuckin’ mine,” he growls again, slipping his rough palms over your breasts and squeezing them together. “Gonna make you feel it, sweetness.”

He attacks your collarbones and breasts, leaving mark after mark as his teeth and tongue lave over your skin. When he’s had enough, he gets down on his knees in front of the counter and curls his fingers into your underwear, tearing it clean off your body.

“Katsuki!” You grab him by the top of the head, attempting to push him away by his hair.

“You shouldn’t wear such flimsy shit, if you don’t want me to break it,” he chuckles, already biting up the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me,” he mumbles, tugging you right to the edge of the counter and bracing your thighs in both hands. “Can Shitty Hair make you scream like this?”

He dives into your pussy, plunging his tongue straight into your tight heat and making you shudder and moan. You can’t help but bend to his whim- he knows your body better than his own, and he’s not shy about showing it off.

Bakugou’s desperate, tongue-fucking you with reckless abandon. He swirls messy saliva around the tender nub of your already-swollen clit. Sometimes he’s patient, working you to the edge slowly, but tonight he forces pleasure into you, brutal and unrelenting.

You live for it.

“Katsuki,” you whine, raking your fingers through his unruly hair, “baby, please, oh, fuck!”

Your first orgasm hits you mercilessly, and you cum with a deep cry of pleasure as your heels draw up his back. You’re still wearing your shoes- pretty, strappy sandals that drive him crazy. Even crazier, when they’re digging into his flesh like they are now.

“That’s it,” he growls, drawing back from you all slicked-up and wild-eyed. His lips are flushed deep from gorging himself on you, and he wipes the back of his mouth with a silk shirtsleeve as he gets to his feet, shrugging impatiently out of his suit jacket.

“God, fuck,” you sigh. You reach for him, but he grabs you again, lifting you onto his hips. This time he’s hard, and you can feel it twitching against the inside of your thigh, heated and ready.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

This time, he makes it as far as the sofa before he flops into the cushions, dragging you into his lap. You straddle him eagerly and lean forward against his chest, the fabric of your dress still bunching around your waist and hips. You grab him by the jaw and kiss away the lingering remnants of your lipstick while he palms your ass and grinds the stiff, pressed wool of his crotch and his straining cock shamelessly against you.

For an instant, you sense control. And he lets you enjoy it. Slowly he lifts his hands to your back, smoothing the fabric of your dress with one palm so he can grasp its zipper and slide it open with the other.

As soon as he breaks from your mouth to lift the fabric over your head, you know what you want to do with your reins.

“Where’r you goin’?” He scolds, watching you draw back from his lap. His crimson gaze is clouded with lust. But his jaw is still tight, frustration licking at his body like flames.

“Not far.”

You drop to your knees in front of him. Tug his shirt roughly out of his pants and slide your fingers underneath it to find his fly.

He chuckles, low and feral, smoothing a hand through what’s left of your hairstyle for the night.

“That’s my girl,” he chides. “Show me who you belong to.”

The prospect strikes a nerve of want somewhere deep inside you. You dig your hands into the folds of his undershorts, wrapping your hands around the hot silk of his erection and pulling it into the open.

It’s impossible for you to pretend that Bakugou doesn’t have the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. When he’s hard like this, it’s pink and flushed and drooling slick precum. It’s thick and soft and curving up toward his belly. It’s like he’s made for you. You fit together like the two halves of a lock. Sculpted for each other, molded out of one another.

And he loves it when you suck him off.

You give the tip of his twitching cock a bare little lick and his fingers twist, tightening threateningly in your hair.

“Don’t tease me, sweetness,” he snarls, “or I’ll make you choke on it.”

He’s probably going to do that anyway.

You brace your hands on his thighs and straighten up, sucking his tender tip into your mouth. You lave your tongue over it, and he bristles, watching you carefully with a tight-lipped groan.

It’s not long before you settle into a rhythm, sucking him down messily while your right hand picks up the slack. He’s grabbing you by the hair and staying tense. His thighs are rock hard on either side of you.

You take him into your throat and stay there, and he breaks.

“Aw, fuck,” he growls. His head falls back and he grabs your head with his other hand, too. His hips buck into your throat and you gag, spitting messily around his shaft as he starts to fuck your throat in earnest.

The sounds that erupt from the both of you are obscene. You’re drooling all over his suit pants, but his control is nowhere to be found. And when you grab his balls and squeeze his spine goes concave. He throws his head back. He howls.

“Fuck!” His hips stutter hard, but he doesn’t stop. Neither do you.

“Aw, fuck, sweetness,” he growls. “Fuck. Fuck. Look at you, chokin’ on my dick. Look at you, taking it so fuckin’ good. I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard down your throat. I’m gonna make you taste me, baby, so close. Fuck, oh, fuck, oh-“

His babbling ceases as the spring in his body is released. It’s like all his nerves go inside out for a second. You grab his thighs as hard as you can and squeeze while he ruts into your face and pumps his load right down your throat.

