#also an outfit but i had to take it off bcs its so fucking hot (in temperature)

[conanssummerchild]

I was born on 3/3/5:D

ALSO LOVE YOUR NEW THEME ARO VIBES ON POINT

OH MY GOD WTF THATS SO COOL YAY (fav numbers for my fav sister fr)

THANK U hdjsjs <33

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 3

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, smut. kissing, brief fingering (f receiving), car sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: the way i've given up proofreading this lmao lemme know if y'all find any errors bc i'm simply not looking for em anymore! anyways eat up :)

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What the hell did I get myself into?

The question repeats in your mind while the cool air in Gojo’s car blasts against your skin, still hot from earlier, as his hand returns to its natural place along your thigh.

After your little encounter, he promised to take you to one of his favorite places for lunch. He also promised to wash your soiled panties for you as he shoved them into his pocket with a smirk, citing how “gentlemanly” he is.

The events of less than an hour prior replay in your mind as you remember how his touch felt, how his lips pressed against yours, how badly you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you then and there. But instead, he just picked up all the dresses you had tried on and marched them out of the changing room to the front of the store, setting them down and paying without a second thought. “Oh, and we’ll take the yellow one she’s wearing, too,” he chirps to the attendant as she rings up an amount you can’t even fathom.

You get pulled out of your thoughts as the car stops, your door opening suddenly as Gojo once again holds his hand out to you. He has brought you to an adorable restaurant you’ve never even seen before, with yellow flowers lining the walkways and windowsills of the old building, perfectly complementing the new outfit you have on.

Once again, the date is actually really lovely. He orders you both champagne and tells you to get whatever else you want from the menu, and conversation flows naturally between you two, almost like old friends. Wanting to learn more about him, you direct the discussion to his past, probing to understand more about his background. While he often acts like an open book, you find that there are three things he will absolutely not talk about: his family, his home, or his money. Whenever one of these topics comes up he maneuvers the conversation elsewhere, often deflecting back to you.

That said, holy shit does this man love to talk - you bet that if you put him in an empty room he’d speak just to hear his own voice. He seems to know something about everything, and he wants to make sure you know it, too.

“Do you ever shut up?” you tease after his fourth time interjecting a random, unwarranted piece of information into a story you were telling him.

“Hmm,” he thinks, bringing a hand up to ruffle through his hair. “Nope, I don’t think so,” a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

While the time you spend with him is nice, his inability to be forthcoming does put you slightly on edge. You can’t help but find yourself wondering, in a tiny corner of the back of your mind, what’s the catch? Why is someone who seems so perfect possibly interested in you?

You push the feelings of unease down as you continue your meal. Eventually you look up and see his eyes locked on yours, taking in your every move. The cerulean pierces through you like a cold wind, and you can’t quite place the feeling it sends through you until you feel his fingertips brush against your knee from under the table.

Desire.

“You know,” you say, a grin slowly forming on your face, “I love this dress, but I almost feel like it’s getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” he tilts his head, knowingly playing into your little game. “Well, that’s a shame.” He sighs dramatically. “I guess you could take it off, if you really need to.”

“Mhm,” you hum, “I might need your help with that, though.”

Leaning forward slightly, his words come out airy, “Anything for you, princess.”

He stands up and holds his hand out again, your fingers intertwining with his as his free hand pulls out his wallet and drops a few hundred dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover your meal. Leading you back to his car, you feel your heart start to race in anticipation.

Pulling open the back door, you hop in first and get comfortable against the seat before he joins you inside. You hadn’t noticed how spacious the back of his car is but you’re grateful that it at least won’t be uncomfortable; you expected him to take you back to his place or yours, but this will do just fine for now, as your need for him was increasing with every second he wasn’t inside you.

Immediately upon closing the door his lips crash into yours, soft and warm against the lingering cool air inside the vehicle. As you sit in his lap his arms reach around your body to undo the zipper of your dress before sliding it over your head, tossing it somewhere into the depths of the car.

Since your panties were already stuffed into his pocket and you hadn’t worn a bra, you were now fully bare in front of him. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing his eyes to slowly cover every inch of your body, taking you in as a smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Gojo lays down with his back against the seats so you can straddle him, legs around his waist as you start to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt. With your eyes closed and hands shaking slightly in excitement, you take longer than the man would like as he sighs against your lips and simply rips his shirt open, muttering “I’ll buy a new one,” as it slides off his shoulders.

Your eyes open for a moment to take in his body beneath you - his firm chest, abs surrounded by a v-line that dipped below the waist of his pants, practically begging you to trace along it with your fingers. As you do, you hear Gojo’s breath hitch momentarily at your touch.

“Aw, are you nervous?” you tease against him as your fingertips brush along his waistband, slowly fumbling against the buckle of his belt.

He smirks at you through the kiss. “Just impatient.”

Before you can quip back, he has undone his belt and zipper, allowing you to pull his black slacks down to his ankles, sitting up slightly to let him kick them off. Your hands find the top of his black boxers before his hands wrap around your wrists.

Pulling his mouth away from yours for a moment, his eyes open to meet your gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks through a breathy sigh.

You nod eagerly, starting to lean back down before a hand reaches up to stop you.

“Say it,” he commands, voice suddenly low and raspy.

“I want to fuck you, Satoru,” the words barely leaving your mouth before your lips crash back into his, a new greediness between both of you as your tongues glide against each other’s.

Your attention turns back to undressing him as you pull his boxers down, revealing his fully erect cock. The tip flushed, needy, drawing your hands to it as you use your thumb to drag the leaking precum around his tip before sliding your hand loosely down his length. Satoru sighs into your open mouth at the feeling, reaching his own hand down between your legs.

As soon as he touches you, you feel electricity shoot through your body, his fingers barely brushing against your clit. Maybe you were still horny from earlier, maybe you just needed him that badly, but something in you couldn’t wait any longer.

Your hips move so you’re hovering above him, using your hand around his base to align him with your entrance. His tip slowly enters you, the feeling already threatening to send you over the edge as you envelop him in your warmth.

He moans your name softly as you drop your hips to take all of him inside of you. His cock stretches at your walls, the mix of pleasure and pain better than anything you’ve felt before. You fit him perfectly as he fills up every last inch of you, your wetness allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

“Wanted you so bad,” he murmurs against your lips as you grind your hips in circles up and down his length, “needed you.” One of his hands grips at your waist while the other snakes behind you to grab the thick flesh of your ass.

You continue your movements, using one hand on his chest to stabilize yourself, his cock pressing into every last part of you. “S’good, you feel s’good,” he babbles, a never-ending stream of consciousness leaving his mouth as your body moves against his.

Damn, he really can’t shut up, can he? you think to yourself with a grin.

You don’t mind though, the silky lightness of his voice only adding to your pleasure. As you feel yourself approaching your release, your pussy clenches around him, eliciting another moan from the man underneath you.

His grip tightens on your waist as he suddenly begins thrusting his hips up into you, adding to the pace. You open your eyes slightly as he reaches even deeper into you, glancing down to see the veins in his arms as his fingers dig into your skin.

“F-fuck, I’m close,” he whines, desperation dripping from his voice as he continues pumping into you.

“Me too, ‘Toru,” the words leaving your throat in a hoarse whisper.

You don’t even process the nickname, something simply spoken out of ease as sounds struggled to escape your lips through moans of pleasure, but it sends butterflies through Satoru’s body as he is suddenly pushed into his climax. You follow almost immediately, your body racked with pleasure as your legs shake and cunt flutters around his cock as he finishes inside of you.

The humidity of the car finally hits you as you try to slow your breathing, realizing both you and Satoru are covered in a thin layer of sweat as you peel yourself off of him to sit up.

“Wow,” he pants, reaching a hand up to brush white hair off of his slightly damp forehead, “that was amazing.”

“I know,” you reply slyly, leaning down to place a peck against his lips.

He chuckles, “So cocky already? And here I thought we could have a sweet post-fuck cuddle or something.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling. “Oh yeah, in the comfort of the back seat of your car?”

“Aw, are you saying you don’t like my car?” he fakes a pout. “Guess you can just walk home then.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing. “You and I both know damn well I’m not walking home, and we aren’t going anywhere until you find my dress.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he smirks, sitting up and wrapping his arms tightly around you, placing a wet kiss on your cheek as you laugh and squirm in his lap.

–

For a while, things with Satoru are easy. You find yourself slipping into a rhythm with him: he calls you, he takes you out somewhere, you fuck, and he pays you. It feels nice to finally be able to afford to live again and not stress about your job hunt, and you start to genuinely enjoy the time you spend with him, looking forward to your weekly dates.

Between the times you see him, you also find yourselves communicating more often. He starts sending you pictures of himself trying on clothes in that all-too-familiar dressing room, asking for your opinions on what he should get so he can match you whenever you go out somewhere. You start video calling each other too, getting to see that stupid grin on his face whenever you pick up. Usually you just talk about your days or what shows you're watching, but you slowly start bringing him more into your life, telling him about your family and whatever gossip you hear about from your friends. A few times you’ve even invited him to come out with your group, but he always declines with a vague excuse. A part of you wants more, to have him in your life fully, but you also know that it would bring with it the complicated explanation of how you met and how your relationship first started.

You also begin to notice that you never hook up in your apartment or his - it’s always in restaurant bathrooms, his car, or the few times he’s gotten you a hotel room to stay with him overnight. You don’t particularly mind, since your apartment is still not the cleanest, although it’s certainly gotten better with your newfound free time, but it does seem odd to you. Whenever you try to bring it up, he just shrugs or brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “It’s too personal,” he always reasons, and you decide that you either have to drop it and accept how things are or push it and risk losing him.

Around six months after your first date, something changes. He drops you off at home after an amazing dinner at a new steakhouse and even better sex, this time in the private lounge of the restaurant. Inside your apartment you shower and head straight to bed. When you awake the next morning, you see two notifications on your phone: one from your bank informing you of a deposit of $6,000, and one from Gojo.

Gojo: Sorry about not paying you right away last night, I must have been a little distracted after our dinner and dessert 🥰 (the dessert was us having sex). I sent you a bit extra as compensation for any emotional damages I may have caused <3

You roll your eyes, a smile involuntarily forming on your lips as you read his message. Suddenly, it hits you: you didn’t even notice that he didn’t pay you. For months, that had been the routine, the expectation you both had set and agreed to. But last night, you didn’t notice. And maybe, you didn’t care?

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[fcthots]

okay maybe nottttt the exact type of jason content you’re writing but i do really just need jason loving a curvy reader so good bc she’s having a bad body dysmorphia day

Ok im going for a more hc approach to this to keep it geared towards a more broad audience as I have to be able to relate to be able to write it. also I rlly just wanted to try out this format lol

ok so its date night and Jason looks fucking HOT

and you really wanna give him a treat. You wanna look good for him!

