#disappointed but not surprised in the slightest

[lambsgod]

he still had a lot to learn, but nickie was quickly shaping up to be the perfect boyfriend if he kept up the good work. a part of lana couldn't help but feel envious, knowing she was putting all this effort into teaching him all there was to know about sex and romance just to set him free so he could find a more appropriate partner, but it's not like she wasn't getting anything out of the arrangement. she was being paid handsomely with money and gifts, and it wasn't her place to get overly possessive when he was supposed to be nothing more than a job to her. his parents had hired her for a specific purpose, and she was fulfilling that purpose. there was more she could've had him do to prepare her for actual penetration, guiding him through some foreplay to both get her prepped and help him learn more about how to treat a woman, but she figured it was best to capitalize off this momentum while it lasted. not to mention, if there was still more she had left to teach him, that would give her an excuse to stall their eventual breakup, postponing it until she was certain she'd done all she could to prepare him for a real, unpaid relationship. who knows how long that would take? she couldn't stamp their relationship with an expiration date, so all she could do was focus on maximizing each moment she did have with him. anticipation was thick in the air, his excitement practically radiating off him like an eager puppy dog about to be picked for adoption, and lana herself couldn't deny that she was feeding off his energy. it had been a while since she'd taken someone's virginity— most people didn't seek out a sex worker for their first time, and she wasn't in the business of teaching someone how to fuck her unless she was getting paid, so while it wasn't her first time, there was still a level of novelty to it that made things feel more special than any other job. his answer didn't surprise her in the slightest, fully having expected him to want her to hold his hand through every step of the way, but it brought a smile to her face no less. "yeah? here, let's get these off." before she went any further, she grasped at the waistband of his boxers, helping him tug them down so his cock sprang free and discarding them off to the side of the bed. he was cute— a bit on the skinny side, but perky, just like him, and with the prettiest pink tip that she'd love to wrap her lips around at some point soon. "ok honey, stay still, no squirming... and don't get carried away, either. just relax..." knowing nickie, he very well could end up getting overwhelmed and blowing his load the second she touched his cock, but no matter the outcome, she was prepared to take it all in stride. this was about him, after all, and being disappointed with him for something he couldn't help would do him no good. everyone had to start somewhere, and at least she'd know that he could only improve from there on out. carefully ripping the foil packet with her teeth, she remained looking at his face as she unwrapped the condom, making sure he hadn't changed his mind and didn't seem at all uncomfortable. she had to avert her gaze in order to actually put it on, touch gentle as she tried to roll it down over his cock with as little pressure applied as possible, hoping the slight bit of contact wouldn't overexcite him too much. "there... how's that? you still feeling good?"

with how little contact he'd had with girls before her, nickie felt as though he had to constantly check in to make sure he hadn't made what was some huge, glaringly obvious mistake in how he touched her, even after following her clear instructions. being sexy wasn't at the forefront of his mind, not embarrassing himself was a far more important and making sure that he was impressing lana came even further up his list of priorities. he didn't know how many boyfriends she'd had before him but he could easily imagine that they were more experienced than him, more handsome and masculine and able to provide in ways he couldn't. money wasn't a problem for him and in order to make up for everything else he lacked he had taken to showering her in any and all luxuries, much to the disapproval of his parents, though whatever he spent the money on would be a waste in their eyes, at least this way he felt like he was doing something useful with the abundance tucked away in his savings and not simply wasting it on his own personal frivolities. each little noise she made was like receiving a gold star, it told him that he was doing a good job and proving his sexual prowess, that he had a shot at satisfying her like he eagerly wished to. there wasn't going to be a better time than right then, the most important part of losing your virginity was the person you did it with and nickie wholeheartedly believed that lana was the person for him. she cared about him and making it a good experience and even with the nerves fluttering around in his gut about making it a special moment for her as well, he didn't doubt for a second that she was the one and only person who he'd want to associate with the memory forever. he nodded eagerly and chewed on his already sore lips instead of verbally voicing his confirmation, afraid that he'd only fumble pathetically over himself trying to convince her that he was ready. his eyes flickered between her face and bag as she fished out the condom, the sight of which reddened his already flushed cheeks. seeing her hold the little foiled square made the reality of things kick in, as if groping her tits and slipping his fingers between her folds wasn't real enough. "you, please." even if he knew how to put a condom on, he still would've asked lana to do it for him, the trust he had in her often eclipsed that which he had in himself.

[iwillbringyouruin]

Es gab einen rechtsextremen Angriff in meiner Nähe und ohne dass jetzt weiter großartig ausführen bzw. Namen nennen zu wollen, sag ich nur, dass es sehr interessant ist, welche Parteien nicht öffentlich bei der darauf folgenden Demo gegen Nazis und Rechtsextremismus vertreten waren. Parteien, die sonst immer behaupten wollen, sie freundeten sich nicht mit Rechtsextremen an. Sehr interessant. Man würde ja denken, gerade kurz vor den Wahlen würden sie wenigstens so tun, als scherten sie sich drum.

[randomnameless]

Everytime I see your Pat lolcalization posts, I can't help but think if this is him overcompensating for voicing the character of n*zi germany in the first seasons of the hetalia anime.

I can't say and I'd rather not say anything about Pat's intent or own agenda or whatever -

But the interesting "lolcalisation changes" and direction give to VAs really seem to favour a certain reading of the events happening in FE16 and to this day, I still can't understand how that managed to be released without getting at least some flak.

Sure Fates' lolcalisation is a tough nut to beat and nothing comes quite close to what happened to Fates to FE16/Nopes, and yet I wish I am joking when I say nearly 80% of the lines involving Supreme Leader and/or Rhea/the CoS should be double checked, because "Dany expy bringing a revolution" has to fit in the story that is FE16, and that's talking about the washed down version of Dany some people have and not the one who uses violence for the greater good, until she starts to realise that the "greater good" is as solid as smoke and runs away from the - well-intentioned ! - mess she created.

Again, I don't think anything was malicious with the lolcalisation Fodlan got, is it just a case of misunderstanding the game and slapping archetypes and "trendy notions" to make this "strange" game sell like hotcakes in your home market?

Or is it another case of "think of the children Susan" where Susan sure as hell can't endorse a character presented as the heroine sprout disgusting things and advocate for imperialism 101 so the heroine is now rewritten?

Or is it the lolcalisation team - after looking at the jp script - try to make the general idea of "you must feel bad for this character" somehow work, because they thought no one would seriously want to walk with her and feel any sort of sad uwus for the "you have pointy ears, you cannot rule over humans" red emperor? So they modified the script and directed the VA accordingly ?

IDK, but I think if you've been long enough on this blog you know my stance on localisation and lolcalisation but this discrepency between the two versions (or at least two audios) really took me by surprise when the game was released in 2019 lol

[thoughtpeek]

I'VE FINALLY FINISHED BROTHERSHIP IT WAS SOOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!

[unhingedlesbear]

I figured as much but the Aestri hate is literally JUST misogyny and transphobia

[afusionoffandoms]

Absolutely loving how a single terrorist attack in genocidal Russia gets more publicity in international media than whenever another terrorist attack in Palestine results in more lives lost.

[librarisxng]

The way that I unfollowed Khan on instagram so quickly because he shared a reel of Andrew Tate.

[bevebevo]

probably gonna refrain from posting any new art here while i back up my blog amidst the tumblr death scare

a lot of art i have up here are completely inaccessible now because they’re on my old ipad which, well, broke. i’ll work to reupload some pieces i’ve only posted here to my instagram over time probably (or maybe not because i kind of hate using that site)

[readyfreddy]

Pride nights in Hockey Update: 8/31/23

Hello everyone,

It's been a while since I've given an update in regards to my pride nights in hockey project.

In short, due to a variety of reasons out of my control, I was unable to present, there have been no further discussions regarding the matter with anyone. I am beyond proud of all the work I have put into this, even though the current outcome is not the one I was hoping for.

I will be sharing a modified presentation and data in the near future.

The last time I asked about my proposal was in mid-April of 2023, about 4 and a half months ago, and ownership was discussing how they want to move forward with their "theme" games for this upcoming 2023/2024 regular season. Apart from support from my one supervisor (whom I came forward to) and one office staff member, there was not much support. I'm sure that there is/was more support that I am not aware of, but I cannot confirm as I do not interact with office staff regularly and was not going to work after the team lost in the 2023 playoffs.

I understand that there are a lot of different aspects that go on behind the scenes to create a meaningful pride night. Financial, community and team involvement, promotion, and social media to name a few. I have never organized something this big and frankly have no idea what to expect, other than a lot of hard work.

There are many people in the hockey community, including fans, commentators, and players, who strongly believe that "politics should stay out of hockey" and that they "should just play hockey." The rights of millions should not be politicized yet in many places they are. Queer hockey fans and players exist now, in the past, and will continue to exist in the future: we have always been here.

One difficulty I knew that I was going to face, was dealing with handling players who are from countries with anti-LGBT laws and policies, people within the organization who are not supportive of the community or who may not come from supportive backgrounds and homes. The lack of support that players may face for being themselves is truly disheartening, the rink should be one of their safe spaces.

I also want to make sure that everyone involved is safe, including on and off-ice staff, fans, community organizers, and players. I understand many sides of the discussions involving hosting pride nights.

My goal for this project is to help create a positive and meaningful pride night that promotes education, inclusivity, and representation of the queer community. I also want to show and ensure young fans (who may grow up queer) that they are welcome here and in hockey as a whole. Showing younger fans that homophobia isn't tolerated at the professional level, will hopefully change hockey's homophobia problem from earlier stages of sport development to the top levels of the sport.

Once again, I am beyond grateful for everyone who has contributed. I could not have done it without you. I appreciate all the support that I've received over the past few months. There is still a long way to go with this project, as well as tackling homophobia in hockey. I am always more than happy to discuss my project with those who want to learn more.

Be loud, be proud, be safe 💛,

Kyle 🏒🐴🏳️‍🌈

he/him

[abysskeeper]

So just...yeah...alright.

[poguehearted77]

Oh, Baby!

Summary-> Today is Rafe's birthday and you're determined to throw him the best surprise party before the baby comes in a few days.

☆Some more content from the baby steps couple☆

It was a warm summer night, the kind where the air hummed softly with the songs of crickets and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. The streets were quiet as you and Rafe drove home, the headlights illuminating the road ahead. The stars sparkled in the clear sky above, but they paled in comparison to the anticipation bubbling in your chest.

“I just wish you’d checked to see that the restaurant had space before we came all the way here,” Rafe sighed, his grip firm on the wheel. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly.

You bit your lip, hiding a smile. You’d already called the restaurant weeks ago and knew they were fully booked. That was the whole point. You needed an excuse to get Rafe dressed up in the nicest clothes the two of you could find without him getting suspicious. It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted tonight to be perfect.

"It was supposed to be one of our final nights together with just the two of us," you murmured, playing your part with feigned disappointment. Your hand rested on the swell of your nine-months-pregnant belly.

The truth was, you’d been planning this for the past month—tirelessly working around Rafe’s attentive nature to keep it a secret. He knew you too well, always noticing the slightest change in your demeanour, and you had to put on the performance of your life.

If he’d caught wind of what you were up to, he’d have put a stop to it immediately. Rafe would’ve thrown a fit if he knew you were doing all this while so close to your due date.

When the two of you finally pulled into the driveway of your generously sized home, Rafe parked the car and came around to your side to help you out, as always. He offered his hand, his protectiveness shining through, and you accepted with a grateful smile.

He makes a teasing remark about your slight waddle, "She's comin' any day now isn't she?" You sigh, "I hope so, but she seems to be getting comfortable." Your eyes glimmer as you watch Rafe unlock the front door. But as soon as the door opened, the quiet night erupted into shouts of “Surprise!”

Rafe’s jaw dropped slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you saw genuine shock in his eyes. The foyer was filled with friends and family, grinning and clapping, balloons crowding the ceiling.

Rafe blinked, then broke into a wide grin, pointing at you. “I knew you were up to something,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, his other hand gently resting over your baby bump. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, feeling his lips press to your temple in gratitude.

You led everyone through the house to the backyard, and that’s when the real surprise hit. The backyard was transformed into a magical wonderland of twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, long tables set with glowing candles, and cozy seating arranged perfectly under the night sky. It was breathtaking.

Rafe took a slow step forward, his gaze sweeping across the setup, a mix of awe and emotion crossing his face. “Wow,” he said softly, looking down at you before his expression morphed into one of concern. “Please tell me you didn't set this up, Y/n.”

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Calm down, I made John B and Topper do it,” you admitted with a cheeky grin. Rafe let out a short laugh, his brows raising. “John B and Topper? Together? Without killing each other?”

“Barely,” you teased. “I supervised, don’t worry.”

He was about to respond when a small voice broke through the chatter. “Happy birthday, Uncle Rafe!”