When he’s finished, you draw your mouth carefully from his twitching dick. You half-expect to see him sprawled across the couch completely spent, but before you can even get a look at his face, he grabs you all over again. His voice is sandpaper in your ear.

“’M takin’ you to bed. Now.”

You’re already tender, but you’re ready for more. You live for this; when he gets too wild to speak, too crazy to stop. Testing the limits of your stamina is something that will never get boring.

Especially not when you’ve got Bakugou on the other end.

He lays you down against the pillows and flips you onto your belly.

“Stay put.”

He steps back, shucking himself out of his pants and undershorts. He practically tears away his shirt and tie. He doesn’t come back to you until he’s naked. When he does, he drags you up onto your knees and keeps your face pushed into the pillows.

“There you go,” he mutters. “So fuckin’ sweet for me, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you know that? Gonna fuck you so good they’ll hear you screamin’ back at the party.”

You’re gonna have to ask Kirishima to look at you like that more often.

He bends behind you and seals his mouth over your pussy, laving his tongue over your folds again. His shoulder bobs against your ass and you can tell he’s stroking himself- encouraging his spent flesh to rise to the occasion.

The taste of you always spurs him on.

When he’s ready, he pulls abruptly away and lines the tip of his cock up with your slick folds. He grabs the curve of your ass hard with one hand. Gives it a hard smack. It’s already stinging from his rough treatment earlier, but you’re sure he’s not finished with it.

“You gonna tell me who you belong to?” He taps the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing you with the heated flesh. You want it so bad by now that it aches, and you turn your head to gasp for breath as you grip hard at the sheets.

“I never belonged to anyone else,” you plead softly. He doesn’t like that answer and punctuates his disappointment with another hard slap to your ass. He draws a cry from you. You’re starting to lose yourself.

“Try again.”

“Please,” you sob, wiggling your hips against his. He leans back, keeping himself from you.

“Who. Do you. Belong. To?”

“You.”

The answer clicks as your need grows to unbearable levels. You say it like a prayer. Like a plea for mercy.

Bakugou delivers.

“That’s right. You’re mine, sweetness. You hear me? Mine. All mine.”

He sinks into you on the last syllable and his voice turns to jelly. His thighs are strong and firm as they bump against yours. He bottoms out. Gives you a breath to adjust to the stretch.

Then he fucks. Hard.

He grabs you by the hips and slams himself deep into your pussy, quickly settling into a brutal rhythm that leaves his thighs slapping hard against the curve of your ass. He punctuates every other stroke with a hard smack to your ass, too, leaving you raw and stinging.

It’s good. It’s so good this way. He bends over to bring his chest close to yours as he fucks you hard and fast, growling possessively in your ear. He snatches you by the hair when you try to lift your head, shoving your face back into the pillows and muffling your deep cries of pleasure.

Every hard thrust of his cock seems to reverberate through your entire body. At this angle, his tip nudges your cervix like a panic button. It sends shockwaves of pleasure over every nerve.

“That’s right,” he’s still babbling above you, breathless and panting, but forcing the words out anyway. “That’s right, sweetness, you’re fuckin’ mine. Nobody does this to you but me, baby, nobody. Gonna fuck you ‘till you scream. Gonna fuck you till you beg me to stop. Gonna fill you with so much of my fuckin’ cum, you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

Your climax draws closer by the moment. You’re trying to warn him, but he’s got you pinned fast. The pleasure looms inevitably over you, and you can’t stop the crest of the wave before it crashes over your trembling form.

You cum hard around him, your muscles squeezing and fluttering around his pounding cock. He gives a shout of surprise and fucks you double-time through your climax. As your high retreats he finds his, sliding an arm around your hips and sliding balls-deep before pleasure erupts along his spine and he pumps you full of slick cum.

When it’s over, he flips you onto your back. He pushes his cock inside you again despite your soft whines of sensation, pumping slowly in and out of you and watching the way his cum spills over as he fills you all over again.

“You got one more in you?” He pants.

“Baby,” you plead, overstimulated and spent. He slides his hands up your ribcage, thumbing your tight nipples.

“C’mon, sweetness. You can handle it. I know you got it in you.”

“One more,” you pant. You stretch your cramping legs out around his hips, toeing each one of your heels off behind you. He slides his palms all the way up your shoulders and down your arms, finding your wrists and pinning them tightly over your head.

“God damn,” he grunts, looking you over. Marred with the marks his teeth printed across your skin. Mottled with bruises already forming on your hips, your thighs, your throat.

“Look at you,” he purrs. He shifts your wrists into one hand and strokes the fingertips of his other over the bruises on your throat. He grins wickedly.

“Better make those worth your while.”

His palm lowers against your throat as his hips pick up speed again. He fucks you hard into the mattress beneath you. The ache in your hips is exacerbated by the sudden friction, but it’s cooled by the warm slick of his cum inside you.

Neither of you last long this time.

Your third orgasm of the night is tight and desperate, and you come down from your high shaking and straining against his hold.

