#(smooches ur furrowed brows) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chernabogs · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Ames 👀🫶

First, giving you smooches as congrats for your 100 follower milestone :3💖

I saw your prompt list and I was like ANGST POTENTIAL with all the prompt lines, but I picked some out with a more fluff mood in mind~

May I please request a Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader fluff read where there’s a storm on Sage Island and Leona’s been helping reader with their homework at Ramshackle but he can’t go back to his dorm bc of the storm

So he has to stay in Ramshackle over night with reader ehehehe

Here are the prompt lines I picked out:

- “The storm’s getting worse”

- “You look better in my clothes than I do”

- “You snore in your sleep. It’s adorable”

- “Sorry to put you through that. I guess I owe you one now”

Take ur time and if you can’t do mine, no worries :)

TYYYYY <3 <3 I love some good Leona content... I wrote him once but I'm ready to go again LKNAJF

Lights Out

Inc: Leona x Reader (GN), Ruggie (briefly) Warning: None! Not really romantic, but like... semi vibes. Sneaky vibes. If you squint you see them. WC: 2.6k Summary: An agreement to help you study leads to an unexpected situation when the weather turns sour

The weather had been kind for the entire week, and so Leona should have assumed by default that it was all a ruse. He had agreed (under some pressure from both your dire expression and Ruggies repetitive pestering) to assist you with your ancient curse’s homework—which really means he’s going to sit there and watch you while only offering a few scraps of information. He can’t make it too easy for you, no?

The sky had been cloud free—as blue as a robin's egg, with the softest of breezes dancing across campus as the early spring began to wake from her slumber. He had spent a good portion of the day dealing with his classes and dozing in between after having sent you a brief reassurance that he’d still come in the evening. It was beautiful—glorious, even—until 6 o’clock hit.

Then, like hell from above, a mass of storm clouds rolled in out of nowhere. The school alert system cited it as an unprecedented phenomenon, and as Leona glares out the window at the torrential downpour beyond, he wonders just how much of it is the fault of Diasomnia’s House warden. It feels like even the slightest of moods sends the man bringing down hail and fury with little regard. His tail twitches in irritation as he lets out another low sigh.

“What’s the curse that turned that emperor into an animal again?” Your voice causes him to glance at your reflection in the window. He can see that you’re still hunched over the ancient curse’s textbook, your brow set in a furrow as your pen taps steadily against the kitchen table’s surface. “He had to go through a whole life-lesson thing to undo it…”

“He undid it with a counter-poison.” Leona hums as another flash of lightning splits across the sky, briefly brightening the room you’re both in before dying down once more. “He coulda stayed the same and still be able to change back.”

“That defeats the purpose, no?” He hears you setting your pen down and leaning back in your chair as he continues to alternate his gaze between you and the storm above. “If there was a purpose to begin with…”

“The purpose was his death.” He turns away from the window and finally sinks back down in the seat across from you, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. “His advisor wanted him dead, so she figured cursing him would be a way to do it. Curses like that have been around since magic was still taboo.”

“Yikes.” Your eloquent reply causes him to scoff as he listens to the sounds of the rain hitting Ramshackle's walls. Despite renovations being done, the acoustics of your dorm are still off-kilter, making him constantly pick up sounds that he shouldn’t be able to hear.

The scratching of your pen accompanies the rainstorm, and then soon stops as he hears you shuffling around. “... the storm’s getting worse.”

At that, he does open his eyes again, looking to the window with a frown. It’s pitch black outside, but he can see the relentless onslaught of rain against the windows glass. He pulls out his phone and turns it on; there are two missed messages from Ruggie, a slew of them from the group he has with the other House-wardens—he admits he is curious how many others are questioning Draconia—, and then one from his brother that he deliberately swipes away.

“Seems like it won’t be letting up tonight.” Leona’s frown deepens as he reads Ruggie's messages. It’s a system that will be hovering over the entire island until mid-morning tomorrow. All students are being advised to shelter in place until it passes. “Shit…”

“What?” You look up at him, your eyebrows raised. He sets his phone back down and fixes you with an unimpressed look.

“The school put out a shelter in place notice until the storm ends—no students to leave the place that they’re at right now.” At those words, the lights in the room flicker for a moment before going out entirely, leaving the both of you sitting in complete darkness.

Leona can still see fine, and he watches (with some amusement) how your eyes go wide in surprise and your breath catches in your throat.

“Did something hit a line?” You’re quick to rise and peer out the window. Most of the dorms rely on magic to power their electric devices, such as with Ignihyde, but Ramshackle is old enough to still run on original lines. His lips twist into a frown as he remains seated while you gawk out the window in interest.

“If it did, then there’s no use stressin’. It’ll be restored whenever someone gets around to it—after the storm.”

He personally doesn’t mind sitting in the dark. Granted, Ramshackle still is an ominous dorm to be in—with its ghost infestation and such—but there’s also a sense of peace present that can very easily let him drift off to a nap. If he needs to be on lock down in this place, he doubt’s it’ll bother him too much.

That is if you let him sleep in the first place.

“I mean I guess we can just light some candles and stick it out?” You look back at him as another flash of lightning breaks across the sky, illuminating your form only briefly. He can still see your eyes are wide in surprise, and your breath is quick—either from the shock of the lights going out, or a fear of the storm toiling outside.

He checks his phone again and notes that you’ve been going at it for nearly four hours now. He’s never had to pull an all-nighter for a test—lessons come easily to him without effort, after all—and a part of him wonders if that’s what your intent is. If so, he certainly won’t be staying up alongside you.

“You do that. I’m gonna stake out that couch over there.” He scoffs as he undoes his vest. It won’t be the most comfortable to sleep in uniform, but it’s not like he packed an overnight bag in preparation for your study session. He finishes unbuttoning the vest and stands, stretching upwards for a moment before letting out another sigh. “Try not to drive yourself nuts shoving all this information in there.”

“Grims lucky he went to Heartslabyul tonight…” you mumble. He watches as you go to the nearby closet to pull out some candles before he maneuvers himself around to lie back on the foyer couch. He can hear you bumping into tables and chairs as you navigate in the darkness before finally the faint, flickering glow of a candle being lit tells him you’ve survived in one piece. His eyes close and he lets himself fall into a state of comfort as he listens to the sounds of papers turning and pens scratching.

…

But he can’t fall asleep.

This is both inconvenient and unusual for him. It becomes apparent that, with the power getting knocked out, the furnace in Ramshackle has also broken down, leaving the dorm to gradually become colder and colder with each passing moment. He opens one eye to glare at the ceiling above as he can feel goosebumps rising on his arm.

“D’you have a spare blanket or something?” He finally asks, sitting up to peer at you from over the edge of the couch. You glance his way, your face bathed in candlelight, before you hum.

“Mmm, not one that doesn’t smell like mold, no…” you reply slowly. Leona’s expression sours at your comment as you set your pen down and stand up. “One second... I think I have something that might work.”

As you pick up a candle and vanish to the upper floors of the dorm, he lies back on the couch to stare at the ceiling above. The remaining candles cast odd shadows about the room, and the slow ticking of a nearby grandfather clock proves to be both soothing and anxiety-inducing as the seconds pass by. His tail twitches once more as he listens to the sounds of creaking footsteps coming back down to the foyer.

“Here.” He feels something soft hit his stomach and he grabs it by reflex. It’s a black hoodie—almost his size. “I won it at one of the school festivals. I don’t wear it often, so it’s clean.”

Leona stares at it for a long moment. The front has an image of the NRC mascot drawn in a cartoon form while holding the set of keys he often sees on the headmaster’s hip. It feels like something he’d expect Idia to keep stashed in a closet, not you.

Still, it’s something warm, and with some small grumbles of protest, he pulls it on and tightens the drawstrings. He’s sitting upright on the couch and glaring at the wall when he hears you chuckle to his right. One sharp glance, and he can see you watching him with a cheeky grin from the table, your ancient curses homework still strewn about.

“You know, you look better in that than I do. All that’s needed is some holes for your ears in the hood, and then you’re golden.”

“Keep talking.” He threatens in a deadpanned tone, earning a laugh from you as you look back to your homework. You know that he’ll never actually do anything to you—after all, by getting him to agree to come to your dorm in the first place, you already know you’ve won him over to some extent.

He watches you from over the edge of the couch for a moment longer. The furrow in your brow, the way you tap the pen against your paper in a rhythm, the way you occasionally bite your lip while in thought. He seriously wonders why he agreed to come and help you in the first place. It isn’t like he enjoys school, and he’s certainly never considered helping someone with their schoolwork before. He wants to say it was solely Ruggie’s off-handed comments and deliberate looks, but he can’t shake the image of your distressed expression out of his mind when you asked him.

Pity. It’s definitely out of pity that he’s shown up tonight. Ruggie just added fuel to the fire, that’s all.

But still, he can’t shake the sense of unease that stirs in his chest as he watches you for a moment longer before lying back down, his hand coming to rest on his abdomen as he did. The hoodie smells vaguely of you, and it does little to alleviate this feeling. He watches the shadows dance across the ceiling and listens to the sound of you working for a moment longer before he finally finds his eyes closing once more.

It takes him a while, but eventually he falls into the shadows of an uneasy slumber.

—---

When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted to the sound of a dove cooing. At first his mind doesn’t register where he is, and he feels a sharp sense of adrenaline rushing when he doesn’t see the familiar ceiling of his dorm room above him. Then the memories of last night come back—the power going out, the candles, your off-handed comment about him wearing your clothes—and he feels himself relaxing once more.

“You snore in your sleep, you know.”

Leona’s attention snaps to where you sit in the chair across from him. You’re nursing a hot cup of something in your hands as you watch him with a tired smirk. You pulled an all-nighter—he can tell by the slight bloodshot tint in your eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Adorable?” His brow furrows as he sits up, stretching forward and looking towards the nearest window. The sky above is a splash of pink and orange with the coming dawn. He can see the very same dove that he heard sitting on the windowsill, peering in with its beady eyes at the oddly domestic image of you both. “Don’t go annoying me with those kinds of comments so early in the morning.”

“Sorry. I’ll be sure to reserve my next compliment for the afternoon.” Another cheeky little grin plays on your lips, and he tries to ignore how the sight of it makes that uneasy feeling return. He averts his gaze once more as he shifts to rise from the couch. He’s still wearing your hoodie.

It feels nice.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” After he composes himself and becomes fully aware of reality again, he glances at you once more. You sigh and lower your mug with a frown.

“I mean, somewhat? I dozed off at the table a few times, but I was working on getting through four units of text before the afternoon class.”

“And did you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Get through the four units, I mean.”

“Three. Best I can do.” You chuckle in turn.

“Which unit did you miss?”

Your expression becomes one of thought before your eyes light up again. “I couldn’t get to the unit about impacts of curses on modern law. I tried to start it, but as soon as the court transcripts started popping up, my mind just completely tapped out. Legalese is not my strong suit.”

Leona chuckles slightly at that. He doubts legalese is anyone’s strong suit, save for Azul, who uses it in contracts, or Riddle, who just uses it in general. “And your test for this is…?”

“This afternoon.” You sigh. “I’ll just take the loss. I’m sure Ace, Deuce, and Grim will be sinking with me, at least.”

He ruminates on your words for a moment. There’s no denying that you worked your ass off to try and learn as much about ancient curses as possible. He saw the three notebooks of notes that you were skimming through, and the fact that you’re sitting here looking dead on the couch makes that small spark of something start up again.

Pity. It’s pity, he tells himself.

“You look pathetic.” He grumbles as he stretches his back. “Tell you what. Lemme get back to Savanaclaw, now that the freak storm is done, and I’ll loan you my notes for that unit. Loan.”

He emphasizes the last word with a pointed look. Despite how hard you’ve worked so far, he can’t make it too easy for you, no? Your eyes widen again in that comically surprised expression.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you begin, but he silences your words with another sharp glance. A small, grateful look then replaces the one of surprise as you sink back into the seat. “... sorry to put you through that, then. I guess I owe you one now.”

“Well, I’m not gonna hold it over you like some people might.” He sighs. “But I’ll be keeping this sweater for now. I’m not looking to freeze to death before I reach the mirror chamber from here.”

You nod quickly. “Yeah! Please. Just give it back whenever. Or don’t, you know. I don’t mind.”

Your words falter awkwardly, and he can’t keep his lips from curling upwards a bit in amusement. “Right. Meet me back at the mirror chamber in thirty, then—and don’t make me wait, herbivore. I have things to do today.”

Things being spelldrive practice—but he has a feeling you already know that. You grant him a sunny smile, which makes his chest ache once more, before offering a grateful wave. “Sure! Thanks again, Leona.”

He ignores the way you saying his name gets to him as he shrugs dismissively before moving to the front door. “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

#twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar #gn reader #thank youuuuuu

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missingcarrion · 7 months ago

Text

carrion ch9 // what once was

notes: lmao sorry for taking so long this chapter contains roughly five pages of smut so NSFW ahead there is 5k words here so take ur time

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978

masterlist

Shepherd’s fingers trace the lines of Oleander’s handwriting, having spent hours fawning over these papers, these files, he had so meticulously kept and protected, like he might find doorways into the past. Oleander’s handwriting was clean, soft and elegant. Cursive but legible in a way that would fit well with a poet’s hand. It was beautiful, full of memories he longs to have back.

These papers, yellowed with age for the time they’ve spent hidden away in those cabinets, are full of memories. Oleander writes fondly of Aasimar, if not a bit scientifically at times. Like a quiet watcher of a rare animal in the wild, he writes as if noticing things about someone he’d never noticed before.

“You’re playing a risky game, Shepherd,” Hannah sits across from him, her eyes only briefly drifting towards the papers he’s preoccupied himself with. “I saw you and Aasimar kissing. This is very dangerous for both of you, do you know what’s at stake here if they find out?”

He pauses and his brows furrow. He’d never… he’d never really given the kiss much thought other than how he wants more of them. He’d never thought about how they could be harmful. How could something that feels so delightful be bad?

“I don’t understand… why would we get in trouble? It is… harmless, right?” He cocks his head to the side and briefly imagines kissing Aasimar just then, feeling his lips against his own. They are soft, delightful, and they make him want more kisses, but… perhaps that’s why this may be dangerous. He thinks so much of Aasimar lately, ever since he got all those notes about him, he’s ready about a dozen of them already. Most of which are notes either critiquing or complimenting Aasimar’s projects. He is fond of plants, and of trying to find ways to keep them alive.

“Fraternization, Shepherd. We’re not supposed to date our coworkers, and I don’t think they’d want you dating anyone to begin with, but we’re forbidden from smooching our coworkers.” She snorts, although Shepherd wonders if there’s more to it. It’s curious that she feels the need to almost warn him. “I think… it’s nice to see Aasimar so… full of life again after… Truth be told, Oleander never deserved him anyway. But it broke his heart.”

Oh? Oh. She doesn’t know. Aasimar never told her. He didn’t… warmth spreads through his chest, or at least a feeling close to it. There’s something heartwarming about Aasimar keeping that to himself, and he’s thankful for it. He’s not sure if he ever wants anyone to know him as Oleander. It’s not him anymore, but... Hannah speaks with some malice. She doesn’t like him, and for good reason, he’d assume. Oleander didn’t appreciate Aasimar in the way he should’ve and her hate is understood. He… wants to do better. He wants to fix what he’s done.

“I am very fond of Aasimar, I would never harm him. He’s done so much for me, I want to do the same for him.” He nods.

“You don’t owe anyone anything just because they were nice to you,” Hannah scoffs and shakes her head, “their being nice to you shouldn’t mean you owe them the world, you know? Do the same for him because you want to.”

Shepherd quiets and he briefly looks at the folder, lips pursed in thought. Narcissus Oleander had been a standoffish man, he had been otherwise impenetrable with the walls he’d built around himself. He did nothing for no one – except for Aasimar. It had always been Aasimar. The root of his humanity had always traced back to him. He had half the mind to guess that they were connected somehow — two moths drawn to a flame, destined to find each other no matter the lifetime.

“He showed me a world outside of the Institute. There is nothing I want more than to be at his side.” It feels right to say it, despite the nerves of admitting his humanity. He’s scared of it, in a way. He longs to be human, really human, and yet he fears it all at once. “Have you ever felt this way before? I hesitate to call it love because it’s not… not really. I don’t think that’s something I can even feel anyway.”

“Why not? There’s different types of love, too. Romantic, familial, hell, I really love French fries. That counts too! You’re working out what being alive means, you might get crushes on people who teach you things like this. Not to say they aren’t important, but you are more likely to get attached to the first person whose kindness means a lot to you.” Hannah nudges him playfully, smiling. “I’ve loved and been loved, yeah, and sometimes it feels like that, like you are nothing if you can’t exist beside them, like you want to be at their side always. Sometimes, it’s like their love strengthens you, makes you feel alive.”

Shepherd listens, like he always does, with slightly wide eyes and with his brain spinning a thousand beats per second. He doesn’t completely understand, his feelings are harder than he expects to really put a name to them, but… it gives his emotions some notice. Others have felt like this too.

“What was Aasimar like before Oleander disappeared?” The question hasn’t been on his mind for long, but their conversation makes him wonder. How different had things truly been before Oleander’s fall?

“Not all that different, maybe a bit more carefree because he wasn’t in charge, and maybe a bit happier, but I don’t think he’s changed much,” Hannah cocks her head to the side, lips pursed, “I think change scares him. It scares a lot of us, I think, but he seems more than content, remaining where he is, if that makes sense.”

“But if change isn’t accepted, nothing will get better.” Shepherd looks at her, almost alarmed.

“I don’t make the rules, it’s just how he is. You’d have to ask him why he hates change so much, but I don’t know if he’ll give you an answer.” She snorts, as if she knows Aasimar would never say a word about it. “But… he likes you and you’re new. You’re part of the change that’s coming and maybe he might not be so adverse to it, if you’re involved.”

Shepherd doesn’t get much time to think about it when the mess hall is interrupted by the sound of arguing. It’s a dramatic thing that ordinarily he wouldn’t pay attention to, but Hannah’s interest is piqued and she nudges him, as if telling him to pay close attention to whoever is arguing.

Aasimar looks frightening when he’s upset, it’s a wrath that he’s only seen the ghosts of in the past. He’s yelling at a man, whose voice is painfully familiar, and yet Shepherd only focuses on the way people melt away, standing far from Aasimar as if to shield themselves from his wrath.

“You are nothing but an ant beneath me, remember that next time you think yourself smarter than I!” He hisses, and slaps papers from the man’s hands. They flutter into the air and float down like leaves. “Let this be a lesson to all of you, I was brought here for a reason. Test me and you will find out just how deep my experiments go.”

“Seems like Alex questioned the doctor,” Hannah muses, and snickers to herself, “before you, ah, woke up, I guess? Most of Aasimar’s lab days were spent interning Alex and the guy questioned everything, but in the way that was clearly insulting.”

“He’s so… angry, does he get this way often?” Shepherd does not find the emotion of fear, but rather concern.

“Talk to him, Shepherd. Talk to him the way he talks to you. Know him the way he knows you.” Hannah pats his shoulder and stands, “maybe after that, we can all go out into the city.”

The prospect is enlightening and as she leaves, he turns his gaze back to Aasimar whose tone and anger has subsided, but as he stomps through, he gets the idea to follow.

It seems Aasimar is on a warpath, and although Shepherd is designed to be big yet quick on his feet, Aasimar is faster. But when Shepherd finally catches up to him, in the safety of his room, tears brim the edges of his eyes.

“Why did you follow me?” He hisses, and wipes his eyes, as if to hide any indication of his despair. “I just want to be alone, Shepherd.”

There’s a pause and then he shuffles forward, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aasimar look at him warily before scoffing, “everything is fine. I promise.”

“You yelled at a guy and now you’re crying. Truly the epitome of ‘everything is fine’, yes? What’s wrong?”

“I am not enough,” he murmurs with a heavy sigh, “question after question, demeaning my role as the head of the department. I will never be as driven, or as smart, or as right as Oleander had been. It’s like chasing a shadow. I’ll never make it.”

“Your talents are wasted trying to be someone you aren’t,” Shepherd furrows his brows and he sighs, “what was it he thought he could do better than you?”

“Believe it or not it was my expertise! Environmental science! He must’ve gotten ahold of one of my personal projects in the lab and ridiculed it, made a mockery of it! Like it was some elementary assignment.” Aasimar starts to pace for a moment before he throws himself onto his couch, tucking his feet beneath him. “I never even wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to sell flowers!”

Shepherd grins, “you’d sell flowers? What changed?”

“Everything,” he whispers, brows furrowing. A shadow casts itself over his form, like a plague that drains him of all the light he had once had. “The word swallows the kind alive. You don’t make it out by being nice, or having dreams. You don’t live. You survive.”

“Is that what you had to do? Survive?” his tone quiets and he moves to sit next to him, pointedly trying to ignore how his weight shifts the couch enough that Aasimar almost topples into his side. “… sorry.”

Aasimar snorts before he muttered something under his breath, letting his body lean against Shepherd. “I didn’t get the family of every kid’s dreams. We’re waterfolk. It’s … we’re half siren or mermaid and the other half is human. We’re too far removed from either creature to call either family. We’re the black sheep of all the species that inhabit this earth. And me? I was black sheep squared. I didn’t like the water, or the fishes swimming by. I liked to eat them, but… they grew boring. I was enamored with the beauty of being here.”

“I wish I could’ve known you then,” Shepherd murmurs, thoughtfully, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “You’re my black sheep. I’ll take care of you like you do me.”

“You are very sweet,” Aasimar sighs and leans his head against Shepherd’s arm. He makes a face and then he scoffs, “you’d be the first to ever say that. To say you’ll take care of me. I… I like taking care of others. I like to be helpful and kind. I never really… you don’t feel indebted to do so, do you? You don’t have to do anything just because I do it, you know.”

“I want to,” he says, and he means it. Deep in the core of his making, he means it. “I don’t do anything out of obligation. I do it because I want to, whether it’s because who I was before was someone you loved, or if… because now I want to be better for you. I… I know Oleander was not the best. To you, or in general. I want to be better than that.”

Aasimar quiets, lips pursed but he sighs, a soft, contented noise. “I want to be angry, I want to be sad. But… gods, you make it so easy to be content.”

“Why? Being angry does nothing for you.” Shepherd looks at him curiously.

“It feels good to be angry sometimes, and it feels good to cry, too.” He shrugs, “but sometimes it’s even better to know there’s someone there for you.”

“You know, I don’t want to be a scientist,” Shepherd murmurs, echoing what Aasimar has said earlier in their conversation. “I don’t know what I want to be, but I know I don’t want to be attached to the Institute, or Oleander. I want to do something that’s uniquely my own.”

“Like what?” Aasimar looks up, brows raised.

“For starters, I’d like to kiss you. I assume that’s not something Oleander did often, yes?”

Aasimar snorts, “you’re cute, but… thank you for asking. And not really. Kissing was… I think he knew it’d be risky if we kissed, that feelings could arise.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that.”

There’s a smile tugging at Aasimar’s lips when Shepherd kisses him, and it only serves to sweeten the kiss. Hannah’s words echo in the back of his mind, but he shoves them aside. He doesn’t want to think. He wants to get lost, feeling Aasimar’s lips move against his own.

Shepherd ends the kiss, but amusingly as he pulls away, Aasimar leans forward, grumbling in annoyance.

“Come ‘ere,” he pouts.

“Do you ever think about…. Going beyond kisses?” Shepherd murmurs, eyeing Aasimar’s lips. “I – when we went out, that time, I saw… I saw a lot of different things all at once. Like pictures flashing a mile a second. Kisses lead to something else, right? I’d… I’d like to experience that with you.”

Aasimar’s ears turn red — Shepherd can’t help the way he stares, so wide eyed like he’d never expected it. His ears are tinted darker, as the color fades into a light pink across his cheeks and nose.

“I don’t know, Shepherd. Are you sure that’s something you want?” Aasimar’s gaze flutters elsewhere, like he’s embarrassed. “It could prove more than you can handle. Especially after what Clare did. Are you sure?”

Shepherd hadn’t really thought of that night. Not nearly as much as he thinks he should’ve. It bothers him, yes, and the idea of being touched is… odd. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he doesn’t hate it either.

“I am not… human. Such behaviors don’t bother me as much,” he says, eyes shifting, “I’m fine with trying this. If I don’t like it, can I just tell you to stop?”

“Of course, I just… I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.” Aasimar’s words are coated in sugar, soft and sweet. “You can tell me to stop any time, okay? I can tell you what I’m doing before I do it, alright?”

“I’d like that. Can I go back to kissing you now?” He asks, and then he blinks, like he’s waiting oh so impatiently for the answer he knows he’s going to get.

Aasimar snorts, “yeah, yeah you can, big guy. Come here.”

Shepherd practically preens with his response, eager and yet nervous to try something new. Still, it lingers in his mine that the last time this had been done, it wasn’t… consensual. Not like how Aasimar spends so much ensuring that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt or upset him. Even now, as Aasimar shifts, there’s those creases of worry that line his expression. He cares in a way that’s unnatural for most people. It doesn’t take an idiot to notice how utterly human Aasimar is — his empathy and compassion doesn’t match with his colleagues’ whose behaviors are nothing short of inhuman. He has seen the horrors man can make, the words they use to justify. And yet Aasimar’s words are… different. They are not sugarcoated liars meant to appease him. They are not punishments for doing the wrong thing. His words are patient.

Shepherd does not ask to kiss him, not this time. His lips melt against Aasimar’s, but they falter, following in the other’s lead until he gets the idea. The kiss is rougher then, teeth nipping at each others bottom lips like hungry wolves. Aasimar’s hands brace themselves against him, one hand curling along the nape of Shepherd’s neck and the other, pressed nearly, almost carefully, against his arm. As if preparing for something.

“You can touch me, if you’d like,” Aasimar breathes, lips reddened and wet with Shepherd’s tongue. It’s almost a plea, the way he breathlessly regards Shepherd, like he’s indirectly asking to be touched, to be held.

Shepherd’s hands falter with his eagerness and his hands come to rest at the apex of his thighs, just below his hips. A position that enables him to pull Aasimar directly into his lap.

“Like that?” He asks, eyes half lidded and almost breathless despite not even requiring oxygen. He stares at Aasimar, at the kiss reddened lips and how disheveled he looks already. His hair is still as beautiful as always — can he tug it? Would it feel nice?

He grabs Aasimar’s hair without giving it much thought, carefully burying his hand in the silk of his hair before he rugs. The moan that leaves those sinfully sweet lips should be a crime.

“W – What was that for?” Aasimar whimpers, his chest shuddering. Shepherd is enraptured with him, with how gracious he looks despite their sinful positioning.

“I – I wanted to see if you’d like it,” he murmurs, wide eyed, “did you?”

Aasimar nods, but then Shepherd tugs his hair again, keeping his head craned back as he kisses his neck, teeth nipping and biting and tongue smoothing over each love bite vividly aware of the way soft gasps leave his lips and the way his chest trembles.

“W -Wait, I should… I should be doing this with you. You don’t have to do all this for me.” Aasimar murmurs and practically swats him away. “This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you,” Shepherd murmurs, lips pressing kisses along his neck, leading up to his jawline until finally, finally their lips meet again. This kiss is softer, kinder like sweetened honey, thick against their flesh.

He does not protest then, his lips preoccupied with returning the kiss until he feels Shepherd’s hand shift, sliding upwards and to his back, until he reaches the zipper of his outfit. It’s intimate in a different way — gentle and nonsexual despite the rest of their actions. Aasimar sits, carefully tugging the robes from his body, the blurs of blues and purples tossed aside. His body is invigorating, but something else garners Shepherd’s attention.

“Your gills…” Shepherd eyes them, three identical slits on either side of his hips. They open and close with each breath Aasimar takes, no longer hidden by the layers of clothing he wears. “Why do you hide them?”

“People don’t like taking orders from someone who isn’t human,” Aasimar casts his gaze to the side, “they’re not… I wish I didn’t have them.”

“I like them,” Shepherd traces his fingers along the edges of his gills, avoiding touching them at all, “they’re a part of you. A very beautiful part.”

“If only I could see myself the way you do,” Aasimar sighs, fingers tugging at the loosened curls of Shepherd’s hair. “We should move this to my bed, it’ll be far more comfortable.”

“Alright!” Shepherd does not let Aasimar get off of him, instead, he uses his strength and just picks him up – much to the ladder’s surprise – and brings him to his bed, setting him down on the edge.

“You picked me up like I weighed nothing,” he murmurs, but doesn’t really seem to mind, “come here. You’ve spoiled me too much, let me repay the favor.”

Shepherd sits, pulling himself up until he’s in the center of the bed, legs parted slightly as he watches Aasimar, trying to discover what he’ll do next before he does it. But then Aasimar shifts, crawling between his legs.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, straddling Shepherd’s waist, thighs tucked neatly against his sides. Shepherd’s focus shifts a mile a minute, from the softness of Aasimar’s words, to the way his body feels so warm against his. His hair cascades down his body, the light of the room encompassing him like a halo, or crown.

“Can you touch… me? I want I want to know what it feels like.” He asks, brows creasing. It’s embarrassing to admit how much he wants it, how much he wants him. In any way Aasimar is willing to give, Shepherd is willing to receive.

Aasimar hums and cocks his head to the side and he smiles, “how would you like me to touch you, Shepherd? Do you want me to touch you like… this?”

His mouth presses kisses to his neck, nipping and biting. He moves downwards, lifting Shepherd’s shirt and taking it off with practiced ease. He lowers himself, pressing himself down against him as he peppers kisses against his flesh until he’s just below Shepherd’s navel.

“Or like… this….?” His hand grinds against his crotch, friction sending shivers up his spine. It… it never felt like this before…

“L – Like that!” He yelps, louder than he intends, but the point gets across.

Aasimar raises an eyebrow at him and he snorts. “Cute. I am nothing if not generous. I’ll do you one better.”

Shepherd eyes him with wide eyes, curious and enamored by each move he makes. It isn’t until Aasimar starts to undo his pants that he starts to get nervous.

“Hey, I won’t do anything more than what I just did, okay? Only my hand. I could think of better uses for my mouth anyway, if it will help any?” Aasimar cocks his head to the side, his movements pausing.

Shepherd thinks, trying to avoid remembering Clare and what had happened to him. He nods slowly, but Aasimar makes it a point to tell him that he only accepts verbal confirmations – yes or no. Nonverbal words of consent, or denial of consent, will not work. Not here, not yet anyway. Not until either of them are comfortable enough to share their wants and needs. For now, Aasimar is content on giving Shepherd what he wants. Touching him, knowing him at all like this – this intimately, is a gift and mercy all in itself.

His pants and boxers are tugged off, leaving him bare. He feels so much smaller now, Under Aasimar’s gaze that seems to be doing a lot of mental calculations.

“You’re… very proportional.” He murmurs, eyes sliding over Shepherd’s body as if in amazement. “You’re built like some ancient statue, you know? The ones that are chiseled to look like the gods.”

Shepherd says nothing and watches as Aasimar’s hand wraps around his cock, it pulls a soft gasp from his lips as he watches, committing everything he does to memory so as to return the favor eventually.

His hand is warm and it moves up and down the length of his cock, tightening in some areas, loosening in others, and he carefully maps every gasp and moan that leaves Shepherd, repeating each movement that pulls those reactions.

“Y – You’ve done this…. Before?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Mm? Once or twice. I… most want me to use my mouth, or want to skip it altogether.” He says, but then he smiles, “but I like taking my time.”

He gulps, but doesn’t have a reply so instead he pulls Aasimar into a kiss, his mouth hot and rough against his own. The kiss is hungry and it devours every one of Shepherd’s moans while Aasimar’s hand quickens, and tightens around his cock. He begins to buck his hips, careful of moving too fast or hard.

Shepherd’s lips begin to trail down Aasimar’s neck, muffling his whimpers in the crevice where neck meets shoulder.

“W – would you like to touch me?” Aasimar asks, a bit breathless.

“P – Please.” It comes out so pitiful but Shepherd isn’t in the right mind to care how pathetic he sounds. Not when Aasimar is standing and removing his boxer briefs and revealing how perfect his body is. Shepherd can’t focus on anything else, not with how aroused Aasi is. He’s eager to repay the favor.

Aasimar snorts at his eagerness, the tips of his ears reddened. Carefully, he guides Shepherd’s hand between his legs – thighs parted just for him!! Shepherd briefly admires just how supple his legs are, are soft and pale they are against his skin. He wonders what it’d be like to have them wrapped around his neck.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes dilate, focusing on Aasimar’s cock, the way the tip is reddened and throbbing for touch.

“Can…. Can I?” He looks up at him, lips parted ever so slightly.

“I – Only if you’re sure, Shep,” Aasimar seems excited though, even if his words focus so intently on being concerned.

Shepherd nods and wraps his hand around his cock, mimicking Aasimar’s movements from moments before. The sounds that leaves his lips are… sinful. Almost diabolical in how sweet and angelic they are.

“Y – You sound so… good,” Shepherd breathes, watching him carefully.

Aasimar whimpers, his thighs trembling with each touch. “Y – You flatter m – me…”

“I want to use my mouth, would… would that be okay?” He cocks his head to the side, his hand still wrapped firmly around Aasimar’s cock, not once stopping in his movements, despite the way Aasimar’s hips tremble.

There’s a pause, and then a hesitant, “if you’re s – sure.”

Oh, he’s sure. He’s never been more sure of something — perhaps other than how cruel the Institute is.

Settling between Aasimar’s legs, Shepherd finds himself in the delightful position of having Aasi’s legs over his shoulders, delicate, warm things that they are. The thought returns, then, and as a little experiment, an impulsive decision, he nips at the flesh of his inner thigh.

“Nngh,” Aasimar jolts, and sends Shepherd an odd look that doesn’t last for very long before his lips close around the tip of his cock. “O – Oh, shit–”

Even the profane sounds like honey, falling from his lips.

Shepherd doesn’t stop, taking as much of Aasimar’s cock into his mouth as he can until he’s nothing but a whimpering, trembling mess. Aasimar doesn’t let him continue, pulling his head off and away from him.

“Y – you’re good at that,” Aasimar murmurs, chest heaving with each breath he takes, “I’m almost worried about what you’ll do to me when we’re done.”

Shepherd eyes him, confused for a moment, “are you sure? I could… I’m bigger than you, I could hurt you.”

“Mm? I’m not too concerned. You’re sweet to worry, but… my eyes are really bigger than my desire.” He presses a quick kiss to his lips before reaching into his night stand and grabbing a tube of something.

“What’s that?” Shepherd eyes him suspiciously, brows furrowed.

“It’s lube, or lubricant. It’s the only way we’re getting you inside me, it won’t hurt. It just might feel warm and a little tingly at first.” Aasimar puts some in his hand, a rather generous amount, before lathering Shepherd’s cock in it. He almost cruelly makes it a point pump his hand around his cock a few times, teasing him. “Good boy.”

Oh. Oh. Shepherd likes that. He likes that a lot. But he’d like it even more if he could call Aasimar that. Not yet. Not until he knows enough about sex, about Aasimar and what he likes in bed. He wants to learn it all firsthand.

The lubricant is slightly thick, like a gel substance, and it’s warm. It makes Aasimar’s hand move more freely against his cock — it’ll make it easier for his cock to be inside him, too. Warm and thick and pulsing inside of him.

Aasimar lays on his back beneath him, legs parted again to press lubricant against his hole, enough to ease Shepherd inside.

Wordlessly, Shepherd decides to help, carefully applying some of the lubricant in his hands and fingers and massaging it against the skin of Aasi’s ass until a brilliant, sinful idea comes to his mind.

He presses his lips against Aasi’s and just as he does so, he presses a finger inside of him. Shepherd eats the moan he lets out, kiss rough and hungry like he’s been deprived of a meal for years. He’s not sure what compelled him to do this, but the blissed out expression in Aasimar’s face as he adds another finger is more than enough validation.

“O – oh, nngh, Shep,” he whimpers, bucking his hips down against his hand, “u – unfair.”

He cracks a small grin and thrusts his fingers, a steady pace with the occasional hooking of his fingers to drive Aasi wild. Precum leaks from the tip of his cock, angry and throbbing for release.

“I – I don’t want to hurt you, so I thought this would help.” He says, tone soft as he watches the expressions on Aasi’s face shift and change.

“F – Fuck,” Aasimar gasps and he tried to still his hips, “y – you’re very, ngh, s -sweet.”

He smiles and he keeps going, hand coming to wrap around one of his thighs as he fucks Aasimar with his fingers. He’s rough with his pace, and gentle with each kiss he lays along the expanse of Aasimar’s chest, marking him with gentle love bites.

“S - Shepherd,” he whines, back arching with each thrust of his fingers. His thighs tense, wrapping as tightly around Shepherd as they can given their position before a loud, whimpering main is pulled from him and strings of white, hot cum drips from his cock.

He stares. It’s a terrible thing to do but he stares, and he’s almost… excited at the prospects. Aasimar is so… different, and special. There’s not enough Shepherd could ever do to thank Aasimar for something as simple as merely existing. But he could try.

“C – Can I ?” He asks, breathless as he watches Aasimar gasp and moan in the aftershocks of his orgasm..

“Y – Yes, please, yes.” He nods, almost vigorously, and meets his gaze with a level of determination that would otherwise make him nervous.

Shepherd presses the tip of his cock against Aasimar’s hole, hands moving his legs to hang loosely around his waist. He doesn’t hesitate for long and slowly begins to push himself in, aided greatly by the lubricant and the overly thought over design of his own cock. Shepherd chooses to ignore that.

A whimper leaves Aasimar’s lips, his body tensing as Shepherd sinks further and further into him. He massages his thighs, careful, calculative moves that ease his body as Shepherd pushes in.

“Y – You’re,” Shepherd gasps, lips parted as he leans his head back, “s – so tight, nngh.”

Aasimar coos, hands clutching the sheets as his body arches, legs tightening around his body. “O – Oh, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it I might just hit you.”

There’s a brief moment of pause before Shepherd snorts and makes a point to pull Aasimar down, sinking him all the way into his cock.

“Like this?” He asks, a smile tugging at his lips. He shifts, thrusting experimentally.

“ooooh, yes, y – yes, like that,” he purrs, eyes fluttering shut.

His hips begin to fall into a steady, careful pace, each move pulling a noise far more lewd than the last from Aasimar’s lips. It’s poetic, how noisy he is, how utterly divine he is like this.

Shepherd grunts, his pace quickening as he readjusts, hands coming to fall at Aasi’s side, keeping him in place.

It’s mind melting how warm he is, how divine this feels. His own moans come out in light, deep pants.

Beneath him, Aasimar mewls, rolling his hips to meet every single one of his thrusts until his body is trembling, unable to keep up with Shepherd.

“Oh gods, Shep, you’re so, nngh, p – please,” Aasimar throws his head back, moaning loudly. “Y – You feel so g – good!”

Shepherd whimpers, “p – please, I won’t…. I won’t be able to h – hold on if you talk like that…”

“Mm, d – don’t worry, sweet boy,” Aasimar purrs, eyes fluttering open just for his eyes to almost roll back his head, “I – I won’t last l – long e – either.”

It feels like heaven, knowing that Aasimar won’t last long either, despite being far more experienced at this.

“I – I’m gonna , oh fuck, I’m gonna c – cum!” Aasimar whimpers loudly, his body shaking as he cums, hard, his body jolting with each thrust, overstimulated but desiring more all at once.

Shepherd moans, burying his face against his neck, hips rocking hard against Aasimar’s until he yelps. He doesn’t expect it when it happens – the feeling overrides him, tears through him faster than anything else has before. He cums, hard. His cum thick and filling every inch of Aasimar, every inch that matters.

“O – Oh, oh my gods,” Aasimar whimpers, panting heavily.

Shepherd whimpers, still holding onto Aasimar’s hips as he begins to pull out, blackened cum leaking from him. “O – Oh, I’m … I’m sorry I made a m – mess, I’ll fix it.”

He doesn’t seem to care too much about his sheets being stained, his eyes shut in bliss. “Mm, yes, after every sexual endeavor you must clean up. But… I think… I think I might just… sleep.”

“May I clean up for you then? I mean, clean you, too, that is.” Shepherd asks, quietly. Not sure of what to do with himself now.

“Of course,” Aasimar makes a move to sit up and then he hisses, “I, ah, I fear you’ve made me delightfully sore. You’ll have to help me, anyway.”

He looks away, embarrassed. “I – of course.”

#missingcarrion #carrion [wip]#carrion project #ch: aasimar #ch: shepherd

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httpshujii · 4 months ago

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WORK SPOUSE !

Nurse!Atsumu x Nurse!reader

ᯓ Did he mention he loves you?

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

A certain blonde muses as he leans against the reception counter at the entrance of the hospital. A lopsided smirk rests on Atsumu's thin lips, heavy lids casting a spell upon his brown eyes.

This isn't fair. He gets to look like some God despite having very, very limited hours of sleep. Unlike you. With a frown on your face, hair tied messily, dark circles sagging under your eyes, and nothing but a cherry lip balm that hopefully brightens the rest of your pale face.

"Shut up, Miya."

"Awe, I ain't lyin' though."

He doesn't miss the way you scrunch your nose, knowing he hit that sweet spot that ignites all the flames of butterflies that tickle your insides.

And as if he isn't already perfect, he hands you a cup of coffee, knowing that you hate night shifts and desperately need sleep but your dedication to helping others as much as possible is more important.

"How was my lovely wife's day today?"

Almost spitting out your coffee, you ended up choking on it instead, coughing as he cackles.

"Wife?!"

"You're basically my work wife."

With raised brows, you demand an explanation. He just shrugs and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, as if he's done it a thousand times before.

"Y'know, we talk all the time, have breaks together, work the same shifts, help each other out, we gossip."

He lists, going on and on about every small thing you guys do. He's stupid, you want to just- squish his stupid pretty face and kiss him. But thanks to God, you've been blessed with ultimate awkwardness, so that will never happen.

"That doesn't make me your wife."

You counter and he just smiles. Not a smug smile, not a teasing one either. But rather a genuine, sweet smile that has you melting. The frown on your face wavers, hands loosen their tight grip around your mug, and your heart threatens to burst through your ribs.

"Forgot to mention that I basically love you."

Zero. Zero is the number of seconds given for you to react before he smooches your smooth lips, it's quick but sweet, so sweet, in fact, that you're so sure you're getting cavities. He tastes so good.

But he's Atsumu Miya, a tease. So just as you're about to react, he pulls away. Like the stupid tease he is.

"Miya!"

You exclaim, body stiff again and brows furrowed. And zero plagues your mind again the moment you feel his warm hands massage into your shoulders.

"Oh you poor thing," your stomach does somersaults, he's so evil. How dare he speak in that tone, in that pitch? "so stressed from everything, let me help you darlin'. "

"If you don't stop I'm gonna die."

"And what is it exactly that 'm doin' ?"

"Something," you answer, breathless as you roll your head back onto his shoulder, "I don't know what it is but you're doing something."

"Just helpin' my pretty wife out, nothin' outta the ordinary."

You sigh, as if you've been a married couple of over twenty years and he's being annoying again. But you let him help you, you let him touch you, kiss you, even though anyone could walk through the hospital at this ungodly hour, you still let him. Because for once, the universe is siding with you, and you hope this will last forever.

if you cant tell, i have writer's block :D

ᯓ SPECIAL MESSAGE FOR . . . @natdu

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY MAMAAAAA!!! Where do i even start, istg i wrote smth for u just yesterday BUT NOW YOU'RE 24 GASP!! i wish you all the luck and love and happiness in the world bcs ur a literal sweetheart, you make me sososo happy and im so grateful to have you, im so grateful for you sticking with me ever since i started on here. i dont think id be where i am today without you and i love you so much for that. im so sorry for being ignorant on ur actual bday and bombarded you with my problems even though i planned a whole happy birthday thing to say in ur inbox, but im stupid :D the point is, you never deserve to have ur birthday forgotten bcs ur wonderful and so amazing and strong and you're a great doctor and online parental figure. i and many others appreciate you for making time in ur schedule to interact with all of us. i love you so much 🫶🫶

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ukitakejuushiro · 2 years ago

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#(smooches ur furrowed brows)#sir ur face #Ukitake #Bleach #Danie liveblogs Bleach #Anime

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strawberrysodaslut · 2 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS ON THE 1K MY LOVE<3! I'm so happy and excited and I love u a lot, lemme kiss ur forehead smooch<3. U know im gonna send like a thousand asks so I hope u don't mind < 3.

Grim reaper 💀; Angst with Sirius, he uses reader to get over a past relationship–, perhaps some cheating with his ex, I wanna suffer<3

ahhhh ily!!!

join the celebration!!

18+ for sexual themes

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

When you first started dating, you knew he still loved her, you weren’t blind.

You saw the way he looked at her, the smile on his face whenever she talked to him- a smile he never gave you. You had heard all the stories about the dates he took her on while they were together, great, big romantic gestures with roses, candles and probably a suit. But when it came to you, he never planned the dates, and when you did it would be a 50/50 chance of him showing.

The truth was, you didn’t know exactly what you were to him. A tactic to get her jealous? A distraction? You didn’t know, but you knew one thing for sure; you weren’t someone he cared about.

And you were the idiot in love with him.

Your friends hated him, they truly did. It became a daily occurrence of “I don’t know what you see in him,” or, “he treats you like shit, dump his ass.” But you never listened, you thought that one day, maybe, he’ll get over her, one day he’ll love you back. And that was enough for you.

It took months, but finally, he seemed to notice you. He started taking you on dates, asking you about your day and listening to what he said, the light in his eyes evident when he sees you. You were right, the wait was worth it. He was the perfect boyfriend.

He wasn’t feeling well today, didn’t show up to any of his classes. So you decided to get him some soup from the kitchen, as well as some ‘muggle remedies’ for colds, knowing how he can’t stand Madame Pomfrey’s techniques with the common cold.

You knock on his door, quite lightly, just in case he is asleep. You don’t hear his voice, so you assume he is, deciding to leave your little ‘gift basket’ by his bed, so he can enjoy the stuff as soon as he wakes up.

But just before you open the door, a hand wraps around your arm, James’ hand. “I- I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said, brows furrowed as he lightly chews on his lip. You look behind him and see Remus, he looks furious, why was he so mad?

“What’s going on?” You ask, letting go of the doorknob, “Is he okay?”

Remus scoffs, “yeah, he’s more than okay…” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Moons…” James warns.

But Remus ignores his warning, “No, fuck this. I can’t stand by this shit anymore. Look at her Prongs, she doesn’t deserve this shit.” He says, putting his hands behind his head as he paces the short hallway.

What was he talking about?

“It’s not our business…” James whispers, so quiet you can barely hear him, but Remus does.

Remus pushes him out of the way and swinging the door open. Muttering an “I’m so fucking sorry,” before walking back to the common room, James’ following behind.

You look in the room, eyes locked onto the sight on Sirius’ bed. He’s lying down, looking happier than you’ve ever seen him, with her on top of him, doing things that you thought he’d only do to you.

You’re dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Should you make your presence known? Or should you leave? Either way… you couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t see what they were-

“Oh- shit.”

The voice leads you to look up at the… couple… and through the blurry vision that your tears have provided you, you see him staring right at you. His eyes are wide, hers are bigger. She covers herself with the blanket, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with you.

You want to leave.

So you do, walking out the door and rushing back to the common room, it doesn’t take long for you to hear the footsteps of your boyfriend behind you. “Wait, please” He says, finally catching up with you. But you walk past him, heading back to your own dorm, “Just let me explain.” He says, gripping your arm to stop you from moving.

You shake your head, “I think I understand perfectly, thank you.” You say, ripping your arm from his grip as the tears fall down your cheek, “I thought… I thought I was finally good enough for you.” You say, “That you were happy with me.”

He’s crying now, whether its out of embarrassment, guilt or actual regret you’ll never find out.

“But it was always her, wasn’t it? It’s always gonna be her?” You say, the grit in your voice nearly breaking as you hold back your sobs.

Sirius is speechless, and for the first time, he sees what he’s done to you. “I’m so sorr-“

You walk off, ignoring his apology. He doesn’t deserve to feel better because he ‘apologised’. He deserves the guilt. Because you knew now, you really knew.

He wasn’t happy because he noticed you, because he realised he wanted to be with you.

He was happy because he got her back.

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

sirius black masterlist

main masterlist

join taglist <- tags in reblog

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

#marauders #marauders era #sirius black #sirius black one shot #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #sirius black headcannon #sirius black imagine #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader angst #sirius black smut

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mrsmount16 · 3 years ago

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Okokok soooo I have a request for Mason ofc lol

U know the like YouTube challenge ’my boyfriend does my makeup’? What about him and doing your makeup for a YouTube vid? Love ur writing ❤️❤️

Yep, I had this one written up for a while but I'm just now deciding to do all my writing outright now, this will be quicker. Depending on what request came first ofc🥰. Enjoy :)

Warnings: None.

"Okay, so first we have foundation obviously." Mason said confident as ever.

"Duhh, no primer, or eyebrows first guys." You rolled your eyes sarcastically at the camera.

"Yeah, that's what I said. Primer." He said offended, facing you with furrowed brows.

"Alright Mase, take it."

You gave him the bottle, he put a little on his finger and dotted it around your face, using his hands to gently rub it in. Concentration all over his face.

"Okay, eyebrows next, pass the stick babe."

"The stick?" You repeated, confused.

"C'mon, help me out, i'm a footballer not a makeup artist."

You laughed, putting your hands on his thighs and leaning over into him, a smile on your face, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry footballer, let me grab you the spoolie."

He put a hand on each of your cheeks, squeezing your face together, "hurry up" He stated jokingly.

You pulled away laughing, grabbing a spoolie and handing it to him, he brushed your eyebrows up and down and everywhere, at some point it was near your hair line.

After guiding him through everything and helping him when it came to what brush to use and what product to use, it had been an hour, the finishing touches was the highlighter, and Mason being Mason, he chose the biggest lashes he could find.

"These spiders are good."

"Whatever" You rolled your eyes playfully, starting to apply the lashes.

"So," He turned to the camera, "We have here out beautiful model, and a new makeup look."

You posed, sticking your tongue to the side and holding up a peace sign.

"Firstly, we have the eyebrows, I went with dark brown to accentuate her hair."

You waved your fingers under your eyebrows and kept raising them up and down.

"Next, we have the eyes, they're a lovely yellow to bring some light to the new Chelsea away top." He smiled.

"Mason oh my god." you mumbled.

"Obviously, the eyelashes really help the look, they just make her look even more great."

You held in a laugh, looking at your boyfriend.

"Then, we have a blue lipstick to also shine light on the home kit of the best premier league team." He pointed at your lips, and you went to bite his finger but he pulled away quickly, looking at you with wide eyes, laughing.

"Honestly, its a look Mase, you did alright."

"Thanks babe, I know."

"Kiss?"

He nodded, grinning.

You moved his head to the side and planted a huge smooch on his cheek, leaving a big blue lipstick stain, you giggled, pointing at the lens in the camera to show him what you did.

"y/n, I love it." He admired, snaking his hand around your waist, and yours went around his shoulder.

"Well, I think we're finished here, safe to say if football doesn't work out, we know where you'll be going."

"Of course." He nodded, looking impressed with himself.

"Thanks for watching guys! And thank you Mason for joining in, see you next time! Byeee!!"

You both waved at the camera, grinning.

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1kook · 4 years ago

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espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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urlocalbunny · 4 years ago

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F-fluff please. I‘m lacking pre-dating fluff in the game. How about Vampire’s reaction to Eloise giving them affection for the first time, kissing his knuckles, a kiss on the cheek. Or first kissy or hug 🥰 They’re so guarded, emotionally, they must be surprised at least. I need flufffff (I hope this isn’t too vague)

Hello, anonie! Here it is! I hope you enjoy it.

Much loves *smooches ur forehead if you want and let me.*

Aaron:

Eloise was initially training with him. It was a productive night and they'd decided to shower and wrap it up. Eloise rested a little inside the tub, then she decided to drink some hot chocolate.

When she sat in the parlor in front of the fire, Aaron's presence made itself known as he approached her room and knocked. She smiled, waiting for him to pick on her trace. Soon enough, he stepped uncertainly through the stairs and opened the door. He sighed in relief.

"Thought I was passed out somewhere?" He nodded, blushing. She patted the space close to him from inside the thick blanket. He sat down awkwardly given his size, but Eloise grabbed his legs, making him sit comfortably and giving him a cup. "You said you can drink."

Aaron looked into her eyes, then he nodded, taking a small sip. Eloise laughed when his eyes widened, drinking more. A mustache formed on top of his lips. He licked it. The girl, then, did something that had Aaron's heart skipping more than a few beats.

Her hand lifted the blanket, covering him and scooting closer. Her hand held his, kissing his reddened knuckles. "You put a lot of effort into helping me. Thank you, Aaron. I promise I'll do my best to help you out too." Her head rested against his arm. Eloise slept after a while, but Aaron's heart was still beating loudly, more than any bark or howl he'd heard from the packs he's seen.

Raphael:

"But was Werther really friends with Charlotte at all? I mean, he's always seen her under a lover's perspective." This sentence made Raphael's hands shake in distress.

"Miss... Do you mean to tell me you think a man who has always liked a woman has more difficulty to be her friend?" He was thankful for the blindfold because his eyes darted everywhere.

"I mean... If suddenly the love is over, would anything in her seem interesting to him anymore? I think if he tries to befriend her first, it's actually genuine." His hands stopped shaking. He bit back the biggest smile he could muster in a while.

"They could be friends like us." She said, sitting on the armrest and holding the side of Raphael's head tenderly, kissing his forehead. "Then, think of something more from there. But alas, this is merely a book and Charlotte was already betrothed to a man."

"You mean to tell me we... You...?" "You know how to read between the lines, Raphael. I like that about you." With a last kiss on the cheek, Eloise left. Raphael covered his burning face with his hands, squealing and shaking his feet slightly.

Beliath:

Beliath felt the wind whip on his face on the narrow way to the manor after the club. He was buzzing a little, Ethan was talking and he listened to him just fine, but he wasn't answering like he was when they left the club. He laughed at the younger one's joke, seeing the lights on.

The door opened, and a smaller, bouncing silhouette jumped at the door. Ethan snorted in amusement, wishing him a good night and walking past her with a nod. Eloise stepped outside, smiling at him.

"Hey, you're home!" Everything after that went by really fast. Eloise wrapped her arms on his neck, holding him as close as she could while standing on her tiptoes. His heart raced, but he held her back after a little aftershock.

They didn't part ways for a while, and a few seconds in, he knew that if this hug was just a one-time thing, he was going to feel bad for the rest of the days they'd spend together. So he closed his eyes, brows furrowed, and squeezed her tight, making her giggle.

He sighed loudly, resting his face in the crook of her neck when he leaned down a little. Her body was warm, probably from the fireplace, and her smell was so sweet that he wished they would be more. He didn't even get scared anymore. He was in love with her.

Vladimir:

Vladimir was pent up after a few bad events and planning for some party Beliath wanted to host, so when Eloise saw him stomping up the halls to his room, she decided to go after him.

The girl barged in his room, making him frown as if he was about to explode, but she made a surrendering gesture to appease him and he kept it at bay, sighing in exasperation instead. She held his hand that untied his tie, doing it for him instead. He blushed deeply and his eyes widened.

"W-what are you d-doing, miss?" "Helping you out." She said, folding it carefully and putting it on the right place. She walked back to him, and untied his hair. "Sit down." Eloise kneeled on his bed after picking up a brush, starting to detangle his hair softly.

Even if he had the courage to say something, he didn't have the wish to. Her hands worked softly, complimenting his hair and giving him advice. He would've been angry had it been someone else in other situation, but her voice showed nothing but concern.

After that, Eloise wished him a good night, but he held her wrist, leading it to his head shyly. She giggled, the sweetest sound to his ears right now. Even after sleeping, Vladimir's face that looked so angry, for once, looked peaceful.

Ethan:

Ethan was dancing. Eloise and him were together while Beliath did anything else. It didn't matter because Ethan was in a battle on his mind. Something that wasn't on his plans came up in form of butterflies on his stomach.

Eloise was dancing under the blue lights, her hips swayed to the song and her hair flew around, the faint strawberry scent made him dizzy. Except it wasn't dizzy. He was flustered. Eloise noticed him halt his movements and approached him, swinging her head in a goofy way to make him laugh.

He couldn't stop his giggle, forgetting for a second that the sole reason of his problems was approaching him. Fast. He didn't back off, it was too late and would be suspicious.

Eloise smiled at him, holding his hands and clasping them on her waist. He stiffened, but she quickly whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry, if you want, we can dance from afar." He was no wimp, so he held her close, feeling her arms slide around his neck.

Ethan didn't know when, but Eloise was close. So close that they did so much as graze their lips together. The shock was so amazing that he didn't know what to do and backed off, asking her if she was crazy. "You leaned in!" She laughed. He just snorted, but his arms didn't budge as they danced.

Ivan:

Eloise was taking care of him. It was hard enough that he made her go through this pain, but she also had to put up with him. Giving him blood, treating his wounds and helping him clean.

Eloise didn't seem to mind as she munched on a big bowl of soup close to his bed, bouncing happily. He observed and made a note on his head: Elo likes Beliath's soup recipe. Ask him about it later.

His eyes examined the soup, trying to see which bits she liked the most and which ones she pushed away, but when his eyes followed the spoon, her big ones looked at him with amusement, munching away. He blushed, lowering his eyes.

Eloise looked at the bowl, then at him, repeated it a few times as if making a choice, then she left the bowl on the desk, lifting the sheets from his body. "Is it time to change the bandages?"

"Not yet. You're almost a hundred percent. You look like you want a hug. Can we?" He stuttered, covering his face, but he scooted over. Eloise smiled, pulling him to her front side and latching her arms around his waist. He could only see the crook of her neck and the side of her soft cheek. His heart pounded like crazy on his chest as he held her back and curled up against her, smelling her perfume. Tears prickled his eyes.

#moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers headcanons #sfwbunny #bunny's writing #moonlight lovers fanfiction #ml aaron #ml ethan #ml beliath #ml raphael #ml ivan #ml vladimir #moonlight lovers fluff

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terriblesportsimagines · 6 years ago

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ah ... this my first time sending an ask for this kinda thing i'm so shy omgomg;; hopefully ur able to answer this one !! Um. How abt tetsu's gf rlly wants to smooch him but has no idea how to ask n he sucks at the hints she's throwing at him? lmao (I finished watching daiya a while back n honestly? I miss tetsu lol)

Who doesn’t miss Tetsu? Don’t worry, Ryou’s got your back!