A little whirlwind of blonde curls and bright eyes ran toward him—it was three-year-old JJ in a white frilly dress. Rafe crouched down and scooped her up with ease, laughing as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he said, tossing her gently in the air.

As you watched him, surrounded by loved ones, holding little JJ close, and smiling brighter than you’d seen in a while, you felt the weight of your efforts melt away. It was all worth it. This was a night you’d both remember forever.

Maybe you'd be lucky to erase the forming memory of the radiating pain that coursed through your abdomen. You found yourself fisting the hand towels in the guest bathroom after your bladder incontinence had caught up to you during the middle of Rafe's speech.

God, what did you eat today? Your stomach had been hurting ever since you came back from the restaurant even though you never ate there. Sometimes you get a break, other times there's a sharp reminder shooting through you. Of course, you considered the possibility of contractions but you denied it.

There was no way in hell you were letting this baby come out on Rafe's birthday.

There's a knock on the door. "Just a second--!" Your voice is hoarse, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Y/n? It's Sarah." With a deep breath, you reach for the door, revealing the pleasant face of your sister-in-law.

"Is everything okay? Rafe is looking for you." You nod, "Yep, everything's--" Another one. Your jaw clenches and your eyes close, doing your best to focus on the conversation at hand. By the time your eyes opened, Sarah was sliding past you into the bathroom.

"Why's the floor all wet.." Her eyes slowly trail from the wet tiles back up to you where you were still gripping the towel in your right palm. Oblivious to the gears grinding in her mind. "Oh shit." You shake your head over and over, immediately shutting the door on you both.

"Sarah, No. No! You can't tell anyone. It's Rafe's birthday." She couldn't believe what she was hearing, her brows furrowed, "Are you joking? You're in labour! You have to tell him and you have to get to the hospital like now."

"No, Please! Just give me 20 minutes, then I'll go." She couldn't believe she was actually considering it but the sheer look of desperation in your eyes convinced her.

"Fine, and not one second more or I'll deliver your baby myself." She threatens with a smile but she's a Cameron, she means every word. "I love you!" You whistle as you head upstairs to change into a different dress and meet everyone back outside.

"Baby, where did you go for so long? What's with the outfit change?" Your eyes are briefly distracted by the servers gracefully floating around the yard with the requested entrées. "O-oh, I started to feel a little hot in the other one--so," There's a contraction, not as bad as some of the others but you're able to suppress it and blame it on thirst.

"Here," He gets you a glass of water and helps you into your chair on the side of his at the head of the table. As if you'd forgotten the itinerary of the party you planned yourself, you're almost startled when the slide show of nearly all the images you could find of Rafe throughout the years is displayed on the projector.

He turns in his seat to glance at you, "You did not," It was all too much for him. You're the woman of his dreams, going above and beyond to show him how much he means to you and this was just a small example of proof.

The slideshow is touching, cute, and funny when the images of baby Rafe covered in pasta pop up. Once it's over John B suggests you say a few words. Kelce and his childish antics start a chant "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Your eyes roll, and with a minor struggle, you rise to your feet, Rafe standing beside you.

"Thank you all for coming, and helping me celebrate Rafe's 25th--" Oh boy, this was a big one, your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your right hand claws into the meat of Rafe's upper arm, it's so tight that he leans into it and his face contorts with discomfort and worry.

The electronic music is still playing softly in the background as all eyes are on you. "Y/n, Y/n, Are you--" Your lip is caught between your teeth bearing down with the pain, nodding aggressively. "We're having the baby!?" He panics but a huge smile is etched onto his features. "We're having the baby." You confirm and he hugs you.

The table is filled with cheers and glasses clinking together. "Go! Go!" Sarah shouts, and you both spring into action. At least Rafe does, he nearly leaves you behind with all the nerves running through his system.

Helping you back inside the house before he runs up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time, quickly coming down with the baby bag you'd both prepared weeks ago.

The next hour is a blur, one second you're standing in your living room waiting for Rafe to bring down your things, and suddenly you're in a backless hospital gown being strapped into the hospital bed, hooked up like a computer.

There are IVs, heart monitors, and everything else you could identify from your binge sessions of Grey's Anatomy.

“Mrs. Cameron?” A voice cut through the haze as the door opened. The doctor entered, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. Her calm expression faltered as she scanned the notes. “Oh, wow,” she muttered under her breath before looking up at you.

“Is... is everything okay?” you asked nervously, gripping the bed’s railing as you shot a glance at Rafe, who was perched anxiously at your bedside.

“Everything’s fine,” the doctor assured you quickly, though her tone carried a note of disbelief. “But I have to say—I’m a little shocked at how far along you are.”

Your stomach dropped. “Far along? What do you mean?”

“You’re already at nine centimetres,” the doctor explained, flipping another page on her clipboard. “You’re practically ready to push.” That is not what you wanted to hear.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—nine? That fast? But I barely knew I was in labour until a few hours ago!” Rafe glances at you in agreement before doing a double take. "A few hours? I thought you just found out at dinner?"

"I knew since we left the restaurant." You coyly admit, and his eyes practically bulge from their sockets. "That was hours ago! Why didn't you tell me?" He seemed almost hurt but his concern overtook it.

"Because it's your birthday, I didn't want the baby to steal your day." He leans up, his gaze softening at your words. "Oh baby, I'd be so lucky to share my birthday with her." His words fall on deaf ears and you pout, eyes glancing at the clock.

10:47

"Well, Mrs. Cameron. It's almost time to start pushing, we're going to transfer you to the delivery room." Everything happened so quickly. Your gaze can hardly focus on anything in the halls as you are pushed past them.

There's one familiar sensation that remained an unchanged variable throughout the whole process. The reassuring hold of Rafe's hand with yours. No matter what, he held on.

When you squeezed his hand so tight with every laborious push. "You're doing good, just a few more pushes and she'll be crowning." Your body throws itself back, defeated. Eyes heavy and your hair sticking to your forehead as you wept.

"I can't, I can't do it. I'm sorry." Rafe's eyes turn mournful, wishing he could take on this pain for you. "Hey, hey. None of that. You're a Cameron now. We get shit done, and you're doing it. You're doing so well, baby. Just keep going, and I'll be right here with you, okay? I love you." He gently moves the hairs sticking to your forehead, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His words give you the strength to keep going.

"Give us another big push in three, two, one-" Your throat is ripped raw from the pained shouts, but it was so worth it. It’s not long before you finally welcomed your baby girl into the world, at 12:01am.

"She's perfect," Rafe says, in awe of his newborn daughter who's delicately swaddled in those hospital blankets at peace in your hold. She looked up at you with her glassy eyes, lips moving in ways that Rafe could swear were a tribute to you.

"I can't believe she came out of me," It's an untraditional thing for one to say after giving birth but it's how you felt. You were still in disbelief at the whole process. From the day you looked at those two lines on that pregnancy test in St. Tropaz, to the gender reveal on the beach all the way to this very moment.

"You did amazing," Rafe reassures you and only a few moments pass where you enjoy the peace of the new reality of your tiny family. There's a soft knock on the door, and Sarah's head pops in awaiting clearance to be let in.

"Come in," You giggle, so excited to introduce her to her aunt, uncle and cousin. John B's face is overcome with shock and Sarah's with glee while JJ focuses on what she wants.

"Oh my god, she's so precious." Sarah beams as she peers over to get a closer look, and you offer her up into her aunt's hold. "What's her name?" John B is the first to ask, and Rafe grins down at you. "Say hello to, Melody Ava Cameron."

Sarah's eyes immediately misted over, she'd been told about the pleasant encounter you both had at the beach with a very lively toddler, but you knew that wasn't the name that touched her the most. "Melody? You named her after mom?" Rafe nods, a tear slipping from his eye as well.

You knew how much she meant to both of them before she passed, you couldn't think of a better name. Rafe places an arm around his sister as they both admire the baby.

"It's a perfect name, I love it. Congratulations."

[arlestial]

❝lavender haze❞

synopsis : Rin begged Ego to let you assist to one of his training games. But he wasn’t quite fond of your interactions with a certain player..

pairing : Rin Itoshi x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : A mix of fluff and comfort, with the slightest bit of angst (jealousy themes, possessiveness)

word count : 2700~ words

author-note : Hi !!! It's been so long, I missed writing so much... I finally passed my final exams, and I'm now in vacations; I’m going to Austria today. My blog is like- a blue lock obsession at this point lmao but ngl i like it that way. Btw, I’ve seen the movie and I'm just plain disappointed ? It was short asf, and the animation... well, we don't wanna talk about it. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated :) sorry if it’s bad btw !! Anyway, take care of yourself ♡

A rare, smug smile appeared on RIN ITOSHI’s lips; a smile that immediately triggered his teammates, who looked at each other, dumbfounded. They weren’t used to observe him with such an expression written on his usual stern features; as soon as he left the locker rooms, whispers emerged in the sweaty air, begging for an explanation.

"No way he did," Isagi contested with a frown and a disapproving tone, much to Bachira’s dismay.

"I’ve seen it with my eyes," The other retorqued, "Believe me. He smiled, dude. I’ve never seen him smile before."

"We’re gonna get fired from Blue Lock. I swear— he wouldn’t be happy if it wasn’t terrible. He’s a sadist."

"No worries, my dear Isagi. We’re going to elucidate this mystery together," Bachira replied with a proud smirk of his own; Isagi sighed at his friend’s antics.

"Maybe it’s personal."

"It’s never personal enough for us not to be nosy !" The dual-haired boy nearly gasped, "Our duo is unstoppable."

With more or less desire to intrude Rin’s life, Isagi joined Bachira into a rather quick — and disappointing — mission, to solve the mystery around the cold-hearted guy’s smile, a smile they had the chance to witness.

"Ah. Itoshi asked Ego to let his partner see the next training game. I didn’t know he would be this enthusiastic once Ego accepted."

Anri’s revelation should’ve been a relief for the two men — they wouldn’t be expelled of the program. Thus, Isagi had been surprised and confused when he noticed Bachira’s quiet attitude.

"Aren’t you supposed to be delighted you discovered the truth ?", The raven-haired boy asked, curious, as they walked in the corridor to join their rooms again.

"I didn’t even have time to feel the thrill of the investigation," the other whined.

"At least we know he has a partner. It’s… let’s just say it’s surprising someone like him could ever get someone."

"Someone like me ?"

The sudden third voice scared the two men off, and they jumped. Of course, it was Rin. Always there at the worst moment. Isagi gulped.

"H-Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—"

"What Isagi was trying to say, is that we’re not picturing you as the lovey-dovey type of guy, you know ? Not a good boyfriend or something."

If Isagi could facepalm right now, he would, "Thank you for your help, Bachira, it’s even worse now", he replied in a murmur.

"Who said I couldn’t be the "lovey-dovey type of guy" ?", Rin huffed in his usual cold tone, "and a good boyfriend ?"

"Everyone," the two others responded at the same time. Rin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So, y’all just sat down and talk about who could be a good partner or not ? That’s probably why you’re still fucking losers at soccer."

Bachira held Isagi back, amused by his eagerness to show Rin "who’s the real loser between them". Rin walked away confidently, and above all, enlivened by Ego’s answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it, the butterflies already flying eagerly in his stomach in anticipation.

RIN ITOSHI’s belly butterflies died in an instant. It wasn’t fair. At all. He had been longing for you since weeks now, months even; he negotiated with Ego for who-knows-long, trying to find a way to make you come to a training game of his — so that he wouldn’t have to search for you in a huge crowd of exasperating, futile, and bland people. And here he was, watching you from afar talking with Isagi Yoichi. He cursed under his breath. This dude had nothing to do with you. He was nothing compared to Rin; a mere guy, with limited soccer skills and knowledge and experience and — why were you talking with him anyway ? When he was right there, waiting for you. The training have haven't even started yet, and playing with Isagi left a bitter taste in his mouth. He threw a hard glare in your direction, which you immediately noticed; you waved at him with a smile, and it nearly made him melt. It would've if he wasn't this upset in the first place. Bachira called for Isagi, and the raven-haired boy returned to the field with a smile. If he could, Rin would definitely wipe the smile off this random guy's face.

RIN ITOSHI tried not to let this affect him. But the prominent and everlasting burning sensation in his chest clouded his mind, making him loose his focus each time his eyes would fall on either Isagi, or you. And god knows how much he had missed you, how he needed to touch you now, to feel your skin just against his — to kiss you endlessly, and his gaze softened by pure reflex as he noticed you were staring at him. He felt guilty, to entertain such hideous resentment towards you, while you were just there for him, as beautiful as the day he left you in your shared apartment to join Blue Lock again after his short break. Was he jealous? It couldn't be. Why would he be jealous of Isagi? He was better than him in everything. Atter 45 minutes, when they all got a short break from the match, Rin refused to say a word. He was always rather quiet - but now, it felt a bit weird. He just stared at Isagi with a cold gaze, and the other boy frowned. When they had to join the field again, Isagi stopped Rin, a hand laying on his shoulder.