“Not gonna… can’t hold on,” he warns. “Fuck, sweetness, fuck, baby, fuuuuuck-“

He collapses onto you as he cums, burying his hips into the apex of your thighs and pushing another fresh load into your belly. His cock stirs inside you as he shudders and finally goes soft against you. Spent at long last.

When he pulls his softening dick from your body, you’re well past overstimulated.

He’s fucked his temper out on you.

“Alright,” he rasps. “You’re okay, sweetness. C’mere.”

He rolls onto his side and settles a hand over your belly, rubbing slow and gentle as he peppers kisses along your shoulder. He gives your hand a squeeze and rolls out of bed, snagging his undershorts from the floor and climbing into them.

He goes quiet, when it’s time to take care of you. Sometimes you wonder if he feels guilty about using you like this. But you’ve talked about it. You stop him when you’ve had enough. You’re good at that.

He likes that you’re not afraid to stand up to him.

Bakugou wraps you in a blanket from the bed and carries you out to the living room, depositing you on the couch. He can keep an eye on you easily as he heads to the kitchen to get you a drink. It’s important to you that he stays close when you need him like this.

He kneels in front of you and slips his fingers under your heavy chin.

“Here we go, baby. C’mon. Drink it.”

He tilts a glass of cool tap water against your lips and you raise a hand to steady it, drinking down a few, steady gulps. You’re heavy and sex-drunk and sleepy, warming his bitter heart with the expressions that cross your hazy face.

“That’s it.”

He slides beneath you and pulls you-blanket and all- into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Cradling your body with his. He leans down and settles his forehead over yours. His eyelashes brush your cheek. He lets out a deep, heavy sigh.

“You’re mine,” he mumbles to you, but it takes on a different meaning altogether when he says it like this. You’re mine, he’s telling you, and I’m gonna take care of you.

He finds your hand and brushes his thumb over the diamond ring that rests there. In truth, that’s all the proof he needs that you’ve signed up for him.

All of him.

[anachronisticcrab]

Solangelo Headcanons

So I’ve got a lot of these cause I’m such a simp for Nico and Will (feel free to ask me about any other Headcanons on either character, cause I’ve got LOTS)

They’re both massive nerds, but neither of them really like the same kind of things

Like, Will is more of a Star Wars and Star Trek fan, he loves Harry Potter more than life itself, and reads medical textbooks and animal books for fun

But Nico is such a linguistics and mythology nerd, we all know he loves Pokémon and DND, and he’s really into classic literature and art

They both spend 90% of their dates geeking out over their interests, and even when they talk about something the other doesn’t understand, they’re super supportive and sweet cause they’re both cute geeks

As much as they aren’t interested in the same things for the most part, they do have a few interests in common (pirates, astronomy, Dreamworks and Disney animated movies, The Princess Bride, Lord of the Rings, music, marvel and DC)

They absolutely have movie marathon dates. It’s their favourite thing. Their favourite movie series’ are Pirates of the Caribbean, Night at the Museum, and The Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit

Nico loves watching Star Wars with Will because Will mumbled the lines along with the characters and does little lightsaber noises along with it and he’s so cute

Will likes watching movie adaptions of classic lit with Nico because he points out everything that’s different from the books, why the movies are bad, and insists on pausing it to go on rants about everything they got wrong. Will fucking loves it

They both have tattoos. Will’s got the sun over his chest, and a small semi colon on his left wrist next to a treble clef. Nico’s got a semicolon on his right wrist next to a bass clef

Will loves Halloween, and Nico could take it or leave it (he never did anything for it because he grew up in Italy), but Nico does couples costumes because Will looks at him with puppy dog eyes and Nico’s helpless

They’ve gone as Jed and Octavian from Night at the Museum; Buzz Lightyear and Woody; those two crazy pirates from Pirates of the Caribbean (the one with the wooden eye who dressed up in drag, and the short one who got upset over parlay); 1930’s mobsters; Adam and Barbara Maitland from Beetlejuice; Han Solo and Luke Skywalker

They actually talk to Mr. D, and that’s why they’re his favourite— they play poker with him, they talk to him, they treat him like anyone else and he lives them for it

Will loves every single one of Nico’s siblings (Rachel, Hazel, Reyna, Meg, Jason, Connor, Travis, Percy, Tyson, Estelle, Chiara, Piper, etc). They share ridiculous Nico stories and plan pranks on him— they all adore Will

Will’s siblings and friends lowkey love Nico more than Will. He brings them McDonalds, teases Will and makes Will blush, attempts archery to try to bond with them (he really tries, but he’s just really awful), he tells Will’s little siblings bedtime stories. Nico’s just really awkward, and he really tries, and they all love him. Of course, Cecil, Lou Ellen, Austin, and Kayla bug Nico a lot because he’s so awkward, but the truth is they really, really, really like him

Will is horrible at music. Like, truly horrible at anything to do with music. But he has an encyclopedic knowledge of music from over the last 200 years, and randomly quotes lyrics and talks about musical theory all day long

