#and such a shrill yelling voice

[beykhabarr]

I love her but I almost hate her kids they drive me insane

[st4rstudent]

stubborn

no text ver

[pocketgalaxies]

nott and this crotchety gnome woman squaring up (conducting commerce) across a counter screeching at each other

[moonrevolutions]

that goofy ass ' words to use instead of said! ' list and then mfs wanna give alternatives without contextual explanations, not to mention ppl that dont speak english as a first language.... etc etc..... its ok to use ' said ' it rly is cuz if u stray too much it looks and sounds a lil clunky....

[samcat18]

I know people said pinocchio is sonically unpleasant, but as lou starts SCREAMING during a very stressful part of combat, i did not know how PIERCING he can be?? My vocal cords hurt so bad for lou 🤣😅🤣

[soryualeksi]

The godforsaken neighbours, I just. Why.

When the fucking husband isn't either yelling because he's angry OR yelling because he's happy, they all engage in the great family activity of: egging the fucking dog on until it's barking its head off.

WHY.

What is their problem.

[shutupandplayasong]

I love changing my pfp to different actors/characters because from then on I can only read my posts in their voices

[patronsaintofposmodernity]

i always tell myself i look so masc and that everyone can tell im a lesbian and yet men STILL hit on me

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Said

Said—to express in words; state

Alleged - asserted to be true or to exist

Argued - to give reasons for or against something

Articulated - to utter clear and understandable sounds

Asked - to seek information

Asserted - to state or declare positively and often forcefully or aggressively

Babbled - to talk enthusiastically or excessively

Bellowed - to shout in a deep voice

Bragged - to talk boastfully

Commented - to explain or interpret something by comment

Communicated - to convey knowledge of or information about

Complained - to make a formal accusation or charge

Cried - to utter loudly

Declined - to refuse especially courteously

Demanded - to call for something in an authoritative way

Denied - to declare (something) to be untrue

Encouraged - to attempt to persuade

Expressed - to represent in words

Giggled - to utter with a giggle

Growled - to utter angrily

Inquired - to ask about

Mentioned - to make mention of; refer to

Moaned - lament, complain

Nagged - to irritate by constant scolding or urging

Rebuked - to criticize sharply; reprimand

Rebutted - to contradict or oppose by formal legal argument, plea, or countervailing proof

Rejected - to refuse to accept, consider, submit to, take for some purpose, or use

Replied - to respond in words or writing

Retorted - to answer back usually sharply

Roared - to utter or proclaim with a roar

Scolded - to censure usually severely or angrily

Shrieked - to utter a sharp shrill sound

Shrugged - to raise or draw in the shoulders especially to express aloofness, indifference, or uncertainty

Stated - to express the particulars of especially in words; report

Taunted - to reproach or challenge in a mocking or insulting manner

Voiced - to express in words; utter

Vowed - to promise solemnly; swear

Warned - to give admonishing advice to

Whined - to complain with or as if with a whine

Whispered - to speak softly with little or no vibration of the vocal cords especially to avoid being overheard

Yelled - to utter or declare with or as if with a yell; shout

More: Word Lists

[hellonoblesky]

People who make videos giving rundowns of current events in a not newscaster voice I love you

[hoennislands]

JungleJack adding how he’s “banging the hottest girl” is soooo lame LMAO I WAS ROOTING FOR HIM TOO

[shares-a-vest]

'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)

Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.

But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.

No – definitely nothing like that.

Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.

It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.

Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...

Eddie does worry.

And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.

"St – "

"– Oovie!"

Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.

"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."

Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.

He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.

The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.

The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.

The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.

"Stee!"

"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"

Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.

Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.

"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.

Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."

George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.

Or maybe like ever, really.

"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.

"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."

Georgie?

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.

"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.

"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."

"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.

Wait.

"You're babysitting on Sundays?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"

[malum-forev]

Dr. Bee

Summary: Bucky has quite the reputation but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

Bucky x Nurse!Mom!Reader

Bucky Barnes has many names. James Buchanan Barnes, Buck, The Winter Soldier, Sergeant. 