"Hey, is everything okay? If it's about the score of earlier, I already said -"

"Look," Rin cut out quickly, his tone slowly shifting to an irritated one, "I don't want to hear your fucking voice."

Isagi's brows were now even more furrowed in confusion,

"What the.. I did nothing bad, dude. If you're upset, that's not my problem. Deal with your childish feelings alone, I don't know."

Childish feelings ? It was deeper than that. Much to Rin's own surprise, he grabbed Isagi's collar, dragging him closer with a menacing look. He didn't know, did he ? How much Rin loved you, how much he required your whole attention. Maybe it was childish indeed, selfish even, to desire to be your whole world. The only one you would ever think about. If he could make you his forever, he would; and at the same time, you had every right to talk to other people, be friends with anyone, you were free after all. But that wouldn’t rub out the aching feeling in his heart, seeing you smile with someone else, having a good time with someone who wasn’t him. Maybe because in the very end, he was scared of losing you. Of you, finally realizing you deserved far better than what he could give you. He was distant, sometimes. He hurt you too much, argued with you on futile things, left for Blue Lock for months, he was a huge mess, and still, you wanted him. It was a mystery for Rin, but he wouldn’t ever complain. He was too engrossed in your love and affection, and somehow, even if he knew it was fundamentally wrong, he’d never wish for you to realize what you truly deserved. Because it wasn’t him. And he couldn’t bare to see you enjoying your life with someone else other than him.

"I’m going to end your pathetic and meaningless existence so quickly you won’t have time to take another breath," Rin spat sharply, "I’ll politely advice you not to approach them ever again — don’t want your disgusting germs to infect them, understood ?"

With these words, Rin yanked him away and joined the field, leaving a widened-eyed Isagi behind him. As soon as the game ended, the whole Blue Lock team began gathering their water bottles, heading to the locker rooms. Rin stayed behind, since he wanted to spend some time with you before your departure. When you both were finally alone, you walked down the stairs, and Rin immediately engulfed you in his arms. One hand was grabbing your side, the other resting on the back of your head, pulling you close. He sighed, inhaling your familiar perfume — it was his favorite, the one he gifted you recently — and pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of your head.

"I missed you so much," He declared, or more precisely, complained, and you chuckled, embracing him just as tightly.

"And I missed you even more," you responded, loosening your embrace to look at him. He could die for this fond look in the depths of your irises. You didn’t have to ask; his hands reached for your cheeks, tilting your head backwards to kiss you gently, yet, eagerly, a pleading for your tenderness. You kissed him back, amused by his move. He was usually the reserved type, especially in public — even if the whole stadium was empty now. Your lips parted to welcome his tongue inside, deepening the kiss even more, a slow dance mimicking his need for you. He kissed your forehead softly when you two broke away from one another.

"What happened earlier ? With Isagi. I thought you were gonna fight."

The question tensed him. Of course you had to bring it up. He stroked your cheek delicately, as if you’d shatter if he wasn’t careful enough.

"Nothing, love, don’t worry. I was just—"

"He told me about it, Rin."

You cut him, and he winced. Ah. That was a problem. He swore he discerned a tint of disappointment in your eyes, but it faded away too rapidly for him to search for it again.

"I thought we said no lies between us."

"I know, darling", he could only mutter. You gently took his wrists, then his hands, intertwining your fingers together.

"Am I not reassuring you enough, Rin ? I won’t ever leave you. Especially not for a guy I just met. You know that."

"More than enough," the memory of your smile and laugh when Isagi cracked a joke made him sigh, "it’s hard to believe sometimes. That’s all."

You nodded; with his lack of self-esteem, how was he supposed to believe you, anyway ? It was a constant fight against the insecurities crawling in the pit of his soul, however, you would never let them win. He suffered enough alone, now that you were there with him, you’d be in the frontlines.

"But it’s still true. I’m lucky to have you, Rin. Maybe one day you’d finally recognize that."

At this moment, he wanted to tell you he was lucky to have you, but he didn’t dare, especially not when he saw you reaching for him again, your arms around his neck. He let himself drown in your arms and comfort, soothed by your heartbeat — at this very precise instant, he swore his heart was beating for you. And if you wanted it on a silver plate, he’d gladly do so.

"I’m sure his joke wasn’t even that funny."

You chuckled, "maybe not better than yours, I must admit."

Not far away, two boys were spying on the scene; their investigation had been more successful than what they ever hoped for, "maybe he’s not that bad, after all."

"I thought he was going to choke me to death."

"Oh, he could."

RIN ITOSHI was a possessive man. Somewhere, he wanted you to rely on him, and him only — to be the only source of your happiness. He never had something to call his; you were the first. And he fully intended you to be the last.

[droopycoquette]

Ridin' or Nothin' || Benny Cross x Reader

Summary: A little exchange of services

Warnings: hella fluff, angst, suggestive content

Word count: 5.1k

|*|

You had been watching him, that much you could admit. Your eyes always caught him on the road, riding around with the wind in his hair. Sometimes you’d even see him walking around with a cigarette tucked between his slightly chapped lips, he was rarely without one. He exuded a sense of danger that both intrigued and scared you. But there was something about the way he moved, rough yet graceful, that made your heart skip a beat whenever he passed by. However, you never dared to approach him, always hiding in the background observing.

You didn’t mind, it was comfortable.

The town was small so it was easy to watch him. Easy to find him even because he was always in the same places. Bar, road, gas station, and occasionally grocery store. That last one was rare though. When you saw him across the aisle looking at bread, you thought you were hallucinating.

It was a rather strange sight; he looked so out of place. A tall, blonde biker in a grocery store with mothers and children, casually looking at bread. You would have giggled if you weren’t so nervous. Your lips slightly parted as you lost motor control of your body, the bag of rolls you held falling out of your hands.

“Shoot,” you muttered as you quickly bent down to pick them, trying to prevent the weird looks from staying on you.

You chuckled nervously as you rose up, giving timid looks to the grandmas and moms looking at you.

“Hello dear,” a high-pitched voice greeted cheerfully, forcing you to shift focus.

Turning around, you came face to face with Mrs. Leonard, a regular at your family’s bakery. She was an older lady having several grandkids that she loved to gush about. But, despite being older, she still had strength that astounded you greatly. You weren’t surprised to see her here, just bummed that she was here now, the only time you had seen biker boy here.

“Hello, Mrs. Leonard,” you smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, likewise,” she smiled back sweetly. “What are you doing looking at rolls, sweety? I couldn’t imagine buying rolls here when I could have yours to eat for free.”

You smile at her compliment, your ears warming.

“I was simply looking. I’m actually looking for ingredients. I’m trying a new recipe for a raspberry curd cake. How’s your son? I heard he’s back in town.”

“That sounds mighty tasty. And oh, he is just wonderful. It’s so nice to see my grandkids. Ya know, ever since they moved to California-”

And she was off. You liked Mrs. Leonard, truly you did, but you could never get used to her never-ending monologues about who-knows-what. She was a cute old lady, though.

As she spoke, you moved to put the rolls back on the shelf, and when you turned to look back at the biker, he was gone. A small crease in between your eyebrows developed as your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. You nibbled on it as you felt disappointment wash over you. However, you quickly masked it with a well-practised smile.

As you wandered the store next to the old lady, your mind wandered back to the handsome biker who had been standing right across the aisle. You perked up slightly as you realised that that was the closest you had ever been to him. You could practically smell the gasoline and cologne that wafted off of him. You had even seen the small freckles on his face and took note of his faint sun-kissed cheeks, just the slightest bit of pink.

This was also the first time you’d seen him without a cigarette.

You felt a tug at the corner of your lips that only stopped when you rubbed it away.

“Dear? Hello? Bun!”

Your eyes snapped to Mrs. Leonard, hearing the nickname given to you by your family.

“Are you alright, bun,” she asked, placing a hand over yours. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Oh. Yes ma’am. I’m quite alright, just a bit tired is all. No need to worry. What was that you were saying?”

“Oh, yes! Monti, the dreadful boy has been tearing at-”

Her story continued on until you had finished checking out and had to part ways. And when your back hit the seat of your car you let out the biggest sigh of the week. What was supposed to have been a ten-minute grocery run for fresh raspberries and lemon juice had turned into a 45-minute gossiping session. The energy that was supposed to be used to bake that new raspberry curd cake had been exerted to try to keep up with Mrs. Leonard. Now, you’d have to pull from nothing.

Your head slammed into the steering wheel with a groan that was quickly replaced with a yelp when your car horn went off. People entering and exiting the store turned to look at your car in confusion and slight offence.

“Sorry,” you chuckled timidly.

|*|

The next day rolled around, and you were excited to put out your new Raspberry Delight, which is what you had decided to call your new cake. You had been experimenting with this cake for the past two weeks, figuring out what to layer, and how sweet the raspberry curd should be. Should they have a raspberry jam? Was that too much? Perhaps, a layer of crumble? But, last night, you had perfected everything and had gotten the green light from both your mother and your father to sell.

You had decided to sell it in these cute mason jars and had personally tied the little maroon bows on it. You were setting out the last of the baked goods into the little window by the register when the doorbell rang, letting you know that someone had entered the store.

“Good morning,” you greeted cheerfully, from below the register, setting the dirty trays there.

“Good morning,” a gruff voice spoke.

You stood abruptly.

He was here.

Tall, dark, and handsome was here…right in front of you.

You, who probably has flour all over her and who is sweating from the ovens.

“What can I get for you today,” you say softly, looking down and wiping your hands on your apron.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you yesterday, about the raspberry…something cake. It sounded mighty good and I thought I would come by and get it before it sold out.”

“You were listening,” you let out, surprised.

“I sure was missy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something so tasty,” he admits with a sly smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his statement.

“Okay, one Raspberry Delight, anything else?”

“Is there anything else you would recommend?”

As you let yourself think, the man let himself look at you. You didn’t notice, but the biker’s eyes never left you and one thing he noticed was that your eyes never met his. He didn’t like that. He wanted to look at him. He needed you to look at him.

He saw your eyes light up as you thought of something, making the man smile. And just as you were about to speak, a sharp voice interrupted

“Excuse me.”

The sharpness in your mother’s tone made you bite at the inside of your cheek.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the man smiled politely, despite her cold demeanour.

“We don’t serve customers like you,” your mother bit.

You knew your mother’s opinion on the growing biker gang in town. Your father and your mother both thought that the group of men were a bunch of bums who had no right to be causing such a fuss. They hated The Vandals, almost as much as satan. You recalled nights at the dinner table where your father's anger had boiled over, making him claim to do awful things to the biker gang. What’s worse, your mother had egged him on.

The man’s smile faltered at your mother’s words, but he recovered quickly.

“I just wanted to buy a cake,” he said calmly.

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes flickered between your mother and you.

“Mom,” you said softly. “You always say business is business.”

“Well, this is MY business,” she snapped. “And I reserve the right to refuse service. Get out of my store.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - frustration at your mother’s closed-mindedness, and sympathy for the man standing in front of you.

Your eyes met his, and you hoped that he could understand the apology. He nodded towards you, and you watched his jaw feather in annoyance. You felt your heart drop at the realisation that he might blame you.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he said, walking away as he took a cigarette out of the box.

“Yeah, you go on now,” your mother sneered, causing you to flinch.

He didn’t respond as the doorbell dinged.

You watched as the man walked away, his back straight and his steps purposeful. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders.

You swallowed in disappointment in yourself and your lack of ability to stand up to your mother and in your mother for her lack of empathy and kindness.

“Don’t you ever talk to them folks again? Ya hear?”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut you off. “You so much as go near them, and I’ll make sure you don’t leave the house again. You understand me, girl.”

You just looked down, and your mother took that as a yes. She went back to the kitchen, muttering obscenities under her breath, and you went back to setting up for the day, now with a heavy heart.

As the day went on, you found it difficult to concentrate on the daily operations of the bakery. Your hands moved mechanically as you went through the motions of baking, but your heart was heavy with a mix of curiosity and guilt. Each served customer was a reminder of the one you couldn’t serve, the very one you wanted to the most.

“Hey,” your dad said softly. “What’s going on in your head bun?”

“Oh, nothing,” you smiled sweetly, perfectly masking your growing frustration with your parents, the town, and life in general. “Just a little tired is all. I stayed up late trying to come up with a new thing to work on and now that the raspberry cake is done I need something new. I’m going to go make a new batch of the Raspberry Delights.”

You tightened the scarf around your head as you walked back to the kitchen to grab the fresh tray of cookies that needed icing.

“Okay,” your dad called. “But focus! We don’t need you burning yourself again because you were off in Neverland.”

You knew he was joking, but it did nothing but jab the knife a little deeper.

As you began making the base for the cake, you found yourself wondering why you bothered to stay. It was your baked goods in the window, and yet, it was their name on the sign, getting the money, and it was them making fun of you.