In contrast, Nico is amazing at playing piano and guitar, plus he enjoys playing the drums. He’s really musically talented, but knows nothing about the theory behind it or about the artists. Whenever Nico tries to learn a new song, Will nerds out over the musician/background of the song/cool lyrical devices that make it an amazing song. Nico frickin loves it

Nico loves cooking, while Will can’t cook for his life. Like someone get this boy some help, he almost burnt down his mom’s house while microwaving popcorn. They agreed that Nico would cook and Nico would clean

Nico can’t drive for shit. I mean, cars don’t exist in the city where he grew up (there’s not enough room for vehicles on the few roads in Venice), and even if there were, he’s Italian and gay (sorry about the stereotypes there, but I really can’t see Nico being a good driver). Will drives them everywhere or gets Jules-Albert to drive them, and hides Nico’s drivers license to ‘protect the public from his menace of a boyfriend’

You know how I mentioned the no vehicles in Venice thing? Yeah, no bikes are in the city either. Will taught Nico to ride a bike after the Giants War (before they started dating). Hazel took videos and pictures cause Nico was freaking out over it and yelling at Will not to let him die

Will finds animals on the street and adopts them. Nico begrudgingly helps Will to take care of the animals until they find good homes for them (mostly from people in New Rome)

Unfortunately, Will gets attached to them, and now they have 5 cats, 2 dogs, 3 snakes, 4 lizards, and a blue Jay

They’re both really grumpy in the morning. If you wake either of them up, they will probably bite your hand off

They like going on runs a lot? They’ll go on jogs once a day if possible, and they’ll chat or share earbuds while doing so

They go on dates on canoe lake a lot. They like to have races on the canoes, and to just float out away from everyone else (they totally don’t joke about being pirates or pretend to be pirates while on the lake, that’d be ridiculous and childish)

When Will’s been in the infirmary for too long, Nico walks in and throws a Kit Kat at his head, and then drags him out of the infirmary (sometimes by his ear, sometimes by his hand, depending on how long Will’s been in there for or how annoyed Nico is that day)

Nico’s teaching Will how to speak Venetian (he sucks at it, but Nico appreciates the effort)

Nico takes a long time to get used to PDA, and even after they’ve been dating for years, Nico’s really only comfortable with holding hands and hugs (plus cheek kisses or quick pecks) in public. Will’s fine with it, and he didn’t stop smiling for three days after Nico first pecked him on the cheek in public

International dates! Paris, Venice, Milan, Madrid, Banff, Athens, Cairo, Tokyo, Sydney, Ho Chi Minh, everywhere! They love travelling!

They have a lot of conversations where they tell the other how amazing they are (since they’re both pretty self-deprecating, and they think the world of the other, it ends up with them just going ‘shut up you’re beautiful, why do you put up with me’ for hours on end)

Dates on roofs! Nico and Will point out constellations at night and cloud watch during the day. They have picnics on the roof of the Big House, and the Hades and Apollo cabins all the time

They buy each other Funko Pop figures for birthdays, Christmas, and basically anytime they want to get each other a gift

[brutal-nemesis]

Forest Day 2021: Un-cursing a Forest Tutorial (Gone Wrong)

Come into the woods with me, won’t you? I promise everything will be super normal and it’s totally not a little over 5k words hahahahahaha

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: cannibalism mention, plant/animal/body horror (there is a lot of this and it is weird and kind of gross at times so this is your warning), acid burns, i use the word “pustules” multiple times, eye whump, gore, suicide for convenience

Castys woke up to darkness.

His head was pounding, so it was sort of nice, but much less nice when he tried to move and discovered his arms were tied behind his back. Upon further investigation, he realized he was gagged and blindfolded as well. 

Great.

He sat up and was just starting to try and get his gag out using his shoulder when a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He tried to jerk out of their grasp, but a second person grabbed his other arm, and then it was all he could do to keep up as they hauled him to wherever. The ground changed from something solid feeling to something dirt-sounding, and then solid again after the creak of a door opening. 

“He’s awake, Chief.”

“Thank you. Just leave him and wait outside.” One of the men kicked the back of Castys’s legs, forcing him to his knees. He was tempted to get up once he felt their hands leave him, but he figured it would be best to just wait and see what the hell was going on for now. Once the blindfold was removed, he tried to look around, but a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at his captor, a strong looking woman with her dark hair in a complicated braid. She examined him with concern. “I didn’t think you would look this young.” Her free hand untied the gag, and she gently pulled it out of his mouth. “You are him, and not just some child, right?”

“Nope, just a child. A nineteen year old boy. Not immortal, so I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never said I was looking for an immortal.”

Castys opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking. “I-okay that one’s on me. Hooray, you caught me.” He glared up at her. “Now what do you want?”

She let go of him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I am Citlali, the chief of Nauhiliv’s Hollow. For centuries, my people have-”

“I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson, so just get to the-”

“Either shut up and let me talk or I will gag you again.” Castys rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s relevant, alright?”

“Fine.”