You want him to look at you and think "Wow! I'm so lucky! I'm so glad I found you."

You try on a dress that you think will look cute

It... doesn’t look like you thought it would

oh well. you'll just try another even though you were really planning on the first one

So you try the next one and that one doesn’t look right either

you try on the third outfit and you're starting to think maybe you're the problem

you know you're late but maybe if you find that outfit, he’ll think you're so pretty that it'll be ok. He'll think you're so beautiful that he'll forgive you. You just have to be pretty enough.

You just have to try to deserve forgiveness. You just have to try to deserve a fraction of all of the amazing love he gives you.

And that's how Jason finds you 30 minutes later, naked on the floor of your apartment surrounded by probably 14 different outfits

He sits down criss-cross next to you

"thought I'd find you in here. I got worried when you didn’t show up at my apartment. thought I had the wrong day at first."

you don’t even respond or look at him. you don’t think you can. you have no excuse

He does it for you. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

You lean up, grab your blanket off the bed, and put it over your entire body, including your face

you hear him sigh and move closer to you before he moves the blanket away from your face

"please tell me? please."

You cave and tell him everything. He sets his jaw and listens.

you finish talking and it takes him a full minute before he speaks.

"We'll circle back to some things later, but I got you a present. I wanted you to wear it tonight. Also got some stuff I thought we could use tonight. You wanna see it?"

You nod your head, more confused than anything else. He comes back in two minutes later with a bag he tosses at you.

You open it

It's pajamas

Not lingerene

Pajamas like a giant shark onesie

you look at what else is in the bag

its a Shrek dvd

He speaks again. "I think we definitely need to watch Shrek tonight. in our matching shark onesies."

You don’t know what to say

but he does

"I'm with you because I love you and I like you. Every inch of you. I think you're smart and funny and amazing. And I also think you're sexy and gorgeous and beautiful. I can't change the way that you think. But will you at least believe me when I say that in my eyes you are the most beautiful woman on the planet?"

You pretend you're not actively crying "I think it would do me some good to watch Shrek"

He laughs and helps you up.

[barbiecrocs]

Serial.

Michael Myers

What seems to be the unluckiest day you've ever had is also the most enjoyable.

tags- fem!reader, horror, soft gore, breaking and entering, size difference if you squint, rough sex, blood, piv, monster fucking (just bc this man is monstrous), dumbification, hair pulling, 90s ig, the mask stays on during sex. WC. 3861

Barbie's note... can't believe I used to be on my knees for this man. Like I used to be in the trenches frfr but if yall like him enjoy. after all I did write it to be read. I might go back into hibernation btw.

 The storm that brought your birthday party to an early end sends most of your friends home for the night. The bipolar winds knock leftover party cups and plates into the pool. The storm seems to be having a party of its own in your backyard. It practically plucks your backyard apart bit by bit. You raise your hands to your temples and rub them in stress. The only thing you could do was sit on the sidelines and watch.

 "Sigh, the sound of rain is so therapeutic…Too bad the storm is destroying your backyard. This is not a pretty sight." You hear an oncoming voice say.

 "Kate, you shouldn't be so relaxed. You have no ride home now. You should've gone home with your sister and the others. It's raining cats and dogs now." You complain and look over to Kate, noticing her outfit.  "Did you get that from my closet? You took my whole ‘My Melody’ set! Even the slippers! I only have one set! The rest are just shirts! I was going to wear that after my shower!" Your eyebrows furrow in distaste for her stealing one of your favorite pajama sets. She could've at least asked right? Man, you really have to kick her out. You roll your eyes.

 "Jeez, take a chill pill, don't get your panties in a twist. I wanted to leave, but I guess I took too long to take a shower and get changed out of my swimsuit, so they left without me. She told me that she was going to come back after dropping everyone else off." She starts to tap on the glass with her acrylic nails as her eyes flicker back and forth between you and the glass. "That doesn’t make any sense, she’d just be wasting more gas and my time.” You roll your eyes. “Jeez, no need to be in such a time crunch, your bed isn’t going anywhere, anywhere far at least,” Kate says. ‘Ugh! So insensitive at all times.’ You think. “You know Kate, I had other things planned tonight!" You huff.

 "Ooh? What did you have planned that was so important? It’s almost midnight-. Oh. OOOH? Is it what I think it is? Were you and Miles going to fuck? Is that why you’ve been hanging by your phone so much?” She says, continuously poking your arm. Your cheeks run hot as she continues to press you with flustering questions. “Maybe that’s why you’ve had such a stick up your ass because you’ve been waiting for him to stick something up there. Are you keeping it ready for him huh? It’ll slip in nice and easy-.” “KATE!” You interrupt, practically steaming with embarrassment and shyness. “What?” She snickers. “Did I hit the bullseye?” “Just… Just shut up!” You stomp. “Fine. Fine. You wanna take another dip in the pool to cool down? Or perhaps the rain, does that sound like fun? Becoming one with the rain. It sounds lovely, an absolute dream." She smirks, unlocking the backdoor. 

 "No, no it doesn't sound like a dream. It's a hot summer night turned lukewarm and I bet the rain is uncomfortably warm too-" "Come on!" She interrupts, yanking you outside so hard that you topple over, good thing you were still in your swimsuit. Can’t say the same for Kate though. 

 She starts to skip around the pool playfully as if the rain was nonexistent. "Kate, ugh! You little shit, you're lucky I'm still wearing my bathing suit! Plus, you're getting my clothes wet! What was even the point of taking a shower if you were going to go back outside? Sigh You know what? You should stay outside and really be one with the rain. Have fun!" You shut the door as she runs over, slipping on the wet pavement.

 "Hey! Don’t leave me out here! Come on, it was just an impulsive decision. I was just having fun since the party was ruined! Loosen up a bit!" She yells, muffled through the thick glass of the backdoor. You put your fingers in your ears and pretend like you can’t hear her. She’ll be fine, the rain was warm, plus there’s a patio set with a waterproof hood so she doesn’t have to stay in the rain.

 'Great, now I have a mixture of chlorine and rainwater on me.' As you walk inside the house you notice that you left the TV on and overhear it from your open kitchen.

 *T.V static* "Emergency news coming to you live from Los Angeles, California. The news channel where we relay urgent news in under five minutes!" Reporter Nancy says while thrusting her hand in the air to represent the number five. "Nancy, stop, this is serious news. We are here to relay information about a serial killer sneaking into backyards and killing residents living there. Numerous calls were made to the emergency hotline, 911, saying that there was someone in their house or giving us details on what the deranged man looked like. He stands somewhere around 6'7 and wears a dark blue jumpsuit. He wears a mask that hollows his eyes and he has brown hair-"

 The TV suddenly cuts off as if it was unplugged, yet everything looks in check. It wasn't unplugged, the TV isn't smoking like it's broken, the power is fine, and it's not like you turned it off manually or remotely. 

'Wow, it's the first time I actually sit down to watch the news and the TV decides to cut off.' You think.

 You bang on the TV in hopes that it'll cut back on, but no luck. "Ugh, old ass T.V.! I told mama that she should've gotten a new one! This shit is so outdated. We have had this since I was ten! That's a decade!" You pout. 

 You look out the glass backdoor and see Kate, happy as ever, texting someone on a huge duck floatie in the pool with little to no rain outside now. Like what the hell? It was just raining. You unlock the sliding door and call out to her. "Hey, Kate. You should come inside now. It would be a hassle for your sister to drive back over here. You should spend the night." You say, cursing yourself for your generosity. "Really? Now you want me to come in? I'm good. There's no need to be so concerned. We're on private property. No one else can enter without permission, that's illegal. Plus, the rain is warm just like you predicted. She should be fine while driving, seriously. I'll just wait until my sister picks me up. You act like I'm ten years old. I don't need supervision." She rolls her eyes.

 You return the same energy with an eye roll. "So naive, your funeral… Just know that I will be locking the door." You mumble and pull in the curtains. If she doesn't care about her safety then neither will you. Your objective was to take a shower, not look after her anyway.

  In the middle of your shower, you hear the house phone ring. You let it ring for a while before realizing that Kate can’t answer the phone for you. With a long sigh, you rinse off, grab a towel, and head to your room, wanting to put some clothes on before going downstairs. You throw on a Kuromi pajama shirt paired with loose black shorts and head downstairs.

 'Was Kate expecting a call? Maybe it’s Kate’s sister and she’s here to pick her up. Maybe it’s Miles? We were supposed to fuck for my birthday tonight.’ You skip down the stairs, hoping that it was the latter, and pick up the cream-colored phone just to hear heavy breathing on the other side. 'What the hell?' You think. 

 As you're about to hang up your movement is forcefully put to a stop. You feel your heart sink as a painful throb begins to travel up your arm, making you drop the phone on the table. You fully tune into this sound as if nothing else around you matters. It’s so loud in your head even though the phone is no longer in your ears. Every nerve inside your body is tense and telling you to hang up, but the breathing is so captivating, trance-like if you will. Listening to the sweet sound as if it was someone humming your favorite tune or singing a soft lullaby. It's so alluring, arousing almost. It mentally sucks you in and the noise alone brings a physical warmth to your skin, supplying false comfort like a hug. It takes away the pain in your arm just as fast as it gave it. As you listen for longer you start to notice the raspiness in the voice. This wasn't like a white noise machine or a random audio on loop. There was someone behind it. In and out, in and out, in and… 

Suddenly, you hear Kate scream bloody murder and you snap out of your trance, unplugging the phone and rushing toward the back door. Yanking the curtains open and analyzing the pool from inside, the scene that is held in your eyes is mortifying.

 Kate lays there on her back, lifeless in a puddle of her blood on the rubber duck floatie. Her hair is a mess and you can see signs of a struggle on her body. The stressed clothing, choke marks, and some of her fake nails are broken off, leaving her fingernails bloody. Her phone is no longer in her hand, but slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool. Heh, it looks like it still works, the screen is on. Blood flows out of the stab wounds on her throat and chest as the light rain continuously tries to wash them away.

 Your eyes frantically scan the pool area for the culprit. And somewhere in the darkness that is the other side of the pool, you see a tall figure step forward, making you jump back from the glass.

 A man in a dark blue bloodied jumpsuit, standing around 6'6 - 6'7, wearing a mask with brown hair. Just seeing this man triggers something in you, as you've unlocked a memory. Have you seen him before? No way, that can't be possible, there's no way that you've seen him and not run away screaming. Then it finally clicks. He was the murderer that was described on TV. He fits the description perfectly. The mask, hair, height, the only thing the description was missing was the blood.

 Goosebumps tatted your skin as you begin to panic. You hold still in hopes that he has bad eyesight or somehow can't see you through the clear glass door, as if that's possible. He remains completely still and at some point, you wonder if he really can't see you. Maybe the mask messes with his vision?