But on compound grounds, and in hushed tones, he’s usually called an asshole. 

He’s developed quite the reputation. Being difficult is his natural state of being. 

Bucky is constantly late to meetings, doesn’t show up for media days and is always going rogue in missions.

He doesn’t know why he does it, Dr. Raynor says it’s a coping mechanism, but that doesn’t make Bucky want to change one bit. He stays away from people and makes it everyone’s problem when someone decides to talk in his vicinity. 

Sam has tried to talk to him but, as per usual whatever the Falcon says, Bucky does the opposite. Sam’s even tried to convince everyone that Bucky’s like an untrained dog, he needs some kind of exposure therapy. Having people stand up to him and flat out call him what he is, that’s what he needs. 

Sadly for everyone who works with Bucky Barnes, no one has the balls to do it. 

But, everything changed one day. 

Everyone scurried away once the quinjet landed at the Avengers compound. They’d gotten word from someone in Logistics that the mission had gone terribly and the agents had barely come out alive. 

Bucky stormed into the med bay, his heels digging into the floor with such force you’d think it break, only to find it desolate. 

He huffed twice, looking around for anyone who could help with a deep cut on his right arm. 

“Hello?!” He yelled out, his temples throbbing and his left eye twitching. 

Bucky Barnes waited for no one. 

“May I help you?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed at the meek voice coming from behind the nurse’s station. His confusion only grew deeper when he didn’t find anyone there. 

A few seconds later a tiny hand popped up, wiggling its chubby fingers at him. 

“I said,” The little voice drew out the last word, annoyed. “May I help you?”

Bucky leaned forward and peeked behind the large desk to find a little girl.

Standing with her hands on her hips, the little girl with pigtails looked up at him with raised eyebrows. 

Her expression turned to one of concern.

“Are you hard of hearing?” The girl spoke slowly and loudly.

Bucky almost had to cover his ears from the shrill and very high tone of the girl. 

“I am not hard of hearing.” Bucky finally responded. 

“Then why didn’t you respond?” Little miss pigtails crosses her arms over her chest. “I asked you: may I help you?” 

His right eye accompanied his left one in twitching.

After he didn’t respond, the little girl scribbled something down on a paper in front of her. 

“What are you writing?” Bucky said through gritted teeth, how can a person so small get on his nerves so quickly?

“I can’t tell you.” She said in a singsong tone. 

“Why not?”

“You’re not my patient.” She shrugs, rounding the nurse’s bay holding a pink unicorn lunch box, coming face to face with The Winter Soldier. Actually it was more like coming face to knee height. “Can’t talk to people who aren’t my patients. Doctor patient villigage.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip to conceal a smile. “I think you mean doctor patient privilege.” 

“How would you know? You’re not my patient.” The little girl swung her lunchbox, skipping all the way to the waiting room. 

He was equally shocked and impressed. This little girl had more balls than most of the agents he worked with. 

Bucky looked around the med bay for anyone who knew the girl. Mom, dad, cousin, hell he’d even settle for a dog. 

With a groan, he followed behind her. Sure, he was a dickhead but he couldn’t let a kid wander around the Avengers med bay all by herself. 

She sat down, opening the lunch box and taking the contents out.

Bucky couldn’t help but think it was cute how her feet didn’t reach the floor. As he came closer, her swinging feet hit him in the shins. 

He let out an obviously fake and over the top groan, throwing himself on the floor. 

The little girl covered her mouth but her giggles bubbled around the room. 

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” Bucky asked from his position on the ground. “That really hurt.”

“No it didn’t!” She laughed harder. 

“Yes it did!” 

“I know nothing can hurt you!” She said as her giggles died down. “I know who you are.”

“You do, huh?” Bucky sat next to her.

“Mhm.” She said proudly, taking a bite out of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “But my mommy says I can’t repeat the names she calls you.”