Citlali took a deep breath and began again. “For centuries, the people of Nauhiliv’s Hollow have lived as one with the forest, taking only what we need from its bounty, hunting and gathering from the lands around us. But now,” she looked away, “now the forest is...twisted. What was once a familiar place has become dark and horrifying, and they are now far too dangerous to hunt in. Everyone we have sent in to find the source of the curse has not yet returned.” She took a shuddering breath before looking back at Castys. “You, however, can’t die. So would you-”

“How much will you pay me?”

“Just...this.” She held up a small leather pouch, one that looked kind of like...Castys hurriedly looked down, feeling his stomach twist when he didn’t see the familiar string around his neck.

“You took my-give it back! How did you even find out about that?!” Castys fought to keep his voice even, his fists clenched behind him. That pouch was important to him, it had his rock that allowed him to kill himself easily and painlessly, and it also had...he just needed it, dammit.

“You’re apparently, ah, quite chatty when you’re drunk.” She twirled the pouch on her finger lazily. “So, if you lift the forest’s curse, you’ll get it back. And until then, my other half is going to keep it safe in a pocket dimension, where even a notorious thief like you can’t get to it.”

Castys’s face darkened. “That’s-if you wanted me to help you why didn’t you just, I don’t know, ask instead of fucking kidnapping me and stealing my shit?”

“Because I’ve heard tell that you’re a selfish asshole who definitely wouldn’t help us unless we paid you a ton of money or forced you to. And since we’re not exactly drowning in cash…”

Castys mulled it over for a moment, wiggling his hands against the ropes. “Yeah okay that’s fair. I still hate you, but that’s fair.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do it, then? Because if not,” she stalked over and grabbed Castys’s chin tightly, forcing him to look up at her, “I could think of a different way you could help my people, immortal.”

“I promise you, I taste terrible.” Citlali flinched back, letting go of Castys’s face.

“What-no that isn’t-I meant I was going to sell you, idiot! That’s so-we’re nowhere near desperate enough to eat…” she shook her head. 

“Okay, sorry, I figured if you were desperate enough to kidnap me you were also desperate enough to want to eat me and my infinite flesh.”

“Those two are absolutely not the same level of-look, are you going to do it or not? Because if not I will sell you and keep your precious-” 

“I’ll go kill your stupid forest curse thing,” Castys sighed. “Being sold is super annoying, and escaping will be way harder without my rock.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Can you untie me now?” 

“Do you promise not to try to run off? You won’t be able to get your pouch back by force, and this village is surrounded by these cursed woods except for a single, well guarded road, so there really won’t be any point in trying, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Castys got to his feet after she freed him, rubbing his chafed wrists as he looked down at his very empty belt. “You’re going to give me my sword back for this, right? I know I can’t die but fuck if I’m going in there without a weapon.”