Every time you brought up the fact that you wanted a portion of the profits because they were selling your ideas, they had a fit and said, “Your baking isn’t even that good. Since you now have a couple of things in the window, you think you can call the shots, huh? Is that what it is? Well, maybe we’ll just take them out.”

It was empty threats, and you knew it was, your items were some of the best sellers, but it never stopped the fear that entered your system. However, the thought that you might never leave and be stuck here with parents who don’t respect you or your creations scared you more.

A newfound determination lit up in your gut as you baked.

That evening, after closing up, you told your parents you wanted to work on a new pastry that you’d been thinking about and that you’d meet them at home. They had been hesitant but let you stay in the end, telling you to be careful on your way back. You waited a good 20 minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back before gathering up your things and the two freshly made Raspberry Delight jars and locking up the store.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, your heartbeat quickening. You hopped on your bike and threw your bag in the basket, careful not to break the glass before you took off down the road. Even a couple of blocks down, you could hear the rumble of engines and the faint sound of laughter from the home of the town’s biker gang.

As you approached the bar, you hesitated, hopping off your bike that suddenly felt childish next to the rows of motorcycles. You could hear the whooping and hollering of the men inside and jumped when you heard the sound of shattering glass followed by laughter.

Your breath left you in small huffs as the chilly night air nipped at your cheeks. The two jars in your bag hit each other softly, causing a ‘clink’ to echo through the empty space. It also caused a surge of resolve. You jogged up to the doors before the newfound confidence disappeared and opened them gently. You entered the bar without making a sound and closed the doors even softer than you had opened them.

The dimly lit bar was crowded with rowdy bikers, their denim jackets adorned with patches and studs that allowed the light to glint off of them. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. As you stood there, taking it all in, you could also smell the distinct scent of leather and engine oil.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try to avoid making eye contact, feeling small and out of place.

Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention.

That mantra in your head continued as you hugged your bag close and made yourself small. Navigating the crowded bar proved to be rather difficult, especially when you were trying not to hit anyone. A plethora of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ left your lips before you reached an empty table in the back. You sit your bag down and allowed yourself to breathe as best you could anyway, the taste of smoke filled your mouth, making it dry and slightly bitter. You try to swallow, but the air feels too thick and heavy to allow it.

The dim, hazy lighting of the bar, combined with the smoke from cigarettes and the bodies, made it difficult to see clearly. People pressed close together, their limbs hitting one another.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. You had worn a corduroy skirt that day and, if that wasn’t bad enough, a pastel blue halter accompanied it. If ‘Look at Me’ had a mascot, it’d be you.

The tips of your ears burned as your eyes scanned the crowd of bikers. Normally, you could find tall and blonde easily but, in this crowd, it was like trying to find a needle in a needle stack.

However, after about 10 minutes of searching, you found him near the pool table. His eyes fixed on the green felt with an intensity that you could feel from all the way across the room.

You allowed yourself to just stare, taking in his rugged appearance that finally seemed to fit into his surroundings. His arms were on full display, and the light caught the ridges of his muscles in a sinfully perfect way. His hair was tousled and swooped up as if the wind had permanently swept it there. The thought made you giggle. You took in his tattoos, his rings, and the grease stains his shirt housed. The stains alone sent you to a whole daydream.

Visions of him fixing a motorcycle, his muscles moving seamlessly as he worked. His focus fixed on the machinery, understanding the beauty and power of the bike, and knowing exactly what it needed. A playful smile on his lips as he caressed the engine. The sunlight catching the sweat glistening on his skin, highlighting every curve and ridge of his body. His strong hands, covered in grease, as he worked with precision and finesse. The occasional grunt or sigh as he exerts force in just the right places. Every now and then, he let out a satisfied chuckle as he successfully fixes a part.

Before you knew it, you had replaced the motorcycle.

You let out a squeak at your own imagination. Causing heads to turn towards you. For once, you didn’t notice because you were too busy mentally beating yourself.

You had to give him these cakes before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before making your way over to him, each step feeling heavier with the weight of uncertainty.

As you approached, he finally tore his gaze away from the pool table and locked eyes with you. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly masked by a guarded demeanour. You could sense the tension in his posture as you stood before him, unsure of how he would react to your presence.

He walked toward you, cue stick in hand. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours as he got closer.

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart,” he asked, his gruff voice filling your senses. He leaned against the cue stick, bringing him closer to you. Even hunched over he looked down at you, you had never felt so small.

"I... I brought you these," you stammered out, holding out the two jars of Raspberry Delights towards him. "What happened at the bakery earlier wasn't right and I’m ashamed that I just stood by and let it happen. Please accept them as an apology."

He studied you for a moment, his face contorting slightly as a myriad of emotions flickered. Finally, he reached out and took the jars from your shaky hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening.

You nodded with a smile, clasping your hands together and letting out a breath of relief. You rocked back and forth on your feet as you realised that you hadn’t planned out a conversation in your head. You had no clue what to say to the man standing in front of you.

As you struggled to find the right words, only two came out:

“Okay bye.”

You were moving before you could register, bolting out of the crowded bar and into the crisp air of the night. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, filling your lungs fully for the first time since you entered the bar. It was also easier to breathe without him being near.

You swallowed as you stood straight up and shuffled towards your bike. Your lip found its place between your teeth while you replayed the interaction in your head. You shrunk into yourself at how you acted. You had dreamed of an interaction with tall and blond for months, given him numerous names that never seemed to fit. You had thought about wowing him with a quick tongue and a perfected sense of humour. But, when it came down to it, you chickened out. You literally ran away.

You reached your bike, which now seemed extra childish coming out of the bar. Now that you think about it, you’ve never been so close to a motorcycle before, only looking from afar. The need to inspect the bike tugged at your heart. It didn’t take much for you to give in.

You reached out and let your fingertips graze the frame of the bike, collecting the dirt that had found a home on the metal. Your eyes trailed the winding metal of the interior, wondering what each thing did. You could smell the gasoline and faintly taste metal on the tip of your tongue, and you smiled at its slight sweetness.

“You like bikes?”

Your hands flinched back as if the bike itself had spoken and your eyes went to the voice.

“Um,” you stuttered as you were met with tall and blond. “I, uh, I don’t have an opinion on them. They’re pretty though.”

“Pretty?” he chuckled, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the ground.

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen one up close before. I apologise for touching them, it won’t happen again.”

“Calm down,” he smiled. “You look like I’m about to cut your hand off.”

You swallowed thickly and dusted off the dirt your fingertips had collected.

“Come here.”

His tone was friendly and inviting yet commanding, so you followed him over to a particular motorcycle that he leaned against.

“This one’s yours?” you asked/stated.

He just smiled a crooked smile and nodded.

“You can inspect to your heart's content, little miss.”

You feel a familiar tug at your lips as you let yourself circle the bike. It was a lot nicer than the last one, in your opinion. The black colour of the fenders matched tall and blonde, and the framework looked well-loved. You allowed your fingers to touch the bike, letting them trail down the seat until they reached the end of the bike and fell off.

“Hey, listen,” his voice making you snap your eyes to him. “How ‘bout as payment for the cakes, I take you on a ride?”

Your heart jumped into your throat, “Oh, I could never. I’m happy to watch from a distance.”

“Oh,” he feigned a pout as you walked back to where he was leaning. “Well then miss, I hate to say this but I can’t accept these.”

He pulled out a jar from each of his pockets and presented them to you.

“What?” you looked at the cakes and then back at him, offence displaying itself on your features.

“You heard me,” he smirked. “It wouldn’t be right. You put an awful lotta work into these cakes, you can’t just be given ‘em away.”

You bit your lip at the predicament in frustration and furrowed your eyebrows. The tall man raised an eyebrow and fought a smile that told you he was enjoying this.

“So, you’re saying if I let you give me a ride…you’ll take the cakes?”

“Yes I am, miss,” he confirms. “It would be my pleasure.”

An internal battle raged in you, but all you had to do was glance at the look on his face. The thrill of the unknown mingled with the warmth of his smile was enough to make your heart race. His eyes housed a genuine want, a need, and far be it from you to deny him. The “battle” was over before it even started.

“Fine, yeah, okay,” you relented.

His grin widened as he got on and gestured for you to hop on behind him. You couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement as you settled onto the motorcycle. The engine roared to life beneath you, vibrating with power and promise, mirroring your heartbeat.

“Hold on to me,” he instructed.

You swallowed before wrapping your arms around him gingerly, really your arms formed a ring around him, not touching him at all.

“You’ll need to hold on a little tighter, miss,” he chuckled.

Slowly, your arms tightened around him, a little too slow for him apparently because he kicked off suddenly causing you to grip him harshly.

“You jerk,” you shouted, as the wind nipped against your skin.

You couldn’t hear it but could feel the laugh the man in front of you let out, his strong back convulsing in a familiar rhythm. Your cheek was pressed against the denim of his jacket, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Lights and corn fields passed by in a blurry mix, and soon the stars were the only thing you could see clearly.

His rythmatic breathing brought a smile to your lips, and you could picture the look of pure serenity on his face. His cologne mixed with cigarettes and gasoline became one you already missed as you breathed in deeply, savouring every moment.

You understood now, the feeling The Vandals sought out, it was peace. It was forgetting everything and giving it all to the road ahead of them. The thrill of speed coursed through your veins, exhilarating and freeing. You held on to the man in front of you, feeling the powerful rumble of the motorcycle beneath you as it devoured the distance.

Every now and again he would look back to check on you, and every time you’d give him the same reassuring nod that let him know you were doing okay.

As you rode deeper into the night, a sense of liberation washed over you. The worries and insecurities that had plagued your mind earlier faded into the background, replaced by a sense of adventure and possibility. The road stretched out before you like an endless ribbon, beckoning you to explore its twists and turns.

However, it was over too soon. Before long, you had found your way back to the biker gang’s bar.

He finally came to a stop in a small open space, the engine purring to a halt. You untangled yourself from him, stepping off the bike with shaky legs.

You turned to face him, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of mystery and need.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “That was wonderful.”

“My pleasure miss,” he grins back, a hint of sadness flashing across his face as he got off the bike.

“I’m jealous,” you admitted, watching as took off his gloves. “You get to do that every day.”

“You could too,” he says before he could catch himself, leaning against it. “If you wanted to.”

“That would be amazing,” you say, rocking back and forth on your toes in thought.

The man smiled at your frame, admiring the way you could disappear into your head at the drop of a hat.

“Oh,” you snapped out of your reverie, shocking the man before you. “Now you have to eat the cake.”

“What,” he deadpanned.

“You have to eat the cake,” you repeated. “I kept my end of the deal now you keep yours.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Here,” you say, pulling a spoon from your bag.

“I don’t know where that spoon had been,” he smirks.

“Can you just try it,” you mumbled. “I want to see if you like it.”

He couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

Putting the spoon in his mouth, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the jars of Raspberry Delights. As he twists it open he swears he sees your eyes widen, and he has to stop himself from blushing at your eagerness.

You're practically bouncing while you watch him dip the spoon into the cake and put it to his lips. You hold your breath as he takes it in.

His brows furrow before he breaks out into a smile.

“That’s fucking delicious,” he lets out. “It's not too sweet, which I like.”

He watches as you glow brighter at the compliments.

“I’m glad you like it,” you sigh, looking at the ground in shyness.

“I love it, little miss,” he corrects, as he takes another spoonful of the raspberry cake into his mouth. “Now, I’m jealous. You get to eat these all the time.”

“I can fix that,” you giggle, and before you can think you're cleaning the corner of his mouth with your thumb lovingly.

As you begin to retract your hand, he grabs hold of it, keeping your hand on his face. His eyes watched you intently. There was a raw intensity in them, a fire that burned bright against the darkness. His rough fingers smoothed out yours so that you were caressing his face, his hand still covering yours.

You were so shocked and entranced by the touch that you didn’t notice his tongue darting out to clean your thumb.

A yelp echoed through the night as he sucked on the leftover raspberry cream, your skin prickling with a sudden heat. His eyes remained trained on yours, a twinge of playfulness circling his irises. He observed your gaze fall to where his tongue connected with your finger. He watched as your lips parted in concentration and curiosity.

He loved that look, the eagerness in your eyes to see what would happen next. He also loved the power you gave him in the moment, the trust you gave him to guide you.

He wanted more. He craved more. He craved you.

Your eyes flickered to his as he released your hand and reached out to caress your face. The rough calluses of his hand actually felt nice against your soft cheeks and, unconsciously, you leaned into it. The gesture brought a loving smile to his face.

He set the jar of raspberry cake on the back of his bike and let his hand fall to the small of your waist, pulling you closer. The gasp you let out only fueled his growing need for you. Your chest rose and fell against him and you felt the tips of your ears beginning to burn. The focus in his gaze made you feel like the only girl in the world, and that terrified you. At that moment, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was look down or away from him, but the hand on your cheek didn’t allow it.

“Can I kiss you miss?” he breathed out, already bringing you closer.