Yuki Tetsuya

You were trying not to get frustrated with him, you reallywere. You knew what he was like, a little bit of an airhead, and youloved him for it. But he was so focused on baseball, to theexclusion of everything else, including you. It had been a week and ahalf since he’d properly kissed you, and you were dying. You likedkissing him, the closeness and connection it bore. It was the one momentyou had his complete attention.

You understood that he was busy. Commuting to schoolevery day was hard, and he was the baseball captain, that came with a level ofresponsibility not usually asked of a high schooler. But damn it, you hadneeds too.

You’d tried throwing hints at him – standing a little tooclose, running your hands over his arms and sides, presenting your face andbasically screaming, silently, that you wanted a kiss. But either hedidn’t notice, or was purposely ignoring your hints. Both ways hurt, andthe hurt festered until you found yourself pulling away. You knew youshould just tell him, or just kiss him yourself, but you had pride, andif he was ignoring you, you didn’t want to be pushy…

Sighing, you nudged absent patterns in the dirt as youwaited for baseball practice to finish. Maybe today you’d be able toconfront him…

“___-chan?”

Startled, you looked up to find your boyfriend, one handsomebaseball captain Yuki Tetsuya, standing in front of you, thick brows furrowedheavily. “Tetsu?” You replied, blinking. “Practice isn’t over yet,right?”

He lifted a shoulder and took a long step forward, puttinghim directly in your space. His hands fastened themselves to your hipsand pulled you the rest of the distance to him until you were pressed hip tochest against him. A shiver travelled down your spine, both at his touch,and at the look in his eyes. “Tets-“

“Sorry,” Tetsu mumbled, ducking his head to breathe gentlyagainst your lips. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Wide-eyed, you gasped a little, but immediatelymelted. “I… how did you realize?”

He looked pained for a second and his cheeks flushed. “…Jun. And Ryou said you always look disappointed after seeing me.”

While you were embarrassed that his teammates got involvedin your relationship, but you were nevertheless grateful they’d clued him in toyour feelings. With him close like this, you felt safe and warm. Safe and warm enough to rock up on your tip toes to press your mouth to his.

The time for hinting was probably over.

He made a low, growling noise in his throat and crushed youin his embrace, tipping your back so that he could devour you. It was thekind of kiss you’d been waiting for waiting for and you threw yourself intoit. Your arms came up around his broad shoulders and held him in place,just in case he was thinking of pulling away.

He wasn’t though, now that he had you, he seemed content tostay exactly where he was, despite the fact that you were pretty sure practicewas still going on.

When he finally lifted his head, breaking contact so youcould both breathe, he set his forehead against yours. “Missed you,” hemumbled, touching his lips to yours once more, softer and sweeter than before.

You smiled, happy and content to cuddle him and let him kissyou over and over, even though you both had other places to be.

#daiya no ace #ace of diamond #yuki tetsuya #scenarios

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seeswonders-a-blog · 7 years ago

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you better watch out... you bETTER WATCH O U T ...... HERE SHE COMES.... I N C OM IN G..... smooch. ( literally anyone take ur pick! go wild! meri shitscrem! )

sudden brush of a strangers’ lips ‘pon pale cheek. to say it caught him by surprise, would’ve been an understatement. any such gestures of affection towards him had only ever come from his best friend. ( but even ki was never THAT intimate. ) brow furrowed as icy blue hues narrowed, studied woman that had shared the honeyed greeting. “ usually a mere hello is enough. don’t do that again. ”

@kintsukis

#kintsukis #・°☆.。MESSAGES IC.#・°☆.。replies. XUE.#oops you get my grumpy boy #i'm sorry #he's very rude

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astralshipper · 5 years ago

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do I even have to explain?? sleepy boy. Messy hair!!! It becomes perfect with ONE SWIPE THROUGH with his fingers. Single layer Sammy? Dude he’s practically NAKED. In his pajamas but keeps his watch on. I love him. I know he doesn’t feel good and I wanna give him a big old hug and cuddle him but also he looks so damn cute... his hair looks so soft...

alright this is TECHNICALLY I think from te season 6 promo that I can’t actually find but I KNOW IT EXISTS OKAY so it’s jared but it’s Jared as soulless sam I swear!!! Anyways ahem,,,, sir. I would like to volunteer to give you a kiss. Your nose looks v cute. V kissable. Will give a quick smooch. I know ur soulless and all but I still love u even tho u don’t give a shit abt anything and u make dumb decisions.... ur still my baby ok and I’d die for u in a heartbeat.... ur hair looks so good I love pls marry me again

this is technically Jared again yeah and this time it’s Jared jared but let me expLAIN... fed sam..... OR!!! mob boss sam..... doing this shit..... the whole tuck the hair behind the ear and keep trailing ur finger down ur jawline thing is messing me UP and sam doing that can and will destroy me. Hair + jawline = insta death

HI THIS ONE IS V OBVIOUS!!! PRETTY SMILE!!!! HAIR PRETTY!!! HES SO CUTE!!! Sam if ur not careful I might have to kiss that smile ok!!! So be careful!!!!!!!! Unless u want a big OL kiss u better stop bein cute like that!!!!

holy fuck guys. This soft look. The little sideways grin. I’ve never wanted to kiss a man’s cheeks more in my life. Y’all ever just see someone and think. Yeah.... yeah I wanna hold ur face and press my cheek against yours and just nuzzle into u and tangle my fingers through ur hair?? Bc that’s the very specific mood this gif is giving me and I’m yearning for my boy... mr win.chester u better chill out or I’ll be forced to marry u again.... I just wanna be rlly like grossly sweet with him and annoy dean and sit on sam’s lap totally innocently while he’s doing research and give him cheek kisses and run my fingers through his hair and just.... guys....

LAST ONE I PROMISE AND ITS A CUTE ONE SEE!!! SEE SEE SEE LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS!! First of all let’s get it out of the way real quick: h a i r. This is one of my fave hairstyles ever. The one he’s kinda kept since around S10-11 ish??? This feels like s12 bc that’s my fave sam hair but I. Am not sure. Later seasons blend together,,, OKAY BUT!! Light hitting his cheekbones?? The shadows here??? EXQUISITE. The curve of his neck n his brow bone and around his mouth just. That’s ART. the eyebrow raise is precious. He does the whole switch from thinking to attentive and it’s so soft idk why,,,, brow furrow!!! Yes!!! He looks rlly attentive and I just. Idk it makes me really really soft and lovey dovey when someone is visibly paying attention to someone bc like,,, I don’t get that a lot from ppl so the idea of him looking at me like this and visibly paying attention to what I’m saying??? Yeah I’d melt on the SPOT!!!

we’re gonna play the game again where I show y’all gifs of sam and I talk about why they make me weak and y’all scroll past them and debate unfollowing me y’all ready?

#OKAY YEAH THERES A RANT #the essay is coming by the way #i havent forgotten and i wont let yall forget what you did #supernaturally soulmates #astras dumb shit #BTW YALL R SO SWEET AFTER I POSTED THE INITIAL TEXT POST THANK U OH MY GOD :’’’’)))#long post #long post tw

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gh0stpkmn · 8 years ago

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ok uh. yooran gaming channel au - part 2

@misfireezreal reblogged the ‘yoosung has a gaming channel au’ post and wrote a really cute lil addition that inspired me to add some more ideas to this mess of an au..... and i got really carried away

their addition / reblog post is here !! tho i’ll also put a screenshot of it under the cut... along with more headcanons/ideas/whatever for the au/scenario

god this is so cute omfg. ok so..

● yoosung liking comments that say nice things abt saeran?? so good. honestly the sweet comments probably rlly do a lot of good things for saeran’s self esteem!! they cheer him up when he’s feelin sad i would think? definitely helps a lot on his rougher days.

● misfireezeal mentioned donations so i started thinking about what donation money would go towards... when theyre not goin towards yoosung’s tuition (if he even stays in university at this point?? idk??) or his cost of living, or equipment for the channel, they go to charities.

yoosung wants to help animals so they donate to animal rescue organizations and stuff like that. he wants to contribute help to other causes too so... he wants saeran to have some say where the money goes (and i mean saeran is the meme bringin in a lot of it so. ye.)

it’s important to saeran that they donate to organizations that provide help for mentally ill people--especially mentally ill youth. also organizations that help children in foster care or like... help kids that have been abused idk.. idk! idk... things that can help young people that are going through some of the same things saeran went through

yoosung doesn’t announce the donations or anything because like... he doesn’t really feel the need to???? neither of them see a point in posting/talking about it. it just feels good to do nice things.

other stuff:

● it comes up in passing that like. saeran as a knack for hacking and everyone’s like “how could u do this?? cant believe ur a dirty hacker”

saeran’s like “ lol dont worry. i only cheat at games when i play against my brother because he’s a shit and never plays fair ”

chat is like “whoa we didn’t know you had a brother!!!”

and they talk about it a little and yoosung is like “yeah his brother is ____” (whatever his username is? i forget. hacker god i think?) “he usually plays on the shooting star server “

viewers are Shocked that yoosung knows #1 on shooting star. they demand to have him as a guest star

it’s... debatable whether saeyoung agrees to it or not?? he has to lay low and stuff.. either way, they tell saeyoung about it and he’s so amused omfg. he watches yoosung and saeran’s streams sometimes (and is so proud of his bro. he cries probably) but not super often? when he does watch, he also uses a random throwaway name

but after the chat asks for him, he logs in once or twice w/ his LOLOL screen name and people are all over omfg. chat goes wild and saeyoung is Living for the attention omg

saeran is like “you’re so dumb god i hate you”

and saeyoung’s like. “ok but are you actually planning on coming home some time soon??? tomorrow maybe? becaaauuuuuse..... i miss you”

it’s cheesy and lame and Embarrassing. saeran’s just.. “GO AWAY asshole im doing a thing....................................... also, yes. please order pizza for dinner”

yoosung thinks its funny n cute and so do the viewers.

● and ok even if... saeyoung is never a guest star, they probably bring like. mc or zen on once or twice and it’s great. a lot of viewers recognize zen (i imagine he’s a bit more famous at this point) and they are... so excited and surprised that he’s friends w/ yoosung and saeran.

i can’t really see jaehee or jumin on the show but like..........

..... the idea of them tricking jumin into trying to play a video game on the stream is so fucking funny to me????

like Somehow they manage to convince him to come over?? idk maybe by asking him to ”help them work on a big project that’s essential to yoosung’s career” or smth “that requires nothing less than jumin han’s skill and expertise” and because he’s a good friend he agrees. then they just. put a controller in his hand and he’s like “what am i supposed to do with this”

and ok jumin has probably owned a gaming console at some point but i honestly, truly can’t bring myself to believe that he uses it for anything other than like.....netflix

so he has no fucking experience and it’s. so good. yoosung and saeran are trying really hard not to laugh (and yoosung is failing)

idk what they make him play specifically but for some reason wii sports is flashing through my mind holy shit..... but actually its probably LOLOL or fallout 4 or something. idk. either way, he’s bad at it and they struggle to teach him how to even hold the controller properly

● saeran likely moves in some time after they’ve started the channel where both of them play games together. which happened pretty far into the relationship anyways i think?

and even then it happens quite a while after they start the channel. maybe when it’s been going for a year or something? maybe two??

(i have no idea???? idk how long these kinds of channels stay big??? i only watch like... fairly well known youtubers like game grumps that have been around for a long time. and mcleroy stuff on polygon idk.)

anyways

how they decide to move in is basically like... ok.

i imagine they probably get questions about their relationship a lot when they come out as a couple or when new viewers first find out about them. the flow of questions dies down after the initial reveal that they’re together but they still pop up every now and then

sometimes the questions get slightly intrusive like asking about their plans for the future which they kinda just ignore those until it becomes a really frequently asked question so they Have to answer it.. so they just say they don’t feel comfortable talking about it for the time being (because tbh they dont know lol)

and so...

probably a specific question that people ask A LOT (and have since saeran’s early appearances) is if saeran lives with yoosung, or if he’s planning to.

because he’s at yoosung’s place so often. he has been since the channel’s early days, and they post videos and stream together fairly regularly, i guess?

there’s obviously more content of just yoosung doing his thing because it is his channel after all but content featuring saeran is definitely a frequent thing (even when it’s not their duo let’s play channel or whatever... saeran can still be seen in the background in a fair amount of yoosung’s usual LOLOL streams, too. )

so uh

at some point they’re just hanging out.. (off stream, not on video or anything. just them together.. like a date night or just to spend some time together. i dunno)

maybe cuddlin’ in bed or on the couch watching a movie, having a nice time. there’s comfortable silence

and yoosung never really gave it a lot of thought before, but lately... he and saeran are just really close and their relationship is so GOOD and he loves him a lot. he’s thinking over all this stuff and how often people ask if they live together and...

i mean, he thought about it on his own before he really took the viewers’ questions seriously.... them bringing it up isn’t what sparked it necessarily.

he considered the possibility before, but he was always scared that bringing up moving in together would be too forward or pushy, and that saeran wasn’t ready for it, and that they would be rushing into things--going too fast. yeah.

he got that ball rollin’ and was trying to take it slow but recently, everyone bringing the idea up jsut. fuckin. kicks that ball. so hard. it’s going full fuckin throttle. max speed. it’s out of control and he can’t stop it

and so in this... really comfortable quiet moment he just kinda blurts out

“why haven’t we moved in together yet?”

saeran is surprised obviously. he wasn’t expecting that at all

he has briefly entertained the idea of living with yoosung before, because he’s over so often anyways, and he wants to spend even more time together.... but he’s also scared for various reasons?

such as his mental health issues, obviously. he’s also anxious that yoosung will get sick of him, or that he won’t be able to handle being around yoosung 24/7 and vice versa. he doesn’t want to get so easily annoyed and snappy like he does at home with saeyoung? he also doesn’t want to rush into things. idk. there’s a lot more reasons but those are some of them.

so when yoosung says this, he has no idea how to react??? so he just kinda mumbles “oh... uh.......”

yoosung panics like

“god, im sorry, that was so stupid. um. it’s just... been on my mind a lot lately, i guess..? god! ah... forget about that! it was dumb...”

he covers his eyes and kinda... hunches over. all embarrased and nervous and a little guilty because he doesn’t want to make saeran uncomfortable. he can’t even look at him. poor boy omg

saeran stays quiet for a long time, furrows his brows and chews the nail of his thumb and looks like he’s concentrating on something. after a while he pipes up, so quietly that yoosung can barely hear him

“i don’t think it’s dumb”

yoosung is. shocked. but also immediately hopeful! he perks up!!! looks at his bf incredulously like “you don’t?”

saeran kinda... talks slowly bc he’s thinking hard about his words and says that he didn’t expect yoosung to bring it up really but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before

so they have an Important, Serious conversation about it and they both make sure that the other is %100 on board with it and ready to just. jump in and do it.

celebratory smooches ensue because they’re cute and happy and excited.

... i forget if yoosung’s place is a dorm or not. if it is, he gets his own apartment.

if it’s not, he stays in his apartment and saeran moves in there.

it’s small and kinda cramped and very far from a “forever home” but they make it work for now!! they’re happy that way... (maybe in the future they get a bigger place, which is nice because it makes it easier for saeran to have some privacy when he needs time alone.)

● yoosung definitely takes short little videos or vlogs all the time and posts them on youtube and other social media

he takes one the day after they have the conversation mentioned above. and it’s just. “you guys.... i asked my boyfriend to move in and he said yes!! god, i was so scared! tell them how scared i was, saeran!” he points the camera at saeran who is reading a book and he just.

idk he either just flips off the camera bc he’s busy and doesn’t want to be disturbed...

he looks it right at the lens and says “he was scared shitless. he literally shit his pants. it was gross. i had to h---”

cue video going blurry as yoosung turns the camera away real quick paired with. shocked, loud shrieking. “SAERAN!!! DON’T SAY----” and then the video jsut kinda. cuts off there.

(he still posts it but with some caption along the lines of “that didn’t actually happen. saeran’s just being a dick”)

and of course, there’s definitely multiple videos of the day they move saeran’s stuff in. yoosung records a bunch and puts them on his snapchat story or w/e... other social media too, so they can look back on them later...

just cute little clips, like one of saeran’s room with all his stuff in boxes..... one of saeyoung and saeran (and maybe mc) loading stuff up into the car.... one of them putting the boxes in yoosung’s apartment.... a dumb one of saeyoung goofin’ off at yoosung’s place and mc doting on him..

one of saeyoung giving his brother the biggest bear hug ever. just. completely squeezing the life out of him and dramatically pretending to be all emotional (even tho he really is genuinely emotional inside omg) and saeran being annoyed and trying to push him away “god, let me go! you’re suffocating me!”

one where... they’re bringing in the last box.

and finally like. one w/ yoosung turning around to show his whole apartment, boxes everywhere, some of them already half unpacked. “phew... finally finished! the hardest part, anyway”

it’s cute.

● the little videos are probably a thing that happens every now and then, even after that... he probably snapchats a lot of things in general bbbut a lot of the time it’s just. dumb, random videos of saeran.

some of them are stuff like:

a close-up of both of them, taken with yoosung’s phone where they’re like “streaming in fifteen! we’re gonna play ____ today.” .... real cute stuff.

or just. shitty phone videos yoosung takes of saeran where like… yoosung says something really sappy joke or pickup line? idk. something really cheesy and terrible and wants to film saeran’s reaction. and saeran looks over and his expression is just. dead inside. the camera zooms in real close on his face and he whispers “………………. im so sick of this Shi–” the video cuts off there

probably lots of them chillin and having fun with the whole rfa crew

and. maybe one where the two of them are hanging out with saeyoung and mc and other pals and.. idk. one of them says something funny and they’re all laughing but yoosung zooms in on saeran who just.........ok i imagine that sometimes his more subdued laughs come out as like?? this huffy, kinda wheezy little giggle. he covers his mouth w his hand. and the video captures that. when yoosung posts it, ppl Freak out about it because it’s so uncharacteristically adorable...

there’s videos of them going on trips or just new places in general... going for hikes and exploring maybe.. idk. lots of cute stuff.

saeran takes one of yoosung when they’re at the spca?? or some place like that. idk (i dont like pet stores but maybe a pet store).. and.. yoosung just has his hands and face pressed to a glass partition/window/whatever that has a puppy behind it. maybe multiple puppies. and yoosung turns around w/ the Most desperate, pleading expression anyone has ever seen. (saeran knows he has to say no but it’s so hard omfg)

and obviously there’s lots of little clips of video game stuff. teasers of the game content itself or their playthroughs. maybe a video of one of them sitting on the couch or a computer chair playing a game and getting angry lol.... (or saeran getting frustrated w/ a handheld game that’s supposed to be really calm like... animal crossing. idk sorry i just love the idea of saeran having a 3ds and playing chill games like that to help him relax when he’s anxious omg)

.... there’s also lil videos yoosung takes but he decides that they are private, for his eyes only... little moments like one where they’re getting ready to stream and saeran’s adjusting one of the microphones

and yoosung quietly says hey to get his attention, and saeran looks over and smiles real big and genuine w/ lots of love and tells him to “Stop goofing around. C’mon, put your phone down and help me finish setting up.” and it’s. sweet and happy and cute... yeah.

BUT uh...

yeah!

that’s all for now !!

#yooran #. gh0st blabs #forgive me... no lectures on fridays means too much free time.

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