“You can have your sword, and the small amount of supplies we can spare, once the sun rises and you set out. Until then,” she gestured to the door, “let Tlaloc and Meztli show you where you can sleep.” 

~~~

Castys took a deep breath as he looked up at the trees towering over him, gripping his pack tightly. They looked like normal trees to him, and he was sort of disappointed that they didn’t look...creepier? He expected this horrible cursed forest to look more horrible and cursed, especially with all the trouble that bitch went through to make him do this. He glanced back, but Citlali and the guards were still behind him, and she waved her hand at him to get going. Sighing, he started walking into the forest, hoping this whole “curse” thing was just some asshole wizard kids playing a trick. 

Soon enough, he spaced out listening to the forest sounds. The rustling of the wind in the branches, the chirping of birds, the faint screaming...wait what. No, yeah that was screaming or something. He looked around frantically for the source of it, just now noticing that the trees were...different, somehow. They sort of...shimmered, moving in a strange way. Cautiously, he approached the nearest trunk and studied it. It was...it was moving, the whole surface shifting and crawling, like it was covered completely in bugs. O-kay then. 

Moving on.

Castys wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to look for. That chief lady had really just sent him in here with the very helpful instruction of “fix it”, like he had ever un-cursed a forest before. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or...where he even was. He’d been trying to walk in a straight line, but the way behind him looked unfamiliar, as if the trees and plants had decided to move around while he wasn’t looking. Well, it appeared that wandering aimlessly was his only option now. Delightful.

Maybe he should do something as he walked along to help pass the time. Not that he didn’t mind walking around in nature, this place was just...he pulled out his rekara, twirling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing, tapping his fingers on the slender instrument’s holes to play a stupid little tune. It covered up the faint screaming sound quite nicely, and it eventually attracted a little bird, which fluttered down on a nearby branch. It was a very normal-looking one, with plain brown feathers and cute lil’ eyes.

When it opened its mouth to chirp at him, though, another scream rang out through the forest, so loud it sounded like it was coming from right next to Castys. Startled, he jumped a bit, stumbling back and tripping over a tree root or something, falling right on his ass. Frantically, he looked around for the source of the scream, but there was no one around him, as far as he could tell. “Anyone screaming out there?!” he called as he stood up, but he was met with silence. Well, not silence silence but just...nothing un-ambient. Maybe the trees were screaming. It could be a tree thing. 

The bird was still sitting there staring at him, and oh my fuck it’s the bird isn’t it-again, the bird opened its beak, and again, a horrible scream echoed around him. Well wasn’t that nice. A bird that screamed like a person. Castys slowly backed away, hoping the little thing’s only weird quality was the noise it made. Once he felt like he’d gotten far enough away, he turned and ran, and he was only running to cover more ground quickly, not because he was scared, no, a little unsettled, maybe, but not scared. 

He stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes, and as he stood there panting, he realized the forest around him had grown even more...strange. The trees actively waved in the air now, though there was no wind, and many of their branches hung limp, like they were made of cloth or something and not solid wood. Their bark still glistened and crawled, swirling into strange, mesmerizing patterns. The leaves of all the plants were different now, too, having taken on a sickly pink color, almost like...light-colored skin. Tasty.

Okay, yeah, something was obviously very wrong and cursed here, but he still had no clue what the fuck to do about it. He’s been hoping he could find...he didn’t know, something that looked like the source of it, like a very giant tree with a hole in it or perhaps a big magic crystal or an evil bear. But all around him were just normal sized haunted trees and no crystals and weird greenish mold and all the plants with their gross fleshy leaves-wait that mold or whatever was new. He crouched down and pulled out his knife so he could poke at it.

Upon closer inspection, it was like...little green pustules clustered together on the surface of the shifting tree bark. He used the tip of his knife to prod one of them, but it burst far more easily than he had been expecting, splattering greenish goop all over his hand, and it burned. Crying out, he dropped his knife and looked frantically around for water or something he could use to get this awful stuff off because dying wouldn’t make it go away so until he got rid of it somehow he was just stuck feeling it burn away his fucking flesh but there wasn’t anything here besides plants and more plants so it looks like that was all he was going to get-

With shaking hands, he grabbed a nearby leaf, shuddering at the fleshlike texture, the warmth, and wiped it desperately over his wounds, trying to scrape away the acidic sludge. It sort of worked, getting the larger clumps off, but he could still feel it eating his damn flesh, if only he had-wait he was a fucking idiot-he pulled out the waterskin Citlali had lent him, sloppily splashing water over his hand, gasping in relief as the pain lessened slightly. Obviously nothing was going to heal the wounds besides dying, but now he could actually do that without the acid continuing to burn him. He reached down into his shirt, feeling for the pouch containing his death rock, but...no, that’s right, he didn’t have it, he’d have to slit his throat like old times. Sighing, he wiped the acid goop off of his knife before turning it on himself.

Castys woke up very pleased to find that his hand no longer had holes in it, but when he saw the leaves he had wiped it on, his stomach twisted. The acid had burned right through them, and the holes were rimmed with red, dripping...it was blood, blood leaking from those fleshlike leaves. Quickly, Castys wiped off his knife and sheathed it, getting to his feet, ready to run the fuck away from those gross acid pustules. But...maybe it was a good sign that things were getting weirder, maybe he was getting closer to whatever the hell the source of all this was. So maybe he should…follow that stuff. It was the only sort of idea on where to go he had gotten this whole time, so it really was his only option, huh? He’d just have to be careful not to touch it. 

The streaks of green on the swirling tree trunks, which had darkened to a shiny black at some point, led him, allegedly, deeper into the forest. Wait, how was the green stuff staying in one spot while the trunk beneath it was shifting? That didn’t make any sense, not like anything did here, but still…physics. He studied the nearest tree for a moment, watching its surface move as the clump of acid bubble things stayed still. Though...he could see something between the cracks in the crawling trunk, something long and off-white, like...yup. Trees with bones. Lovely. Shaking his head, Castys resumed walking, deciding to just not question anything ever again. 