“Please,” you let out, surprising yourself.

He didn't waste another second and closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as you melted into each other, a whirlwind of passion and desire consuming every inch of your being.

His kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a mixture of roughness and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You found yourself lost in the moment, your hands instinctively clinging onto his jacket as he deepened the kiss, his demeanour shifting from playful to intense.

As the kiss lingered, time seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms beneath the moonlit sky. The night air crackled with electricity, and you could feel the heat radiating between you as if it were its own entity.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless and flushed, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes bore into yours, lips falling into a smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m Benny,” he stuttered, his cheeks becoming a slight pink.

“Hello Benny,” you giggle at his sudden show of shyness. “Everyone calls me Bun.”

|*|

A/n: first time writing for Austin!! Feedback is welcomed. Hope you enjoyed!!

[cthulhus-curse]

Mommy Caitlyn (amab) who cannot go even the slightest second without being inside of you. She is so needy for your pussy to the point her cock, seemingly with a mind of its own, twitches each time she so much as senses you are nearby. All in all, your mommy simply cannot get enough of you. She craves for you to be around at all times.

So of course it’s not rare for Caitlyn to pull you onto her lap as she sits on her desk, groaning at how your ass brushes against her semi-hard cock in the process. She holds you there for a second, forcing you to remain still as she humps you. The way in which her bulge slides upon your pussy, even through the fabric of your clothes, makes you moan.

She would rip your pants in an instant, pushing your panties to the side while pulling out her dick. “Go on, pretty girl. Why don’t you take a seat for mommy?” You whimper, legs shaking as Cait doesn’t give you much of an option, but instead lines herself up on your drenched cunt and roughly pulls you down. It barely gives you time to adjust before her girthy, veiny dick is stretching out your inner walls, forcing you to take every inch without remorse.

“Fuck,” Caitlyn grunts. She wraps her arms around you from behind, keeping you in place as she oh-so slightly moves her hips. With her dick plunged into your depths, being hugged so tightly by your pussy, all you both can hear are lewd, moist noises. It wouldn’t surprise either of you if a mess was left on your mommy’s lap.

“Shh, stay still. Can you do that for mommy?” And you do, anything for her. Even if your cunt squelches around her throbbing cock, you remain still. Anything to keep being mommy’s good girl. “There we go, sweetheart. Hm, my best girl.”

You feel as though her dick grows a couple more inches inside you. It makes it so that you could not move even if you wanted to, trapped by the thick penis that forced itself into you. Your forehead is clammy as you lean back against your mommy, breathing harshly and wishing you could move. Fuck yourself on her cock until you came again and again. Feel her cum spurt through your inner walls, tainting them as she breeds you and tells you to — forces you — take every single drop or else mommy will be disappointed.

But none of it ever comes. Caitlyn just sits them, humming away as one of her hands casually wanders off from time to time. Never does she please you by any means. And you can feel her skin flushing against your own as an animalistic drive to pound her fat cock into you comes alive, but never does Caitlyn go through with it. Rather, she remains still, taunting you with a random groan that makes your pussy clench around her penis.

“Please,” you beg her, tears beginning to form in your eyes. Her dick belongs there of course, nestled between your legs, but you need so much more than that. “Mommy, ‘m a good girl. Please, please, please.”

“Hush now, my dear,” Caitlyn coos. She drifts a hand to your pussy, admiring your parted folds that sandwich her dick before oh-so slightly ghosting over your engorged click. Her lips move dangerously close to your ear, her voice pure sex as she speaks. You swear you could cum just from it. “And do as mommy says. Sit pretty on her cock and don’t move. Maybe then will mommy reward you. But you must earn it first, sweet one.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ribbon, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook asks you what you would do to him if he was naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. He really is asking for it, isn't he?

warnings: rated M (18+) – JK is insolent bc he's secretly nervous smh; reader is unafraid to challenge him; smut (fem reader, he's obv naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair, hand appreciation (?) spit kink, photography during sex, use of safe word, m-receiving oral, edging, f-masturbation); non-idol!AU; switches between reader's POV and JK's POV

--

“I’ve been wondering – do you ask me these questions because you’re bored, voyeuristic, or propositioning me?”

“W… What?”

“Hm? I’m allowed to ask that, aren’t I? Or can only you ask the questions?”

-

Truth to be told, you already had a good guess. It was just more fun to put someone on the spot. Strange that, even with the certain, ahem, reputation you had, people still took the time to misconstrue. It was tiring. Not entertaining in the slightest. Well, being entitled and self-serving was human nature. You didn’t mind it, as long as one owned up to their shamelessness.

Which never happened.

One could hope.

Regardless, you were willing to entertain when you felt like it. However, you refused to be a performance monkey. Even that practice was becoming obsolete as people realized the inhumanity of it all. If only the same could be applied to openly sexually active femme fatales. Sigh. For this reason, you avoided dating, both because it was exhausting and because we all die alone. Mhm. And, due to your rigid stance against romance, you of course kept finding yourself in long-term relationships. The universe never ceased with its paradoxes. With age came a rare lull. You figured that surely now was the time to be alone. Thus, the universe put Jeon Jungkook in your path, who did everything except for leaving you alone.

Ah.

The universe and its great paradoxes.

You were well aware of his fascination with your freak. He was green to it, too. It was the off-hand questions trying to catch you off guard paired the attempts at producing shock factor to a seasoned veteran that were the dead giveaway. Not that things weren’t moving forward as they normally did. A drag racer was slower than how you and him were progressing. Eh, you always believed time was a finite resource. So, you let him lead you along while skirting the edges of what if. Mostly to test his persistence. Alright, it was pretty fun for you as well. But the next evolution couldn’t quite continue without discussion.

Even nymphomaniacs could have morals.

Sometimes.

You watched his thoughts play out on his face. He was stuck in the mental battle of societal expectations, self-respect, and the truth. You wondered which would win.

“I… Just bored. That’s all,” he mumbled.

Hm. Societal expectations won. To be expected. Someday he would work up to the truth on the first try. He was one of those men with a pretty face, an arm sleeve of tattoos, and few reservations. But one of them was still sex, because sex was an undefined creature that he was still attempting to domesticate to that fantastical mold that media tended to favor. False idols attracted fanatics and fanatics generated payola. The most profitable subscription service was the lies that bound society.

It was what it was.

You weren’t surprised or disappointed by it. Didn’t hold it against him either. You leaned against the sofa cushions, facing him. With a smile. His jumpiness was quite cute. The tip of his tongue danced over his lower lip in involuntary nervousness. He had a tiny mole underneath his mouth, right at the center, that you were mildly obsessed with and hadn’t told him yet. Large black-brown eyes that shattered the tough image he was trying to aspire to but you weren’t going to tell him that. His style was big, baggy, and dark. Today was no exception. Black t-shirt, black track pants, gray beanie. Didn’t even dress up for the occasion of trying to bang you in his basement.

Well, trying to get you to bang him in his basement, actually.

You preferred it this way. It was authentic. You proceeded to question him. Just because you knew why he said what he said didn’t mean you had to accept it. You were trying to get to know him, after all.

“Is that so? Just bored, so you wanna get tied up?”

-

Actually, his reason was that he was horny. Which was probably obvious, but wasn’t something Jeon Jungkook felt like confirming. He learned for the start that she was not the subtle type. She did not seem to mind making the first move, so much so that Jungkook hadn’t realized she had until she had him backed in a corner that one time. It was a refreshing change. However, he had made the mistake of putting up an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude in attempt to match her confidence when he very much did give a fuck. He gave a lot of fucks. To be more precise, he was trying to get fucked. And now trying to make her think it was her idea.

It was going…

Well.

Ish.

He knew from their first meeting that she was endgame. He didn’t do anything about it, because that would have gotten him labeled as a creep. Jeon Jungkook had flaws, but he was not a creep. He wasn’t her target at the time either, so. That was that. Over the years as he learned more about her, he was even more convinced that she was it for him. She was clever, resourceful, and unafraid to be the villain in someone’s story if it meant doing what was right. Sometimes you have to be a little bad to do a lot of good, she once said. It stuck with him. He used to think that his one true love would have to be his career. Film school was not cheap either. Money was required for existing, sadly. A person would, therefore, always come second. But, right now, seeing the way that her sleek black turtleneck and those tapered slacks draped over her body as she sat beside him on his black leather sofa, knowing that she was gently chastising him with her teasing smile, and, hell, even knowing that she in no way fell for his bait – there was no one else. There would never be anyone else. He just knew.

Whether it worked out or not, uh, remained to be seen.

Outlook was currently bleak.

“Why are you into that stuff, anyway?”

She leaned her head against the back of her hand with her elbow on the back of the sofa. “I’m not so much into it as it is my very nature.” The tip of her tongue grazed the edge of her teeth. He wanted her to bite him. He could also listen to her talk all day. But he would prefer the biting first. “Personal lore aside, everyone has things they are passionate about. Such as you and your mini movie theater down here.”

She was referring to the room they were in now, with the projector and sofas. The basement allowed him to enjoy the surround sound without disturbing his neighbors. There were a couple folding chairs leaning against the far wall for extra seating when he felt like hosting a karaoke night. He was actually very interested in her personal lore but maybe it was too much childhood trauma dump for this sexually charged moment. She knew time and place like that.

“People will talk behind your back if you like sex that much,” he pointed out.

Not for the first time, it seemed. “They talk behind your back even if you don’t like sex that much,” she chuckled, the oscillating blue-and-purple mood lighting making her eyes gleam. “For instance, I know for a fact that people speculate about your sexual prowess all the time. I’ve heard stuff.”

Jungkook doubted that. People possibly couldn’t be that unhinged. “Like what?”

She mused. “Like how you have a huge dick and are super dominant in bed.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Uh… huh…”

She smiled at him.

The same way a lioness would smile at a desert hare.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be thought of in such a… nice… way. It would be an ego boost if she hadn’t made it sound so objectifying. There was something off about it. Like looking into a mirror and seeing a blemish he didn’t remember having. He watched her eyes rather than looking into them. They had a distinct, sharp shape that reminded him of his favorite female characters in video games. She leaned a little closer. She always wore very nice perfume. Her natural scent was better, though. Tasting skin on tongue and breathing in at the same time, feeling her breath scatter at his touch, now that was perfection.

She ticked her head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He realized he was slouching and straightened. He was most certainly not leaning forward in eagerness. Or anything like that. Nope. “You didn’t answer mine either.”

“I answer your hypotheticals every day. Humor me.”

Yeah, and didn’t offer to test any of them. He did his best to not feel bitter about it. He felt bitter about it anyway. “I said I was just bored.” Her waist-to-ass ratio was accentuated by her sitting position. Unreal.

She either didn’t notice his wandering eyes or didn’t mind it. “They say the first thought you have is the thought you have been conditioned to have.” Her hand was resting on her thigh. Didn’t move. She had said earlier the glittering reflective dark blue color she was wearing was from a Star Wars nail polish collection. It made the points of her almond manicure glisten in the low lights. “True feelings take a little more time to process.”

His eyes traveled up.

He wondered if she had ever thought about chilling the fuck out.

“What if you were the one being tied up?” he asked shadowed eyes.

She frowned slightly. “Now that sounds boring. For me, personally.” She stuck out the tip of her tongue before adding, “Hate that.”

He leaned onto his knees. “Oh, but you’re ready to do it to someone else?”

Her eyes slid downward to track his movement. “In my defense, you asked,” she said softly. Dangerously. “There’s no need to stress for compatibility. It’s either there or not.”

A pause.

In all honesty, Jungkook had first started asking the vulgar questions to see if he could throw her off guard. Then it became fascinating how unbothered she was by it. At some point, he couldn’t really help it anymore because he had become suddenly aware that she was aware of her effect on him. She had begun to notice how acutely he was listening to her answers. How he always had an involuntary reaction to her standing close to him. One time, he had felt the tips of her fingernails grazing over his lower back and visibly shivered. She had paused. Given him this look. He had held it but didn’t say anything. They were amongst other people. Must have been an accident. The next time, she did it intentionally. He held himself together better this time, but still returned the same knowing stare.

It became a silent game they played, just the two if them.

He asked the question of if she ever considered being on the receiving end of the power dynamic. She always rejected. He knew by now. He was only asking to stall for time. It was a dumb question, because nothing was a front with her. He liked that. He liked that she didn’t try to control anyone around her but rather had complete control of who she was. Didn’t try to convince anyone to change their opinion of her even though Jungkook hated it when he heard other people call her a slut. They used to be his friends but he stopped talking to them. He didn’t want to deal with that shit. He could get new friends.

He tilted his head at her.

She mimicked him, intrigued.

“So, you’re all talk and no walk?”

-

Damn, Jeon Jungkook was really trying to push your buttons today. You had to admire the audacity. Or maybe he was just horny. Nah, let him have the gumption. You hard let him get pretty close already, to test the waters of your compatibility, and you were feeling pretty confident about it. In conclusion, very successful. But nothing as intense as what he was suggesting. Pushing for, really. The best course of action was to talk about logistics and follow up some other time. That wasn’t really the way you or he rolled, though.