Bucky suddenly felt embarrassed. Dickhead, motherfucker, bastard, asshole had a whole different meaning now that he knew the little girl thought they were synonymous to Bucky.

“Well then,” Bucky cleared his throat. “I should reintroduce myself. My name is James Buchanan Barnes but people usually call me Bucky.”

The little girl placed her tiny hand in his and shook it. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name so, you can call me Bee.”

Bucky nodded his head once, he almost didn’t notice the peanut butter she’d smeared on his hand. “Well Bee, does you mommy or daddy work here?”

Bee shrugs her shoulders. “Can’t tell you.”

He takes a deep breath in. “Can you tell me how you got here?”

“Nope.” She takes another bite of her sandwich. 

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been here?”

“Nuh uh.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “Is this because of the doctor patient privilege?” 

“Yep.” Bee smiles up at him and this time Bucky can’t help but smile back. A blooming feeling erupted in his chest. 

Bucky looked down at his hand, trying to find his most surface level wound. Something that wouldn’t traumatize the girl who’s no more than seven years old. 

“Dr. Bee, I need your help. Do you have anything for this cut?” Bucky points to the small cut on his knuckle. She didn’t have to know how it came to be, or who’s cheekbone had caused it.

“Thertainly Mr. Bucky.” Bee’s missing front teeth were responsible for her lisp. She jumped off of the chair and hurried behind the nurse’s station.

She swiftly wrapped his knuckles in gauze. 

“Do you need me to look over your other arm?” Bee asked sincerely.

“I don’t think you can help with this one.” Bucky chuckled, knocking on the vibranium. “Unless you have anti rust spray.”

Bee threw her head back with laughter but the cute sound was cut short by a door slamming open. 

His mind went blank the second he saw her. Bucky couldn’t peel his eyes off of her, even his jaw went slack. He tried to memorize every single detail of her. Her hair, her eyes, her body, the blue scrubs she wore. 

“Bee!” She gasped, taking the little girl in her arms. “You almost gave me a heart attack, I told you to stay in the common room!”

“Don’t worry mommy!” She smiles up at the woman who’s taken Bucky’s mind hostage. “I’ve been with Bucky!”

The woman finally looks over at Bucky and he’s sure the world has stopped. 

But reality comes crashing down when her eyes lose some of their light. 

“Mr. Barnes.” She gasps, pulling Bee to stand behind her body. “I’m so terribly sorry about her, she wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bucky gulps down the nervous feeling in his throat. He can’t help but feel like the biggest idiot in this universe. 

All he’s done for the past few years is be cold, and rude, and now the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, who’s got the cutest most outspoken daughter in the tri state area, is apologizing. 

His brain runs out of words and he just stands there. 

Bucky keeps quiet as the woman sutures up the wound on his arm, he’d completely forgotten about it. 

“Bee’s your daughter?” He manages to speak up after a few minutes. 

The woman nods with a smile, keeping her eyes on his wound but Bucky begs the cosmos she looks up at him, even if it’s just for a second. He wouldn’t care if she messes up, if it means their eyes could meet.

Bucky’s kept himself away from feelings for years. He convinced himself he doesn’t need them. But in a quick thirty minutes, Bee and her amazingly beautiful mother have stirred up more emotions than he’s had in the last two decades. 

“She-“ Bucky clears his throat. “She mentioned you’ve got a wide array of names for me.” 

Her cheeks burned red. “Bee must be mistaken, she’s got a crazy imagination. Always coming up with the strangest things-“

Bucky bit his bottom lip. “I’m used to it.”

The woman gulped, finally looking up at him. 

“I’m really sorry about the names.” She whispers. 

“It’s okay, darling.” Bucky’s eyes travel from hers to her lips. “But for next time, ‘Bucky’ is just fine.”

She nods, looking back to his wound. 

“And you are-“

“(Y/n).” She says. 

Bucky’s sure he’s never heard someone with a name as beautiful as hers. 

“You’re all patched up.” (Y/n) takes a step away from Bucky. “I’ll finish your report, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

Bucky stumbles on his feet as he stands up. Embarrassed, he walks straight to the door but stops before leaving the medbay. 

“(Y/n)?” He turns on his heel. “Would you please tell Dr. Bee I appreciated her help?”

The light in (Y/n)’s eyes returned as she nodded. 

Bucky left the med bay feeling lighter than ever before and he couldn’t help but think a certain little bee had everything to do with it. 

Comments and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

[moonstruckme]

I loved ur story of Remus snapping at reader before the full moon! What about one with James May be he had a bad day or just get yelled at by coach during practice or whatever reason u want to choose and basically like angsty fluff on how he snaps at reader and she's just shocked and hurt

Thank you for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 564 words

“James!” You knock on the bathroom door. “We have to go!” 

Sirius and Remus will already be at the cinema by now. James had come home later than usual from practice, and you’d hurried him into the shower to rinse the sweat and dirt off himself so you can both leave. He usually only takes about five minutes to shower, but this one seems to be dragging on. 

“I’m almost done,” he calls back. 

“Hurry,” you urge. 

The shower shuts off. You quickly riffle through his drawers for something to wear, going into the bathroom where he’s toweling off. It must have been a long practice; he looks more worn out than usual, his movements slow with exhaustion.

“Is this sweatshirt good?” 

“Yeah.” James scrubs the towel over his hair. “Thanks.” 

You fight not to tap your fingernails on the counter as you watch him continue to dry off before reaching for the clothes. 

“James,” you plead. 

“Relax, angel. It’s not a big deal if we’re late.” 

“It starts in five minutes!” 

“There are still the previews.” 

“I know.” You heave a sigh. You’re still getting to know James’ friends, and the thought of them waiting on you makes you antsy. “But Sirius and Remus are saving our seats.” 

“They’ll be fine.” 

“Can you just hurry?” 

“Give me a minute.” James' voice goes sharp. It’s like being dunked in cold water. Your heart speeds up and your breath seems to freeze in your lungs.

He puts a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say automatically. 

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have snapped.” James rubs his thumb up his forehead like his head is hurting him. “I just need a minute.” 

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why being late makes me so anxious. It’s not your fault practice ran long or whatever.” 

“It’s…” He blows out a breath. “It didn’t run long. Coach had me stay after so he could yell at me.” 

You feel yourself frown. “He yelled at you?” 

“It’s sports, sweetheart. Yelling is part of it.” 

“Yeah, but…not with you. You’re not one of those guys.” In your mind, it’s simple. James doesn’t yell, so he shouldn’t get yelled at. Everyone ought to know that. 

James gives you a feeble smile. “I dunno, I did just yell at you.” 

“That wasn’t really yelling.” You move towards him, wrapping him up in a hug. His hair is still damp enough that the ends drip water onto your head. “Anyway, I yelled at you first.” 

“That wasn’t yelling, either.” James lets his arms rest heavily around your shoulders. “It was only a bit shrill.” 

You know he’s trying to joke with you, but you only feel worse. You squeeze him tightly. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “We don’t have to go.” 

“I still want to if you do. It would be nice to get out of the house.” 

“Okay. But you should take a minute first. We can be late.” 

“Thanks, lovie.” James presses his lips to your head. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It wasn’t nice.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you very nicely, either,” you admit. 

“Even so. If I ever talk to you like that again, give me a slap across the face, would you?” 

“I won’t.” You squish your cheek to his front. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[p0ckykiss]

i dream in the rain (it's you) - jeon jungkook

summary -> if jungkook is the sun, then you are the rain. and jungkook has always loved the rain, so dearly.

warnings -> female reader x jungkook, friends to lovers, pining god, jungkook just yearns, fluff

most of his memories of you are tied to the rain, one way or another.

the earliest of it that he remembers is when you were middle schoolers, the autumn downpour ruining his friends’ soccer game and, effectively, his lunch hour too. jungkook's friends all scatter to find cover, and he does the same, ending up in a direction none of them had gone to. he ends up next to you, too shy to sit on the bench with your dripping clothes, embarrassed at the ugly squelch your muddy shoes make. he simply puts his novel down and hands you a yellow handkerchief, telling you not to catch a cold. it doesn’t do much for your soaked hair, but you return it the next day—folded neatly, smelling of fabric softener—and he gets a smile from you.

jungkook remembers that day; he’d thought you had the prettiest eyes.

it’s raining the first time he sleeps over at your house, giddy when you crush him in a hug upon arrival. he doesn’t sleep much that night, the rain outside soothing as he lies awake, hyper-aware of your soft breathing next to him (of your pretty eyes, your pretty hands, your pretty everything).

by the next morning, he knows that there are three moons in the glow-in-the-dark galaxy of your bedroom ceiling, and that you mumble in your sleep.

it’s raining when jungkook stumbles into a convenience store in tenth grade, cursing at the sky. he loiters in the aisles, not really planning on making a purchase, until he comes face to face with you near the assortment of drinks. he gets steered straight to the little table by the window, you running off with an endearing 'I will buy you something, wait!’, leaving him to watch the raindrops’ race along the glass. you bought him strawberry milk and an umbrella.

(jungkook walks you home that day as a thank you, heat coloring his face when you bump shoulders, huddled close beneath see-through plastic.)

when you leave for university, jungkook catches himself yearning for you every time the skies are a little grey. he finds his heart aches whenever he pulls out the umbrella, his shoulder strangely lonely.

and when you try to teach him piano over the break—fingers over his and your smile gentle as he plays a piece you wrote in your dorm room—spring rainfall pitter-patters against the windowsill as if singing along. jungkook doodles hearts on your notebook when you aren't looking. jungkook finds his stomach twists painfully at how your cheeks redden and how your eyes glimmer when you talk about your new roommate jake. he crosses the hearts out, and squishes your cheeks in his hands—it hides the rose flush, but the warmth of it burns against jungkook's palms, and the shrill annoyance of your yell sears readily at his heart.

it is storming terribly when you call him one night, hesitant and shaky-voiced, to break the news of a bruised heart. jungkook knows neither you nor jake are at fault—but he knows how it hurts. he wishes he could be right at your side, thumbing away your tears and kissing your head, cuddling the pain away. instead, he puts aside his assignment and video-calls you from his own dorm room, cities away. and through the pixelated display and delayed sound, he knows he’s made you laugh.

if he weren’t a mere mortal with questionable caffeine levels in his blood, he’d brave a thousand storms to hear the sound again.

there is no umbrella when jungkook finds a mirror in you, sees his heart’s affections reflected in how your eyes soften when they meet his own. the summer sky falls on you both in timid drizzles, and you stand in the open while people around you hasten to get out of the rain.

“what?”

you bite your lip, and it pinkens in a way that has jungkook's heart in knots so dangerous. your shoulders sag a bit when you repeat, unsurely, “i said, i think i love you.” you look frightened to say it, look like you wish you hadn’t. “i think i always have, maybe.”

jungkook takes your hand before you can curl in on yourself too much. he looks you in the eye when he professes, “you know i love you too, right? just as much, just as… similarly.”

he knows you know, with the way you look apologetic at that. with how your mouth purses, your frown feigning confidence, right before you ask, “did i realise too late?”

jungkook grins, tugging you close. rain droplets have caught along your eyelashes, sparkling across your gaze like the constellations on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. jungkook brushes away the soaked strands that stick to your forehead, makes room for a spot to land a kiss against. “never too late, not with me.”

you go that specific blush pink that he’d once loathed, curling into jungkook, face against his collar, arms around his waist, grumbling something about i love you, i love you, i love you.

jungkook laughs, and you really do look like fools, drenched to the bone, embracing in the rain. “well, i’ve never stopped loving you.”

because you are the rain to his shine, and he’s always loved the rain. and despite what one may think, loving the rain isn’t so bad after all—not when it lets the sun shine through it, merging into the prettiest colors of love.