Things certainly got stranger as he continued. There was a pond where his reflection didn’t have a face, dragonflies with wings that looked like overgrown fingernails, and a herd of deer with skin and muscle so clear that all he could see were their organs and bones okay but what would clear deer meat taste like, so he felt like he was probably going the right way. When he heard a strange thumping sound, like something large walking around, he cautiously moved towards the source of it, poking his head out from behind a tree to see what it was. 

It was the ugliest, most disgusting horrible abomination creature thing he had ever seen. It’s main body was the same light fleshy color as the leaves, dotted with clumps of acid pustules, with a mishmash of vaguely humanoid limbs with all sorts of skin tones jutting out of its misshapen body every which way. And it had so many eyes all over, some frantically darting around, some focused horrifyingly on him. But the worst part were all the flowers sprouting it from it, not because they were flowers, but because these flowers had little white teeth in their centers, probably serving as the mouths for this thing since he didn’t see one anywhere else on it. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind cutting this thing to bits in the slightest, it was freaky. He stepped out and drew his sword, watching the monster warily as it shambled towards him. If this thing wasn’t the source of the curse, he didn’t know what would be.

Once it was within range, Castys slashed at it, wincing as a high pitched shriek rang out from one of the flower-mouths. He danced back as it swung at him with two of its arms, their hands reaching out to grab him. This kept on for a bit, him slashing at the monster and dodging its blows, though he’d occasionally make the mistake of slicing a clump of acid pustules, spraying himself with the corrosive substance. When he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he noticed something...unfortunate. All the gashes he’d cut in the monster were slowly closing, healing that thing up like his attacks hadn’t even happened. He, on the other hand, was covered in acid burns and not sure how much longer he’d actually be faster than this thing. His healing was useless in a fight, since dying left him completely defenseless for a good minute or so.

He had to figure something else out some other-shit, he couldn’t stand still for very long, this monster just wouldn’t quit attacking him. He might have been safe in a tree, but all the ones in the area were pretty much completely covered in that acid stuff, so that was out of the question. Seeing an opening, he lunged, trying to stab one of those fucked up mouths, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief as his blade sank in, knocking out some of its teeth. But his elation turned to fear as he felt something grab his ankle the same moment the mouth clamped shut around his sword. He tried his best to keep his grip on his sword as it yanked him up, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless as the monster slammed him down onto the ground, his whole body lighting up in pain. 

Over and over, it smashed his body against the ground with inhuman strength. All Castys could do was scream as he felt his bones break, their sharp edges piercing him from the inside. To finish, it threw him against one of the trees, the impact of his body bursting a myriad of acid pustules open, drenching him in the stuff. Castys fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in pained breaths beneath his shattered ribs, and all he could do was helplessly watch through his one good eye, the other reduced to goop by the acid, as the monster raised a foot above him. His mind was screaming at him to go, to run, but he could hardly move, he should just let himself die so he could heal, but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to just lie still and let this thing step on him, slowly building up the pressure on his already ruined ribcage, forcing ragged screams out of his acid-burned throat, he was going to be crushed but he didn’t want to be, g-get off please it hurts so much why do I have to do this it’s not fair I didn’t even do anything wrong this time please-

Castys came back to pain, sparking, burning agony soaking deep into his flesh. He was still covered in acid, and even with his bones intact now he could barely bring himself to move. But he had to, he had to get up, he had to kill this thing, had to get out of this awful place himself, because there was no other way out, because no one was going to come save him, not now, not ever. Just as he was psyching himself up to try and stand, the monster’s hands grabbed him all over, dragging him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of its grasp, and while it had too many damn hands and he had too many damn acid burns for this to actually be effective, he struggled anyway. As it lowered him towards one of its flower mouths, he tried to at least scream expletives at it, but of course he’d still had acid in his throat when he died so he couldn’t even relish the simple joy of yelling “fuck”.

What would happen to him if this gross monster ate him whole, he didn’t want to find out, but it seemed like he was going to if he didn’t break free. Castys shuddered as the mouth opened wide, wider, impossibly wide, showing off an unnecessary amount of wicked sharp teeth, and oh fuck they were a lot closer to him than he’d thought because his damn left eye was a corroded mess again and all of a sudden there were teeth tearing through his flesh and he was falling, falling into that horrible mouth surrounded by bright purple petals, pointed teeth digging into him, but he felt something, he felt something, hard and rough, and maybe it was his sword, and he could still kill this thing, so he wrapped his burned hand around it, fingers screaming in protest, and pulled, and as much as it hurt, as much as his sword was stuck, he wasn’t going to lose here.

His sword finally broke free with a disgusting squelch, though it felt a lot lighter than he remembered, and just as he pulled it out, the monster collapsed to the ground. Castys somehow managed to worm his tattered body out of the creature’s mouth, and once he was free, he held up his sword so he could stab himself with it, but discovered the object he was holding was very much not his sword. It was a strange wooden carving of a twisted tree, like ones surrounding him, a small bone fitted so snugly inside that it was almost as if the wood had grown around it. Was this...the source of everything? It was the most curse-causing looking thing he’d seen so far, and given that it seemed to be the core of that monster...oh, it was starting to grow flesh. Oh absolutely not.

Castys looked around frantically for his sword, his dagger, anything to break this talisman thing with. The first thing that caught his eye within reach was an unfamiliar axe, but he lunged for it, wishing he had time to kill himself and reset his body’s condition, but there was no telling how much this thing would grow while he was out. If he wanted a chance at ending this for good, he had to do it now. He rasped in pain as he dragged himself upright, grabbing the axe with blood-slicked fingers before he set the cursed object down and swung, crying out brokenly in pain and frustration. After a few clumsy whacks, the talisman broke in two, and the flesh bubbling out of it ceased moving. Was...was it over? It had to be. It had to be. It had to-