“What’s your safe word?” you asked plainly.

Jungkook looked confused. “Safe word?” he echoed.

You nodded. “Mhm. You know what that is, don’t you?”

His dark eyes shifted. “Uh. Yeah. Of course.” He frowned. You waited. “Stop?”

You almost laughed out loud. Almost. “Try something more obscure,” you coaxed. “Sometimes we say stop out of habit but not because we mean it.”

Jungkook was giving you this look. Fiercely protective with an even split of jealousy. “Oh, so you do this often, huh?” A little accusatory.

You blinked slowly.

Gave the time to let his own words sink into his ears. Then you said, “I’m fine walking out of here and pretending you never existed. I’m really good at playing the ignoring game.”

He got the hint. Winced and looked away. There was a bit too much pride to apologize for his rude remark. You could tell he sort of wanted to, yet the seconds marched on. The silence extended. Well. As long as he got the hint that you weren’t tolerating that shit.

“S… Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

You stilled a bit, wondering if you heard correctly. “Apology accepted.” You decided not to hold it against him since he proved you wrong. “The safe word is not just for you. It’s for me, too, so I can alert you that you’re asking for something I’m not willing to do. So, technically, it’s for us.”

Us.

That seemed to reignite his interest. “There’s stuff you’re not willing to do?” Of course that was what he was curious about.

You half-smiled. “Mhm. Such as heavy physical abuse. Blood play. Also, I’m not into cages. Those types of things aren’t for me.”

His eyes widened. “O… Oh.”

You ticked your head teasingly. “Disappointed?”

His eyes darted away. His deep voice became small. “Kinda scared… What even is…” He quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, okay. Yeah. I understand.”

You didn’t fill the silence. You let him think about it. Giving him an easy out if he wanted it. To be honest, this wasn’t your plan for tonight. Maybe some making out, but you didn’t walk in the door thinking about blindfolding Jeon Jungkook, tying him up, and having your way with him. Bit of an excessive lead-in. Hm. Suited him, though. You would have worn something less boring if this was your plan for seduction. Turtleneck and slacks weren’t exactly screaming I-am-going-to-fuck-your-brains-out.

“Yanggaeng.”

You broke out of your thought bubble. “Sweet bean jelly?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I was thinking about food.”

You liked that. “Mmm. You have rope? Fabric. Preferably all-natural.”

He shook his head. “Uh… I have some leftover ribbon from wrapping Christmas presents?”

You considered it.

“Eh, that’ll work.”

-

The tight turtleneck and tailored slacks looked even better when she stood up. Her sensual figure was made imposing by the cut of the fabrics. Either she was very good or very lucky at selecting clothing. He could clearly see the enticing body lines while at the same time seeing nothing at all. Even her shadow looked good. He felt a bit like a potato next to her. Best not to think about it too much. He changed the mood lighting to red. For ambiance. She let him know what she needed. He told her to stay and wait. A spool of dark cranberry velvet ribbon, a pair of scissors, and one folding chair later, she tucked her hands in her pockets and tilted her head at him.

“Blindfold?”

Jungkook went off in search of a silk sleeping mask. Close enough, right?

“Ah, smart.” She nodded. “Okay, strip.”

He stared at her. “Uh.”

She looked back at him, unbothered.

The silence extended.

“You weren’t serious about that?” she finally asked.

Calmly, as if she was asking for clarification of his lunch order. Awkward. He bit back his tongue. He looked from the line up of collected objects on his basement coffee table and then back at her. Instead of looking expectant, she looked curious. They hadn’t seen each other fully naked yet. Just mostly. And touched. But that was different.

“What about you?”

She glanced down. Then back up. “In due time.” There she went with that lioness smile again. “It’ll be a temporary embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he shot back instantly and then regretted it. But she didn’t taunt him. Just continued standing there. He touched the seat of the folding chair. “It’s kinda cold.”

She looked around. “You have linens down here? A hand towel in the bathroom?”

“There’s some on the bar cart back there.”

This was happening. Really happening. It was sinking in now. All the more reason to not think about it. He yanked his t-shirt off as she searched the bar cart for the spoken towels. He plucked his beanie off too, and realized how flat and unappealing his hair must look. He had not planned this, obviously. Quickly, he made his way to the bathroom by the stairs. Yup. His reflection was not it. It took some water and aggressive pushing back to fix his hair. Wet dog was a better look than compressed.

She seemed a little perplexed when he re-entered the room. There was a plush white towel on the seat of the chair now. She was holding another one in her hands. She immediately looked over to him as he approached. Made zero comment about his shiftlessness.

Rude.

“You’re wet.”

He snatched the spare towel from her hand. “Turn around.”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

He thwacked the edge of the towel against her hip. She looked down, acknowledging the action, but didn’t react much. Raised her head with a slight tilt. He tried not to blush. Believed he had succeeded with the combined force of sheer willpower and a hearty dose of delusion. He glared.

“I’m going to see everything and you won’t get to see my reaction,” she reminded him.

He clutched the pearly white towel quite intensely. “So what?”

She smiled. In that way. “You can use your safe word if you want.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Turn. Around.”

She searched his face for a second. Then, she did as he asked, facing the other way so her back was to him. Damn. Nice ass. Not the first time he thought that. He must be crazy. She had given him the option to drop it all and go back to just the usual hot-and-heavy-almost-there. He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was twisted upwards, trapped in a claw clip. The covered nape of her neck made his blood run hot. He pressed his lips together before slapping the towel over his shoulder and reaching into his pocket, pulling his phone out and setting it on the coffee table. Then he took off his pants and boxer briefs.

He picked up the sleeping mask.

Sat down, draping the towel over his crotch before turning off the lights for himself behind black silk.

“Okay.”

Now would be a good time to get out of his head.

Sadly, that was not how life worked. And so Jungkook was forced to endure the revelation that he was not Daredevil, sigh. His hearing did not suddenly become more sensitive due to the absence of sight. Fuck. Hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider recently either. Damn. He heard nothing but the hum of the wine fridge. He tried to listen for any movement – rustling clothes, a change in breathing, even a single dust bunny shivering, but there was nothing but a looming sense of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing.

A fingertip touched his cheek.

He almost flung himself off the chair. He would have lost his chastity towel in the process though, so instead he clutched it and jerked his head, realizing partway that it was probably a bad idea. He might startle her with his sudden movement. He froze.

Her voice floated down, dreamlike and airy.

“Was I not supposed to turn around?”

“I… I wasn’t expecting…” Which was a dumb thing to say. Duh, she was supposed to turn around.

“Jumpy like a bunny.,” she purred.

His breath caught in his throat.

Her fingertip had only left for a second but it was back again, tracing his cheekbone. Then he felt the other three follow in a cascading caress. His skin tingled. Her fingers danced down, cradling his jaw. His body felt strange. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins. She gently guided his head back to face forward, cupping his chin in the base of her soft palm. He could smell her hand lotion. Herbal and warm with a hint of yuzu. The pad of her thumb touched his lower lip.

Then her lips were by his ear.

He felt her breath stroke his earrings.

“Can you see anything?” she softly asked.

He almost choked.  Somehow, he held it together. At least, he thought he did. “Fuck no.”

She tipped his head back. He realized he had instinctively closed his eyes under the sleeping mask anyway. He didn’t try to check if he could see but he heard her say, “I’d like for it to be nice and snug. That fine with you?”

He gave her the classic, “Whatever.”

That made her stifle a chuckle at least. Her hand let go of his chin. He let out the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He felt her adjust the plastic slider against the elastic so it was a little tighter and added alight pressure. Then he felt her wrist lift his chin and then her warm hand slid down his neck, fanning over his chest. He gasped and then immediately shut his mouth. Her other hand touched his forehead and tipped his head back once more.

Her lips brushed against the edge of his.

“Ready to get tied up?”

No, Jungkook was not ready. His heart was beating in his throat and cutting off all his air. His blood was on fire. What was scaring him was not what was happening but his reaction to it. The epitome of desire was too physical. It was freaking him out. Her name escaped his lips. He did not like the way it sounded to his ears. Hopefully she didn’t catch any of the nuance.

“Mhm? What’s wrong?” Her breath mixed with his breath.

He sucked in air. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

She kissed him.

He didn’t expect that at all. If it wasn’t for the damn chair, he would have tumbled to the ground. It was only a press of lips to lips, lasting for perhaps one very long second. Her lips were very soft. Plush. Fun to kiss, he had always thought to himself. And then she pulled away with a satisfied sigh.

“I know what I’m doing. Do you remember the safe word?”

He heard her pick up the scissors.

-

“I’m not going to need the safe word.”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t see it, thankfully. You could only control yourself for so long. You stood behind him, holding the velvet ribbon and scissors. “What’s the safe word?” you repeated, more sternly this time.

“Yanggaeng.” Jungkook scoffed like a bratty kid that wasn’t getting his way. If he didn’t look so good naked and if you didn’t have the patience, you would have called this off by now. “You’re not gonna get all crazy on me, are you?”

Was it your imagination, or did he sound a little bit scared?

This probably wasn’t the time to bring up snuff films. “Good thing you have the safe word,” you remarked, crouching down and unraveling the ribbon. The cranberry-colored ribbon had weight and a sleek pile. It was the high-quality velvet. The price was still on the paper spool. Damn. His family must have gotten some nice gifts. You snipped off a decent length and called out to him. “Bring your hands back here.”

He hesitated for a second. You waited. His shoulders shifted and he crossed his wrists behind the folding chair. The muscles of his arms stood out, one bare and the other accented by dark, colorful, swirling tattoos from hand to shoulder.

You did smile.

What? His obedience was cute.

But you took a moment to readjust so his hands were side by side instead of crossed. You also turned his wrists inward so the pressure points wouldn’t be stressed. He would probably twist and move around eventually but you preferred to start off like this. You made sure there was some distance between his hands before you made a loop and began wrapping around both wrists.

“How do I know that you would even listen if I said the safe word?”

“I’m not going to gag you,” you replied a matter-of-factly. After a few wraps, you turned the ends perpendicular to the loops and crossed them before beginning to weave them parallel to his extended arms. “You can yap however much you want.”

“Yeah, but are you gonna listen?”

You paused before making the knot. “You don’t think I will?”

“I dunno. What if you go beastmode or something?”

Ah. You brushed aside your initial hurt feelings once you realized he wasn’t personally attacking your character. “If I could go beastmode, I would find a way to make money off it, not use it on you when you’re tied up like a Christmas present.” You tied a square knot. Fuck it. And added a bow to finish it off. You saw him test his restraints.

“… You do know what you’re doing, huh?”

“I keep telling you that and you keep not believing me.” You unraveled another long length and snipped it off.

Jungkook heard it and flinched. “What are you doing now?”

You were about to cut another one to match but you stopped. “I’m going to tie your ankles to the legs of the chair.”

“O… Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I… It’s whatever.”

You felt a muscle in your cheek twitch. “Do you want to stop?”

He shrugged as much as he could. “Up to you. You’re in charge, right?”

You had not known Jungkook on a personal level for very long but you had enough intimate moments to know when he was being a cocky lil shit. It was mostly a bluff of false confidence to hide his nervousness. But it was annoying. He was basically low-key making fun of you. Well, not you specifically but BDSM in general. Probably unintentionally and out of ignorance, which was why you hadn’t brought down the axe yet. You licked your teeth, thinking.

He called your name.

In the same way he did before, when you had been holding his chin and asking if he was ready to be tied up. Low. Breathless. Fleeting, as if he didn’t want you to really hear it. You softened slightly at that. You cut the last length and let him hear you put the scissors and ribbon back onto the coffee table. Your misgivings would probably resolve themselves. You trusted him that much, at least. Whether or not that was a mistake would soon be known. Still, you had to teach him a lesson. You couldn’t let him think you were going to tolerate these comments forever. Then you got an idea. An awful idea.

You got a wonderful, awful idea.

You smiled the entire time as you bound his ankles to the legs of the chair.

-

“You scared?”

“Not really.”

This was fine. Everything was fine. Jungkook was not scared. One, because he totally wouldn’t be intimidated by a girl. Ever. Yup. Not him. And, two, because she had assured him that she was not going to go crazy on him and she totally wouldn’t lie. Right. So. He would be fine. His limbs were getting a bit cold now but his chest felt hot, as if someone was pointing a heater on his ribs. Cooked, if you will. He breathed in deeply yet quietly, trying to relieve the undefinable tension. She was behind him because he heard the click of her claw clip. Must be readjusting her hair. Haha. He was worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like she had whips and chains in her purse.

He heard her breathe in.

He was about to quip, are you nervous, but then he felt her hands close in around his forearms.

Her fingernails skimmed over his skin and dragged down.

He stiffened at the rising tingling sensation. It bloomed from his arms up to his shoulders, crawling down his pecs and into the pit of his stomach. His breath caught in his throat. Did time stop or was it due to the fact that he couldn’t see? Her warm touch closed in the cold backs of his hands. The binding around his wrists was secure but allowed her to turn his palms outward. Her lips touched the pads of his fingers.

She kissed his hands.

Never in a million years did he think she was going to kiss his hands. He was bound to a chair, blindfolded, naked, and the one isolated sensation he could feel was her lips traveling over the lines of his palms. His fingertips. Her breath trailing after. He could hear the delicate sound drifting up from below. He felt her fingers cup his, caressing his knuckles, and shivers slid up and down his body, diffusing the heat from his chest to his limbs. It was weirdly intimate. More intimate than sticking his dick in someone, which seemed fucking impossible, but it was. He didn’t know how to react. His entire body was frozen.

His breathing went shallow.

Her tongue slid out and curled around his right index finger.

Warm. Wet. Agile. His legs were spread open, locked in place by the binds. The towel was still draped over his crotch. He felt it shift when his dick twitched as her tongue licked his hands. There was almost no sound. Saliva dripped down his fingers. He suddenly felt her warm mouth closing in around two of them. She must be low on the ground to do that since his elbows weren’t raised at all. Jungkook bit back what was surely to be an embarrassing sound.

His fingers were halfway in her mouth when she said, “You can make noise, you know.”

Somehow, she was able to enunciate while sucking. His cock twitched again. “W-What are you talking about?” He only stuttered because he had not realized what little breath he had. “You haven’t… Haven’t done anything yet.” His racing heartbeat was choking him again.

She exhaled, low and slow.

His fingers slid out of her mouth with a wet plop. Then into the warmth went the fingers of his left hand, her tongue snaking in between, back and forth. Her pointed fingernails dug into the backs of his hands, almost pulling him. The persistent tingling danced all over his skin. He sucked in a breath. His hands were let go and then it was only her hot mouth traveling all over his fingers and palms. She hummed and the vibration coursed through his entire body. It was foreign and sensual and mind-numbing. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. He kept thinking about how good it would feel to wrap his wet, slippery hands around his growing erection and yet he couldn’t, trapped in her circling tongue.

He shuddered.

His right thumb was pressed against something hard and cold.

It lasted for maybe a millisecond. His brows knitted together in confusion. Then he felt her tongue slide up his right forearm, dripping saliva. Soaking the velvet. He couldn’t feel her hands anymore. The trail of kisses traveled up his arm and to his shoulder. He leaned into it, wanting more.

“Hm. I think I found a nice place to sit,” she whispered.

He would have replied with a snappy comeback but then she started kissing his right ear, melting away his thoughts. Lightly biting. Sucking. Toying with his earrings, and he heard the zipper of her pants unravel. This was familiar territory. He let himself bask in the attention, letting out a satisfied sigh. Then he heard it.

The sound of a camera shutter.

For a moment, he thought he imagined it. He was so focused on the sensations on his right ear that he wasn’t paying attention to the left. He turned his head slightly, puzzled. Her warmth shifted. Circling. He was about to ask if she had heard it too, but then he felt her knee slide between his legs, stopping just so. He became highly aware that she was right in front of him. He moved his head to face the direction of her breath, tilting upwards. He couldn’t see but it was obvious. Her fingers laced into his now mostly dry hair and she yanked. The pain was momentary.

Click.

“Woah!”

 His hands clasped instinctively. He was quickly cognizant of his compromising position. His throat exposed, the towel barely clinging to his erection, dangerously low, and it occurred to him that she was holding his head with her left hand. He heard the sound of the camera shutter again. There was no mistaking it now. Panic shot through his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Her voice was eerily calm.

“Guess.”

Click.

Her hand turned and the base of her palm pressed against the top of the blindfold.

“Are you taking pictures of me?” he gasped, feeling his face flush hot.

She didn’t answer. She did not answer. He pulled against the velvet ribbon but his ankles and wrists were going nowhere. Her knee on the seat of the chair prevented him from moving it. He would have to throw his weight to one side to break out of her grasp but then she might be injured at the same time. His mind reeled. Click.

“Stop squirming,” she finally said.

“Stop –?” He did not know why he was hiss-whispering and yet he didn’t want to yell in her face. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Click. “You take selfies all the time.”

His cheeks were on fire. “That’s… This isn’t the same at all!” He writhed, arching his back. “You can’t… Don’t… Please!”

All of a sudden he felt her chest press against his. Or, more accurately, her breasts. Still clothed, apparently, because he felt the smoothness of the turtleneck fabric and her bra underneath. He stopped raising the volume of his voice. Her face was close to his. He was breathing very rapidly and very shallow.

“What was that?” she murmured.

His head felt hot. His pulse roared in his ears.

“D… Don’t…”

“Just the last part,” she prompted, sweet like poison.

Confusion ate through the tension. “Uh…” He racked his brain. “Please?”

“Hm.”

Click.

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but then his lover whispered, “That wasn’t the safe word.”

The safe word.

He felt the edge of the cell phone touch his collarbone.

“Y-Yanggaeng,” he gasped.

She immediately pulled back and lifted the sleeping mask.

He blinked hard even through the red mood lighting wasn’t bright at all. Hurriedly shook his head. Panting. The tension eased down his limbs, melting away. He looked up. She was right there. Her left hand was on his shoulder now, bracing herself. In her right was his cell phone. The back, showing his phone case with a print of black marble with white veining. She turned it around wordlessly.

Jungkook saw his face.

Barely. The front camera was on. The front camera was on. He frowned, confused. Huh? He glanced down at the preview of recently taken photos and it was merely a black circle. He looked up, not quite understanding. She was looking down at him with an undefinable expression.

“Eh?”

She tapped the gallery and showed him the photos. All black screens. She swiped through them until she got to the most recent photo he took – an image of falling snow in the city. It was clear that she did not actually take a photo of him. Not a single one. He tilted his head. She switched back to the camera app and turned the phone around again, bracing it against her chest before he heard the camera shutter sound again. She had used her right thumb to press the button. All of the photos were when the lens was pressed to her covered chest.

“I’m not going to need the safe word,” she echoed hauntingly.

His eyes widened.

She raised an eyebrow.

Oh. “O…Oh.” He felt his cheeks warm again.

“Using the safe word is not just for extreme pain,” she said quietly. Her expression reflected mild disappointment. “I’m not fucking around, Jungkook. The safe word is not a joke.”

“Y… Yeah.” He looked down and then immediately couldn’t focus upon seeing her naked legs. “Yeah. I get it. Sorry.” He realized he should not have made light of something that was now proven to be very important. He looked back up, hesitantly. She seemed to relax due to his reaction. Even half-smiled. Forgiven, for now. “When did you swipe my phone?”

“When I put the scissors down.”

He smirked. “Sneaky.”

She chuckled. “Surprised you didn’t notice me unlocking it with your thumb print.”

He frowned slightly. “I felt it but I wasn’t sure what that was.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was a little distracted.”

Her shadowed eyes sparkled. “I think you liked it more than you let on.” She straddled his thighs, leaning her arms around his shoulders. The towel on his crotch was barely holding on. She didn’t look down though. Just stared into his eyes. “But I had to teach you a lesson.”

“Nuh uh.” He made a face. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Her amusement was subtle like a cat. “That would have been a nasty situation.”

“You know what I mean.”

He could stare into her eyes forever.

He probably should have been madder but she was right to begin with. Plus, it was hard to care when he could feel the weight of her naked thighs on his thighs. It was hard to think when he could almost feel their bodies pressed together with little air between them.

“You can put more weight on me.”

She didn’t take the bait. “I’m good.” Her tongue slid out and traced the edge of her lips.

His eyes followed. He sucked in a breath. Glanced back up.

She regarded him curiously.

“Kiss me.”

She didn’t move. Picturesque in the shadows. Imprinted into his memory.

“Please kiss me,” he breathed, low with want.

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Pulled her body closer and he moaned into her mouth. The towel bunched up against his hard length. He felt the warm dip between her legs. So close and yet so far. She kissed him deeply, the tip of her tongue against his lip, and he craned his head forward, driven by desire. Her tongue slid inside. He sucked on it, tight. His heartbeat against his ribs. Heat rising. Intensifying.

She broke the kiss, tearing his breath apart.

He half-opened his eyes. Her lips were glossy. Gleaming in the dark.

“Hey.”

Her eyes shifted under her lashes. Pupils slightly dilated. “Hm?”

“Take a selfie.”

Bewilderment. “Right now?” She frowned a bit. “My phone is over there.”

His voice was shaking a little. “With mine.”

She pulled back her right hand. The screen was dark. She still looked perplexed but made to get off his lap.

He immediately protested. “No.”

She turned the phone around. His lock screen was his Doberman who was blissfully asleep upstairs. “I need your fingerprint.”

“Use the PIN.”

She swiped the screen with raised eyebrows. Before she could ask, he gave her the answer.

“It’s your birth date.”

Her eyes flickered to him.

“What?” He shrugged as best he could. “I have to remember it somehow.”

She looked like she wanted to say something. Didn’t. Instead, she typed it in. The last open application was already loaded. It was still on the front camera. She raised off his thighs, holding onto his right shoulder with her left hand.

“Uh. Wait. The towel.”

She paused. Looked down. Back up. “What about it?”

He pouted. “Move it.”

Something flitted across her gaze. But she didn’t ask. She angled her hips and lifted the white towel from his lap gently. Upwards, so the edges had clearance before she tossed it aside. He glanced down, just in case. He wasn’t exactly hard. Not completely limp either. He was very aroused. He could feel pre-cum leaking onto the towel under him. His eyes went back to her face. For a split second, they shared a gaze. He couldn’t quite work out her expression. She had touched him before. Sucked him when he was fully hard. But never really seen him completely naked and not hard.

Every guy was self-conscious about that stuff.

She lowered back down and slid up higher. Higher, so the top of her crotch was against his abdomen. He inhaled sharply. She reached around and cupped his head, pressing it to her chest. He almost squeaked. Her thighs pressed against his hips. He wished she was completely naked.

What? Guys thought about that stuff too!

“Only my face, right?”

“Don’t get any of me,” he mumbled to her tits. “I don’t need any pics of myself.”

“You take a lot of pics of yourself. I’ve seen your Instagram,” she chuckled and then he heard the camera shutter.

“I deleted that,” he grumbled as she let go of his head and turned the screen. He could barely make her out but the highlighted details were exquisite. The red light and deep black shadows cast her pretty face with a vampiric glow. She had said she wasn’t into blood play but Jungkook was pretty sure he would let her suck his blood.

“Satisfied?”

His mouth was open. He closed it. “Uh. Yeah.”

She smiled. “You wanna continue?”

It did not occur to him that he could stop all this right now. “What? Duh.” He wiggled in place. “I haven’t even cum yet!”

Her smile grew. “Oh?”

“Hey! You gotta hold up your side of the deal,” he complained, stressed that she wasn’t going to let him bust a nut like this. “Come on.”

She was really serving Cheshire cat now. It might have been the lighting.

“Then it’s lights out for you.”

And she pulled the sleeping mask down, leaving him in the dark.

-

There was no plan. There never was when it came to Jeon Jungkook. You just knew you would end up in some shit whenever you stepped into his place. Like tying him naked to a chair and making out with him while he was blindfolded. You loved the feeling of dragging your nails over his skin. He slipped into the darkness much more freely this time, accepting anything you did. You hadn’t removed your turtleneck or undergarments yet. It added to the ambiance. He could feel the shape of your body but not your skin and it was driving him insane. His breath caught. His body went tense.

You dragged your nails down his chest and followed it with your tongue, slithering down his legs.

His gasps were slowly turning into whines.

You pressed your hand against his hard abdomen.

You lowered your head and drenched his cock with your spit. He wasn’t hard and yet he moaned to the ceiling as you swallowed him, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You didn’t need to use your hands. You toyed with his thigh, spreading your fingers out over muscle and tapping your manicure against his skin. Moved your head back and forth. He grew harder and harder in your mouth. You kept it soft and excessively wet, sucking out the air at the back of your throat.

His moan rocked through the chair.

You worked him to full hardness rather quickly before pulling off.

“Fuck, what…?”

“Surely you didn’t think it was going to happen right away,” you said with your tongue against his balls. You held his wet dick up and out of the way, drawing one of his balls into your mouth and swirling your tongue. His whole body went stiff. You stroked the underside of his shaft at the same time.

“C-Careful.”

You held it delicately with your teeth and said, “Sensitive?”

He made a sharp sucking sound with his cheek. “A-Ah…”

You eased, pulsing, testing the limit. Licking at the same time. Jungkook made an odd moan-yelp.

“I dunno why, the biting kinda feels good…”

You changed sides, working him with your tongue first. Took him in your mouth, sucking back and forth. Tugging a little at the same time. His erection became hot. You slid your hand up and down, keeping him hard as you chewed lightly on one of his balls.