 Suddenly, he starts to make his way around the pool and so you run into the living room to dig in the couch cushions for your mom's pistol that she keeps for "unexpected guests". 

 You hurriedly load the gun and speed back to your place, tripping over a bunched-up rug. You tip back and fall flat on your butt and point the gun in his direction, waiting for him to round the corner. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline and your nerves are high. At this point, you're hyper-aware of everything happening to you. Blood is coursing through your body from head to toe because of this intense situation and yet… you feel a second heartbeat, this one wasn't in your chest, it was between your legs. Why was your body doing this?

 Was this turning you on? You feel obloquy and disappointment fill your heart as you think about such taboo and shameful things. Many thoughts swarm your mind, but everything is put on hold as he rounds the corner.

 He stands in front of you, only the glass door standing between you both, but it isn't long before he busts through it. Glass comes shooting your way and you shut your eyes and cover your face in defense, not realizing that you dropped the gun. You were too late to protect yourself properly and tiny shards of glass grazed your skin. Some cuts are a little deeper than others, but the overall damage was minimal. Luckily, due to the adrenaline, you couldn't feel the pain.

 You open your eyes when you realize that the gun is no longer in your hand. You look around on the floor until you notice unfamiliar shoes planted right in front of you and snap your head up just to see his dark, hollow, eyes staring at you. 

 In a panicked rush, you continue to search for the gun you dropped, trying to keep your eyes on him. Patting the area down like a dumbass, you still couldn't find it. Only for a split second you look away and grab it, but a large hand roughly grabs you by the neck and the other snatches the gun away, throwing it somewhere towards the stairs. Your hands' fling onto the hand choking you, attempting to tear him off of you. No avail, his grip was firm and you were slowly, but surely losing air.

 He lifted you with ease and put your back to the other glass door that wasn't broken. Trying to cause as much of a hassle as you can, you thrash around, kicking and punching, but it wasn't doing anything to his firm body. 'What is this guy made of?'.

You start to feel hot tears prickle in your eyes and your face feels like someone is sticking pins and needles in it. Heat piles in your chest and your heart starts to beat slower and slower. After what seems like a lifetime of flopping around, you finally land a good kick to his stomach. His grip softens on your neck and you loudly gasp for air, coughing up a storm as spit lulls out your mouth and down your chin.

 All too quickly, he grabs your legs and wraps them around his hips to stop you, putting you both in a rather intimate position. With you being pinned to the glass, you stop resisting and catch your breath. 

 As you calm down, you notice just how close he is, how you can practically feel his heart beating through his chest, how his leg is tucked snuggly between your thighs, and all of a sudden your feet can’t touch the floor. The mood between you two was shifting from panicked to steamy. You felt ashamed of yourself for thinking in such a way. You could die right now, but all you could think about was how big and warm his hands were around your neck. You could no longer find it in yourself to even look in his direction. But your surroundings are all too familiar, nothing else besides him can keep your attention.  

 His grip tightens on your thighs as he leans into you. With closing distance, the more you can feel his clothed length slowly push against your thin shorts, twitching and aching to be sheathed in your now soaking, cunt. You wrap your arms around his neck and shut your eyes as you wait for him to plant a kiss on your lips. Instead, you feel surprisingly warm kisses along your jawline to your neck. His lips find your sweet spot, making you jolt in pleasure. As he starts attacking your neck with hickeys and bites. You feel a cold hand travel from one of your thighs to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on the fabric, signaling that he wants it off. “Go ahead.” You say, layering your hand on his as he slips your shirt off. Squeezing one of your boobs with the other hand. 

 Your naked back forcefully pushes up against the cold glass and it isn’t long before a cold shiver rushes up your spine, making your back arch fiercely. “Ah, c-cold!” You hiss. He looks around and spots a comfy couch in the living room, covered in fuzzy throw-over blankets that were used for cold movie nights. He throws you over his shoulder and then plops you onto the couch, his hands immediately moving around your waist and snaking up to your chest. He takes a second to admire the naked flesh in his hands, kneading and kissing it. He’s never felt something so soft and smooth in his life. Considering that his life was a very hard one, this felt like heaven on Earth. 

 You wrap your legs around his waist and pull it closer to your clothed entrance. His fingers loop around your panties and drag them down, swiftly. A string of shlick leading from your pussy to the wet spot on your panties. He brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs them, making your cheeks run hot with a blush. “Perv!” You beat at his chest. 

 He takes off his jumpsuit as he stares down at you. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, dark eyes, and abs sculpted by the gods intimidating and turning you on simultaneously. He continues undressing and pulls his boxers a little bit lower than his thighs. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull from how big his dick is. Yet it fits in his hand perfectly. 

 He gives it a few long strokes before lining himself up at your entrance, raising your hips to level with his tip. “W-wait. I don't think it’ll fit.” You whimper, trying to close your legs, but are blocked by his waist. He stands still for a second, thinking about what to say. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders considering that he doesn’t talk much. He prods his tip at your entrance and slowly sheths himself mostly inside you, letting out a deep guttural groan. Your arms subconsciously try to claw at his back, but can’t wrap around it, clawing on his shoulders at best. “FUCK!” You scream, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “You’re too big.”

 You lay on your back, trying not to move an inch, scared that he might rip you in half just from it being inside you. He puts a calloused hand on your cheek and wipes your tears, trying to soothe you the best he can without words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten when you feel him push in more. “Wait!” You weakly move a hand to his chest. “Stay still for a moment. It stings so bad.” You throw your head back onto the armrest of the couch as you bite your lip in pain, almost drawing blood.

 After what seems like an eternity the pain is finally gone and now you can enjoy the dicking that you were supposed to get from Miles. You wonder what happened to him. Maybe he canceled without telling you. ‘Ugh, dickhead! Ghosting me on my birthday?’  You brush off that thought and tell him you’re fine now. He pulls out halfway and slowly thrusts back in, making you feel every inch of him. Your whole body quivers from how deep he was inside you, plunging farther than your fingers ever could. “Oh fuck!” You claw. He starts to pick up the pace, with each thrust fucking you further into dumbification.

 You practically scream when he starts pounding your g-spot, making you breathless. “So good!!~” You hiccup, trying to focus on not being fucked dumb. So much that you didn't realize him switching positions.

 Suddenly, your stomach is pressed against the back of your brown corduroy sofa as your knees dig into the pillows and cushions beneath you. He stands tall, towering over you from the back with one hand tangled in your hair. His free hand returns to one of your hips and he pulls them closer to his length, lining himself up again. He wastes not even a second going slow this time. He thrusts into you, immediately finding your G-spot and pounding it. The position does wonders for you as his balls repeatedly smack against your clit, making your back arch immensely. That’s it. That was your last straw before turning dumb. Your nails dig into the couch and your tongue hangs out your mouth, trickling drool. He lets out a deep groan when he feels your walls squeeze around his dick and suck him in, signaling that you were close to cumming. 

 A familiar heat starts to spread over your body and it isn’t long before your walls go from squeezing to trembling. “Fuck, Fuck FUCK!!” You thought you screamed, but to him, it just seemed like fucked out babbling. Your pussy gushes around him, triggering his orgasm. He fucks both of you through it, almost to the point of overstimulation. He finally pulls out, allowing all the cum and shlick to ooze out of you. Both of you watch as it drips onto the blanket below you, making you giggle. “Heh, oopsie.” You babble, still fucked out.

 Your tiredness catches up with you and you fall limp on the couch, rocking in and out of consciousness. He picks you up and searches the house for a bathroom. He starts to run the water and steps out for a minute. The sound of running water and a loud thud from the living room snaps you out of your unconscious state. ‘W-what the fuck?’ You stand up on wobbly legs and head out of the bathroom, finding out that he put you in the downstairs one. You feel a cold gust of wind and look towards the front door. It’s open with the man that was just balls deep inside of you standing hunched over. You have a bit of trouble walking over to him, but eventually, you make it. You try to find an opening to see what he was looking at since he’s too tall to look over. 

 You fall on your butt in horror when you realize that it’s Miles, dead and the fully clothed mysterious man was dragging him away. A puddle of dried blood on your porch gives away that he was dead for a while.

 “What. The. FUCK!” You had such a nice time with this man that you forgot he was a murderer. For heaven's sake, he killed your best friend Kate. “Who are you?” So many questions run through your head at the same time. ‘Why did he kill Miles?  When did he have time to kill Miles? Why didn’t he kill you too? How does he know about you?’ He throws Miles over his shoulder and turns back to you. It looks like he’s going to raise a hand at you, instead, he reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a gold name tag with the name ‘Micheal’ on it. He throws it into your lap and disappears into the darkness of the night. “What…What the fuck?”

[humorisstoredinthetits]

The Heathers+Veronica go to the Mall

I have returned because I actually had an idea for once

I also got too busy watching another show about a group of 4 color-coded girls who are all (probably) gay, guess correctly and you get a cookie

Its no secret that they like to shop

Between Chandler's massive ego forcing her to have the newest fashion trends to ensure she looks better than everyone else and Duke and Veronica's gremlin hordes of collectibles, they do alot of shopping

At least once a week they end up at the local mall and don't leave until they come out with just tons of unnecessary bullshit

Do they have a problem? Probably.

Is it a massive drain on their finances? Lol not even close, they have just obscene amounts of money, between their three incomes and the fortunes left behind from the Heather's parents they can afford to buy whatever the hell they please

Even with the amounts they donate to various charities, they still just have so much of it

This ends up with them buying just the dumbest things

By 'them' I mean Duke

Like once she rented one of those bouncy castles from a party company bc Duke always wanted once but her parents sucked and wouldn't get it so she said fuck it and rented one

Mac and Veronica quickly joined her on it and they all started fooling around in there (not in the nsfw way, ik some of you dirty people were thinking that)

Chandler was just like 'whatever' until she realized that it was crushing some of her flowers

The stakes planted in the ground to keep the castle in place were not meant to withstand the forces of 3 childish adults bouncing around in there so they came out and the forces of them jumping moved the castle onto her flowers

Chandler got pissed, grabbed a knife, and stabbed the castle, deflating it

Everyone was pissed at her for ruining their fun and she had to pay the company for the damages

But back to what this was actually about

The Sherwood Mall really isn't anything that spectacular, but there really isn't much to do in Sherwood so they'll take what they can get

They'll usually drive in Duke's Jeep, as its the only thing that will be able to hold all of their crap

Once they get to the mall they split into two groups

Duke and Mac go off on their own while Chandler goes with Veronica

This is because they usually look for clothes first, and if Chandler doesn't supervise her Veronica will get non-Chandler approved outfits and she will not stand for that

And she still can't accessorize for shit

Chandler will go into a store, grab so many different clothes and spend literal hours trying them on while asking Veronica her opinions

Veronica still sucks with fashion, even after all these years with her fashionista gfs, so she's clueless when Chandler asks her for her opinion

"Which Skirt do you think looks better on me"

"This is a trick question, they're the same fucking skirt"

" No, this one is black and this on is very very dark gray, God Veronica how can you not see the difference, it's clear as night and day!"