Head spinning, Castys fell sideways, the vision in his functional eye starting to blur. He knew he needed...to die...but he just...didn’t have...the...strength…

It was warm...comfortable...but it hurt, and...everything was...itchy. But still, so warm, and that was pleasant, and he found himself leaning into it. It was almost like...

Castys jolted awake, his eye snapping open. He was inside some building, the wooden ceiling above him lit by rippling firelight, in what felt like a bed, his whole body throbbing fiercely, and there was...a hand on his forehead. A hand attached to the village chief, Citlali, who was looking at him with concern. Her face broke into a relieved smile when she saw he was conscious, despite him flinching away from her touch. “So, our hero is finally awake.”

“I-” Castys tried to speak, but his throat was still severely fucked up, in fact, his whole body was. He hadn’t fucking died since he’d passed out, and these idiots didn’t know how his immortality worked, so they’d actually bandaged him up. The feeling of them was totally foreign, if not a little nostalgic. God, he must have looked fucking awful when they found him. He hoped it would make them think twice about kidnapping people to do their dirty work in the future. 

“Don’t try to speak; your throat is quite badly damaged. Do you want something to write on?” Castys nodded, and she fetched him a wooden tablet and a stick of charcoal. He considered writing something on the angrier side, but seeing as he still didn’t have his pouch back, and that she had tried to help him...he should probably play nice. He was too tired for any more fighting, anyway.

“If you’d just kill me so I can heal that would be great.” Pausing, he decided he should probably explain that a bit better. “Every time I die I come back to life fully healed. And the most convenient way for me to die is to touch my rock, which I believe I’ve earned back. Unless the forest is still wonky.”

“No, you did break the curse, and I want to thank you for that, because obviously it wasn’t easy. I-” she cut herself off. “First things first, let’s get you healed for good.” She furrowed her brow. “Will healing with these bandages on...mess it up somehow? Some of them might be a little...stuck to your wounds. Should I take them off of you first?” Castys considered it for a moment. He’d never tried to heal with bandages on, but if things went wrong...it might be more painful to have to cut them out of his flesh or whatever. He nodded, holding out an arm.

Citlali was gentle as she unwound the bandages with practiced skill, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell. It felt like she was ripping his damn skin off, and every time his idiot body tried to scream in pain, it tore up his throat even further, making the whole affair even more damnably unpleasant. He could hardly stand to look at the wounds underneath, all pink and red and oozing what he assumed was pus. The worst part, however, was when she removed the bandage from around the remains of his left eye and it pulled a little string of bloody flesh off with it. He screamed at that, really screamed, and he realized he was crying, and he didn’t understand how mortals did this all the time. Citlali didn’t so much as flinch at the gore, the smell, or his pain, and he almost felt embarrassed about how poorly he was handling this.

When she was done, she retrieved his pouch from a nearby table, giving it to him wordlessly. With shaking hands, Castys managed to pull it open and stick a finger inside, sighing in relief as the familiar blackness took him. When he woke up, he was happy to find that there wasn’t any more acid on him, so he was actually fully healed this time. “Thanks,” he muttered, flexing his hands.

“Thank you, you really saved us. I...I know you were forced to, and I know that I shouldn’t have done it that way, but I felt like we didn’t have any other option, and-”

“It’s fine,” Castys sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “That shit was pretty fucked up so I’m not really surprised all the mortals you sent in died. And it’s not like I’m known for my benevolence.” He put the pouch around his neck, where it thumped against his bare chest. “So, did my clothes-”

Citlali shook her head. “They were full of holes and covered in acid, so we asked around and got you a spare set.” She handed him a folded shirt that was similar in style to the pants he’d been wearing when he woke up, and he pulled it on. She handed him the rest of his belongings before picking up the pieces of the wooden carving that he’d destroyed. “Where...where did you find this?” 

“Inside the freaky monster with all the limbs and shit.”

“The what.”

“Was its giant corpse not near where you found me?”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there besides this and some of the weapons and equipment from our lost expedition parties.” She put it down, standing and crossing her arms. “We all felt the shift in the forest when the curse was lifted, and when we went out to investigate, everything seemed just like it had before all of this started. We found you collapsed in a clearing not too far from here.”

“Not too-I feel like I wandered around for hours! Stupid cursed forest.”

Citlali huffed. “Regardless, we found the talisman next to you, but no monster. But if this was what caused everything…” She picked up one of the pieces, gripping it tightly. “I think I understand what happened.”

“That’s great for you, don’t let it happen again.” Castys stood, shouldering his pack. “I...I can leave now, right?”

She looked up abruptly. “Oh, uh, yes, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and we were thinking of holding a feast once we-” she stopped, clearing her throat. “We’d like to make it up to you in any way you can, but I understand if you’d like to leave. I’ll walk you out.”

Part of Castys wanted to stay and get a bunch of free food out of these people, or at least actual compensation for the ordeal he just went through, but he didn’t know if he could stand to be surrounded by these woods for much longer, despite the fact that they were allegedly no longer cursed. He couldn’t fight the nervous feeling in his stomach as walked away, his steps quickening once he and Citlali parted ways. He didn’t really relax until he had left the forest far behind him. 

Once he was safe, Castys opened his pouch and reached inside, worming his finger into the secret side pocket that was separated from the rock. He gently pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it and sighing in relief upon seeing the drawing on it still intact. Not that he’d expected anything to happen to it, but…The memory of the first day of his life, at least that he was aware of, was far more precious than anything else.

Because if he lost it, if he lost that spark of happiness, that piece of who he was that day, he felt like he would collapse under the weight of every awful thing he’d endured ever since.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch