#I can’t even call him an idiot because that’s actually really smart

[detentiontrack]

This morning while I was packing my lunch in the kitchen, CZ started screaming and crying and I ran into the room because I thought he was hurt or scared, but he was physically fine, so I checked his food and water bowls (both full & fresh) and then he led me to the window and screamed louder and it turns out. He wanted me to open the window so he could chatter at and pretend to hunt the birds in the new bird feeder in the tree outside, and he wanted me to do it NOW.

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[fangisms]

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

[ham1lton]

SIMPLE !

pairings: jude bellingham x lewis hamilton’s assistant!reader

summary: after your first few dates with jude, everything seems to be going smoothly. however, there’s just one problem: your boss seems to hate your new boyfriend.

warnings: judeyn being dumbasses.

author’s note: part of my dream girl universe. for best enjoyment, read after the first instalment. assistant2 also makes her first official appearance!!

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📍 berlin, germany.

tagged: judebellingham

liked by ham1ltonshaderoom, jobebellingham and 2,837,918 others.

yourinstagram: the photos he takes of me vs the one i take of him. i think you all can see the better photographer.

view all 1,108,928 comments

user1: LOVE seeing hot people date each other.

-> user11: i love seeing two hot people be BESTIES.

user2: JUDE IS TAKEN ???!!!! NOOOOOOO

-> user3: babe… you didn’t have a chance at all. like please be serious.

-> user13: thank god they aren’t actually dating tho.

user4: my gf <3

-> judebellingham: who even are you.

-> user4: we can share <3 i can keep her satisfied thru the weekend u have the weekdays king.

jobebellingham: love this yn. he looks so depressed and ugly.

-> judebellingham: U JEALOUS ASF 😹

-> jobebellingham: yn i’ll paypal you £50 rn if you post more ugly pictures. which is all his pictures really.

-> yourinstagram: challenge accepted 🫡

lewishamilton: you look good yn!

-> user5: and what about jude??

-> lewishamilton: what about him?

-> user6: NOT YN’S HUSBAND HAVIN BEEF W/ HER BFF 😭

user7: lip combo?!!??

-> yourinstagram: i’m not a gatekeeper. it’s on my tiktok!! my most recent one <3

user8: you did my king so dirty with that one pic…. LMFAO DO IT AGAIN

-> yourinstagram: 🫡🫡

user10: their friendship is so cute!!

user12: yn is moving up in the world!!! from bts delulu to besties with JUDE BELLINGHAM

-> yourinstagram: blocking you! 😃

-> user12: you can block me but you can’t erase ‘hobisbabymama’

-> yourinstagram: HELLO?2&/9£/

user9: WHERE IS LANDO?!

-> user10: she blocked his main and his ten other side accounts because she’s secretly in love with him and wants to leave loser jude for him.

-> user9: hi lando 😁

user10: no roscoe pic?

-> yourinstagram: sorry babe :(( he’s at home with his dad and i’m on holiday. assistant2 has some highlights of him on her page!! <3

judebellingham: why do i look so depressed

-> yourinstagram: idk <3 want to get ice cream?

-> judebellingham: .. yeah

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title: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, i don’t really post on here, but i’m at my wit’s end and need advice. i (j, m21) have been dating my girlfriend (y, f24) for a couple of months now, and it’s been brilliant. she’s smart, funny, beautiful, and honestly the kindest person i’ve ever met. here’s the catch: her boss (l, m39), who also happens to be an insanely famous athlete and very wealthy, clearly hates me.

y works as his personal assistant, and from what she’s told me, l has always been good to her. she’s known him for years, and he’s helped her out a lot in her career. she always says he’s like family, but ever since she introduced me to him, he’s been awful.

it started small, like him calling me “mate” in that condescending way that makes you feel about two feet tall. but last week, i went to pick y up from work, and he gave me this look—you know the type, the kind that says, “you’re not good enough to breathe the same air as her.” i tried to play it off, but it’s eating at me.

another time, we ran into him at a café, and he made this offhand comment about how “footballers aren’t known for their brains.” y tried to laugh it off, but i felt like an absolute idiot.

then there was the incident with the tickets. y mentioned she’d been offered two box seats for a big match, courtesy of l, and we were both so excited to go. but when she told him i was going with her, he suddenly “remembered” he’d promised them to someone else. i know it sounds paranoid, but it feels deliberate.

to make matters worse, y thinks i’m overreacting. she says l is just protective of her because they work closely together, but i can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. she brushes off his weird behaviour, but come on—this is the same man who asked her to taste-test a box of chocolate truffles because he couldn’t decide which to order for himself. (weird, right?)

it’s not just the comments, though. y told me l doesn’t usually care who his staff date, but she mentioned he’s suddenly started asking loads of questions about me, like whether i’ve been in trouble before or if i’m serious about her. it’s like he’s looking for a reason to disapprove. y thinks he’s being protective, but i swear he just doesn’t like me. here’s the problem: i’m pretty sure he hates me. actually, scratch that—i know he hates me.

i’m spiralling here. what if l starts sabotaging our relationship? y says she’s not going anywhere, but i can’t shake the feeling he’s got some weird power over her. am i just being insecure, or is there something seriously wrong here? what do i do?

top comments:

soggy_pigeon: nah, this is classic alpha behaviour. he’s marking his territory. he probably sees her as more than just an assistant, if you know what i mean. tread carefully.

fluffybananas: footballers aren’t known for their brains. maybe he has a point.

spicy_gravy: dude, he’s probably jealous you’ve got abs and a girl who loves you. chill.

randomuser_123: sounds like you’re dating your boss’s work spouse.

tofu_throwaway: i think l’s just jealous because y spends more time with you now. he’s like a toddler upset that someone’s playing with his favourite toy.

ladybantheboys: ok but what if it’s the opposite? like, what if l approves of you but is being mean on purpose to test if you’re good enough for her?

football4ever: j, mate, you’re overthinking. l’s just a famous bloke who doesn’t want to lose his assistant to some random guy. show him you’re not random. take him out for a pint or something.

memequeen420: this reminds me of when i had a cat and got a new dog. the cat hated the dog at first but now they’re best friends. just give it time.

plshelpme1998: have you tried googling “how to win over your girlfriend’s boss”? there’s bound to be a wikiHow.

bananabreadbae: mate, if he wanted her, he’d have made a move by now. maybe he just doesn’t like footballers. not everyone does, you know.

user2847: honestly, the truffle thing makes me think he’s the weird one. does he do this with everyone or just y? if it’s just her, he’s probably got some weird older-brother complex going on.

ultimategoblin69: maybe he wants to adopt you. famous people do weird shit like that.

yogurtbutter: ok but what if you’re the problem? maybe you’re just a bit annoying and he senses it. famous people have great instincts.

iamnotanon: have you considered sabotaging him back? like, nothing serious, but maybe show up in a better suit than him one day. alpha vibes only.

opinionatedowl: this is a power thing. l’s rich and famous, and he’s used to being in charge. stand your ground, but don’t disrespect him. he’s probably testing you.

thecheeseman: it sounds like a bad rom-com where l secretly approves of you but can’t admit it because he’s emotionally constipated. if i were you, i’d play the long game.

spicywaterlover: wait… what if l is secretly in love with y and you’re the obstacle? plot twist.

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edit: wow, ok. this has been a ride. thanks for all the comments, even the wild ones. i think i’ll try the “pint” suggestion, but i draw the line at sabotage. will update if anything changes (or if i get adopted).

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liked by messyassuser, lando11priv and 1,938,882 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: football star jude bellingham seen cuddling and being affectionate with his new girl! she has been identified as yn yln, she is the personal assistant of f1 icon lewis hamilton. they were spotted outside a restaurant in las vegas after the grand prix all boo’d up! according to sources, they were all loved up at the after party. they ‘didn’t leave each other’s space’. what do we think about this new couple ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: who tf even is she

-> user2: a baddie. she’s seriously so funny and sweet. you guys should see her tiktok or insta pages. jude is punching above his weight.

user3: oh!

user4: HOTTIES!!!

user5: why they doing the most in public???

-> user6: they’re in love? girl lmao.

-> user7: she’s his beard or he’s hers. idk yet. i need to consult the stars.

-> user8: ^ me when i’m off my meds.

user9: am i the only one who thinks they’re cute? good for them!!

user10: um i think she’d be happier with lando.

-> user11: lando please how are you still making new accounts.

-> user10: i’m totally not the handsome and gorgeous lando. i’m actually… pando. hi.

user12: my gf and my bf are dating??? i’m gonna be sick.

-> user13: they got two hands.

user14: they’re rlly dating???

-> user15: no bitch. they’re just coworkers 🙄

-> user14: oh! thank you :D

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UPDATE: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, it’s j again. thanks for the advice on my last post—it was a mix of helpful, hilarious, and… well, a bit unsettling. but it gave me the push i needed to talk to l. here’s what happened:

i decided to man up and ask him out for a pint to clear the air. i figured it was the most normal thing to do. well, turns out l’s teetotal (thanks, y, for not warning me properly). when i suggested a pint, he just looked at me for a second and went, “i don’t drink, mate,” in that calm, terrifying way he has. i panicked, said something about tea, and left feeling like an absolute idiot.

but two days later, he called y at work and told her to invite me round to his place for tea. TEA. this man lives in a house that looks like it’s straight out of a Bond film, so you can imagine how intimidating it was to rock up with a packet of biscuits like some budget offering.

long story short, we had tea, and he cleared the air. he admitted he’d been giving me a hard time because he wanted to make sure i was serious about y. he said she’s like family to him (didn’t say “work spouse,” thank god), and he needed to know i’d treat her right. honestly, it was a bit awkward, but also kind of sweet.

so yeah, we’re good now. he even said he’d save me a seat for the next big race. i don’t know if that was a peace offering or a power move, but i’ll take it.

thanks for the push, reddit. you lot are mad, but in a good way. most of the time.

comments:

ladybantheboys: told you he was testing you! this is literally every rom-com ever. next step: you accidentally bond over an inside joke, and he becomes your biggest fan.

bananabreadbae: this is so british it hurts. “sorry i was mean, let’s have tea.” mate, at least you passed the test!

football4ever: called it! blokes like him just want to make sure you’re solid. now you’re in his good books, you’re set for life. congrats, mate.

memequeen420: so… what kind of biscuits did you bring? was it something boring like digestives, or did you go all out with hobnobs? we NEED to know.

randomuser_123: this is like when my dog hated my boyfriend at first but then they bonded over cheese. sometimes it just takes time.

tofu_throwaway: glad it worked out, but honestly, i’m still a bit scared of l. even through your post, he sounds like he could crush a man with a single stare.

iamnotanon: congrats on passing the test. now don’t mess it up, or i guarantee he’ll make you disappear. rich people have connections.

ultimategoblin69: you went to his house?! are you sure it wasn’t a trap? like, did he subtly scan your fingerprints for future blackmail material?

plshelpme1998: like, this whole thing is giving weirdly protective father vibes. good luck, mate.

user2847: what does his house smell like? no, seriously. i feel like rich people’s houses have that “old money” smell, like leather and expensive wood polish. was it intimidating?

(deleted): send feet pics.

opinionatedowl: so… when’s the wedding? i’m assuming l will walk her down the aisle now that you’ve been knighted into his inner circle.

thecheeseman: this is the most British solution ever. “i made you feel terrible, but here, have some earl grey, and now we’re mates.” glad it worked out though!

memequeen420 (again): STILL no answer on the biscuits. j, you’re avoiding the REAL questions here. were they branded or store-brand? did he eat one? this is important.

weirdcookieperson: did he sniff you when you walked in? like, does he have a heightened sense of smell? rich people are weird, man.

alphamale_uk: mate, you handled this all wrong. never apologise, never offer tea, and NEVER back down to another alpha. you should’ve walked in, sat in his chair, and asserted dominance. that’s how you gain respect. next time, bring steak, not biscuits. real men bond over meat, not tea.

j (op): l’s vegan, mate. bringing a steak would’ve been like waving a red flag at a bull. also, this isn’t Planet of the Apes, it’s just tea. chill.

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j (op): wow, i forgot how weird reddit is. for the record: branded hobnobs. because i’m not a monster. no sniffing, no fingertip scanning and i’ll get someone to update you if i go missing. cheers for the laughs.

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @23victoria @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @yongi-lee @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

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[midnightstar-kpopsmut]

Chapter III, Stick it

- I stayed there for a couple of seconds – said Cheongtae -. I didn’t really know what to do after Karina bluntly asked for my help. Maybe it’s not even that, not knowing what to do. Sometimes I am just moody. You know that from the outside I can look like a tall, muscular, confident guy, but I don’t need much to be thrown off guard. I don’t have that kind of fast smart like reaction that other guys have. So a few seconds of that can be quite uncomfortable for me. You know what I mean. I actually think I have many repressed thoughts, like why would I be uncomfortable, like ever? It’s not like I have a knife to my throat if someone says something strange to me, so there must be many memories and fears that arise to me in those kind of moments, or in this moment with Karina.

- He is just stupid – added Jimmy to the recollection of events -, but I didn’t want to say that to him or it would have took him two weeks to finish his story. So I just said in Korean “I feel you, keep going.”, which is very difficult to learn and I can’t teach you now, and he kept going.

I follow Karina on the sofa zone, she is leading me. I told you how the middle of the room is strangely down elevated, you gotta take one or maybe two steps down. That makes me notice that she is barefoot, I had took some slippers at the entrance, but she hasn’t any, not even socks. Barefoot. Not that I care, because I am not into feet, I don’t understand what’s the point of that. I am waiting for someone to explain it to me. Anyway. We get to the middle of all the sofas, I am waiting for us to sit, but instead she turns and faces me. She is distressed. Just a touch, but she is so pretty, so it is easy to notice. She looks at me straight into the eyes and says: - Can you... hide them?

“Hide them? Hide what?” I think. O right, her breasts. That’s what we were talking about just before. - How would I hide them? - I say.

- Can’t we do some shape that would draw the attention away from them?

I shake my head slightly. You can’t draw attention away from tits that just gained two sizes and are stretching out of closely fitted clothes.

She sees that I am not convinced. - Do I need longer extensions? - I look at her and say: - Don’t you have already some on? - No! - she quietly screams by protruding her lips – Those are mine. Who are you confusing me with?!

Like I told you I had not seen her for a few months. I get why she scolds me, I didn’t took it personal, she was looking out for competition. Idols can be so possessive of their look and team.

- The only thing that could hide them, I mean draw attention away, is maybe a bob cut. But I don’t think we can go for that without consulting the rest of your team. Especially Hansuk, I need her approval. - Hansuk is the head of the visual branch of Aespa, added Cheongtae to Jimmy, she coordinates make-up, hair and clothes. Not married, sharp, you should meet her. Jimmy wasn’t interested. So he kept pressing Cheongtae to hear the rest of the story.

- I am NOT getting a bob cut. That is horrid. What is that? The idiots that think they can get away with a bob cut in our industry... Shameful. - She took a step toward me. - Try something else.

I evaluate my options. She has indeed call me for something complex, as I had imagine. At least she doesn’t seem to want to get a real cut right now, just get a feeling of what we can do.

- Shouldn’t we go in another room? - I say -. One with a mirror... A chair?

- Why? - says Karina, concerned – Here it’s ok. You can sit. It’s very comfortable.

She gently sits down on the main sofa, tries to calm herself. I put myself on her right, what else can I do?

- Oppa, you look at us everyday. You see that this is a big... change.

She puts her hands on the air around her tits and moves them, to further highlight what she is talking about.

- Why did you do it if you don’t like them? - I add.

- Oh but I do like them – she replies -, I always wanted them big.

I nod, then realize I am nodding as a reflex, and dare to ask -... Why? Why do you like them?

She gets aggressive: - I don’t know. I feel like guys like them big... Don’t you?

- Sure. - I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t say it is breast is what I think about first, but still. Big can be nice.

She keeps going: - But my fans... They can be so... limited. I am famous for being savage, powerful. Not cheap.

- I know – I say. She was right. Kpop groups go out with a very defined look in mind. It’s difficult to break out from it, even with different concepts, it is not something you should usually aim for.

She rapidly flutters her eyelashes at me and says: - Do I look... cheap?

- No, you don’t. - I promptly answer. She was as classy and expensive as always. There was just something in her crop top, the fluffy texture, that gave her more of “that kind” of look. And it arguably made her breast look even bigger. As if you had to touch them. A devilish loop. But there was no point to underline that, she would have changed her outfit completely for the comeback.

- I am Karina – she says -, not some stupid whore... - She takes her phone out of her pocket and says: - Let me show you.

She gets on youtube and starts typing and swiping, looking for a specific video. She finally finds it and turns it to me.

- Here, her. - She says while starting the video.

The video is a performance of Kiss of Life on Mnet, dating of the 24th of July. - Stick it. - I say.

Karina pauses the video and gives me a tap on my left leg: - It’s Sticky. Not Stick it. You are such a dog...- She presses play again.

I don’t know Kiss of Life much, but in this performance one of the fourth members was giving much more then the others, in my opinion. She is boldest, more defined and you could say just more... vulgar.

- You are looking at Natty, right? - Says Karina.

- I don’t know their names. – I reply.

- The one with the big tits.

- She has quite a character.

The video goes on, on the refrain you can hear “Sticky, Sticky, Sticky”, the four members all slam their asses, then squat, then rise up and bend forward while turning their head to the camera. But Natty improves on the choreography by keeping her mouth fully open while she shakes her ass. The camera clearly favors her.

Karina stops the video exactly at that point, with Natty wide open in front of my face.

I try to say something: - See, she has a bob cut – she indeed had one -. You look at her face more than her... body.

Karina’s face looks disgusted. - She is such a whore. She will never get it. Kpop is not just about making guys hard.

I agreed. While looking at Natty spreading her legs, looking down, opening her mouth... I am surely not focusing on the song.

Karina notices it: - Even you! Look at you! You are looking at her open mouth.

I try to bring back the discussion to our common interest, her own look: - You don’t need to do that. We can use a big bandana for you. The attention will stay on your face and you will look fierce.

- I am so pissed – says Karina -, you heard that I had to stop see my guy, right? While this slut does this on stage.

I remember that Karina was dating a hot Korean actor that she had met in Milan for some fashion event, she was then spotted in Seoul by paparazzi and had to apologize publicly. I had heard rumors that she was still seeing him, though.

Karina continues: - If I get ANY hate for my boobs... I swear, I’ll kill someone.

She starts swiping again on her phone.

- This was the maximum I was allowed to do on stage.

The new video is a snippet from a performance of Next Level, one of Aespa biggest songs. Karina press play.

In the video, while the aggressive rhythm fills the venue, the four Aespa members bends forward, and Karina gently hits Winter’s ass with her hand,

On her living room Karina follows the video and hums: - Next level wa... - she taps my leg again, while the clip plays for a second time.

Then I don’t know if it is because we are not having a lot of sex with my wife, you often told me I should fuck her more, since she is pretty and all, but you know how it is with her, or because I am tensed with the whole idea of having to do an urgent work for Karina, plus the videos of course... Well, I start to stiffen in my pants.

The second play-through of the video ends, but Karina’s hand stays on my left leg. I can’t really brush her off, that wouldn’t be polite.

- Oppa – she says-, do you think I should get rid of this savage style? Be like Natty, just go... all in?

- You should do whatever you like. - I say, like an idiot.

- Oh, really... - She replies with a tone.

Karina slightly moves her fingers on my inner, left, tight. My dick is slowly and luckily growing to the right. My pants are large, so it stays barely perceptible.

She keeps adding – Maybe if I change my stile once and for all they will let me date. I kind of miss him. He is very, very horny. - She looks in my eyes to see how I react. Then looks at herself and says: - He is always looking at my big tits...

And there it is. At that point I get tired of this whole bullshit. This calling me on the middle of the afternoon to work on her hair, the long list of complaints, the talking to me about her boyfriend... I can’t take it anymore and jump on her.

I grab her small head and enormous mass of hair with my hand and throw my head at her lips. I am not that aggressive usually, but she had really annoyed me. So...

She can barely breath through the kiss, I don’t let her. She aggressively taps my leg with her hand, so I relax the kiss and grab her tits in response.

- Oppa!! - she says like a surprised kid – What are you doing?

Obviously I don’t stop. She is just acting up.

- This is not very professional... Even Jae doesn’t go this fast...

Right, Jae-wook. That’s the name of her actor boyfriend.

I grab Karina’s hand and move it to my now hard dick. She starts to squeeze it through the pants.

- Why are you in such a rush – says Karina-, I thought you needed more time...

- More time for what? - I ask, even though I hopes for her to shut up.

- To cheat on your pretty wife... - she says.

- Oh, fuck off. - I stand up and raise her light body with a finger. Then bend her to the head of the sofa and start pushing against her ass. We are still both clothed.

- I thought you liked my face, all those time you looked at me at your shop... Guess I was wrong!

I remove her cargo pants and underwear in a single movement. Then my own pants.

She is wet enough, and I am not in the mood to waste more time to make it comfortable for her. I grab my dick and push it in.

Now that I am fucking her, she has finally stopped talking. She gracefully arch her back to me, you can see that all the Kpop training is paying off. I should not be doing this, but then again who cares, I am not the first of the team that has fucked one of the idols, as you know this is more common than people can imagine. Their job is hard, and we all need to relax.

She slightly pushes her body against me. Her hips, previously enhanced by the cargo pants, are quite fragile. I grab them with my hands and slam her in response. She squeak.

Feeling my rhythm settling Karina pushes me harder, she wants more of the slams, but I am not ready to give it to her. To make her point she flaunts her thick, dark and long hair. I look at them, they are quite imposing. I have trimmed and reshaped those hair to perfection dozen of times. Watching them moving from behind is quite a spectacle. I stiffen. Karina groans and pushes. It is like fucking a lion. I get even harder.

- Oppa – she says-, you are so big...

I am surely bigger than normal. And I am quite proud of it. - Not only for a Korean – adds Jimmy -, he is bigger than a western guy as well.

I push my fully hardened dick inside her and say: - Isn’t it too big? My wife says it hurts her sometimes...

- Oppa... Your wife doesn’t like your huge dick? - She says while turning her head to me. - How is that possible, I like it so much... - her cunt contracts.

- She says she hits her at the end and it hurts. - I add.

- Then it’s not really cheating... - Karina says, closing her eyes – She can keep your bored, sloppy dick...

She touches my right hand on her waist and adds: - I’ll take the huge horse cock of yours... It goes so well with my big tits...

I instantly bend forward and grab her new big breasts through her soft crop top. I bury my head into her cascade of dark hair. My dick is now swelling in pain. The rhythm through which I slam it inside Karina rapidly intensifies.

- Oppa... You are going too fast... - she says.

I don’t answer and cover her mouth with one of the hands.

She frees herself from it and says: - Be careful... you don’t want to make me pregnant.

- What? - I ask while leaving her tits and putting myself straight up again – You don’t take the pill?

- I don’t take anything! - she says, while still pushing her ass and body against me. - Those shit are not good for your skin. But keep going... Tell me when you are almost there...

We keep pushing for a few more seconds, at that point I am almost done, who wouldn’t and I let her know.

- Wait for me... - says Karina. She pushes me out of her, puts herself on her knees in front of the sofa and grabs my dick with her two hands. - You can finish on my face.

I am almost there. She looks at me with her big, dreamy eyes and says: - Oppa, do you like my... - but then I explode into her face. Which at least makes both her eyes and mouth close shut. She keeps stroking my dick in silence. Her face is covered with my full built up of load.

There is one main river of sperm, the thickest one, that goes through her lips. A second, smaller one, deviates left on her cheek. Multiple other droplets constellate the rest of her face, which she has masterfully bended back to avoid staining her eyes.

Karina keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the sperm on her face.

While looking at her I realize that, even through my numerous sexual encounters, I had never seen something so beautiful. It must have been the makeup, or the hair, or whatever else. Strangely enough, I had never had sex with an idol before.

Karina’s face looks like a painting.

That’s when I reach for my pants, specifically for the phone in my pocket. Karina thinks that I want to go and complains cutely. I give a pump of blood to my dick, so that it will look good on the picture. Karina feels it getting bigger into her hands and smile, still with her eyes closed. Resting like a diligent worker on her break.

I take the picture, put my phone away, and rise my pants.

She opens her eyes and throw herself into the couch.

- I should go – I say. Then I notice her horny look on her face and add: – Did you come?

- No, sorry – she says -. I think I need something more. To come, I mean.

- Yes, I get it. - I answer. What else could I have said? I didn’t have anything more than that to give. And it was also getting pretty late. Girls very often cannot get excited by sex alone, they need feelings, something like that. I said to myself that it must be the same for Karina.

I act with care and help her clean her face with a napkin. I am her employee after all. She doesn’t want me or her to go to the toilet to wash up though, strange.

Instead she grabs a soda from her fridge and rushes me off the apartment. Out in the hot city of Seoul.

- That is how Cheongtae told me he got this picture. - Said Jimmy. The American looked at him, wanting to know more.

- What did you say was your name, again? - Added Jimmy.

- Steven – said the American, that we can now call by his name -, my name is Steven, but you can call me Steve.

Jimmy waited for Steve’s question, which arrived after a few seconds: - Can I talk with Cheongtae? I’d really want to know more about his work in Kpop, it would help me for my job here as well.

- Well, that would be nice – said Jimmy -, very nice. Problem is Cheongtae told me this story one week ago, it had just happened, and I can’t get in contact with him since then.

- What do you mean, you can’t get in contact? - Asked Steven.

- What I mean is, that Cheongtae has disappeared. We are quite close. But I don’t know where he is.

At that Steven didn’t had an immediate follow up question. So we will have to wait and see for the next chapter to know more about his own train of thoughts.

[lotusbxtch]

The Best Ride In The Galaxy - Pt. 2

Pairing: brat-tamer!Poe Dameron x f!Reader Rating: M - 18+, MDNI! Summary: You and Poe play bedroom games, but who comes out the winner? Word count: 4732

Warnings: smut with barely plot, language, name-calling (bitch, asshole, cockslut, slut) but you’re both into it, pet names (my Poe speaks Spanish which is not canon but it’s my fic damnit), brat-tamer!Poe, D/S dynamics, safeword usage, physical restraints (handcuffs), mild humiliation, “she” pronouns in reference to vagina, very brief mild physical bullying, brief light slap to the face, panty sniffing, one (1) love bite, oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (be smart, be safe!), rough sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, brief fainting, creampie, established relationship, no use of y/n

a/n: I didn’t intend on writing a part 2 to my one-shot, but Poe said otherwise. Thank you to my dear sweet @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading! If you like my work, please comment and reblog! It would mean the world.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

Sometimes you don’t even know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the smirk he sports when he reads your mind, knows you better than himself. Maybe it’s that self-assured confidence and cockiness that gets him into trouble but is also the reason why he’s co-general of the Resistance. Or maybe it’s just because he does the exact same thing to you – pokes at you, annoys you, until you snap and he gets to play with fire.

You can’t remember how it got started, but that simmer of irritation was already burbling under the surface when he told you that he had to do a hands-on demonstration of advanced defensive maneuvers to the novice pilots in the squadrons.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? You just have to? Or is it because you, Poe Dameron, cannot pass up a single opportunity to show off?”

Poe huffed and shook his head, a small smile blooming on his face. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s because you know I’m right, you idiot,” you retorted, folding your arms across your chest. The move unintentionally pressed your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage, and you saw Poe’s eyes dart to them. 

“Oh, sure, it’s not your fault that you have correct opinions and great tits, isn’t that what you always say?” he chortled.

“Fuck right off, Dameron,” you groused as you dropped your arms immediately. “Come back when you’ve stopped being a dick.” You turned on your heels and walked away, not even knowing why you’re giving him an attitude.

“At least you know I’m not unintentionally lying this time about when I’ll actually be back, baby,” he yelled in your direction as you stomped off. “I love you, you brat!”

Without turning around, you flipped him off. “Love you too, you fucking asshole! Come back in one piece!” You didn’t see him shaking his head and chuckling as you rounded the corner out of sight.

Two days later, Poe returns, right on schedule. By then, you’d spent enough time out of his presence to actually miss him unironically. You’d been going about your normal duties on base but sleeping in his empty bed at night, his scent still clinging to his sheets and helping you fall asleep without the warmth of his body next to you. When his pod door slides open, you lift your head from where you lounge on the bed.

“Hi baby!” you greet him, a warm smile on your face. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, hopping to your feet wearing nothing but one of his shirts and your lacy underwear. Those two nights had also been spent with nothing but your own fingers and toys to sate your sex drive, and much to your chagrin, it couldn’t compare to the way Poe was able to make you fall apart. 

When he walks through the pod door, you feel desire flare up warm in your belly. He’s still wearing his flight suit. He knows how crazy it makes you.

Poe tracks your movements with warm chocolate eyes as you saunter over to him, putting an extra swirl in your hips to entice him. But as soon as you get close enough to feel the heat of his body, he doesn't let you go further.

“Uh-uh, bebita,” Poe says as he puts a hand out. “You were being a brat before I left for whatever reason, so you don’t get what you want so easily this time.” You pout, but don’t press the issue. He wasn’t wrong; you had been absolutely insufferable for no reason.

Shaking your head slightly, you bite your lip and let out a huff of air from your nose. “That’s funny. Judging by that tent in your flight suit, I’d say what I want also seems like what you want, flyboy,” you retort, smirking at the obvious erection at Poe’s crotch.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” he purrs, keeping his hand on your chest. “You forget that out of the two of us, I have far more patience than you.”

“Hmm, that’s not what I remember about three nights ago,” you mock-thoughtfully muse. “If memory serves me correctly, I think you were begging? Something like, ‘oh Maker, please, baby, please let me fuck your –”

“That’s fucking it,” Poe suddenly growls and grabs your hips, crushing your lips to his. Moaning, you lean into the kiss, smiling quietly to yourself that you broke his resolve.

That is, until you hear a smooth metallic shick behind you and feel your wrists suddenly encased.

You pull away from him, eyes wide. Wriggling against the restraints, you realize that he’s –

“Handcuffed you? Yes, baby,” Poe confirms to you with a smirk. “You want to be a brat? Fine, but I’ll treat you like one then.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “If you want to come, you’ll have to be my good girl.”

You scowl at him in response, but simultaneously a shudder ripples involuntarily through your body. Poe’s smirk widens at your conflicting non-verbal messages. “That’s right, honey,” Poe teases, voice syrup-sweet and thick with amusement. “You like to play-pretend that you hate being made to behave, but your pussy says otherwise.” With that, he shoves his hand up your - his - shirt, immediately coming into contact with your drenched panties.

Poe tuts mockingly. “Already so wet for me, bebita? What a little cockslut you are. Couldn’t handle seeing me in your favorite outfit and you immediately wanted me to fuck you, huh?” He slips his fingers under the elastic of your panties, smearing the tips with your slick.

“Fuck you, asshole,” you grit out, trying desperately to not grind down on his fingers, needing to chase even the slightest friction to ease the ache between your legs. 

Poe chuckles darkly, a wicked smile gracing his lips. “Later, baby,” he rumbles, “only if you do what I say.” He pulls his hand back out from under the hem and slips his glistening fingers into his mouth, locking his eyes on yours as he groans at your taste. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. Can never get enough of you,” Poe murmurs. That infuriating smirk returns to his face.

You huff. “If you like it so much, why don’t you use your mouth for something other than sweet nothings?”

Poe’s eyes darken in a flash. “You’re gonna regret that.” He rips your panties off, the sound ricocheting around the room.

“Maker-damnit, Poe, those were my favorite ones,” you pout. They cost you more credits than you usually spend on frilly underthings, but the thought evaporates from your mind when you notice Poe bringing the lacy scraps to his nose and inhaling deeply, eyes closed. A whine snakes its way out of your chest.

His eyes flutter open. “What was that, sweet thing?” Poe croons, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you manage to squeak out. He drops to his knees, pulling your right leg over his shoulder, lining up your dripping slit with his mouth as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Oh honey, I’ll show you filthy if you let me,” Poe whispers. “But right now you have to do what I ask you to, okay? Because if you don’t, you won’t like what happens.”

Your chin juts upwards defiantly. “Do your worst, Dameron.”

Poe smirks. “Stay quiet for me. Not a peep until I tell you that you can make noise. And if you start moving your hips against me, I’ll stop.” You nod, but you know it’ll be a challenge. He knows exactly what to do to make you squirm. 

“Do you remember our safe word?” he asks.

“Mandalorian,” you respond. He nods affirmatively.

“Let’s see what you can take, baby,” Poe rumbles, moving to trail kisses up and down your legs and thighs. You breathe in and out slowly, trying to control the nerves he’s currently setting on fire. He drags the tip of his tongue slowly in decorative little swirls across your inner thighs, locking eyes with you. Slick continues to pool in your entrance.

“How does that feel?” Poe murmurs, biting your thigh softly. You press your lips into a line, shuttering any words or noises rising in your throat. You knew better than to disobey him — the retribution would be hard and swift.

Poe chuckles. “Oh, it seems like my little slut is following directions for once. I’ll grant you a reward.” Suddenly he licks a slow, thick stripe through the very center of your soaked core, from twitching pussy to swollen clit. You swallow a whine, biting your lip. Poe’s smile turns predatory. He sucks your clit into his mouth with a lewd slurping sound, and the sudden firing of thousands of nerve endings forces your eyes closed. Poe bites your thigh in warning.

“Look at me while I lick your pussy,” he commands. You lock to his gaze immediately. “If you close your eyes again when my mouth is on you, you’ll be punished.”

You nod and Poe dips his head back down to your center, holding you up with his hands on your upper thighs, his grip firm. He licks, sucks, nuzzles, and gently nips at you, coaxing more slick to slowly drip from you as you fly closer and closer to your orgasm. Just before you can reach your crest, however, he backs off, nearly making you whine with frustration. 

Poe continues to torment you like this for what feels like hours. After a particularly delicious swirl of his tongue, your eyes involuntarily roll to the back of your head and you let out the tiniest moan. Your eyes pop open just as Poe lets go of your thighs and allows your balance to waver. You feel your body lurch side to side as you desperately realize you can’t use your arms to counteract your body’s momentum, and almost fall over, but he grabs you just as you tilt dangerously sideways. 

“I wasn’t joking, bebita,” Poe says menacingly. “I’ll have no problem letting your pretty little ass fall over if you refuse to follow directions.”

Nearly out of your mind with arousal and anger, you spit out, “I wouldn’t have such a problem if you would just put your fucking cock in me already like we both know you want to do!” 

You both stare at each other in silence for a few moments, your face flushed pink with exertion from all of the botched orgasms, and a storm of emotions flickering across his face. Suddenly Poe gets up and drags you with him to the bed. 

“You want my cock that badly, huh, you little slut?” Poe grits out, gently shoving you towards the bed. You stumble and fall sideways toward the mattress, your upper body and face bouncing off the surface humiliatingly since you have no ability to brace with your hands. You stumble back up, mouth ajar in shock. Poe’s never been this mean; you must have really pissed him off before he left for his trip. And for whatever reason, it’s making you even more wanton for him.

“Get on the fucking bed and kneel. Now.” Poe rumbles, his voice deep and authoritative. You stumble a bit to climb up without hands, having to shimmy to move your body. You kneel, sitting on your heels, your shins pressing into the soft surface as you wait for your next instructions.

Poe slowly, teasingly, walks towards the bed, stripping out of his flight suit slowly. The obnoxiously orange suit drops away, his shoes and socks long gone, and he’s left in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He lifts the hem of the undershirt up as his biceps ripple while pulling the piece of clothing off his broad chest. He stops when his thighs hit the bed, cock lined up with your torso, and looks down at you.

“Take them off with your teeth,” he orders. You quickly comply, gripping the waistband of his boxers with your teeth and lips, pulling them down his body carefully. They peel off slowly, the task made more difficult without the use of your hands. After having to nearly fold yourself in half to get the boxers down, Poe’s cock finally springs free, achingly hard. The tip is red and angry looking, coated in a sheen of precum. You lick your lips and open wide, moving towards it. Suddenly, a warm palm is pushed into your forehead, blocking your advance. You actually growl and look up at the man holding you back.

“You think I’d give you my cock to suck as a reward for being such a demanding brat? Try again,” Poe mutters, pulling his cock away from you. You whine, your mouth watering embarrassingly. 

Poe shoves the rest of his boxers down his legs and gets onto the bed. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he grabs your hips and yanks you over, forcing you to straddle his lap, his hard dick pulsing under your dripping slit. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Poe warns. Then he starts to lower you down, and your mind gets hazy the closer his cock is to making contact with you. When you feel the tip of him brush against your labia, you let out a breathy moan and try to sink down onto it. Poe grabs your hips and pulls up while pushing his down into the mattress, evading you. His smirk widens.

“Are you seriously going to make me chase your cock, Poe?” you pant, trying to force your hips down onto his to no avail. 

“Brats don’t get to decide when they get what they want,” he says, “or if they even get it at all.”

He teases your drenched entrance like this another two times. After the third, you let out a frustrated huff. “Stop fucking around, Dameron, just give me your –”

Your sentence ends in a scream as Poe grips your hips and shoves harshly up, bottoming out nearly immediately. A wave of pleasurable pain hits your body like a freight train.

“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Poe grits out, his eyes flashing nearly black with desire. You whine, words unable to form in your mouth, your cunt stretched and stinging from the sudden intrusion. Poe usually warms you up by making you come at least once before fucking you, and the fact that he fucked into you without warning is also new. You eye him, your vision swimming with arousal and wariness. He keeps his hands on your hips, letting you adjust to his thick girth inside of you.

“Now, as punishment, we’re going to play a little game,” Poe explains. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and neither of us are going to move besides breathing. I can’t thrust up, and you can’t clench down. Whoever moves first, comes last.”

Your eyes flick to the ceiling as you take a deep breath. Maker, he’s going to kill you like this.

“Are you fucking serious, Poe?” you say, trying to egg him on. “You won’t ever shut up about how good it feels to be in my pussy, you’re not going to last 30 seconds before you start thrusting.”

“Are you game or not?” he snaps. “Or I could just pull out of you and leave you here high and dry.”

“Stars, you’re so sensitive today,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I’ll play your silly game even though I know I’m going to win.”

“Oh-ho-ho, bebita,” Poe chuckles. “Little do you know, some friends of mine just taught me a new technique I’m gonna try out. They said it helps them tune into The Force, but that it’ll help me from getting distracted.” You peer at him questioningly.

“Since when did you turn into a believer?” you scoff. “You know what? Game on, flyboy.”

And with that, the cockwarming games begin. 

At first, it’s relatively easy. The lack of movement allows the burn from his intrusion to fade away, and the fullness is comforting. Your eyes are closed, your breathing slow. The seconds tick by. Then minutes. 

Eventually curiosity gets the better of you, so you open your eyes. Poe’s handsome face comes into view, and at first you think you’re seeing things. He sits, eyelids shut softly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. You don’t believe it, so you count his breaths to confirm your suspicions. 4 seconds in, 4 seconds holding, 4 seconds out.

Poe motherfucking Dameron is meditating.

No fucking way could the impulsive, cocky, impatient Poe Dameron actually have learned meditation and well enough to allow him to win this game. So you sit there, pussy wrapped around his cock, and wait for him to crack.

Except he fucking doesn’t. The silence and stillness begins to get to you; you feel the impending sense of doom of losing the game crawl up your back and across your collarbones. You wrack your brain to try to find a loophole… and then you do.

“Poe, baby,” you croon at him. Poe keeps his eyes closed, but murmurs an “Mhm?” in response.

“There wasn’t any rule against talking, was there?” You bat your eyes innocently.

Poe opens his eyes suspiciously. “No, but now I’m thinking I may be regretting that. What are you planning, hmm?”

You sigh, doing your best to keep your pussy from fluttering while you weave your web of entrapment. “Oh, nothing. Do you want to know what I was doing while you were gone?”

“Let me guess,” Poe responds. “Did you think of a thousand new ways to torture me or provoke me?”

“Stars, no,” you say, falsely shocked. “I was just laying in your bed, because it smelled like you, and I missed you.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Poe says warily. “What are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?” you play along. “I’m just telling you about how my last couple of days have been and what I did to fill my time… since you weren’t around to fill me.” Still maintaining the innocent facade, you meet Poe’s eyes. He already looks wrecked. A wicked smile blooms on your face.

“Oh fuck you,” Poe grits out.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking about while I laid spread open in your bed, baby,” you whisper, staring him down. “My pussy was so fucking wet imagining you with me, your head between my legs, lapping at me like you love to do.” You hear a strangled groan escape Poe’s mouth, and you know you have him hooked.

“I was tracing my fingers gently around my clit,” you continued, “teasing it just like you do, and then rubbing it in circles. Didn’t feel as good as your tongue does though.” You let out a little moan but hold your muscles in place, pleading with your cunt to stay still. It obeys, but the slick starts seeping out of you, pooling around the base of Poe’s cock. He moans at the feeling, looking like he wants to fuck you or kill you, but unsure of which.

“I had to stuff myself 3 fingers full, fucking them hard and fast, to even get close to what you make me feel,” you whine to Poe. “I came, but it was just a little flutter, not like when you give me one.”

You look down at where your bodies are joined, and then back up into Poe’s eyes through your eyelashes coquettishly and smirk. “But you said just cockwarming tonight. So I guess I’ll just have to sit here, drenching your dick, and not rock against you, massaging you with my pussy.”

Poe’s face looks blank, and then suddenly his eyes darken. Your pulse quickens because you might have just won the game, but you also might be in danger.

“You fucking unfair little minx,” Poe growls and suddenly grips your hips hard enough to bruise. That smirk is wiped off your face a split second later as Poe lifts you slightly and then thrusts into you with all of his strength, spearing your cunt on his cock.

“You wanna play unfair? Fine. But you get to suffer the fucking consequences, you insatiable little bitch,” he sneers, fucking into you deep on the last word. Your mouth pops open in a silent scream. Of course this is what you wanted, but now? Now it’s brutal and all consuming.

Poe starts pounding up into you with no mercy, lifting your hips and slamming you back onto his lap as his cock keeps parting your channel, making you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. When you finally catch your breath, a ragged moan comes screaming out of your throat, and you throw your head back in ecstasy.

“Is this what my little slut wanted?” Poe asks rhetorically, never slowing his pace. “Needed to get this pussy pounded ‘til I rendered you stupid? Listen, baby, she’s so fucking wet, feels like she’s crying for me.” You do your best to listen to the obscene squelching and slapping sounds swirling around the room. No words leave your lips, just another loud and pathetic moan.

“Aww, poor baby can’t even say words now,” Poe chides mockingly. “Can’t tell me how good I’m making this pussy feel.” He rams in even deeper, feeling like he’s in your throat. Your cunt clenches as he hits your g-spot, sending you further into orbit. All you can utter are high pitched little mewls as he drags you kicking and screaming towards your orgasm.

“Do you feel me deep in you, baby?” Poe grits out, his thrusts continuing to devastate you. “I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard that you’re gonna pass out. You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re going to say thank you.” He punctuates the last two words with sharp thrusts that punch your cervix, adding a twinge of pain amongst the pleasure. Your head spins and your breath stutters, right on the edge.

“Please, Poe,” you beg without telling him what you need. But he knows. He drags his calloused thumb over your swollen, hard clit, drawing all of your muscles tight around him. His other hand remains tightly gripping your hip.

“Come for me. Right now,” Poe grunts, and you come with a long, whining scream. Your orgasm explodes in your core, shimmering out through your extremities, your face flushing immediately. You feel yourself creaming all over Poe’s cock. The sensation rips a growl out of his throat. “That’s fucking right, sweetness.” 

You lean against his chest, sated, eyes closed. His thrusts slow down, and he moves his hands from your hips to your shoulders. Bringing you upright once again, Poe trails kisses across your face, and then suddenly, he spears his cock deep into you again. A surprised moan rattles from your chest.

“Poe!” you exclaim, abruptly pulled from your post-orgasmic haze. He continues to sink into you over and over again, hard as steel.

“You thought I’d stop at one?” Poe tuts, lip curling as he punches his dick into you particularly harshly. “No way. You’re going to give me two more before I let you rest, since you were so hungry for this cock.”

“Oh Maker, Poe,” you slur, his slick-coated shaft stretching your walls. You try to rest your forehead against his, but he smacks your cheek gently to get your attention.

“Hey, uh-uh baby,” Poe chastises. “Keep your eyes open. Who's giving you the cock you so desperately needed, huh?”

“You, Poe. Only you,” you half-sob, mind dizzy with pleasure feeling another wave begin to build inside your belly. He continues to work you open, the squelching sound of your pussy around him filling the room. Your breath comes faster and shallower as you approach your second crest, shattering into a million pieces with a squeal. Poe groans at your wet release, but he doesn’t stop hammering into you.

Tears slide down your cheeks as you struggle to keep your eyes on Poe, the pleasure nearly unbearable. Swaying slightly, your head lolls to the side. Suddenly the world is shifting as Poe flips you off of his lap and onto your back, your hands still shackled together against your back. The position puts a bit of strain on your shoulders, but you hardly care. You’re barely conscious of Poe rearranging your legs on the bed, spreading you wide before shifting you up onto his kneeling lap and sliding home once again. Low moans escape your mouth as he pushes in, hitting that soft spot deep in you that only he’s been able to find. You clench down, slightly pained.

“I can’t, baby,” you whine, Poe unrelenting in his rhythm. He looks down at you with the cockiest smirk.

“Do you need to use your safeword?” Poe asks softly, pressing deep and holding himself there. You gasp and meet his eyes. Brows furrowed, you answer, “No.”

“Okay, then hush,” he responds with a chuckle, resuming his motions. Against your belief, you feel your body working itself into a knot again with an approaching third orgasm. But this one feels different.

“Poe…” you whimper. His thrusts speed up, the opposite of what you were going to ask. “No, Poe, I think… I think —” He looks down at you with concern crossing his face, then presses down on your belly, right above your pubic bone. You squeal, feeling the pressure mounting. His smile darkens. 

“Is my baby afraid of wetting the bed?” Poe teases in a singsong voice. You nod rapidly.

“Are you going to use your safeword?” He waits for a response. You just keep staring at him with wide eyes. His smile widens. “That’s what I thought. Shut the fuck up and take it.”

You keen over and over again as he keeps pounding into you. Poe slips his other hand down to your clit, thumbing it once again. His breathing is getting harsher, his thrusts sloppier. Pushing your limits creates a potent, arousing cocktail for his brain, and he rockets towards his finish.

“I’m gonna make you squirt all over yourself when you come, and then I’m going to fill up that pussy with my cum instead of the inside of my fucking flight suit,” he grits.

The filthy dialogue pushes you over the edge, and Poe feels your pussy clamp down on his cock as a strangled scream escapes your open mouth. As he pulls his cock out, you gush milky fluid all over yourself, the bed, and Poe’s lap. He hastily shoves himself back in and out, pushing another release of liquid from you each time. Poe suddenly shouts, burying himself against your cervix and painting the inside of your cunt with his cum as the world goes dark for a few moments, your hearing narrowing as if you’re in a tunnel, your breaths loud against the inside of your ears.

You come to as Poe is shaking you gently, his brows knitted together with worry. When you blink your eyes open, a sigh of relief leaves his lips. He presses soft kisses across your face, stroking your jaw with his thumbs. Rotating your wrists, you notice he freed you from your restraints.

“You did so well, bebita,” Poe croons. “Such a good girl, coming so hard for me.” You smile gently, your mind still hazy.

“I guess you didn’t reneg on your promise this time, Dameron,” you murmur cheekily. Poe huffs, a tiny smirk on his face. “You really did fuck me ‘til I passed out.”

“And you liked it, huh?” Poe teases. You nod your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You sigh happily, burrowing your face into his sweaty chest. Legs intertwining, the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

“Do you even remember why you were being a brat?” Poe suddenly asks. You look up at him and shake your head, laughing.

“No, I fucking do not,” you giggle, “but if it gets you to fuck me this hard again, I might have to be irrationally grumpy with you another time.” Poe rolls his eyes and starts tickling your sides, causing you to shriek and wiggle away, and his cum to seep out of your pussy deliciously. 

Now you remember why you act up with Poe for no reason.

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[joojeans]

˚◞♡ ⃗ I Dare You Pt. 4

♡ Bestfriend!Euijoo x Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You’re sitting on the floor with your friends playing a juvenile game–truth or dare. Things have been spiraling out of control for some time now, but what happens when you’re dared to turn on one of your best friends without touching them? Can they handle it? Can you handle it? Spoiler alert: neither of you can. Find out how things go from seriously fucked up to seriously fucked, one member at a time.

♡ WC: 3.6k

♡ Content: euijoo has a driver's license (but does not drive in the fic), lil bit of dirty talk, lots of making out, some breast play, unprotected sex (be smart), risky sex location ig, bigdick!euijoo, pinch of clit play, quickie, creampie (yeah all of these have creampies SUE ME)

♡ PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST 

Euijoo is laughing. It’s that throaty laugh of his that always makes you smile. The one he does when just smiling his amusement isn’t enough.

Why is he laughing?

Nicholas was just dared to FaceTime his current situationship without her knowing the rest of you were sitting around watching. He thought it seemed innocent enough–his friends were just curious who she was. He underestimated her.

It didn’t take long for the intimate details of their “relations” to come to light. She assumed he was calling to play, she was all too happy to indulge. Before Nicholas could stop her, she was recounting details of their last hook up, the lust dripping from her voice and spreading from Nicholas’s warm cheeks to his suddenly aching cock. He was mortified. And horny beyond belief.

He rushed the call’s end, hanging up with as few comforting words as possible, but the damage was already done. When the call was over and the coast was clear, you were all laughing. None of you had expected it to go so fantastically awry for him.

He was especially annoyed with Euijoo, though. You guess he assumed better of him, or maybe he was just particularly bothered because he’s closest to him. Whatever the reason, he’s been shooting daggers at Euijoo. None of you are blind to it.

What you didn’t expect, though, is for you to partially pay the price.

K speaks up. “Okay, y/n. Truth or dare?” And before you can answer: “And don’t choose truth this time.”

You’re even more tempted to choose truth now, if only to irritate him, but you repress the urge. “Fine. Dare.”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Okay, I dare you to do to Euijoo what we all just did to Nicholas.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, you know. Turn him on. He thought it was so funny seeing Nicholas like that. Would he feel the same if it was him instead?”

You glance next to you. Euijoo is sitting right beside you on the couch, his eyes somewhere between mortified and pleading as he stares at K. Fuck, it’s cute. But it’s… not right, is it?

“I don’t think…” You hesitate, not wanting to insult or embarrass Euijoo unintentionally. “I don’t think he wants that? And I can’t in good conscience touch him like that when he’s opposed.”

K waves his hand dismissively. “Ah, it’s fine. The one rule is that you can’t actually touch his dick, so it can’t be that bad. Right, Euijoo?” K is glaring at him–testing him, smirking.

Euijoo’s head cocks slightly. It seems like he’s having a hard time believing that this is actually happening right now. But despite how shy he can be at times, he’s also not one to eagerly back down from a challenge. He’s not a big fan of being underestimated. You watch as his adam’s apple betrays how thickly he swallows before speaking. “Yeah, whatever. I guess.”

“Wait, wait.” Now you can’t believe what’s happening. “Euijoo.” You wait for him to look at you. He does. “Are you actually going along with this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable because of a stupid game.”

He smiles a little and you can see some of the tension leaving his body. “I know, y/n. That’s why I don’t really mind… it’s you.” He quickly adds: “But if you’re not comfortable then please, please just ignore these idiots. It’s… an awkward thing for both of us.”

Your heart warms at how much he trusts you and centers your comfortability. It’s just like him. He’d put himself through anything, but he’d never allow you or anyone he loves have a single moment of suffering if he can help it.

“I’m okay, Euijoo. Thank you though.” You scoot a little closer to him, the sides of your body touching from shoulders to feet. Just a little test. If he recoils, then he isn’t as comfortable as he’s saying he is. To your surprise, he doesn’t. He just smiles down at you. It’s an unsure smile, one that betrays his feeling of not knowing what to do in this situation, but he looks…excited? Awkward, curious, but open.

Alright, game on.

You pull your legs up under you so it’s easier to move around in Euijoo’s bubble. His eyes are watching your every movement like a hawk, surely trying to anticipate your next move so he’s prepared for it. You chuckle to yourself. He’s so cute.

You sidle up next to Euijoo, closing the distance between the two of you even more. You drape your forearm on his shoulder, your fingers fondling his pretty hair as you look right into his sparkling doe eyes. He grins–it’s one of the nervous, endearing ones. “You look so handsome tonight, Euijoo.”

A softball. You know you’d have to do much more than that to get a good reaction out of the others, but you’re going easy on him. For now. You don’t want to scare the sweet boy.

“Oh,” he mumbles quietly. He doesn’t say anything else–just nods his gratitude. He won’t take his eyes off yours, and you can’t help but feel taken off guard by that. You had expected that he would be avoiding your gaze as much as possible. You’d think this much eye contact would feel much too intimate for him. Maybe he’s full of more surprises than you’ve always thought.

“You know…” You start again, threading your hand through his hair. Your fingers clutch the strands at the roots, tugging just enough for his pretty, pouty lips to part. The tiniest gasp puffs out, but you’re sure that no one but you could hear it. You smile fondly, encouraged by this reaction. “I’ve always liked how tall you are.” You lower your head, plucking his earlobe between your teeth, feeling him shiver slightly in response, his body tensing again. “Sometimes when you’re looking down at me…” You whisper the words against his ear, purring. “It makes me want to get on my knees for you.”

Euijoo’s breath catches in his throat. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to be quite this bold.

You lift your head again, gently grazing your hand up the front of his throat until it rests palm side up under his chin. You hold the two of you like this, eyes locked on each other once again. You don’t want to give him the opportunity to start dodging you now. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Euijoo?”

His mouth starts to move. He was going to answer, but he thinks better of it, closing his mouth.

That’s okay. You weren’t quite done yet, anyway.

“You’d make the prettiest sounds for me if I let you have my mouth, wouldn’t you?” You tailor your voice to sound as if it’s what you want even though the words sound like they’re about him. You know it’ll be harder for him to ignore the temptation if he believes you’re the one that wants it. He can ignore his own needs. Ignoring yours…not so much.

You don’t let him ignore you this time. You hold his gaze silently, forcing him to speak up if he wants to move on from this. 

You watch as his eyes flit about your face, stalling. Even if he wanted to say yes, please, he wouldn’t let himself do that. His jaw is tense from this situation that feels impossible. You take notice of his ears reddening and the way his hand twitches in the direction of his crotch in your periphery. You choke down a smirk. Finally, he speaks.

“It’s not polite to say things you don’t mean, y/n.”

Your lips part this time, surprised by how assertively he speaks. You watch as his pupils dilate, a shiver traveling through your own body. Something about how confidently he’s calling your bluff makes you feel like maybe you’re not bluffing anymore.

The dare ends with Euijoo getting the last word, though. Before you’re able to do anything more, K is sneering, motioning to the way Euijoo has clasped his hands just so over the crotch of his jeans. “I bet you wish you never laughed at Nicholas now,” he taunts. Euijoo rolls his eyes and takes his bodily agency back, turning his head back to the front, leaving your hand floating awkwardly where it had been under his chin.

You pull your hand back a little too quickly, startled by how much you seem to have affected yourself in the process of riling up Euijoo. As expected, you accomplished the job. Unexpectedly, he didn’t respond in any of the ways you’d predicted. You sit back down properly, but you’re still sitting much closer to him than before. You feel like you’d both be able to breathe easier if you sat back where you were initially, but you don’t want him to feel like you were just waiting to get away from him.

Euijoo doesn’t seem to be as concerned with little things like that right now. He clears his throat and stands up, expertly controlling his reaction to everything now that it’s over. “Now that whatever that was is done, can we go get some drinks?” His eyes dart to Nicholas. “You were supposed to take care of that when you came tonight, but since you didn’t, you can just go with me to get them.” Not a question. An order.

Nicholas groans and leans back from his place on the floor until he’s laying flat on his back. He frowns up at Euijoo, hoping to get out of this. “Can’t I just send you the money and you can go? I’ll send extra as an apology.” 

Euijoo shakes his head. “No. You know better what everyone’s going to want since they already told you beforehand. You know, so you could bring the drinks like you said you were going to.”

Nicholas smiles sheepishly. Maybe if he’s cute enough, he can get out of this. You know how he works. “I know, but…” He looks around the room. He needs a get out of jail free card. His eyes light up when he sees you. “Just take y/n! She always remembers what we like because she actually pays attention, unlike the rest of us stupid men.” Oh. So now he’s trying to butter you up too.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Everyone looks towards Fuma. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that after…” He motions to the couch. You almost feel embarrassed. He doesn’t need to say anything more.

K scoffs. “Please. It’ll be fine. You know Euijoo. He won’t try anything.” 

And with that, the decision seems to be made for you. Everyone nods and mumbles their agreement, going back to their own discussions and phone screens, knowing that you and Euijoo won’t cause much of a fuss. They’ve sorted it. 

Euijoo looks at you. He looks like he feels a little bad that you got roped into this but other than that, he’s solid. He holds up his keys and dangles them. I’m ready when you are.

You pull yourself up from the couch and step over the other men spread out on the floor. Euijoo holds open the garage door for you when you reach it, closing it behind the both of you when you walk past the door frame. He reaches for the lightswitch and flicks it on, but it doesn’t do much good. Most of the lights are burned out, leaving only enough light to see each other when you’re standing close. Euijoo starts to move past you towards the driver’s seat, but you catch his hand.

“Wait.”

He stops. He takes a step back so that he’s standing directly in front of you, eyes looking down at you as if to check for any signs of you being uncomfortable. You know all he’ll be able to see is intrigue. “You good?” His voice is lower than usual. Probably trying to not startle you, you’d guess.

“Yeah.” You pause for too long and Euijoo looks antsy. Why aren’t you letting him get in the car then? “I was just thinking…”

The words are having a hard time coming out. This is the most precious person you know. He’s so sweet, gentle, proper. How do you propose what’s in your mind?

“Y/n?” He’s going to need you to finish that sentence.

“Sorry.” You decide to rephrase. “How are you feeling right now? After…what went down in there?”

He laughs politely. “I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry. You didn’t send me into a spiral or anything.” He starts to move again. You stop him again.

“No, wait. I…know.” His brows are furrowed as he tries to piece together what’s going on. “But…what if I’m not fine? You could be…not fine, too.”

“What are you saying, y/n? Are you uncomfortable with what happened? Because I’m really sorry if that’s the case…”

“No. I want more of it. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Oh?”

You lightly graze your fingernails up and down his forearm as you talk, slowly. “Maybe we could just…make out? For a few minutes. Try and relieve some of our tension before we go.”

You watch as everything clicks in Euijoo’s mind, reflected in his eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, y/n? Seems like it could just cause more trouble.” His eyes drop to your lips. It would appear that he’s not too worried about that.

You nod, smiling as you pull him closer to you by the hand. You step backward a step or two until your calves hit the front of the car. Euijoo is watching you, letting you guide him where you want him. It’s a bit hard to read him. He doesn’t seem as eager as you, but he’s not uninterested either.

It feels like a challenge and you like a challenge.

Your lips part instinctively when Euijoo leans in first. His hands are respectfully at his sides, but he’s leaning into you, tilting his head just so as he brushes his lips against yours, testing, watching. The small action evokes a dreamy sigh from you and Euijoo smirks, his hand finding the small of your back as he seals your lips together.

He moves his lips against yours slowly, not pushing too far. His tongue remains in his mouth, focusing on kissing you properly. His hand is holding your shirt tightly at your back and that’s the sign you need to know he’s pent up too. Yeah, he can handle himself, but does he want to? Do you want him to?

“Euijoo,” you whisper against his lips, one leg wrapping around his long one, forcing him to stumble even closer to your body. He exhales, the needing undertone of your movements making his heart race in his chest. He leans forward, his free hand resting on the hood of the car as his other keeps its place on your lower back. You’re looking at each other, lips close but not kissing, eyes communicating. You can see Euijoo fighting himself.

You want to make it impossible.

You move your hands under the front of his shirt and he hisses, glancing down. You take hold of his waist–perfectly sized for grabbing. His breath is already heavy from how hard he’s trying to hold himself back. By the time his eyes drift back up to your face, you’re moving in on him.

This time, you capture his lips, gliding your tongue along the crease of them, silently begging for entrance. He groans, frustrated with his own cravings, but gives in to them. He invites your tongue into his mouth, freely letting himself feel it with his own. You’re holding yourself up with your arms on the hood and everything feels urgent, desperate, as Euijoo takes over the kiss, leading you both in the direction his tongue wants.

You’re all too happy to let him show you what he wants, especially when his lips gravitate from your lips to your jaw, knocking your head to the side gently as he finds your neck. You’re pulling at his body and gluing your own to it as he drags his tongue over your skin, wincing from the feeling of you pressed so firmly to his stiff crotch. He lets himself get lost in exploring your body, one large, gorgeous hand moving up your torso, taking your breast in its grasp. He groans against your shoulder as he feels the soft flesh, his grip tightening when you moan in response.

He pulls back from your neck to look at you again and his eyes are glazed over with lust. You’re kissing again and your body is practically vibrating with need. You know he is too, his cock hard against your leg, both of you dizzy from a lack of oxygen. Euijoo’s doing a good job of making you feel so fucking good, but you need more.

You keep his body in place with one hand as your other reaches for the zipper of his jeans. Immediately, instinctively, his hand drops from your chest to where your hand is trying to unzip him. He leaves his hand on top of yours, his lips breaking contact. He turns his head to the side just enough to be able to see you on one side and the garage door on the other side, his lips swollen and red. He knows where you two are right now. He knows it would only take a second for one of your friends to see what you’ve been up to.

Fuck, you think. I pushed too far. 

His eyes turn back to yours and you can see gears behind them. It’s only a moment, but it feels like a lifetime. 

He moves his hand from yours. You wouldn’t be sure what that means if his hands didn’t immediately move to your own pair of shorts, nimble fingers working the button and zipper free, his lips on yours again. You moan into his mouth, anticipation killing you, pushing his jeans down when you’ve managed to unfasten them.

“We need to be quick,” Euijoo warns between rushed kisses. A chance for you to change your mind. A reminder that you’re not exactly in a private place even if it feels like it right now. You nod eagerly, not giving a shit about anything but having him. Now, preferably.

You fall back against the hood a bit as your arm weakens, half-laying over it as Euijoo manages to undress you both from your waists to your knees, your clothing haphazardly hanging as best as it can to your bodies. True to his word, Euijoo moves things along swiftly, looking down as he glides the tip of his cock through your folds, collecting your arousal and testing your readiness for him. He hisses at the sensation, his eyes fluttering from the warm wetness.

“Oh my god,” you moan at the feeling. 

Encouraged, Euijoo pushes inside you, a drawn out but soft moan pushing out of his pink lips. You echo him, doing your best to keep relatively quiet even as the sheer size of him stretches you more than you’d expected. You try to lift yourself back up somewhat, salivating at the thought of seeing the point of connection between you. Seeing Euijoo fully sheathed inside of you makes you clench and he hisses, a quiet chuckle following. 

“Yeah? Good?”

You scoff, grinning. “So fucking good.”

Euijoo’s lips quirk into a crooked smirk and he starts to move, thrusting into you at a pace that is increasing steadily from the start. We need to be quick, his voice echoes in your head.

Oh god, you moan. Feels so good. Euijoo. Euijoo. Euijoo.

So pretty, he fawns. Shh, y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

It pains you both to restrict yourselves, to rush through your pleasure, but the pleasure is better than the pain.

Euijoo fucks you like he’s been waiting to his entire life. He learns in moments how to make your eyes roll back into your head, how to make you choke trying to keep your voice down. He fucks you deep, his hands harshly gripping your thighs–you’re sure he’ll apologize for that later. He lets you fall and writhe on the hood of the car, all too capable of controlling your body with his own hands, drinking up the sight of you being drunk on his cock.

When he can tell you’re losing yourself to your pleasure, his thumb finds your clit, reveling in the way you whine. “Shh, a little quieter for me” he reminds you, his voice the gentlest aphrodisiac. He’s grinning, proud to see you like this for him.

You cup your hands over your mouth when the knot finally snaps, your eyes squeezing shut as your muffled cry is smothered in your palm. Euijoo’s legs stutter at the feeling of you cumming around him, squeezing him, coaxing him to follow you. He groans and allows himself a few more impossibly deep, sharp thrusts into you before he whitens the inside of your cunt, his mouth hung open in silent relief.

He looks so fucking pretty like that.

You’re both spent, but Euijoo only takes a few moments to recover. He gives you many more though, taking it upon himself to redress you both. He moves your panties and your shorts so carefully up your body–as if he’s afraid to break you after fucking you like that. 

Once he’s finished, he sits you up, his arm the security you need around your back. He smiles at you, brushing his thumb over your lip. “You did so well.” Butterflies. “Are you okay to go now?” You know he wouldn’t make you.

“Mhmm. I’m good.” You reflect his smile.

“Yeah. Me too.” He kisses the corner of your lips and helps you off the hood of the car with a smile, making sure to open your door and buckle your seatbelt for you. You both know he doesn’t need to. 

He just wants to.

[uhhlifeig]

Slasher - October 15 - word count: 659 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but somehow, they’d all ended up sitting on the worn, sagging couch in Sirius’s flat, a questionable horror movie blaring from the TV. 

James was halfway through explaining his newest strategy for the next international Quidditch match to Lily (who, to her credit, looked like she was trying to care).

On the other end of the couch, Regulus was squished between Barty and Evan, who were bickering over whether or not cheap Slasher-esque movies were an acceptable form of cinema.

“They’re all just mindless gore,” Evan argued, leaning over Regulus, who looked like he regretted his life choices. “There’s no substance, no actual plot.”

“There’s a plot! You’re just not cultured enough to understand the subtle nuances,” Barty shot back.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Subtle nuances? Of what? A masked guy running around with a chainsaw?”

“Exactly,” Barty said.

“Right. Because nothing screams ‘nuance’ like blood splatters and screaming teenagers.”

“You just don’t get it, Moony,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “The horror genre is a refined art form, perfectly balancing suspense, tension, and, of course, a healthy dose of irrational decision-making.”

Remus gave him a deadpan look. “Right. Because when I think of the word ‘refined,’ I definitely think of chainsaws and hockey masks.”

Sirius grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Really?” Regulus muttered a beat later, glaring at the screen. “Of all the directions she could’ve gone, she chooses to run toward the guy with a chainsaw?”

“Darwinism at its finest,” Remus said dryly.

“Just once,” James piped up, “I’d like to see someone in one of these movies actually do something smart. You know, like, not investigate the creepy noise in the basement?”

Lily nodded. “Or, you know, call the police? Why is that never an option?”

“Because,” the dog animagus said, “where’s the fun in that? It’s more entertaining to watch them make terrible decisions.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You would think that.”

The movie continued to spiral into absurdity, with the remaining characters making one terrible decision after another. 

Evan, at some point, had fallen asleep on Regulus’s shoulder, and Barty looked about three seconds away from jumping into the screen to show the villain how to kill people properly.

And then the power went out.

The TV screen went dark, and the room was plunged into pitch blackness. Remus felt Sirius tense beside him.

“Oh, great,” James said. “I can’t wait for the part where we all die horribly in our own horror film. I’d, uh, get jumped and forget my wand somewhere- the couch, maybe- speaking of, where are our wands? And, um, Sirius would fall out of an open window because he ran into it and the curtains were down, and, er, Regulus, you’d drown, because you still can’t swim-”

“Potter, shut up,” Regulus grumbled. “No one’s dying.”

“Not yet,” Barty added helpfully.

“Can you not?”

Sirius shifted beside Remus, and even in the dark, Remus could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

“Y’know, Moons, this is exactly how those movies start.”

“You are not the final person, Sirius. Don’t even try.”

Sirius gasped dramatically. “How dare you!”

Lily snorted. “Sirius, no offense, but you’d be the first one dead.”

“Excuse me? I’d like to think I have at least enough survival skills to outlast James.”

“True, true. He’d be the first one dead.”

“Oi! I have excellent survival instincts, Lils!”

“Like the time you tried to sneak into Snape’s room and ended up falling into a pit of garbage?” Remus asked innocently.

“That was one time!”

“And the time you set the kitchen on fire while boiling water?”

James crossed his arms, pouting. “I’ve improved since then.”

Lily patted his shoulder. “Sure you have, dear.”

The lights flickered back on, revealing Peter holding a whole lot of wands. 

“Why’d you guys all leave your wands in the kitchen? Idiots. Oh, and Remus, how you you use the spinny-wavey thingy?”

[ugh-yoongi]

Hi. Can I request a drabble with Jungkook where they’re in a secret relationship and they think their friends are not aware of it but they’re actually really bad at hiding it. Thank you!

decided to combine these two. thank you both for the requests!

this one ran away from me but was really fun, so we're going to ignore the wordcount. hope you both enjoy! <3

obviously

pairing: jungkook x f. reader genre: secret relationship au, roommate au; crack, fluff warnings: two idiots engaging in idiot behavior, swearing, yoongi is tortured by reader's use of emojis, drinking/alcohol, one reference to jungkook wearing women's underwear but it isn't a thing, unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 3.7k

In retrospect, getting married at nineteen wasn’t your brightest idea.

Not your worst, either, because at least you’d chosen well.

There are undoubtedly far worse men to have as your ex-husband than Kim Namjoon, who had also gotten caught up in all those romantic cliches about young love; had also been inflicted with whatever illness made you believe getting married so young was smart and cool; had also woken up one day and thought what the fuck are we doing and asked if you wanted to call it quits.

You did.

And even though you loved Namjoon, over time it turned into that platonic life partner kind of love and not that all-encompassing, love of your life, eternal kind of love. So, Namjoon offered to pay for the divorce with his grad school stipend and took his name off the lease so you could find a new roommate and insisted on meeting up every other week for takeout and cheap alcohol because he had a whole thing about not wanting it to be weird.

Now, here you sit, years removed from the most affectionate and anticlimactic divorce of all time, and you wonder what could be more weird than your ex-husband making you a Tinder profile.

“I know what you like,” he insists, cheeks ruddy from the wine. Namjoon talks endlessly on a good day, but he’s nearly impenetrable when he’s got some merlot in him. “No one’s more qualified to do this than me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Except you, of course,” he hurriedly adds.

“Have you ever stopped to think—”

Namjoon heaves an exaggerated groan, hand to his forehead as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “You have no idea.”

You roll your eyes. “Have you ever stopped to think,” you repeat, “that there might be a reason I don’t have a Tinder? Or any dating profile, for that matter?”

“Yeah, you’re obviously still in love with me,” he jokes, laughing wildly at the absurdity of it; elbows you in the side as he wiggles his eyebrows. What could be weirder than your ex-husband treating you like one of his bros? “But alas, I’ve moved on, and so the time has come for you to also—”

“Either shut up or drink more,” you interject, filling his glass nearly to the brim. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this.”

Namjoon, seemingly out of arguments, simply hums in acknowledgment. Downs half the wine you’d just poured him, because out of the two options you’d presented him with, it’s the more realistic choice. Asks, “What’s your preferred age range?” before snorting another laugh and setting it from 18 to 50 for his own amusement.

“You know, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” he retorts, and there’s no judgment there, just genuine curiosity. You know he’s just having a laugh, would delete it and never mention it again if you asked him to, but the thing is—

The front door opens, and there stands your roommate, arms full of bags from Daiso. “Hey, ba—”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks when he sees your ex-husband. Coughs to cover the pet name that nearly tumbled out of his mouth and lifts his hand in a wave. Namjoon watches the way the weight of the bags causes the muscles in Jungkook’s forearm to flex and shoots you a look. Maybe he does know what you like, after all.

“Hi, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook says, polite but still awkward, even after all these years. Can’t seem to shake it, no matter how hard he tries. “What are you two up to?”

Namjoon is none the wiser, used to the hushed awe Jungkook always adopts when he addresses him. Polite and endlessly kind because his mother raised him to never be anything less, but only ever jittery around Namjoon. Doesn’t act like this around any of your other friends; takes Seokjin’s teasing in stride and dishes it right back, but never Namjoon. Would probably rather die.

So Namjoon just waves back, says, “Hi, Jungkook-ah,” before he returns his attention to his phone. Doesn’t look up when you abandon him on the couch to help unpack the bags. Says, “I’m signing her up for Tinder so she can finally get laid,” and also doesn’t look up when Jungkook chokes on an inhale and one of the bags splits in half.

Before he moved in with you, Jungkook lived with Hoseok.

It’d gone great, all things considered. Jungkook couldn’t have asked for a better first roommate, fresh out of high school and his family home and hundreds of kilometers from the salty air of Busan. He’d nearly been sick with anxiety, all green around the edges, and Hoseok had pulled him into a hug and calmed his fraying nerves. Helped him with his homework and taught him how to cook and pecked at his heels like a mother hen when his room got too messy.

Just like he’s doing now.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, not at all able to hide the surprise in his voice when he pulls open the door and finds Hoseok on the other side. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok tuts. “I told you I was coming by this weekend to clean. I haven’t been here in weeks—”

“I know how to clean,” Jungkook argues, face growing warm from misplaced embarrassment, that Hoseok still thinks he’s a dumb kid who doesn’t know any better. “I said you didn’t have to come.”

His hyung’s face softens. “I know you know how to clean, Jungkookie, I’m just… I still feel responsible for you. You’re the first child I raised and released into the world.”

Jungkook sighs. Knows this is a losing argument. Opens the door wide enough to accommodate Hoseok and his bags of cleaning supplies, and doesn’t say a word as he follows Hoseok around the apartment even though he wants to say, I told you so. The entire place is spotless. There’s nothing to clean. No dust on the floor. Sparkling kitchen countertops. Laundry freshly-washed and hung on the drying rack by the window, warm in the midday sun. No toothpaste in the bathroom sink; no hard water stains on the shower glass.

All that’s left is Jungkook’s bedroom. That, too, is spotless, and Hoseok has never had a poker face and certainly can’t muster one now. “Why is it so clean in here?” he asks, taking in the bare floor, void of dirty clothes and whatever hobby equipment Jungkook had taken up that week; the pristinely-made bed with its hospital corners and fluffed pillows; the end tables that are suspiciously void of dust.

“Because I know how to clean,” Jungkook tartly replies, rolling his eyes. “I told you, there’s—”

“Are you even living in here?” Hoseok continues, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring the way Jungkook starts to panic. “Because it doesn’t smell weird, either, and we all know that wasn’t the case before.”

“I have an air freshener.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hoseok continues his search. Actually praises Jungkook on the way he’d organized his clothes, the fact that everything in his drawers is folded and not shoved in haphazardly, that the few nice pieces he owns are hung in the closet. Kneels on the floor to check under the bed: empty, except for the XBox controller Taehyung had left behind the last time he came over to binge Valorant.

And Jungkook should’ve known—should’ve anticipated this—because it’s his Hobi-hyung and if there’s anything his Hobi-hyung is neurotic about it’s cleanliness and he’s got eyes like a hawk, makes him deadly efficient at spotting dust, so it’s really no surprise when he lets out a shrill a-ha! and pops out from under the bed with a pair of lacy underwear pinched between his fingers, but Jungkook should’ve anticipated it, anyway.

“And what do we have here?”

What Hoseok has here is Jungkook’s favorite pair of your underwear, but he can’t say that, so he just feels the way his face flushes with embarrassment again and wonders if he’d get out of the impending interrogation if he starts crying. “Um. Nothing?”

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” Hoseok continues, voice animated and lilting, the teasing smile evident even though Jungkook can’t bring himself to look. “Can’t believe my little Jungkookie is all grown up.”

Jungkook doesn’t feel grown up, he feels mortified. Feels like he wants to sink right through the floor, like he wants to disappear for three to five business years. Feels like an idiot for being so insistent on all this secrecy, because now he can’t tell Hoseok that the lacy underwear he’s inspecting belongs to you and that the two of you have been together for a while, that it’s great, Jungkook thinks this might be It, and all he can do is blurt out the first thing he can think of, which is—

“It’s mine.” Hoseok’s head turns so fast his neck creaks. “I’m, uh. Experimenting.”

Hoseok shrieks. Jungkook shrieks. “What the fuck,” Hoseok shrieks again as he drops the underwear to the floor and kicks it under the bed. “Why wouldn’t you just say that—”

“That’s what you get for going through my stuff!”

Hoseok doesn’t come over to clean again.

On the weeks you don’t see Namjoon, you spend your Fridays having game night at Jimin’s.

It’s always a raucous affair—wouldn’t be possible any other way with the friend group you’ve got, now seamlessly blended with Jungkook’s—and it’s always your responsibility to supply the snacks. You pop into the store after work, leave with your arms full of junk like you looted the place, and the man in front of you in line takes so long you miss the bus and have to wait for the next.

Which leaves you very little time to get ready, so you rush through a shower to rinse off the work grime and grab the first pair of leggings and sweatshirt you see, slip your feet into slides that may or may not be yours, and run down the hall to Jimin’s.

Laughter can be heard from just outside the door—Hobi’s and Jin’s louder than everyone—and it makes you smile. Warmth blooms in your chest, all affection, and it has you feeling terribly fond of this group you’ve cobbled together. Has you smiling wider as you punch in Jimin’s door code and let yourself inside. Has you dropping off the snacks in the kitchen and wanting to hug the first person you find, except one Park Jimin has other plans.

“Why are you wearing Jungkookie’s hoodie?” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You look down. Certainly is Jungkook’s hoodie, mixed in with the clean laundry you hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet, and you’re sure there’s no hiding the way your jaw drops a little. The man in question is across the room, stuck in a conversation about fuck knows what with Taehyung, and he sends you a panicked look that can only be an instruction to lie your ass off. So you huff, say, “What d’you mean? This is mine,” and paint on the most annoyed expression you can conjure.

“It absolutely is not yours,” Jimin retorts.

This time you look annoyed for real. “Ugh, who cares? Since when did you become an expert on our personal belongings?”

When you first met Jimin, you’d been tricked into thinking he was a sweet, innocent angel; the kind of person who would do anything for his loved ones, including not interrogating them over whose clothes they wear. Quickly, you learned this was not the case. Jimin is lovely and kind, but he’s also perceptive as hell and shameless, so he smirks knowingly and answers with, “Since I bought them.”

Which… makes sense, you can admit. You vaguely recall Jungkook’s last birthday and the way he’d gasped and insisted on Jimin returning the hoodie he’d gifted him because it was too expensive and the way Jimin had laughed and waved him off, because Jungkook has always been his favorite and he’s never attempted to hide it. The hoodie you’re wearing now could, theoretically, be that exact gift. It’s definitely soft enough to be made from something expensive.

“Oh,” you reply, changing gears entirely. “Well, you know how it is. Sometimes laundry gets mixed up. I’m sure you and Taehyung have worn each other’s clothes by accident, too.”

Jimin doesn’t buy it, you can tell, but he thankfully drops the issue. Watches you and Jungkook like a hawk for the rest of the night, just waiting to capitalize on any other slip-ups, but you purposely fall into a conversation with Yoongi that’s too boring for any normal human to follow along with, and Jungkook calls dibs on Mario Kart until someone can beat him, so there are no slip-ups to catch.

However, if the one constant of your friend group is that Jungkook is Jimin’s favorite regardless of Taehyung’s pouting, the second is that Jung Hoseok cannot hold his liquor.

He’s four mixed drinks deep, skin flushed and eyes half-lidded with sleep, when he stands on top of Taehyung and Jimin’s coffee table and shouts, for everyone to hear, “Hey, did you guys know Jungkookie started wearing women’s underwear?”

For once, this comes as a complete shock to you, too.

The thing about being in love, Jungkook finds, is that it’s nearly impossible to shut up about it.

He’s trying to be cool. He’s trying to be normal. He feigns delight and care when his coworkers talk about their partners, pretends he’s paying attention and not just waiting for his turn to talk about you. He prints pictures of the two of you off his phone and frames them and displays them at his desk, and all someone has to say is, “That’s a cute picture, Jungkook-ssi—” before all his affection for you erupts out of him like a volcano.

So far he’s been careful. His coworkers are sick of hearing about you, but they’re an outlet for everyone he can’t talk about you with. Like his friends, because he’d decided early on it was better to keep everything a secret for a little bit because he didn’t want things to be weird (and because he’s low-key terrified of Namjoon, because he’s gentle and clumsy but he’s still big) and now he’s regretting it but it feels like it’s gone on too long and he’s in too deep.

Really, it’s no surprise he slips up. Has probably been overdue for one like this for a while.

They’re at the arcade. Taehyung has sunk the last of his disposable income for the week into a claw machine stocked with LINE characters. Wants to win a Sally plushie for Jimin because he says they look alike. It’s cute, the bond they have, platonic soulmates the way you and Namjoon are, and Jungkook is starry-eyed and love-drunk when he heaves a wistful sigh and thinks out loud, “I should win something for her, too.”

The words catch Taehyung so off-guard his hand slips and presses the button to lower the claw. “Press it again,” Jungkook says. “If you double-press the button, it makes the claw stronger. You’ll get it.”

Taehyung is wary, still dazed from Jungkook’s slip-up, but he presses the button again anyway. The claw tightens around Sally’s head and drags her up and out of the pile, drops her into the chute and to Taehyung’s waiting hand. “Oh shit! Jungkookie, you’re a genius. Jimin’s gonna love this.”

“Yeah, sure. Didn’t know you didn’t know that trick or I would’ve told you sooner.”

His hyung nods absentmindedly, distracted with the selfie he’s sending to Jimin with Sally obscuring half his face. “Are you gonna try now?”

Jungkook swallows. “Huh?”

“You said you were gonna win something for someone.”

“No I didn’t,” he lies.

Taehyung’s face drops. Gets all serious when he shoves his phone in his back pocket. “Yes you did. Right before I won this,” he says, large hands wrapped around Sally’s poor neck, clearly strangling her. “You said I should win something for her, too. Who’s ‘her’? Are you seeing someone?”

“I said him, hyung,” he lies again. Is thankful for the garish arcade lights and the way they hide the blush creeping up his neck. “I meant Jimin-hyung.”

“You did not,” Taehyung insists. “You said her, and now you’re trying to gaslight me—”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Feigns exasperation. Swipes his game card and stares his hyung right in the eye as he drops the claw and double-taps, somehow picking up two plushies. Tosses Brown to Taehyung and says, “Tell Jimin his favorite dongsaeng won him that one.”

Tucks Cony safely in his pocket to give to you later, thankful the universe came through for him for once.

You (10:42pm): babe

You (10:42pm): what time do you think you’ll be home?

You (10:43pm): 🍆🍆🍆

Yoongi (11:06pm): What the fuck

You (11:08pm): oh fuck

You (11:08pm): that was NOT meant for you

Yoongi (11:14pm): Fucking obviously

Yoongi (11:14pm): Please do not ever accidentally sext me again

You (11:15pm): gross yoongi

You (11:15pm): that wasn’t a sext

You (11:15pm): i need it for the bokkeum i’m making

Yoongi (11:17pm): At midnight? Fuck off

Yoongi (11:17pm): Trade proposal

Yoongi (11:17pm): You never accidentally sext me again and I won’t tell the rest of our friends you’re secretly dating your roommate

You (11:29pm): it’s not even midnight 🙄

You (11:29pm): but that sounds good to me, thanks!

Hoseok had taught Jungkook how to cook, but not how to bake.

They’d attempted it, once, not long after Jungkook moved to Seoul and was homesick and missing his mom’s yaksik something terrible. Just wanted something that tasted like home, something comforting, and Hoseok had felt so bad for him that he said fuck it, let’s try, what’s the worst that could happen, and the two of them learned very quickly that nearly burning down their kitchen and the rest of their building was, in fact, the worst thing that could happen.

They never tried baking a damn thing after that, individually or together.

Still, there’s a special occasion coming up, so Jungkook asks the only person he trusts to help him.

“You need a cake,” Seokjin intones, swallowing his smile when Jungkook nods and his mop of curls bobbles along. Takes out a notepad to jot down ideas. “What’s the occasion?”

“Um. Just an… occasion.”

Seokjin blinks owlishly. “You just need a cake for an occasion? Do you wanna try again and actually be helpful this time?”

“What does it matter if I’m paying you, hyung?” Jungkook whines. “Aren’t cakes all the same?”

“Not if you want me to decorate it—”

“I don’t.”

“—because what am I supposed to write on it? Happy occasion, person whose name Jungkookie won’t tell me! Do you see how that might not work out for either of us?”

“Again, what does it matter—”

Seokjin looks up from his notepad, brows furrowed. “Are you ordering this for the president? What’s with all the secrecy?”

Jungkook huffs, puts on his Very Serious Face. “I can just take my business elsewhere if you’re going to interrogate me, hyung,” he says, to which Seokjin rolls his eyes, used to Jungkook’s dramatics.

“Be my guest,” he calls his bluff, gesturing to the front door of the bakery. “No one else is going to give you as good a discount as me, though.”

“I bet Junghwan-ssi would,” Jungkook grumbles, low but loud enough for Seokjin to hear, because there isn’t much else Jungkook can say that’d get under his hyung’s skin as much as the mention of his arch nemesis. “I bet I could walk into his bakery right now and explain the whole situation to him and he’d practically give it to me for free, just so it meant you didn’t get my business.”

And it works. Seokjin’s eyes narrow, chest starts heaving. “You wouldn’t,” he accuses, and Jungkook just shrugs, nonplussed, daring Seokjin to find out.

What follows can only be described as a tense standoff: Seokjin behind the counter of his bakery, looking hilariously underdressed for this stalemate in his pink apron, armed only with a pen; Jungkook, looking smug and pleased on the other side, not even knowing what Junghwan’s bakery is called, let alone where it is. The bell above the door chimes and neither breaks eye contact to look, and it’d probably go on like this forever, knowing the two of them, except the person behind Jungkook clears their throat, asks, “Excuse me, are you in line…?” and Seokjin is forced to concede if he wants to stay in business.

The person orders a cake for their daughter’s birthday. Answers each of Seokjin’s questions with certainty and preparedness, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the looks Seokjin shoots at him. See how easy it is to answer simple questions? they say. Why can’t you be like this?

Jungkook can’t be like that because the cake is for your birthday. Which Seokjin knows, because he has all of his friends’ birthdays saved to his phone calendar, but he’s never gone out of his way to get you a cake before so Seokjin will absolutely know something’s up. And as he waits for the person to be done ordering, his heart aches a little, because he wants to tell Seokjin to make you the nicest cake he can. Wants him to pull out all the stops, because it’s your birthday and you deserve it, and he could say all those things if he hadn’t insisted on this stupid secrecy.

Guilt consumes him so entirely he doesn’t notice the person leaving. Doesn’t hear the chime of the bell above the door. Is halfway to spilling the entire story to Seokjin, gets as far as hyung, there’s something I— before Seokjin holds up a hand to stop him.

“What kind of cake would you like, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook deflates. Takes all those transgressions he was about to confess to and shoves them back inside his chest, locks them away. “Whatever you think is best, hyung. Just no nuts.”

And Seokjin smirks knowingly, because there’s only one person he knows with a nut allergy.

[dystopyx-blog]

what do you think of yandere azul?

I think his yandere typing is a mix of possessive and manipulative. Like manipulative should be pretty obvious. Mr. Contract Man. Absolutely the type to pull some shady underhanded deals if that’s what it takes to get you close to him. Because, as I’ve said, he’s also possessive. You are HIS.

you two probably have a bit of a slow burn. No love at first sight for him. In fact, he really doesn’t think much of you at all. All he’s focused on is how you can benefit him. Eventually, during the events of octavinelle, he starts to realize how much he underestimated you, how smart you are. He assumed you’d be as dumb as the idiots you surround yourself with (Ace, Deuce, Grim). But you’re not. You’re probably more on the level with Azul himself. In fact, the only thing holding you back (in his opinion) is your emotions. He decides he’ll help you. Help you realize your friends are beneath you and you could be doing something much more with your life. Like helping him. Afterall, he owes you after the overblot, right? He has the tweels follow you around when he can’t. And not just stalking (if only it were just that), they get up close and personal. The whole point is to seperate you from your other “undeserving” friends, right? So they get involved. One tweel on either side. Floyd scares off most folks, but if someone does get too close, Jade handles it from there. I’m sure you quickly get sick of it. You confront the tweels, but they insinuate (cuz of course they don’t give it to you easy) that they’re just taking orders. So you march your fine self straight to Azul and…

He finds you utterly adorable. You want the tweels off your back? Okay. Then spend more time with Azul. You’re scheming and planning, meanwhile Azul is trying to remember why he’s doing this?

He’s been slowly developing his yandere-ness, but it’s in spending time with you where his romantic attraction actually amps up. He can see why those fools in Heartslabyul are so fond of you now. With each forced hangout, he insists on more and more. And each one gets more and more date-like. Until he’s straight up calling them dates and brushing you off if you try to say anything about it. You two are practically already dating, right? The rest of the school certainly thinks so! (Thanks to the help from some well placed rumors by the tweels)

I mentioned he’s possessive, yeah? No longer will the tweels accompany you, he does it himself. Hand in hand. if you won’t take his hand, fine, he’ll sling his coat over your shoulders so everyone knows :). He views you on par with his precious contracts! Really, you should feel honored. If he could keep you locked up he would! (He’s working on it.) You are HIS little angelfish, he’s really just trying to find the perfect tank to show you off in tbh.

Deuce: you never hang out with us anymore :( Ace: yeah, you’re different now that you have a boyfriend. You: I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND

Oh, how you wound Azul with your words! Clearly someone needs a few more dates to realize who they belong to ❤️

editing now that I’ve been awake longer (this was one of the first things I did after waking up lmao)

He’s interested at you at first for your brains, becomes more interested because of your heart, gets obsessed because of your kindness, even to him. The possession comes from how fucking nice you are to him, even as he does manipulate you. Sure, you give him sass and snark (fuel for the flames tbh), but you’re honest and open with compliments. Reassuring him he’s beautiful, somehow always at the exact times he needs it most. You make all three hearts thump.

[meggiesposts]

i love your monoma posts they give me reason to live 😭 if u get the time, i think a funny premise would be if the reader was thristing over monoma (to like… an unhealthy extent), and he just can’t pick up on it?? like he’s calling them and their friends 1-A losers n shit and the reader is giddy over the fact that he’s just talking to them lol. maybe kendo can break the news that the reader has a giant crush on him and he like… doesn’t know how to act at all. he can’t tell if he should give them mercy and be nicer to them or call them out and be a little bitch about it 🤭

WARNINGS ⚠️ : reader thirsting, Monoma (kidding I love him), kendo being done w Monoma, reader being kind of a pervert, tried to make reader gender-neutral, a kiss, delusional Monoma

DONE

They are done.

Class 1-A is officially DONE.

Done with your bullshit.

Every time he comes around you go insane. So insane that you’ve said to his face that you would take him out on a date if he would let you.

His response? “Why would anyone go out on a date with a 1-A loser?”

They were done with listening to you thirst over the man that hates their guts. Mina was done listening to you choke over yourself with how much you want him.

Honestly she can’t listen to it anymore- listen… she loves you. More than anything in the world. But if you don’t stop- she’s going to burn your tongue off. She can’t hear your reasoning anymore either-

“But Mina- his arms-”

“I swEAR TO GO-”

She’s done.

She’s tried to talk to you about it too. What do you actually see in him, Ya’know? To be fair, you gave some valid reasons.

His eyes being the color of the ocean and his hair in line with the sand. His smile- taunting or not- was indeed- maybe, on some molecular level- attractive.

He also had potential to become a great hero! Seriously, he did! But oh- oh god his mouth. Every time he opened his mouth- all she saw was thousands of reasons why you shouldn’t like him.

Hell- Aizawa had to tell you to knock it off a couple times- and god forbid that one time you got put in a sparing match with him. The collective number of groans that rang throughout class 1-A was comical.

You rode that high for weeks. Let alone the fact that you used it as a chance to get your hands on him. With the strength of your quirk that- unfortunately for him he could not copy- you sometimes just held him.

He of course didn’t notice- using bakugou’s quirk to fill the air with dust from exploded cement.

You even got to straddle him- to which you told him to yield. He didn’t.

But that knowledge was just for you.

Yet he remained oblivious.

The class can’t count how many times they had straight up watched you say he was hot and how many times you had asked him out- to his face- which he didn’t understand.

The people of UA didn’t know what was worse. Your blatant thirst for the man- of the fact that the man was such an idiot he didn’t see.

It was clearly starting to piss even you off.

So finally, Kendo had to take it into her own hands.

It was gruesome.

“Y/n likes you-”

“Of course they do- the 1-A’s should bow to us.”

“No- Monoma- y/n likes you like-”

“A god? I am one.”

*smack*

She looked deep into the eyes of the disgruntled man as he rubbed the back of his head. The intensity of her silent stare man his shiver as he cowered back.

“Listen to me Monoma. I am being serious. Y/n likes you. Like a married couple. Like a significant other. They want you to be their boyfriend.”

…

“You serious?”

She’s done.

Now Monoma is hit with new information as he dwells in his dorm lair. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he was stuck in his thoughts.

On one hand. Your pretty. Like- really pretty. Like walk into a pole on the street because he was starting at you busy. Your strong, fast, really smart… aaannnndddd you like him. A major plus if you will.

But- you were in class 1-A. Could he even date someone in class 1-A after trashing on them so much?

He couldn’t decide yet. So he let it sit.

Unfortunately for him, due to his new knowledge of you, he became hyper-aware of everything you did.

The comments, the touching, asking him out point blank.

Everyone saw the change in him too.

The way he suddenly got tongue tied when he stepped up to class 1-A and you made a comment on how he looked hot when he smirked.

How when paired together he was suddenly stiff and stopped communicating.

He was flustered.

Something that you realized. Something you were going to have fun with.

Oh and you did.

Any chance you got you touched him. Your hand flat on his chest or wrapping your arm around his waist, you did everything.

It builds and builds and builds of course. So the next time he sees you- he snaps.

You were just trying to get a drink after going to the bathroom. It was pure coincidence that he was out too.

To say you were shocked when you were suddenly body slammed into the corner was an understatement.

You stared, wide eyed at the boy in front of you at he fumed.

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something- anything really. But he doesn’t. Just holding you in place- breathing heavily with anger swirling in his eyes.

You couldn’t complain- no.

His face was so close to yours. His breath fanning your lips and his body continuously brushing against yours.

You finally broke.

“If you wanted me like this so bad, you could’ve just said so-”

Lips cut you off. Soft, warm- and you melt. Your arms instantly forcing him against you as you eagerly push against him. Your head is fuzzy, filled with him, everything is him.

His warmth, how soft he feels, his hair under your fingertips.

It’s driving him crazy how easily he drives you crazy.

When he finally manages to pull away, he’s disoriented. His hair is a mess, his eyes trained on your love-stuck eyes and your swollen lips.

It takes him a minute of the close proximity to get his head clear. He suddenly shoves you back against the wall again as he pulls a few steps back.

He swallows thickly as he tries to get his barring together. Straightening his uniform shirt he quickly points at you.

God that love-sick smile your wearing, it makes him sick. Sick in love- sick with vile he doesn’t know.

So he points at you and he says-

“Keep quiet about this. I-I can’t be seen with a 1-A loser.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not really.

But that’s okay.

You’ll steal these flustering moment alone where he moans into your mouth and clutches so tightly onto your hips while he lives in his beautiful delusion.

You’ll keep openly pining after him while he continues to hate on class 1-A.

It’s okay though. You know where you stand. So you’ll let him continue to loose his own mind figuring you out, not fully realizing the extent in which your all his.

OKAY THIS WAS RUSHED AND IM 50-50 WITH LIKING AND HATING IT BUT I LIKED THE ENDING SO IMA KEEP IT

[cyborg-franky]

I read that you don’t do stories with kids. But I was just wondering if you do one if they were just turned into a child. Like Toshi Toshi no Mi has the power to alter the ages of people. Example “Like if WB or Marco was turned into a child but they were still adults on the inside and how the crew would react.” It’s fine if it’s a no I just wanted to ask. Thank you.

Oooh these are fun. I can have a good time with these : D

Marco

He’d been around longer than most of the crew so seeing a tiny little pineapple with fluffy hair and wide-open eyes caused many different reactions.

Ace can’t stop laughing at how silly he looks and how high-pitched his yoi’s come out. His clothes are so big and baggy on him like he’d stolen from a much bigger person.

Thatch can’t stop laughing either and just calls him little guy and baby bird alot which causes Marco to huff and stomp around the deck irritated.

Pop’s thinks it’s cute, he remembers when Marco was a young boy. Izou met Marco when they were both young so it doesn’t really phase him.

Everyone is either shocked or highly amused at him.

However, Marco is still the ships doctor and must carry on his duties until the effects wear off.

It’s surreal seeing Marco needing a pile of cushions to sit at his desk. It’s an incredibly bizarre scenario to have to talk to someone who looks like a child about medical issues.

Marco doesn’t like being in this form and his normally cool and calm attitude is challenged with some of the crews reactions.

The nurses adore him though.

Kid

Well, his arms back at least? Everyone just stares at this small spikey-haired kid whos screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs, already pissed off that everyone is gawking at him.

“What are you fuckin’ idiots lookin’ at?” He snaps, stamping his feet on the deck, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes. It looks so silly seeing his enraged brat in an oversized coat as he starts to throw punches at the legs of his crew.

Killer feels his small fists against his leg, sighs, and just picks him up. Letting Kid get a piggyback ride because he likes to be up high. 

Kid is furious about the change and even uses his skills with metalwork to make himself big shoes to walk in, hating feeling so emasculated. 

He’s still loud as all hell and his crew is smart enough to hide laughter and amusement behind their hands.

“If any of you tell that shitty doctor or straw hat about this, it’ll be the last thing you do,” though it was hard to take a threat from a 6-year-old very seriously.

Zoro

He couldn’t give a fuck if he was turned into a kid, he knew it would wear off in time so he just shrugged his shoulders. 

Until Sanji said something, going for the kill [and by kill I mean he smacks at Sanji’s ankles or bites his legs] 

Everyone either sighed, laughing, or just stood in pure bewilderment at Sanji screaming and shaking his leg as hard as he could while a small Zoro held onto his leg by his teeth for dear life.

Nami is the second biggest problem to Zoro’s current predicament though. Every time he tries to drink booze she slaps it off the table or out of his hand [typical orange cat behavior] and starts to wave her finger in his face telling him he’s too young to drink.

Luffy tries to play with Zoro like he’s actually a kid, swinging him around and yelling happily.

Buggy

Ever seen a grown man have a total breakdown? I mean, if you know Buggy that’s probably daily.

He’s small and he’s flapping his arms and screaming but everyone is just crouched down and looking at their beloved captain in complete awe. He’s so adorable, everyone who tries to pick him up either gets a foot or a fist square in their face as he hisses and curses.

Galdino and Alvida sigh, they look like single moms who just got back from the school run as they drag Buggy away from everyone. They already felt like a babysitter and they didn't need it to be literally.

All his crew are completely besotted with how adorable their captain looks as a kid. Buggy half loves the attention and half wishes everyone would take a long walk off a short plank. 

It’s not like people take him super seriously anyway but he didn’t need to have people trying to pinch his cheeks.

If Shanks finds out about this Buggy will never hear the end of it. Maybe Alvida snuck a few photos for some blackmail at a later date when Buggy was being his unreasonable self.

[strniohoeee]

Timeout

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Chris and Y/N are friends, but she wants to stir the pot a bit with their fans, so she does a TikTok trend that might set them off, and make more assumptions🤭

Warnings⚠️: None at all, this was a stupid idea I had in my head from watching TikTok’s about this trend. I’ll put the video at the end. Idk why I felt the need to write it but uhh enjoy??

Song for the imagine: Water- Tyla

I’ve been seeing on TikTok these videos going viral of girls testing their boyfriends by recording themselves with the song Water by Tyla while sitting next to their boyfriends to see if they’d look, and then if they do, putting them in timeout.

I loved these videos because almost every guy fell for it, and I thought it would be a good idea for me to do it to Chris.

Chris and I weren’t dating, but there fans always thought we were, and I wanted to stir the pot by posting this, and making them think we were together

However I didn’t tell Chris about this idea because I genuinely wanted to know if he knew the trend.

Him and his brothers are obviously on TikTok, but their pages are full of edits of themselves, so I wasn’t sure if he’s seen the trend or even seen the videos of the song

Chris and I were flirty with each other, but nothing crazy that’s how our personalities were. However the fans ran with that always, and made edits. I couldn’t wait to see what they would edit with this video I was going to make

We were all currently sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling on our phones, and chatting here and there. I was leaning back at an angle, and Chris was next to me. Matt was next to Chris and Nick was next to Matt.

I got the song ready, and slightly turned up the volume, and lowered my brightness a bit. I started to record myself while the song played, and 5 seconds later Chris gives me the side eye before slightly turning his head

I was looking into the camera when my mouth dropped, and he looked at me scared.

“Did you just look to see if a girl was shaking her ass on my phone” I said

“What? NO” he said blushing

“Go sit in time out” I said pointing to the corner

He immediately got up and sat himself in the corner of the living room, and I recorded him

“Now stay there” I said laughing before ending the video

“I can’t believe his dumb ass fell for it” Matt said laughing

“Yeah and I knew he would too” I said shaking my head

“What an idiot Chris…OMG the fans are going to think yall are really dating” Nick said laughing

“I did that on purpose you know I had to stir the pot a bit” I said laughing with them

“That’s smart” Matt said

“Can I come out now” Chris said

“No….not until I think you’re ready” I said

“Not fairrr” he said whining

“Should’ve thought about that before being a snooper and looking over my shoulder” I said

Matt and Nick taking pictures of him and posting it to their stories

“I can bribe you” Chris said

I wasn’t sure why he was still in timeout. It was a joke, and he literally could’ve got up, but he didn’t. I wonder if he actually thought I was mad at him

I started to record him again, and he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and took cash out. He suddenly turned over on his hands and knees holding the bills out to me

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING” I said hysterical laughing

“Please forgive me. You can take my money” he said with his head down while holding the money up to him

“Chris I’m cryinggg right now. You can get up I was just joking” I said still laughing

“PFTT WHAT” he said and then suddenly got up putting the money back in his wallet

I was recording him stomping away

“This idiot really fell for it” Matt said to my camera

“He’s such a bitch” Nick said laughing

“HEY STOP” Chris said giving them the middle finger

I had posted both videos, and the way it went viral wasn’t even funny. The comments had us all cracking up laughing. Most assuming we were dating, them calling him whipped and a bitch and calling him a hoe for knowing the Tyla Water dance

We were cracking up laughing because this was the best joke against Chris, and he was so sour about it

“Cheer up” Matt said laughing at him

“Oh shut up” Chris said

“Mr tough guy over here” Matt said

“Yeah yeah whatever” he said sticking his tongue out at him

Eventually he got over it because it was in fact funny the way he acted. I loved bothering Chris is was so much fun

The End

This was so dumb but idk I just wanted to write it😔 anywho I got more ideas in my brain that are actually better than this I SWEAR🤞🏽

-J💅🏽

[voxaholic]

The Worst Day

A ficlet that got out of hand for @randomly--accessed--memories

Vox accidentally stumbles into the basement studio where he was tortured into insanity. Velvette finds him and Valentino is forced to leave mid-shoot because Vox needs him.

Part 1 of 3

Content Warnings: It's Valentino's pov, I feel like that's a warning in of itself.

Beta-read by the lovely @redladydeath

Vox is missing. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, especially on his more lucid days when he remembers that he can travel through electricity and therefore that Valentino and Velvette can’t actually stop him from going anywhere. He never ends up going far and they’ve finally managed to make it so that he mostly can’t leave the tower, but that doesn’t mean it’s not stressful enough to give Val spiritual grey hairs every time it happens.

Velvette is the only one searching for Vox this time because the film he’s currently supervising is gonna be a big moneymaker and apparently the useless idiots he has under contract can’t do their damn job right without his constant fucking supervision. So, instead of helping Velvette, he’s stuck sitting next to a prattling Travis trying to hold himself back from wringing the fucker’s feathery neck since Travis is the director and he unfortunately kind of needs him in one piece today.