"Whatever you say Princess"

What's even worse is when Chandler is done and starts picking out shit for Veronica

She feels like a doll while Chandler argues with herself over very minute differences in clothes

Sometimes she will take pity on her and let her pick out a few outfits that she doesn't approve of, which usually ends up with Veronica at Hot Topic getting band t-shirts and ripped jeans while Chandler tries not to gag at how unfashionable it all is

Veronica used to get severely annoyed by this, especially when she first joined the Heathers, but she then realized that she does it from a place of love, she just wants her gfs to look good

Chandler is just very very very bad at expressing her feelings in ways that don't make her look like a controlling bitch

Plus she also appreciates it deep down, she knows that she would not be able to pick them out herself

Hell if it wasn't for Chandler she would probably still be wearing that stupid scarf she used to wear with literally everything no matter how badly it clashed

Duke and Mac, on the other hand, are having a good time

Chandler trusts them enough to know what looks good on them so they are allowed to go out on their own

They take things a whole lot slower, taking their time browsing and seeing what looks cute

And don't get them wrong, they love Chandler, but she can be a bitch sometimes when it comes to these kinda things so they're glad that Veronica is the one who has to deal with that

Once they finish buying things they bring them to the Jeep before heading back inside for lunch

Being a small mall, the options aren't great but they make do with what they have

Chandler doesn't like most of the options, being mostly unhealthy fast food, so she usually goes to Subway

She gets the Roasted Chicken 6in with a tea and Miss Vicke's Salt and Vinegar Chips

Yes, Chandler is one of those horrid people who likes Salt and Vinegar Chips

The employees there put extra toppings on her sandwich because she comes there so consistently

Duke goes to the Panda Express (Ik I'm saying the Asian gets Asian food and all that but I have like no ideas for Duke)

She gets the Orange Chicken Bowl with Fried Rice and a Diet Coke

Mac goes to McDonalds

She collects the Happy Meal toys so she'll get 3 4piece McNugget Happy Meals

She doesn't like the apple slices so Chandler will usually eat them

The employees know to give her 3 different toys bc one time they didn't and Mac was disappointed so Chandler went over there and demanded they exchange them out for different ones

Veronica goes to the local Pizza shop

Its called Smokey's and its one of those restaurants where if you eat the big slice in a certain amount of time they'll put your picture on the wall and give you free pizza

Well the first time they came to the mall Veronica decided to try it for the hell of it

She devoured it in half the time of the previous record holder

The Heathers were watching and were horrified at how she just inhaled it like she was a black hole

Now every time she goes she gets the big slice and just for the hell of it tries to beat her best record

Her current record is 2min 12sec

After they finish eating they'll get ice cream because they are responsible adults who only eat healthy things to ensure they are in the best health

Mac gets Vanilla bc she's basic af

Chandler gets Strawberry

Duke gets Chocolate Chip

Veronica gets Pistachio

The Heathers are once again disgusted by their gf's food taste bc who tf likes pistachio?

After finishing their ice cream they go shopping for other things

This time they don't split up and go around in a group

They often go to Earthbound Trading Co.

Mac likes the incense so she'll stop by and see if theres any new scents or just to replenish her stock

She also likes the animal diagram wall art they have

One time Veronica found these rainbow butterfly wings there and as soon as she saw them Chandler said "Veronica Sawyer I swear to God if you buy those I am going to kill you"

She wore them to pride that year

Chandler refused to acknowledge her the whole time

At BoxLunch Mac and Duke will go through the pin stand and show each other what stupid ones they have and laugh at them while Veronica looks at the anime figures

Duke will buy the enamel pins for her office at work bc they're more fun that the boring regular ones

They go to Gamestop and Veronica tells herself that she isn't going to buy any more Pokemon Cards, its just like gambling, she isn't guaranteed to get anything good, she should just order what she wants off of Ebay

She comes out the store with bags full of packs and no regrets

Of course they go to the Candy Store, they get so much candy that the owner insists on giving them discounts

Duke buys all of those weird sodas like atomic waste or whatever

**Line break bc Tumblr is Dumblr**

She never likes any of them and never takes more than a few sips from each before spitting it out

One of the few good things their mall does have is a Lego Store

Mac once made custom minifigures of the four of them

Chandler acted like she thought it was stupid but she actually thinks its really cute and keeps hers on her desk in her office

Chandler has to drag the three of them out of there sometimes becuase they cannot make up their minds on what sets to get

They have a Build-a-Bear too, Mac usually looks to see if they have any of the Pokemon ones in there and gets them if they do

Its also where Chandler and Mac had their first 'date'

They call it a date but they were 7 and it was Mac's Birthday Party and Chandler gave her bear to Mac who was upset that she couldn't get two

Mac still has those bears to this day

They go to Spencer's and head straight for the back after checking out the pride stuff in the front and seeing if any of it is good

They don't buy anything most of the time they just go back there and laugh at all of the stupid shit they have there

One time they found a skirt that was red with a heart that said 'bitch' on it and they made Chandler get it

Duke also got a lava lamp

I just think she would really like lava lamps

Finally they stop in Sephora bc of course they do they're the Heathers

They go there last bc they spend forever looking at makeup and nail polish and shit

On their way out Mac coerces them into riding on the carousel bc they are definitely mature adults

Mac rides the Unicorn bc of course

Duke rides the Tiger

Chandler rides the horse

Veronica rides the ostrich

She just thinks its funny that there are all these majestic creatures and then there's this giant bird

After that the leave and everyone is exauhsted, especially Chandler bc she just had to babysit her 3 gfs for the past several hours even through they are grown adults and should be able to handle themselves

Unfortunately for her, none of them are mature adults, not even her

[jawllines]

Can he be a whinny soft dom? I know ow whatever you do will be amazing but I sub Harry just doesn’t normally do it for me. Whatever you decide you obv. However the other ask where they were like he gets his mark first and then y/n distances herself! YES, this is where I thought it was gonna go when I read the first part! I also feel like yes to angst and maybe like she kind maybe has a fight with him about it not because she’s mad but because it’s like a breaking point and she’s just like I’ve been used again and I’m never gonna find anyone to love me. And he’s all like where tf is this coming from I thought you were okay with this and like I told you I liked hanging out with you just because it was you and she’s like yeah I’m sure. Like maybe his mark is in a super obvious place and hers is like on her back and they haven’t had sex so he never noticed it and I don’t often look at my back so she probably won’t notice it. I feel like there’s so many options for how she or Harry ends up finding it. I was also thinking king for like some even more angst, like so Harry found his and y/n also has hers but it’s on her back but then Harry meets someone and they have a mark and they look super similar and maybe the person Harry met had like another birth mark in the same spot so they’re kind of confused like maybe the spot that’s not visible by the other mark it’s just like a coincidence. Any who so Harry and them start seeing eachother but Harry’s kind of like it’s just not like when he’s with y/n and then maybe they all go out again and she’s wearing a backless dress (this is less plausible because the only time I do look at my back is when I’m checking out my outfit in something backless) and she’s all sad and mopey while they’re out and Niall is trying to get her to dance and let loose and Harry just sees it from across the room and is doing like a double take at his mark and hers and he’s looking at the person he’s been seeing and like oh my goodness and then yeah.

OMG more, cause the other person was like jealous Harry. So he’s seeing his supposed soulmate right they’re dating and then y/n either starts seeing someone or someone just starts flirting with her and Harry is so confused as to why it pisses him off so much. I also had a question is y/n a virgin cause it got me thinking like she’s never been able to really establish a relationship she feels confident or emotionally safe in and like if she’s not that’s obv fine I just wasn’t able to like see her sleeping with the people she’s “dated” cause by the point she was more exposed to dating I feel like the whole transactional like using aspect really sunk in. Which if she was a virgin hear me out right. The Harry situation just really fucked her up so maybe the night they are all out she’s just like fuck it I’m just gonna have sex with someone who knows absolutely nothing about me and at least they actually want to have sex with me just because I’m hot (like something only she can give) and not because it’s gonna get them someone else. And Harry is just so pissed off about it.

AHHHHH THESE ARE ALL SUCH GOOD IDEAS!! YES I DEFINITELY NEED THERE TO BE A PERIOD OF TIME WHERE ONE HAS THEIR MARK AND THE OTHER DOESNT AND ITS SO CONFUSING AND WEIRD AND HEARTBREAKING BC WHY NOT HEHEHE

ALSO I COULD GO EITHER WAY WITH HER BEING A VIRGIN, I WAS JUST GONNA SEE HOW I FELT WHILE I WAS WRITING IT!!

[okthatsgreat]

hiii lee :D 1, 5, 19, 21, and 28 for any oc you feel like talking about? grins

GRRINNNSSSS um urmm ........ im gonna go with null here bc ive been thinking about it a lot recently. Smiles at you

oc ask game!!!

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

THE COLOUR I HAD THEM IN BASICALLY THE ENTIRE RUN WAS MUDDY RED LOL. they wore a lot of gold/black/red despite not yet knowing they were a bhaalspawn but then postgame they steered more towards blues :)

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

oh godddd. honestly id say a solid mix?? it isnt one to really dress itself up (unless its a special occasion/wearing armour i guess???) and tends to be drawn towards darker tones/more """alternative""" (whatever that means in dnd LMAO) style. but then also of course growing up her outfits were often chosen to look ceremonial and that style definitely still influences her sometimes. safe to say they are going to get fucked up in this hot topic

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

she surprisingly isn't quick to anger........ or. at least it doesnt look like it LMAO. it is beyond difficult to get a reaction out of them ESPECIALLYYYY if you are intentionally trying to piss them off, they keep this rather indifferent wide-eyed expression on them most of the time. and then often they kill you about it so even if you did get a rise out of them its a bit too late to process it hgfjdkgsh. but making her visibly angry is definitely still possible !!! especially later on down the game when it's clear she's taking on some of karlach's traits LMAO

their favorite place to be?

for a lot of the campaign they couldnt remember their favorite place, so their new favorite was this one lookout spot at a campsite they stopped at where it could watch the sun rise :)

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

see a lot of the time they are like a cat where they will just seriously invade your personal space and stare wide-eyed at you HBGFJDG which is honestly not a whole lot different to how they usually act. so. when first meeting it you definitely have to learn the subtleties in its mannerisms LMFAO like if their voice trails a lot that often means its happy but when it goes super blunt. Short sentences. that means theyre likely not ghkdfj

way later on it gets really giggly???????????? its mannerisms are definitely still extremely awkward and it has an odd laugh and smile but it shows it a LOTT more :)