“Feels tingly…” he murmured, more to himself than you.

You let go and slid your tongue below his balls. Pinched the skin in between your teeth and placed a little more pressure there. His breathless gasp quickly turned into a moan as you sucked while jacking him off at the same time, using your own saliva as lube.

“A-ah, fuck, I’m gonna…”

You released your teeth and licked up his balls, up the length, releasing his cock milliseconds before you crammed it down your throat. His thighs snapped against the seat of the chair. He swore, or maybe that was a prayer, but you were busy planting your hands onto his thighs and sucking him off. You took him deep so he could feel your throat close in, over and over again, keeping a steady pace while building his orgasm. It was easier using gravity to your advantage. You had to spread your knees and hold your torso up so you didn’t hit your chest into anything, but that was easy to adjust to. You slid your tongue along the underside with each descent, hearing his moan drop into a hiss.

“Gonna cum, fuck–”

You pressed your lips into the base of his cock.

You felt his hips flinch and cum shoot into the back of your mouth. It flooded into your tongue, blanketing over the throbbing head of his cock, and Jungkook groaned, his collarbones standing out from the strain. Shoulders and chest tense. His thighs were rock hard in your hands. You felt him twitch. You didn’t move. The wave of orgasm shot up and rolled down, down. Slowly, he relaxed.

You swallowed, savoring it.

He shuddered.

Soft, grazing, lazy. Barely any pressure. You rocked your head up and down, licking up any excess liquid. Your turtleneck was becoming a little too warm. But then that meant your mouth would have to let go of Jungkook’s cock. And he was still hard.

So, that wasn’t happening.

You moved your hands from his thighs.

“Holy…” He panted, struggling to breathe. “Fuck, that feels good… Aaah…”

You drew your knees together. If he was paying attention then he would have heard you, but he was too busy basking the high of the afterglow. Or your mouth was too distracting. Both were possible. You drew closer. Took him a little deeper. Closed your eyes. Time slipped away. You forgot your own heartbeat, becoming one with the rhythm you commanded. Curling tongue. Excessively wet. A tight pocket in the darkness. Licking the lower base as your throat pulsed around the swollen head, and you heard his moan vibrate to the walls, the sound spreading and then falling, drenching you in his wanton want.

He came again.

You didn’t stop.

In fact, you reached between your legs to join him.

“Are you…? O-Oh, fuck. I can hear it…”

You spread your knees and slid two fingers into your pussy, letting it make a loud, wet sucking sound as you pulled out. It was more fun than pleasurable, really. The real pleasure was letting him listen to you fingering yourself while you continued sucking him off. You placed a hand on the seat of the chair to brace yourself, increasing the speed and saliva. It was noisy and obscene, the repeated sticky separation sounds, and you kept going, getting closer, your back tingling, blood burning, closer, tucking your fingers in between your upper folds instead, rubbing your clit, feeling electricity crawl up your abdomen, closer.

You pinched your clit and moaned around his cock.

Jungkook threw his head back and groaned, his hips rising into your face.

You focused only on the head. He orgasmed with a hiss and an intelligible moan, and you tucked him all the way in the back of your throat. Thankfully you didn’t choke. The volume wasn’t as much as the first one. You locked your limbs and felt your own orgasm seep into your bones, setting your nerves on fire in heated blood. Your grip on the chair tightened, unwilling to collapse under the pressure. Wave after rolling wave, scalding you with ebbing ecstasy, and you endured it while licking him clean, feeling reborn. Proud of the session.

Pretty good if you could say so yourself.

You finally removed your mouth, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You stood up, somewhat shakily, and righted yourself before plucking off the blindfold. You tossed it to the ground. Jungkook’s eyes were still closed. His black hair was damp with sweat. His chest, too, shone with a thin sheen of perspiration.

He panted, “Kiss me.”

“Do you want me to untie–”

“Fuckin’ kiss me now.”

-

She slid onto his aching, trembling thigh. Her lips felt like heaven in the hellfire, gentle against his racing pulse, pressing against his greedy mouth over and over. He could taste a hint of himself in her saliva. He felt the slick lips of her pussy on his upper thigh and he hissed between breathless breaths, “Rub on me, ugh, fuck, yes,” and she curled her fingers into his sweaty hair, pulling him to her. Tugging. Ah. Sweet, delicious pain.

He forgot he was tied up, really. It was just part of him now.

“Take it off,” he grumbled, realizing she was still wearing her turtleneck. It was a nice fabric but he wanted her naked. “How the fuck… How are you not hot in that?”

“I was busy sucking your dick,” she laughed, and he opened his eyes to see her peeling it off her body, crossing her arms. Pulling up and back to reveal her torso. He had seen it a few times already and every time he marveled. She tugged it off her head. It messed up her claw clip, but she looked better that way. More beautiful in chaos. She tossed the clothing aside and unclicked the front clasp of her bra.

Jungkook was convinced bras were made by the devil, but he couldn’t deny the magic of a front-clasp bra opening the gateway to heaven.

“Like what you see?”

He stared at her. She looked amused.

“Put them in my face right now.”

There was a certain rapport when it came to power dynamics. He didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he would get better at it. She laughed and lifted herself, dropping the bra to the ground, half-standing with one knee on the chair, and scooped up her perfect breasts to present those delicious-looking nipples to his face. He didn’t even care that he couldn’t use his hands. Ugh, they were just so perfectly soft and supple. She tasted so good. Was it creepy to think her skin tasted good? He didn’t care. She rubbed her breasts against his cheeks as he sucked, licked, buried his face into them like an excited puppy.

“I think we are losing the plot here,” she joked.

“Don’t talk to me,” Jungkook sighed, self-asphyxiating with her tits.

“I should be taking them away from you if I was really being dominant.”

He unstuck himself and planted his chin in her cleavage, staring up at her.

She looked down, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

He could have offered a witty comeback or even put on his best puppy eyes to convince her otherwise, but instead he stared into her eyes in stunned silence. His limbs were burning, now not from arousal but longing. Maybe also soreness. But mostly longing to hold her. The puddle between his legs was also alarming. His sweat was becoming cold as the seconds marched on.

“Don’t go.”

She tilted her head. “Did you think I was going to walk off and leave you tied to the chair?”

“What?” He frowned. “You’d never do that, right?”

She blinked at him.

“Right?”

“Maybe when you have more practice,” she chuckled. “What did you mean by, don’t go?”

The red mood lighting made her ethereal. “Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

A pause. “In your house?”

“Yeah?” The way she said it made him question it too. “Uh, yeah?”

She sucked in a breath while pressing her tits against his face. “Huh, I dunno… That’s usually how women get murdered.”

“Hey!” He wiggled in place, or at least as much as he could. “I let you tie me up. You should trust me by now!”

She made a thinking expression. He would be much angrier if her soft breasts weren’t caressing his cheeks. “Mmm, okay. As long as I get to tie you up before we sleep.”

His eyes went wide. “What?!”

“I’ll even put a bow on your head. You would look really cute.”

“You can’t–”

She laughed. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous.” She slid down his body and pecked him on the lips. “Let’s get you outta these ties.” She was about to say something else but then stopped. Confusion fluttered over her features. Her eyes cast downwards. He felt his cheeks flush warmly.

“Uh.”

“Why are you hard?”

“No reason.”

Those shadowed eyes drifted back up. She gave him a slow, knowing nod. “Noted.” She got up to undo the velvet ribbon ties.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he called out.

“I don’t,” she said from behind him, loosening the knot before rubbing his forearms. “You give them to me.”

Oh shit.

He did.

And would continue to.

--

masterpost

[cherie-doll]

>-< Im real nervous for asking but could I get the cod men's reaction to their s/o surprising them with lingerie?

aw, don't be shy, your asks are welcome ^^ hope i didn't disappoint !!

COD men reacting to you surprising them with lingerie

༢ུ· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto (suggestive duh)

༢ུ࿓ You don't have to be sugarcoating yourself for Price to want to delve into his dark thoughts. Anything that makes him feel relaxed and melt the day's tension is almost enough to have him want you in some form or way. But you going the extra mile for him screams for him to just take you already, translating your every body language like it's a lost tongue only he can speak and understand better.

༢ུ࿓ Simon not even registering what you're wearing but what you're not. What is this open invitation you've extended out to him? He knows all to well the gestures you pull to capture him and toy around with him. The moderation he almost never puts to practice, all of it dissolving when he pulls back to admire your beauty and how much of a slave he's become to it. With a touch or gaze that changes him instantly from intimidating to easily conquerable.

༢ུ࿓ Johnny feels as if you're leading him in, leaving him hanging on a string as he's overtaken by this tense sensation that he leaves it up to you to break him in. His tongue so tangled that he can't express any thought running through his mind, leaving him to resort to sputter pathetic phrases. He's all dizzy with infatuation that the ache isn't painful but more like a welcoming comfort he savors like an aftertaste all night.

༢ུ࿓ Yeah, it's cute and funny and provocative until it has Kyle's knees weaking and his heart beating fast. All vocabulary used to express will leave him for the next few minutes and only his eyes will communicate the danger that is there and inviting. It's tantalizing and possibly making him want to go crazy with all the thoughts now swarming and going berserk inside his head of everything he wants to do to you. Anything that will make him feel alive and press that soft body of yours hard against him.

༢ུ࿓ Roach hadn't the slightest idea on what to do. It's as if his system stopped working and not a single thought could form coherently as he felt his blood rush. A shiver like a strong current dispelled throughout his body, his veins rushing with hot blood. He almost stumbled backwards, halted in his steps and already felt his neck collar become tight. He knew what he wanted to do, what he'd fantasized about, the whispering of his needs. You knew he wanted to so he only kneeled down, asking you to tell him what to do.

༢ུ࿓ Alejandro has been waiting for this day (or night) like you've got no idea. He's already grabbing you by the hair and pulling towards him. You can barely keep up as one minute he's baring your neck, pressing hot kissed to your face, jawline, neck down to your chest and everywhere it's like he's worshipping you. And it feels like it's only proper, as you look so ethereal sitting there all made up like that. But he's about to undo you just to be able to seep into your crevices and leave you a mess.

༢ུ࿓ Rudy was breathless seeing how beautifully clad you were in those clothes. He felt so incredibly lucky to behold you in this moment, felt so incredibly blessed that he couldn't even bring himself to touch you. His hands would hover over you even after he's gazed deeply into your eyes and you could already see the haze take over. His eyes not knowing where to look or how to focus. You took his hands gently and placed them on you, guiding them to where he felt he could take lead and continue.

༢ུ࿓ Phillip would open the door to find this delightful surprise. Crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as you feel his eyes run over your body, admiring it like art in a museum. You better lie back because his hands are already fiddling with his belt. From here on your words will fall in italics as your breath shatters into a million pieces inside your throat, barely being able to form a sentence. Your one word responses and exclaims stimulating him, stirring him to go on like encouraging words that do nothing but stroke his ego.

༢ུ࿓ Makarov will remind you in six different ways why you shouldn't ever pull out a lingerie set unless you're ready to go limp. You wanna kiss and make out hard? He'll leave all kinds of marks and abrasions on your skin that read like tattoos and are reminders of how down bad he can get. You honestly don't know who controls who, on nights like these where any movement, any subtle change of pace, or sudden jerk and bolt will have immediate effect.

༢ུ࿓ Keegan that on the surface seems to hold such restraint as to let his gaze slowly, and very slowly observe you. He's impatient, but doesn't want to break the surface tension right away, ruin this perfect moment he's envisioned much too many times that he's almost got a script. His deep eyes darkening with menace as he comes closer, holding captive your eyes to his lustful gaze. It's as if you've stopped breathing as he looks down at you, making that heavy burning feeling really make an effect.

༢ུ࿓ You've got König bringing honor to his nickname. That beastly battering ram feeling the strong and sudden urge to dim the lights and slam right into you. You're giving him a loose rein and he'll use it, no more feeling of a rope burn restraining him. His heavy, heaving body already hooked on yours and merciless as to soullessly devour you whole. He's unable to control as if on a drug that'll leave him spent afterwards.

༢ུ࿓ Horangi barely has the patience to hold a conversation and barely to come up with and say something clever. Whatever he's saying, because you're not paying attention to that, is being said through clenched teeth as he grins wildly, almost uncontrollably. The mattress was sinking under his weight and the his musk that already had you dizzy made you reach out and grab him from around his neck, pulling yourself towards him instead of waiting for him to crawl towards you.

༢ུ࿓ Nikto knows how you like to lure him, tempt him towards you. And this intensity is what eventually has him in your arms every time despite saying he's tired. It's almost what he looks towards after a hard day's work, his reward, his sinful honey to secretly enjoy from. He'll throw his judgement to the wind and instead throw his body into it, nothing going through his mind but keeping a consistent movement until he's falling onto you, cursing that red fabric for making him like this.