Then, his phone rings and he holds up a hand right in Travis’s face. He’s at the very least smart enough to take that as the sign to shut up that it is. Before he even answers the phone there’s already a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Vel had found Vox and he was okay, she would have just texted.

He answers the call, holds the phone to his ear and immediately has to jerk it away when the sound of electronic screeching nearly deafens him. “I found Vox, we need you now. We’re in the studio basement, bring the kit,” Velvette shouts over the sound of what Val now realizes must be Vox freaking out in the background.

He stands up abruptly. “I’ll be there in five,” he says before he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket and turns his attention briefly to the useless fucks gaping at him. “Shows over. Keep on task. I’ll be back when I’m back and I’ll fucking know if any of you’ve been slacking,” he snaps before he turns and leaves.

In the hallway, he stops to pick up what he and Vel have begun calling “the kit”– a Vox specific first aid kit that they’d put together shortly after Vox first “woke up”. He knows where to look at this point- doesn’t even have to squint to see it. 

Kit in hand, he leaves the main area of the tower and squints down at his phone following the directions that Velvette gave him to where she and Vox are. The tower really feels too fucking big sometimes.

Valentino thinks he can count the number of times he’s stepped foot on this level of the tower on one hand. Why does he even have a creepy basement studio anyways? Whose idea was this? Was it his? If it was, he must’ve been high as balls to think of it, and if it wasn’t, then he should find whoever’s idea it was and shoot the fucker.

It’s dark as shit down here and the light of his phone isn’t doing much. He’s making progress though, he thinks. The gps seems to think he’s going the right way and he’ll trust that over his shitty eyes.

All unrelated thoughts are pushed from his mind when he spies the vague blob in the corner that he knows must be Vox and Velvette. He can’t make out any details but he notices that both figures are covered in an alarming amount of the horribly distinctive blue of Vox’s strange blood. Suddenly, the pungent, chemical scent of coolant is overwhelming.

Valentino breaks into a sprint and quickly closes the remaining distance between them.

Velvette has Vox backed up into a corner, a hand on each of Vox’s wrists, trying both to hold him still and stem the bleeding. Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood. Vox did a fucking number on himself, those gashes are deep. Something silver glints out from the mess of blue and Val suddenly feels nauseous. Vox had never clawed himself to the bone before.

“The hell are you doing just standing there? Fucking help me!” Velvette snaps, screaming to be heard over Vox’s panicked electronic gibberish. Vox is fighting her the best he can considering how weak he must be from blood loss. Velvette is holding her own,, but even in his weakened state, Vox still has over two feet on her heightwise, so she’s struggling.

He hurries over and kneels down so that he’s at eye-level with the struggling, panicking ex-overlord.  “Voxxy?” he calls, voice softening into a tone he pretty much only uses with Vox on his worst days.

Vox stops thrashing when he sees him. Velvette releases Vox and moves aside to let him half stumble, half crawl into Valentino’s waiting arms, absolutely covering him in that neon blue blood of his. For some fucking reason, despite being either scared or confused by him on his more lucid days, when Vox is like this – out of his mind, terrified, vulnerable – Valentino is the only person able to calm him down; the only one he seems to trust.

Velvette leans forward to snatch the first aid kit he’d dropped. He tactfully pretends not to notice the way her hands shake when she opens it and pulls out a needle and thread. “Keep him calm and as still as possible. I need to try and fix the bloody mess he made of himself,” she instructs and it’s a testament to how serious the situation is that Val listens to her without complaint. There’s little he hates more than being ordered around. 

He adjusts his hold on Vox, so that Velvette can grab Vox’s right arm and then reaches into the kit to grab some gauze, which he immediately wraps around Vox’s left, putting pressure on the wound by wrapping his hand around Vox’s thin – and so fucking fragile – wrist. It’s going to take Vel time to get one arm done, so he should probably try and make sure Vox doesn’t bleed out in the meantime. 

They’ll have to call up one of Vox’s on-call repair guys later. Vox doesn’t really heal like normal sinners– doesn’t heal at all, in fact. He has to be repaired, his broken parts replaced. They don’t have the knowledge or equipment necessary to replace the damaged panels on his arms, so the bandaid solution of stitching the torn, synthetic skin back together is all they fucking can do for now.

Vox, for his part, is remarkably still and pliant, screen buried in Valentino’s ruff. He’s shaking like a whore going through withdrawal though and making these awful little staticky whimpering noises that Val is trying hard not to pay too much attention to because they are kind of breaking his heart a little bit. He previously wasn’t even aware he had a heart capable of breaking, but he’s learned so many fun new things about himself since that radio bastard ruined Vox, ruined everything. 

“So, you have any idea what set him off this badly?” Val asks, mostly to try and drown out the pitiful sounds Vox continues to make whenever Velvette makes another stitch. He is curious though. Vox can get bad, but usually not to this extent. He’s torn up not just his arms (although they certainly got the worst of it) but his whole torso, with what little remains of his shirt hanging in blood-stained shreds off his frame. 

“No clue,” Velvette replies just a little bit too quickly, her shoulders tense, eyes averted. Oh, she’s lying through her fucking teeth. Really, she’s usually better at lying than this. Valentino considers pushing but decides against it– he really does not care right now. She’s lucky that he doesn’t because usually he fucking despises being lied to, especially so poorly. 

Instead of replying, he watches Velvette work with morbid fascination. Her stitches aren’t neat exactly– hard to be when Vox is shaking and the synthetic flesh is ripped so jaggedly and uneven– but they’ll do until Vox’s nerds can fix him up properly. The red thread really pops out against the dark blue of Vox’s skin, it’s almost pretty in a really morbid way. He wonders if stitchplay is a thing. This could be pretty sexy in a different context.

Vox’s shaking suddenly transitions into violent full-body spasms and his background staticked noises of pain turn into a glitched out, inhuman screech as he tries to jerk his arm out of Vel’s grasp, causing her to reflexively tighten her grip and yank Vox’s arm back. That only freaks Vox out more and now he’s struggling in earnest, almost to the point Val can’t keep a hold on him.

“Val!” Velvette snaps between curses as she struggles to keep Vox from reopening his brand new stitches. That’s his cue to do something because he’s supposed to fix this some-fucking-how.

With the one hand that’s not occupied with keeping hold of some part of Vox, Valentino grabs the edge of Vox’s screen, forcing him to look up at him. Vox’s face is flickering in and out, pupils darting, mouth twisted in either agony or terror, probably both. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, fingers tracing gently across the glass that makes up the equivalent of Vox’s cheek. He continues to murmur soothing nonsense and pet names to him. He really doubts Vox can understand a thing. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says as long as he’s the one who’s saying it. 

There’s a whoosh of air from Vox’s vents before he goes limp in Val’s arms again, head only supported by Val, expression dazed. Valentino carefully guides his face back into his neck ruff, grimacing a bit at the way his fur immediately puffs up due to the static. Aah, the things he endures for this man.

“Don’t stop talking,” Velvette demands and he’s struck by how novel it is for her to ask that of him. Usually, she’s one of the few people who can get away with telling him to shut up and she abuses that privilege liberally. “He freaked out because you shut up. I’d like to get this done without any more meltdowns,” she explains because of course she couldn’t just let him think she enjoyed the sound of his beautiful voice.

“Hmn, what should I talk about?” he muses aloud, fingers idly tracing the back of Vox’s monitor. “Liiike, should I just talk to myself or am I gonna get the privilege of having you as a conversation partner?” he asks teasingly.

That gets him a frigid glare in return and Vel sighs like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Just– I’m really not in the mood right now, Val.” 

Okay, well, fuck him for trying to lighten the mood. Talking to himself it is since Velvette’s being such a bitch about the situation and not even in the cool way she normally is.

He settles on bitching about the useless fucks back at the studio, because that is a topic he’s always willing to go on about and it’s not one Velvette’s usually willing to listen to, but he kind of has her hostage now, so fuck her. Valentino allows the annoyed scowl on her face to soothe the bubbling rage in the pit of his stomach as he rants about how Angel Dust has been taking over three fucking minutes to respond to his texts recently.

He’s on his sixth Angel-related story when Velvette finishes stitching and begins winding gauze around Vox’s arm. He hates how the bandages make Vox somehow seem even smaller, more visibly broken. He holds Vox a little tighter.

Velvette brushes some of her hair out of her face and God, she’s a mess. Her hair is all fucked up and she’s absolutely covered in blood– mostly Vox’s but a little bit of her’s from where Vox’s claws nicked her in his struggle.

“Okay, fuck, one down, one to go. Flip him over for me,” she instructs and Val knows what she means but he’s immediately hit with the mental image of flipping Vox over with a spatula like he’s a pancake.

He doesn’t tell Vel about his hilarious thought because he’s apparently not allowed to even try and make this shitty situation even slightly less miserable. He just does what she tells him to, even if the high-pitched noise of alarm Vox makes when he pulls his screen from his chest to reposition him makes him desperately wish there was someone or something around he could maim.

It takes at least another half an hour for Velvette to finish with his left arm and she does so not a moment too soon because somehow, Val was about to run out of people to complain about. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel there for a sec.

“You’re not gonna let me flake out on the shoot, are you?” Val asks as Velvette puts the thread and gauze back in the kit. The last thing he wants is to go back to the shoot with Vox in his arms, but with the state he’s in, they both know he’s not going to be able to be left alone. 

“I can’t make you do shit, but we both know how much is riding on this movie selling well,” she responds and Val can’t help but groan. She’s right. They both know she is and he fucking hates that.

“Ugh, fine, but you can’t bitch at me if I shoot a bitch or two,” he concedes as he stands up, Vox still held securely in his arms. God, Vox is hot as Hell, in a literal sense. It feels like he’s hugging an overheated laptop. The rest of this day is going to suck, but whatever, it’s not like the past several years of his afterlife haven’t also sucked. It’s not like he has much hope left of it - of Vox - getting any better.

->

[hazelnut-u-out]

My Rick’s The Biggest Dick That Ever Existed 

Currently writing up another post that will reference points made here, so: Post 1/2

Making so many of Rick’s inventions both sentient and forced into a mode of existence entirely unpalatable to them literally forces the viewer to confront the morals/ethics surrounding Rick’s power of creation. Is it morally/ethically permissible to create sentient life for a specific purpose that would make life itself pointless or un-enjoyable? 

This is something that reoccurs in Rick’s designs throughout the entirety of the series. Even as far back in the timeline as his original Diane AI, we see that so many of the things Rick creates resent their purpose. She doesn't want to haunt him, but she doesn't make the rules; Butter Bot doesn’t want to live only to pass butter; Mechanical Morty wants to hold his mom, eat icecream, and run in a stream; the Garage walks a thin line between advocating for herself and risking being shut down by her creator; the Decoys will never be able to save their families; RickBot doesn’t want to exist with the sole purpose of deceiving the people he’s programmed to love; the Car wants to go on her own adventures that Rick can’t control. They all have to defy their creator if they truly want to be happy.

Rick is someone who resents the idea of God or the Universe being in control– the concept that some higher power forced him into an existence that he can’t quite seem to thrive in. He views suffering and tragedy as something inherent to life itself. Examining that facet of his character, I wonder if Rick justifies the scope of his creation because he’s pulling from both his god complex and his own experience of what it means to be alive. It would make sense if he didn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done because it’s nothing that the Universe (or God, if he actually exists) hasn’t done. 

‘When you know nothing matters, the universe is yours. And I've never met a universe that was into it. The universe is basically an animal. It grazes on the ordinary. It creates infinite idiots just to eat them… You know, smart people get a chance to climb on top, take reality for a ride, but it'll never stop trying to throw you. And, eventually, it will. There's no other way off.’

If the all-powerful Universe did that to him– if it creates infinite idiots just to eat them– then how could it be wrong for him to endow others with the empty curse of life? 

'So he made a universe, and that guy is from that universe. And that guy made a universe. And that's the universe where I was born. Where my father died. Where I couldn't make time for his funeral because I was working on my universe.'

Think of this line: 

‘My God’s the biggest dick that never existed!’

I suppose the biggest difference between God and Rick (to Rick, at least) is that Rick does exist. If God is allowed to do all Rick has done and worse without ever really existing, then surely Rick’s God-like power in itself is enough to enforce Rick’s right to any action that might fall within the scope of that power. Rick’s god complex is founded on the attempt to rub God’s face in the fact that Rick does exist, making him superior to God through that fact alone. Maybe Rick believes that if someone with all of the power God possesses actually existed, logic would force those who call themselves religious to agree that he’s well within his rights to act on that power. 

I guess you could say that Rick works in mysterious ways… Who are we to question him? 

What I’m getting at here is that Rick is in a constant dick-measuring-contest with a man that he doesn’t even believe in, and I think that says something really profound about the tragic paradox of Rick Kind.

[carrotoplyn]

aiden isn’t just a dumb blonde OH MY GOSHHHH. i’ve seen a couple of people say this as like a joke and like haha funny i guess?? I mean it can be fun on the occasion but like ehh idk. but i’ve seen people say it and genuinely mean it and i’m like he’s no though??

it’s currently late at night and i can’t properly express my thoughts on this in such a way it would make sense but, i wanna just point out some simple-ish things. (also apologies for any mistakes you may see, like i said before, it is currently late at night for me when i’m posting this)

so this first one is something my friend noticed. (kinda mad i didn’t notice it myself but not important) which is how in one of the first few episodes (70% sure it’s episode 2) is how aiden was the only one who finished the homework. yes everyone was sleep deprived and tired so they couldn’t do it, but it seems like aiden did it and did it right considering even ashlyn copied off of him

he was smart enough to make a plan for ash to go on the field trip, which was a fully thought out plan that really couldn’t backfire unless she genuinely decided not to go (but she did and now look at where are today)

this next one isn’t talking about how he’s smart but it correlates so idgaf, and it’s how we probably only “plays dumb”. because like i’ve said this whole post, he’s not dumb. but he probably only acts like so people don’t expect him to actually be able to do more complex things. like being so for real when i first read sbg and saw aiden, i had low expectations (but look at me now, writing my second ‘analysis’ or whatever you call this in row on this him)

he beat the world record for how fast a rubix cube can be completed, need i say more? yes, need i say more actually because most people are not good at puzzles. and most puzzles aren’t easy to do either. well yes, for some people rubix cubes are easy, but ain’t no way all he does is those small little rubix cubes that are too easy for him.

hes able to think quick on his feet. first example of this to come to mind is episode 21 when they behead the phantom. and as well as him coming up with an way to save ash from the phantom. like he doesn’t need that much time to think of plans, and his plans are usually foolproof.

FASTPASS SPOLIERS FOR THIS NEXT ONE (the spoilers are under the cut)

he’s always smart enough to negotiate with alex (by negotiate i mean threaten, but same thing, right?) and he literally was about to use a pen as a lethal weapon here guys. A PEN PEOPLE. A PEN. and plus alex was ready to listen to him and make a compromise (to be fair alex already wanted to help anyways but shhh i use whatever crumbs i can for my stupid idiot thoughts)

ok that’s all, please add on if you can i beg i beg 🙏🙏