[harapeveco]

Knk beach episode plot we need and deserve:

They go to the beach for some stupid reason don’t really think about it they are just there

Mai’s van is just cartoonishly filled with beach stuff (umbrella, towels, at least 7 floats, beach chairs). As part of the joke they filled it with so much stuff Tobi almost dies squished by them. For some reason they also put him in the trunk but Baku wasn’t he had a seat in the back seat

Basically Tobi gets bullied a lot for my amusement. Also he doesn’t want to be there at all

Speaking of Tobi he’s wearing the same outfit as Yusuke in the beach trip but instead of blue swimming trunks and a white hoodie the trunks are bright orange and the hoodie is black. He’s dying bc it’s too hot but he refuses to take it off

Only Mai and Rei know how to swim while Monika and Tobi use the floats

Also Tobi doesn’t like water in this one he’s like a rabid dog he will bite you if you even dare to think about it (Rei is bitten but actually manages to make him go in the water)

Yuu and Nagi are there too actually but the joke is they are all trying to beat Yuu senseless while absolutely no one questions why Nagi is there. They are besties in this scenario but like they aren’t does that make sense? It does in my head

Ryou is just there too he’s looking from afar witnessing all the shenanigans but he’s not a part of it he sees some shit going on and decides that’s not his problem he just leaves he won’t put himself in a situation

They eat popsicles. The joke here is that when asked what the strange flavor of the popsicle is the answer is just “orange”

We can’t forget the watermelon bit. Tobi hits Yuu instead of the watermelon but that’s on purpose

Also let throw in some beach volleyball bc yes idk how that will go but it’ll be a mess for sure

At some point and don’t ask me why or how they are in a boat. There’s a storm coming (again don’t ask me why or how it just happens) and fucking Tobi falls into the water and is drowning like the loser he is so ofc everyone is throwing stuff he can use to float but everything is actually heavy and sinks. “Throw things that actually float!” He yells. “Here grab this rope!” Says Mai throwing a rope he can grab onto. “Here grab this other rope!” Rei throws the end of the same rope thinking it was another one. “ITS THE SAME ROPE YOU IDIOT” he screams and drown and fucking dies. After the storms ends everyone is crying, Rei laments “I will never forget his last words ‘it’s the same rope you idiot’ 😭”

Thats it’s that’s how it ends

Jk they go to shore and Tobi is there like a wet kitty with the bat (or stick) they used for the watermelon waiting for them so he can kill them. Cut to the persona 4 chasing scene you know the one

You may have noticed Yukito has not been mentioned throughout the story that’s bc I forgot about him just like how Eve and Newo do every chapter. Sorry Yukito ily

The end

[silverdelirium]

draco fucks reader in a corset bc he got turned on how it pushed her boobs up?

this is mostly smut so don’t expect much of a plot. also i fucking hate this but let’s go😋

warnings: breeding kink (?), titty sucking, kinda rough sex, praise kink

———

“should i go as a pirate?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side slightly.

draco paused, imagining how you would look like entering the halloween party as a pretty pirate and smirked. “that’s an amazing idea baby girl” he responded, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

——

“so- what do you think?” you said, giving a small twirl for your boyfriend who was sitting down on the bed in front of you, mouth slightly agape as he eyed your outfit; which consisted of a small black skirt, boots, white collared shirt that had the first few buttons undone, and a corset that accentuated your curves.

draco stood up, towering over you as he placed his hands on your waist, grey bright eyes feasting on your body.

“baby you look beautiful” he murmured, lust slowly clouding his mind as he saw you making a path to the mirror, eyeing your own attire with slight hesitation.

“you don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, hands roaming your waist unconsciously.

“i think it’s perfect.” breathed draco, positioning himself behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, grabbing your jaw with the other and tilting it up so you were staring up at him.

“you don’t know what you do to me” he growled prior to clashing your lips together, catching you off guard at first but relaxing into the kiss after a few seconds.

the kiss quickly escalated as his tongue pressed down on yours, his hand that was on your waist sneaking up to trace your pushed-up cleavage.

you gave a small whimper in his mouth when he abruptly turned you to face him, his hands now roaming down to feel your ass.

you broke apart from the kiss, both with glossy and swollen lips. draco took a mere second to admire you before he was guiding you backwards towards the desk that stood at the corner of the room, his forehead connected with yours, sharing the same breath.

once he perched your bum on top of the desk, he reached behind your back, grabbing ahold of the corset’s strings, undoing them and tossing the material out of sight, your soft mounds that had a slight tint of red to them, due to the tightness of the corset making his mouth water.

draco gave a small hum before kissing you again, biting your bottom lip playfully as his hand made its way to your pooling heat after bunching your skirt up at the waist.

he lightly rubbed your clit over the damp lace, causing you to release a small moan on his mouth. he wasted no time and completely ripped them off, immediately sinking his finger inside you.

you gave a soft cry against his lips, disconnecting from them and staring up at him. “take off your shirt” he demanded sternly, two fingers now pumping in and out of you.

you did as asked with shaky hands, letting the material pool around your wrists as you leaned back on your hands, watching intently as your boyfriend’s fingers sank all the way inside you, the pad of his thumb flicking over your clit.

“fuck draco” you heaved, throwing your head back whilst draco leaned forward, attaching his mouth to your nipples.

the soft cushion of his lips against your sensitive skin in addition to the fast pounding of his fingers had you letting out a pornographic moan, one that had draco’s cock twitching on his trousers.

“i fucking love stretching this pussy out” he groaned against you, moving his lips to your other breast, his digits making scissoring motions inside you.

your hips involuntarily bucked up as you wailed in complete bliss, the blonde’s thumb quickening its pace on your throbbing clit, causing your thighs to shake. the delicious orgasm about to hit you- and then he pulled his fingers out.

a sadistic smirk adorned his sharp features as you whined, an angry huff thrown in his direction.

“oh don’t be such a brat, i just want to make you cum on my cock, not my fingers” he purred, shaking his head in a teasing manner, making a quick work of lowering his trousers, enough to free his pulsating cock.

you reached forward to give him a few pumps with eager movements, watching as he threw his head back. “just like that princess” he hummed.

your hand gave a few more lewd strokes against his prick before he removed your hand, brushing a strand of hair back from your face whilst he slowly plummeted himself inside you.

a moan ripped through you as he entered you, and you silently thanked for the thick walls of the castle. his eyes settled on yours while his cock was getting swallowed by the wet warmth mess on your cunt. “oh fuck- you’re so tight” he grunted, rocking his hips into yours sensually.

he waited a few moments for you to become accustomed to the stretch before settling on a fast pace, making the desk rattle underneath you.

“taking me so well, baby” he rasped out, hands on your bum as he pounded inside you, bringing himself forward until your noses were touching.

“ah! fuck draco!” you cried out, feeling the tip of his cock reach that spongy spot inside you. the filthy sounds of wet skin slapping and both of your moans resonating throughout the four walls only turned you both on further.

“who’s my best girl, huh?” taunted draco, fastening his pace while looking down at your bouncing breasts. “i am!” you squeaked, his thumb connecting to your clit once again.

“that’s right baby, this sweet pussy is gonna take all of cum, isn’t it princess?” he teased, taking advantage of your foggy mind and blabbering. things now falling from the hard wood underneath you.

“uh-huh, want you to fill me up” you agreed, the coil inside you about to snap when he quickened his pace, guttural moans escaping his own lips at your choice of words.

“yes baby, i’m gonna have this pretty cunt leaking with my cum” he said through gritted teeth, not slowing his hips once.

“oh fuck, are you gonna cum for me sweetheart?”

“yes! i’m gonna cum” you sobbed, thrusting your hips up before letting your muscles relax, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came, draco right behind you and spraying your walls with his hot cum.

draco stilled inside you, your pussy fluttering around him, milking his cock dry.

his vision was still trained on your face, observing how you rode out of your high, falling forward into his chest. he removed his thumb from your clit, slowly pulling out and watching how your pussy spilled your arousal out onto the now squeaky desk.

you felt absolutely spent, not even catching up on the sweet praises draco murmured in your ear as he carried you to the bathroom, though you were able to catch something about corsets and how good they look on you.

———

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @helleli @metaraxia @daddybutmakeitagirl @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @xo-luvhrr @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety @dracoscum @riddleswh0rekrux @laceycallisto @slytherinbabess @lostaurorax @alexavolturisblog @s1ater @marauderswh0re1 @starless-starkov @black-rose-29 @harrystellastyles @lxstfullxve @starstruckgranger

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ��no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[isimpoveryou]

hey, i loved your last cody fic! i was wondering if you could do another where they meet at the louis vuitton fashion week (or any other big event) and they hit it off. eventually getting into a relationship but they keep it a secret for like a year or two and it accidentally comes out to the public that they’re dating. fc; bella hadid or doja cat?

met gala

cody fern x reader

face claim: bella hadid

authors note: Can i just say how much i love this request. like you really put every thing in my head and made me write this while i was doing my school work. so im sorry if this is really short. also for reminder if you want me to do any of your request pls dont forget to add which face claim you want since some of you would forgot about it. im gonna stop here so enjoy todays update.

warning: english is my second language

tw: curse words lmaoo

request are open

liked by yourinstagram, cherry_y/n, and 12,628,808 others

y/n_updates so some of you had been asking abt what dress did y/n wear. so y/n l/n was wearing black moschino gown for this year met gala. look how gorgeous she looks 🤩🤩

view all 16,772 comments

y/nfan17 she can literally walk on me and i will still say thank you

y/nfan90 LITERALLY NAME ONE ICONIC PPL IN MET GALA THAT DRESS GOOD

codyfan78 cody fern

codyfan712 cody fern

y/nfan90 @codyfan78 beside him...all of us know how iconic he is

codyfan78 @y/nfan90 .....you have a point

yourinstagram 💖💖

liked by codyfern, codyfernc, and 12,709,889 others

codyfernupdates all of you had been dm-ing me abt cody's met gala outfit so cody was wearing maison margiela. ANYWAY- he rocks this look.

view all 16,679 comments

codyfan78 i swear sometime i question my sexuality bc of him

codyfan12 THIS LOOK IS MY FAV

codyfan88 literally just run me over

y/nfam90 dont mind me im just looking at him (respectfully)

codyfan78 BAHAHAHHAHA PLSSS-

y/nfan90 I BLAME YOU

codyfan78 NO BUT DONT LIE Y/N AND CODY LOOKS SO HOT TOGETHER

y/nfan90 THEY CAN LITERALLY JUST SLAP ME AND IM THANKFUL.

codyfern 😉

liked by codyfern, emmaroberts, and 2,679,092 others

yourinstagram meet new best friend @codyfern

view all 15,098 comments

y/nfan12 OH MY GOD

codyfan89 two hottest ppl met.....im gonna question everything more

emmaroberts i introduce them together, say thank you emma

codyfern thank you emma 🙄

yourinstagram thank you emma 🙄

y/nfan90 THANK YOU EMMA

codyfan78 THANK YOU EMMA

liked by yourinstagram, yourbff, and 890,728 others

codyfern we are to hot for you to handle @yourinstagram

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codyfan12 *heavy breathing*

codyfan99 gotta go bi- i mean bye

y/nfan90 my two fav met.....pls date pls date pls date

codyfern @yourinstagram yeah please date me y/n 😉

yourinstagram @codyfern hell yeah baby boy 🤩🤤😩

codyfern45 ^^*chokes*

y/nfan16 i smell some tension....and its the sexual one

yourfriendsinstagram not you stealing my best friend 😃

codyfern @yourinstagram better make her my friend first before shes my gf then Mrs Fern

yourfriendsinstagram @codyfern you smooth son of bitch

yourinstagram @codyfern just ask me then 🙈

liked by codyfern, yourinstagram and 14,729,080 others

yourfriendsinstagram not the staranger to friends to lovers trope 😩😩😩 @codyfern @yourinstagram

view all 56,880 comments

y/nfan90 WHATTT

y/nfan90 @codyfan78 BESTIE LOOK BITCH

codyfan78 *chokes on water*

codyfan711 did you get their permission to post this??

yourfriendsinstagram GUYS stop asking me this and yes i did asked their permission

yourinstagram NOT THE WATTPAD-

y/nfan88 we have been exposed

codyfan12 what if she saw cody fern ff

yourinstagram @codyfan12 I DID 💀 and i showed it to him

codyfern @yourinstagram its quite funny to be honest

liked by yourinstagram, taissafarmiga, and 999,909 others

codyfern i have such a gorgeous.......view

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y/nfan90 HAHAHA CALLED IT

codyfan78 AAAAAAAAAAAAA *bi panic*

taissafarmiga fuck cody just date me instead

yourinstagram yeaaaa mrs y/n farmiga has a nice ring into it rather that mrs y/n fern

codyfern my day has come where y/n would leave me

codyfan19 name one iconic couple beside cody and y/n......cody and y/n

yourinstagram i also like my view......since there was a hot a girl behind you

codyfern i love you too 🙄

yourinstagram i love you more 😩🤩🤤💍😜💖

liked by codyfern, kendalljenner, and 12,809,780 others

yourinstagram "babe take a picture of me with this giant avocado* alright stupid 😜💖

view all 89,788 comments

y/nfan90 MY HEART CANT TAKE PLS SOMEONE CALL 991

yourinstagram *calling 991*

y/nfan90 FUCK

codyfern67 HE IS SO CUTE

codyfern look at that guy. is he your bf?

yourinstagram idk it was some stranger who asked me take picture of him

codyfern 😑

yourinstagram 😘

[1kook]

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

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

[missgeniality]

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonna​for hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again.  Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids. 

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.” 

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want. 

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink. 

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’ 

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand. 

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it. 

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all. 

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in. 

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation. 

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek. 

“Sooo I was watching Filter…” 

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through. 

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away. 

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces. 

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way. 

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come. 

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe. 

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup. 

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly. 

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast. 

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions. 

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance. 

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge. 

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs. 

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word. 

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time. 

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him. 

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up. 

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in. 

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks. 

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!” 

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.” 

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him. 

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line. 

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up. 

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either. 

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed. 

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition. 

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost. 

But you’re not done being an idiot. 

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient. 

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!” 

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one. 

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral. 

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go. 

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night. 

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow. 

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams. 

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder. 

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now. 

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone. 

So there is no reason for you to be able to move. 

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too. 

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known. 

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise. 

You were a sucker for the whole man. 

But the sucking will probably have to wait. 

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.” 

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this. 

“You know my favorite part?” 

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body. 

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream. 

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward. 

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm. 

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general. 

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work. 

Well, you must get to work. 

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties. 

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard.  Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack! 

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness. 

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes. 

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him. 

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips. 

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.” 

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down. 

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result. 

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth. 

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines. 

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering. 

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs. 

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away. 

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you. 

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him. 

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you. 

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now. 

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you. 

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion. 

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside. 

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue. 

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want. 

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either. 

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon. 

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.” 

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech. 

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish. 

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole. 

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans. 

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well. 

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours. 

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot. 

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable. 

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping. 

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down. 

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do. 

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

[hornedsimp]

Ayeee its ya boi, schlatt addict-

So last year I got my foot caught in a bear trap, and I was just thinking about if the reader got hurt during a fight with another mc youtuber (in game ofc) and schlatt finds them really badly hurt, and he has to take care of them. Bc they can't walk and ya know ✨b l o o d✨

So yeah thats my idea, peace ✌

Oh dear god, I hope that everything it’s alright with your leg now!

Thanks for taking the time to request this, it’s so soft and I love it so much!

I hope you like it!

--------------------------------

Jschlatt x Reader (Fluff)

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Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohool, light level of violence at the beggining.

That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want me to put in the warnings please let me know

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You had gotten into a pretty bad fight with Willbur after Schlatt had announced the festival, you were walking around the city, to make sure everything was fine when you had spotted him at the top of a tree, his eyes once so caring filled with rage.

You knew that wasn't the Willbur you met long ago, and since you were on Schlatt's side now, you went to confront him, it didn't end up well for you.

No one was expecting to fight on the day of the announcement, for that reason you weren't with your netherite armor, only wearing the black suit you liked so much to seem more serious.

It was a pretty suit, yes, but it didn't work well against arrows and a diamond sword, granted, you couldn't even imagine how Willbur got his hands on a diamond sword when he was wearing the dirtiest outfit you've seen in ages.

Nonetheless, the fight dragged through the forest, as both of you were screaming at each other, Willbur trying to make you see how he was the victim of the system, trying to get back to the country he loved so much, while you were trying to explain why the rules were made to keep him away.

When he stopped trying to convince you that he wasn't doing anything bad, and started to attack you with more rage than before, you knew you were right since the beginning, Willbur had gone mad in his exile.

He shouted curses at you, throwing punches in your direction until he could trip you and hold you down on the ground, he got his sword with hands trembling, a dangerous smile on his face as he put the sword at the top of your chest, you tried to move, tears forming in your eyes as you screamed trying to get him to lose his balance so you could escape.

It was to no avail, you could feel the sword slowly making contact with your skin, the pain running through your skin slowly, almost taunting you to do something to stop it.

You bit hard on the inside of your cheeks, tasting your own blood trying to not focus on the pain, it would only get worst and worst, you closed your eyes waiting for the blackness to swallow you whole right after Wilbur pierced through your chest, but the void never came to take you out.

What came instead was another sudden wave of pain, this time concentrating on your leg, as you opened your eyes, you could see the blood running through your chest, but what got your attention, was the sword impelled at your leg, there was blood everywhere, your clothes ripped in many places where Willbur had attacked you.

And thinking about the devil, he was gone, no words or apologies, no shadow lurking behind the trees to see if you would survive, simply gone.

As the adrenaline in your body started to go down, and the pain got bigger, your eyes started to close, they felt too heavy, but you knew deep down you couldn't pass out from the pain in the middle of the forest, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You called Schlatt for help, since your arms weren't too damaged to move, you grasp on the small string of consciousness to open the message board everyone could use as a sort of direct link to each other.

Typing out your coordinates you pressed sent, letting your hands fall limp close to your body, and finally letting yourself crave the dark embrace that awaited for you, telling yourself that it would be fine once schlatt found you, your vision turned dark, and you blacked out.

-------------------------------------------------------

When you woke up again, you were in a large room, in a massive bed, with lots of blankets organized messily around you, there was an enormous window from where you could see Manberg in all of its glory, as you were trying to get a better view by moving, the door of the room opened, revealing schlatt, with a tired expression carrying a small plate with what seemed to be mushroom soup.

"What the fuck you think you're doing woman?" He asked with his loud voice practically running to your side.

"Trying to get up?" You asked still trying to move your body to at least sit on the bed more comfortably.

"Yeah that's the fucking problem dumb bitch, you can't move or else the stitches can get worst." Schlatt argued putting the plate on the bed table at your side.

He pulled the blankets off of you so you could see the white bandages covering your leg, quickly you pulled your shirt a little so you could peek at your chest, there was also white bandages firmly wrapped in your torso, you looked at schlatt, feeling your face get hot as you pieced together the pieces of what probably had happened after you blacked out alone in the forest.

Before you could say anything about the whole situation though, Schlatt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Don't ever think about that, I asked Nikki to help with the bandages, and she is the one that dresses you up on some spare clothes she had with her."

You could feel yourself relax at that, nodding your head slightly Schlatt approached you, moving his hands so he could support your torso and pull you up, making you sit on the bed, after making sure you were comfortable enough the hybrid handed you the small plate with the soup.

"Nikki thinks you're going to be able to walk in two weeks, but if you have any problem with the wound, it can take three weeks or more, you can stay here while you're healing." Schlatt says before leaving the room.

You blink a few after he leaves, your face still a little hot as you think about how careful he held you to help you move your body, deciding to not give yourself a headache thinking about it, you start to eat the soup, only to be interrupted again by Schallat entering the room.

He was carrying a shit ton of magazines and random books, the hybrid crossed the room to come to the other side of the bed and let all of the magazines down at your side, he sat right beside you and moved the magazines around so you could see all of the titles.

" I also thought... you could get bored, so I got some shit for you to read if you want to." Schlatt said with a proud smile.

You could only smile in return and offer a quiet "thanks" as you went back to eat the soup, after you finished Schlatt quickly took the place and went out to the kitchen as you moved around a little, picking a random magazine you moved the others away so there could be more space for the president in the bed.

You knew he wouldn't leave your side, not until you were completely okay again, he was just looking out for you in his way, standing close and making sure you wouldn't have any problem in your recovery.

Just as you expected, he came back soon after leaving the plate at the sink, he sat once again beside you, putting his head at your shoulder you hummed quietly, moving your hand so you could caress the side of his face.

You had learned long ago that the ram hybrid was pretty touch starved, although he kept the charade of a tough guy that doesn't need anything else other than his whiskey, you've been on his side for what seemed like forever now.

Schlatt took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your wrist before moving his head, headbutting you lightly to gain your attention, you moved your gaze from the current magazine on your lap to his face.

"Don't ever do this again to me alright?" He said in a more serious tone, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand.

"Okay, I'll make sure to not get hurt again to take up your bed." You snorted with a small smile forming on your face.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't give me another heart attack like this one, I thought I lost you when you sent the coordinates and didn't answer when I asked what was happening." He held your hands more firmly, afraid that you would suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes.

Placing a small kiss on his temples you smiled with confidence, headbutting him lightly like how he had done moments ago.

"Don't worry, I promise to do my best to not get stabbed again."

That got Schlatt to laugh as he gave you some more space, squeezing your hand he moved on the bed, sticking his legs out and pushing a blanket over himself.

"You better do your fucking best alright, now, let's talk shit about those magazine people, and how they look so uncomfortable in the covers."

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier (and Lambden) H2O: Just Add Water AU of my dreams (bc Mermay is almost over and I haven’t done a thing for it and putting Geraskier into my favourite teenage shows is too much fun; this got long and messy):

-Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert grew up on the coast of Australia on an estate that is very big and private with its own sectioned-off part of the beach; among all their surfer kid school friends they are definitely the outcasts; they keep to themselves a lot and everyone thinks it’s because of their overprotective father who keeps them from throwing the best parties and also doesn't want them to go out into the ocean or have swimming lessons

-Vesemir is overprotective, but not for the reason everyone thinks; whenever he and/or his boys come into contact with water, they turn into mer-boys, complete with shimmering golden tails; he hoped this genetic oddity would pass them by, but it didn’t and so he taught them to be very careful for fear of them getting hurt

-they all cope with this in different manners: Geralt and Eskel mostly use their ability to do good; they protect little turtles from falling prey to predators, they collect trash from the bottom of the ocean; they also wrestle in the water a lot; Lambert tries to forget this is a thing and stays as far away form any body of water as he can; he spends most of his time secluded in his room, listening to edgy grunge music; sometimes his brothers can lure him out for a round of waterball in their private pool

-Jaskier is one of the popular kids one grade below Geralt (together with Lambert). He always gets the lead role in theatre, he has dozens of friends and a cool band and his outfits are outrageously fashionable; he vlogs a lot, he vlogs so much that anyone who has half a mind to get invested in his life will know everything from his morning routine to the night cream he uses; his favourite cafeteria lunch, the name of his teddy bear and his least favourite cousin

-Jaskier is also determined to befriend Geralt and his bros; he grew up in the same street as them and ever since he discovered Instagram, he’s been dying to take some shots in that house; he’s been over once, when Vesemir made the mistake of inviting a few kids Lambert’s age to his birthday party which ended up in a cake-throwing disaster; little Jaskier thought it was a great idea to tow the garden hose in and clean everything which ruined Vesemir’s favourite rug and had Geralt turn into a mer-boy on the spot; needless to say, Jaskier attributes this memory to a fever dream

-So, Jaskier starts following Geralt and Eskel around (he knows he’ll have no luck with Lambert) and they brush him off every opportunity they get

-What Jaskier doesn’t realize is that Geralt is hardcore in love with him, like so much so that his poor teenage mind cannot stop producing hormones on overload; he spends a lot of time out in the depths to distract himself from this

-What Jaskier also doesn’t realize is that he is falling for Geralt; it’s only for the sake of the 'gram, he tells himself, and because his followers seem to love the chunky mysterious senior with his strangely white hair

-Jaskier’s followers figure it out, the whole school figures it out, Lambert and Eskel figure it out (Geralt lets the guy sit at their lunch table, of course they’re in love) and eventually, even Geralt figures it out. Only Jaskier doesn’t and Geralt has a big-ass secret to keep anyway

-and so, to get rid of his pent-up frustration, he dives deeper and deeper; Eskel starts to worry, Vesemir says it’s just a phase, Lambert plainly doesn’t care

-Speaking of: Aiden is the snarky rich kid / bully that spends way too much time obsessing over uncovering their secret (bc he thinks he’s smart and always thought something about Vesemir was weird and he doesn’t like how they make such a fuss over their privacy). when he invities the three to one of his pool parties, he tries everything to make them reveal what they have going on, but Geralt doesn’t even show and Eskel keeps disappearing to play with Aiden’s dog and so Aiden is stuck with Lambert whom he definitely has a crush on, but won’t ever admit it. they’re enemies, okay? there’s a lot of tension and they end up drunkenly making out behind garden shed, something they both regret in the morning; Lambert doesn’t leave his room for a week straight and feigns a flu so he doesn’t have to meet Aiden at school; Aiden and Jaskier are friends ofc

-one day at school Geralt and Jaskier hang out on the lunch break alone because Eskel’s on a zoo trip with his class and Lambert is avoiding Aiden so he spends all his time holed up beneath the seats of the football field writing angry poems; Jaskier’s forgotten to charge his camera battery so it’s just them, stealing fries off each other’s plates, actually talking for once and Geralt’s sweating because Jaskier sits so close their knees bump and he looks ridiculously cute in his pastel dungarees and there’s this spot of ketchup on his nose that Geralt’s just itching to reach out and wipe away

-Jaskier isn’t all that hungry and he watches Geralt devour a third slice of pizza when he remembers his stupid childhood fever dream; he tells Geralt all about it, the cake fight, the ensuing mess and how he distinctly remembers Geralt growing a fish-tail and flopping around on the living room floor while Vesemir was screaming at them all to get out. “Funny, isn’t it? What your brain can make up?”; Geralt turns chalk-white and splutters a fake laugh

-he isn’t at school the next day and neither are Eskel or Lambert

-nor the next

-they are all a bit afraid, cautious and they just need to spend a few days, just the four of them, throwing themselves into the waves and being free of the shackles of their secrets; they chase each other around, they play some water ball and Vesemir makes them hot cocoa and rubs them dry the way he used to when they were younger and still unable to handle their transformation well

-as he does this, Vesemir thinks about moving somewhere more secure where there are less people, but he can’t take the boys’ life away; Geralt is clearly happy with Jaskier, Lambert’s coming around to opening up to someone, even if that someone is a giant asshole, and Eskel’s too easily unsettled to move elsewhere

-by the third day the boys don’t appear at school - and answer none of his texts - Jaskier gets unsettled; his followers urge him to just go and visit Geralt (they also finally enlighten Jaskier about his own feelings) and Jaskier does. thankfully, his camera is still uncharged and he forgot his phone at home or he would have filmed what he saw as he climbed their garden fence very ungracefully (no one opened the door)

-Geralt went too far out, too deep and got caught in the undertow of some massive waves, then was pulled under and cut himself on some rocks; Jaskier just about catches Eskel and Lambert dragging their brother ashore, his tail flopping helplessly; there’s blood washing away in the waves; Geralt’s eyes are closed and Jaskier understands with rare clarity that somehow this is his fault

-he hurtles towards Geralt, kicking up mud, so afraid that Geralt is going to die and as he does so he calls for Geralt, ignores Lambert’s curses and Eskel’s glower. They gently lower Geralt to the sand where the other two are out of reach of the hungry waves and Lambert runs for Vesemir, Eskel crouches down by Geralt’s tail, inspecting his wounds; meanwhile Jaskier is completely unfazed by the mer-boy thing, he simply drags Geralt’s head onto his lap and strokes his hair, apologizing over and over

-once Geralt is transformed back into human form, his wounds are patched up and Vesemir has given him a thorough lecture, he and Jaskier cuddle on the back porch couch and Jaskier keeps altering between laughing and crying; it’s ridiculous, Geralt is a mer-boy, but also he looked so fragile being hauled out of the water and Jaskier just loves him so fucking much

-and Geralt loves him back. and that’s how a spot of angst orchestrates their happily ever after

-meanwhile Aiden finds out when he has Lambert over for some making out one day and thinks it’s a funny idea to deposit his not-boyfriend in the pool mid-kiss; Lambert just floats in the pool, arms crossed, tail beating, waiting for Aiden to call the cops on him, but Aiden is super turned on and jumps in the pool with him and there’s more making out

THE END

[jonahlovescoffee]

Unbelievable | J.M.

a/n: bc jonah in the unbelievable music video is just hot hot hot hot hot :) i’ve been putting this one on hold for way too long. not rlly satisfied with the way it went but i promise it’s not that bad (i think) lol happy reading <3

summary: jonah’s outfit was unbelievable and so was his ability to pleasure you anywhere, even in the kitchen.

warnings: kitchen smut as requested by @averysbestyears

word count: 3362

“your taste; i could drink, i could drink, i could drink a whole damn case; every drip, every drip, couldn't let you go to waste”

You spent the entirety of your morning out and about running errands, only returning to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend late in the afternoon with bags of groceries in hand. With Jonah out with his band mates to film a music video for their upcoming single for who-knows-how-long, the apartment you shared with him seemed unusually quiet and empty without the constant couple banter between you both. In attempt to lessen the feeling of loneliness caused by the deafening silence, you put on some relaxing music on the stereo before putting away all the groceries, leaving only the necessary ingredients for a chocolate cake on the counter. After tying your hair up in a messy bun, you got started excitedly with your baking, humming softly along to the music as you worked. Despite having baked for countless times before, you still weren’t exactly good at it, your clumsy self often knocking over and accidentally spilling everything and anything everywhere which explained why your counter looked like a chaotic war zone half an hour later when you were done.

You heaved a relieved sigh when you managed to put the cylinder pan filled with cake batter safely into the oven, a triumphant smile plastered on your face. You were about to start cleaning up the kitchen when you heard the faint sound of the door opening and closing so you rushed to the living room immediately to be greeted by the sight of Jonah taking off his shoes at the foyer. He smiled when he looked up and saw you, opening his arms for you which you run into with glee.

“Welcome home, love,” you giggled as he picked you up off your feet and spun you around few times until you squealed and asked him to put you down.

“Missed you so bad,” he said and placed a tender kiss on your head as he followed you into the kitchen, an arm around your waist. “Baking again?” He asked after sniffing the air that was filled with the slightly bitter scent of the chocolate cake that wafted out through the oven, completely oblivious to your lingering gaze on him that was sneakily examining him from head to toe—eyes darting from his tousled brown hair to the dark grey t-shirt that hugged his muscled figure perfectly, showing off the subtle outlines of the toned abs hiding underneath, to his long white jacket that reached his knees and jeans of the same colour—and gosh, he sure looks handsome. How nice must it feel to let your hands roam his body and—

“Baby?” He called, snapping you out of your train of thoughts and you blinked several times at him who was waving his hands in front of you, trying to get your attention.

“Yes, what were you saying again?” You smiled sheepishly at him, light pink tinting your cheeks, embarrassed by your explicit thoughts although no one heard them apart from you. But Jonah had known you long enough to figure out the exact thoughts that were running through your head a moment ago. And as a good boyfriend, he couldn’t leave your wishes unattended, could he?

“Well, I was asking if you need help with cleaning but I think we’ll get to that later, hmm?” A smirk made its way onto his face as he backed you up until your back hit the edge of the counter and he pinned you against it, his tall figure towering over your petite one. “Since you’re so overly interested in admiring my body,” he said smugly and you blushed a darker shade of crimson, guilty as charged.

“It’s...it’s your fault for dressing like this today,” you stuttered nervously while avoiding his gaze, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I’m glad you like my outfit,” he licked his lips before cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head so that you were looking at him directly in the eyes. “But I think you’ll like it better if I take them off, am I right, baby?” He asked, his voice turning husky.

“No! Definitely not! What are you talking about?” You hurriedly waved your hands in front of yourself in denial but your wavering tone wasn’t convincing enough. This bastard already knew the answer to his own question and the last thing you would do was admit it out loud to feed his ego (actually it was because you were too much of a coward to do so but we don’t talk about that here).

Jonah could feel his self control that he had put on himself ever since he walked through the front door gradually faltering at the sight of how innocent you looked on the outside — how flustered you got at the mere implication of sex like you had never done it your entire life — and how much it fueled his desire to take you right then and there in the kitchen, which was precisely what he was going to do. “Well baby, I’ll keep my clothes on then, but this means you gotta lose yours.”

“No, that’s not what I meant...ahh,” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his lips connected with your neck without warning, generously leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your neck, sending a shock of heat through your core.

“Then what do you mean, sweetheart?” With you guys’ handful of previous experiences, it didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot, abruptly scraping his teeth against it, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, earning a moan from you as your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, tugging at his brown locks lightly until a groan managed to slip past his lips.

“I...,” you trailed off, still too timid to speak your mind. When you didn’t make a move to continue your sentence, he pulled away from you and you almost whimpered at the sudden loss of contact.

“Go on. I’m waiting,” he urged, his fingers drumming the countertop impatiently, waiting for your reply. “I won’t start until you tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you,” you replied quickly, spilling out all the words out in one go and with a satisfied grin, he lifted you up onto the counter and he was standing between your legs.

“Yeah? Which part of me, baby?” He teased, both of his hands now on your waist, his thumbs gently tracing random patterns.

“Every part of you, Jonah, fuck. So can we stop with the talking and start doing now?” You yanked him closer by the chain around his neck before finally connecting your lips with his, opening your mouth on a second’s notice when you felt his teeth sink into your bottom lip lightly, granting his tongue full permission to slip into your mouth almost immediately. You couldn’t help but release another moan as soon as you tasted the coffee that he probably just drank in the car on the way home on his tongue.

Not just any coffee. You knew the difference between the tastes of all kinds of coffee like the back of your hand. The bitter taste with a hint of the sweetness of chocolate that engulfed your senses now was definitely not the taste of the straight black coffee he usually preferred.

No, it was the taste of mocha—your favourite type of coffee.

“You prick, you expected this to happen, huh?” You asked when both of you pulled away to catch your breaths, your faces remaining inches apart, your breaths mingling with each other’s.

“Maybe,” he chuckled darkly as his fingers slowly curled around your neck, “We always end up naked after every of my band photoshoots in one way or another so why not be prepared this time?”

Before you can let a string of vulgar curses escape, he attached your lips with his once again and from the way his hand tightened around your neck and the rougher movements of his tongue, you knew that he wasn’t planning on holding back his feral hunger for you this time round, subsequently making you moan with extreme pleasure when your tongues entwined and also at the thought of what he was about to do to you.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, a silent plea for him to take it off, in which he responded with shifting his body enough for you to slip it off, the expensive white material thudding to the ground, revealing his strong tattooed arms. You let you fingers trace his biceps for a moment before moving your hands downwards to pull his shirt out of his jeans but he stopped you before you could remove his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said sternly into the kiss and grabbed both your hands in one hand quickly. He pulled away, biting your bottom lip with a force strong enough to make it swell slightly. “It’s not your turn until I say so,” he snarled and you felt heat pooling at your core just from the serious look on his face. “Now lie down,” he ordered and forced you down with the hand around your throat swiftly but carefully so you were laying flat on the counter, on top of all the spilled flour and some cake batter, the unkept baking supplies pushed to the very end of the counter.

He did not wait any longer to peel your shirt off you and you watched him exhale sharply as his eyes darkened, the black of his pupils almost consuming all the vibrant hazel surrounding them. “Fucking hell baby,” he tossed your shirt aside as his eyes drank in every curves and edges of your bare upper body. You didn’t bother to put on any undergarments when you changed after you got home from your grocery run, thinking that since no one’s home aside from you it’ll be totally fine. You made a mental note to do this more often in future because his stunned turned-on expression was definitely something you would want to see again. “Is it my birthday or something today?”

“You’re not the only one who came prepared,” you said cheekily, adding in a hushed tone, “Just so you know, I’m not even wearing anything underneath my pants either.” A string of profanities fell from his lips at your words as his hand made its way between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside to slip in his fingers. The wetness that his fingers were immediately greeted with was proof enough of your testament, earning a satisfactory groan from him.

“Now, where shall I start?” He asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared down at your shirtless figure splayed on the counter like his own personal feast. “Here? Or,” He teased, his hands travelled down to one of your breasts from your neck and let a finger draw circles around your nipple. “Here?” He tentatively dragged his fingers unhurriedly along your slit, collecting your ever growing slick, which had you whimpering and grinding against his fingers, in desperate need of as much friction as possible, yearning to feel more of him but the movement of his fingers remained so excruciatingly slowly.

“So fucking needy, aren’t you, my little slut?” he tisked, flicking his middle and index fingers between your hard nipple, earning an involuntary moan from you. “I’m barely doing anything,” he chuckled before taking his fingers that were coated in your sticky arousal and bringing them to his mouth, making sure that your gaze was on him as he licked them clean. “Tastes so fucking good as always.”

“Jonah, please,” you begged, “touch me more.”

“Oh I’ll do so much more than touching, babygirl,” you bit your tongue to suppress another moan at his words that were immediately followed by the sound of him falling onto his knees. His fingers gripped your thighs, pushing them further up and apart, his face nearing your dripping core. He let out a little huff on the inner part of your thighs, causing your legs to slightly shiver and your pussy flutter.

“Fucking gorgeous.” he breathed, his eyes staring hungrily at your cunt before laying his tongue flatly against your clit and let you rut yourself against it for a second before he unexpectedly gave it a harsh bite with a little bit of force. You slammed your hands against the counter right away and let out a loud gasp.

“Whoops, my bad,” he chuckled and you felt him smirk against your flesh. “Let me try this again.”

He wrapped his mouth around your throbbing clit before starting to suck it softly, his tongue flickering back and forth against it before moving his mouth lower and sweeping his tongue against your folds. It almost hurt with how incredible you were feeling right now. His mouth was hot against you as his velvety tongue continued swiping back and forth against your clit, faster and harder each time. The way he groaned at the taste of your body intoxicated you with more lust and you soon found yourself unable to think, hear, feel or remember anything else save for the name of the male that was eating you out like it was his last meal.

And when he finally moved his tongue into your pussy, it felt too good to be true. So fucking good that you were about to combust with pleasure. He went at a slow pace at first but then sped up every three thrusts until you were softly chanting a continuous series of “yes” under your breath. It seemed that he didn’t think that was enough, for he moved a finger to your weeping core, the rough pad of the tip of his finger pressing down and moving around in circular movements.

He was so rough but it felt so good, every lick and suck successfully building flares of heat in your adomen. “I...I’m close,” you stuttered, not really able to speak in your current state of bliss.

“Yeah? You wanna cum, darling?” Jonah asked, replacing his tongue with two fingers that managed to slip into you ever so easily due to how wet you were, pumping them in and out quickly.

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, your hands finding their way to him naturally, clinging onto him for dear life as he skillfully finger fucked you, your high gradually approaching with each thrust of his digits. Without any warning, he attached his lips to your bundle of nerves and sucked on it, right when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding and hitting your g-spot. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his thick, supportive muscles.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Your walls tightened on him and an orgasm wracked through your body at his command, back arched while your thighs trembled as you came undone around his fingers. Panting slightly, you tried to regain your breath but before you knew it, his tongue went back to work again, swirling around to capture every single drop of your sweet juices into his mouth, the slurping noises and the ethereal feeling of his tongue on you turning you into a moaning mess.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he complimented, pulling his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, licking them clean while looking at you and you let out an unrecognisable sound from the sight alone. “Couldn’t get enough of you. C’mon here.”

You did as he told, sitting up and scooting closer to him, your hands itching to undress him but you didn’t once you remembered his warning. You despised him still being fully clothed while you were already stripped bare for him but you also knew that one, going against him would accomplish nothing but getting punished on your part and two, he would adhere to your wishes once he felt like it.

And you were right.

“Take it off, I know you want to,” he said and you pulled his shirt off him excitedly before undoing his belt and his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear and they pooled at his ankles, leaving his member standing at attention, already leaking with precut with all the lust bottled inside him.

“Wanna keep you close when I fuck you senseless, baby,” he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock and you whined. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He nudged your folds slightly and you nodded.

“I want your dick so bad,” you admitted with a hint of shyness and his lips broke into a small smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Mmhmm, and I’ll give it to you, pretty girl,” he sheathed himself inside of you and you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Jonah completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasped your hips so firmly his knuckles turned white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands found their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath your hands.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Jonah’s voice was a low growl as he thrusts into you, the slaps of your skin interacting between each thrust was like a sinful symphony. “So fucking tight.”

The smell of the cologne he wore danced in your brain as he worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly

“Just cum already, you know you want to babygirl,” he muttered to you through his clenched teeth, groans of his own escaping every now and then. You took your opportunity and let your pleasure go for the second time, your orgasm taking over as your back arched even more, your toes curling as you moaned out in pleasure.

He came soon after, relentlessly pounding into you throughout his own orgasm, his thick warm seed coating the inside of your walls, the sensation making you shiver as your nipples started to stiffen up even more. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds before he pulled out, the cum sliding out and onto your inner thighs. He stared as it drizzled out for a few more moments before he gave a smirk, glancing back up to your breathless form and his expression softened right away.

“Guess it’s time for a good bath now, love,” he said as his hands reached behind you to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess between your thighs. You tiredly rested your head on his shoulder once he’s done and the paper towels were discarded into the bin.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore though,” you complained, arms already around his neck, hoping that he’d get your hint, which he did.

“Fine, I’ll carry you,” he said with a laugh, hands sliding down your spine to grip your thighs firmly and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he hoisted you off the counter and started walking towards your bedroom. “You always turn into a baby after sex. How cute.”

“I’m your baby so of course I am,” you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“My pretty little baby girl, hmm?” The way his voice dipped a tone when he pronounced those words near your ear made your heartbeat drop to your southern region instantly and you felt your pussy gradually turning wet. Again.

He chuckled, a sign that he felt the changes in your body too, earning a smack on his back from you. “Shut up. It’s your fault.”

“Good thing the bathtub is big enough for two then.”

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