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vallification · 5 months ago

Text

rushes: chapter one

tw: verbal abuse

wc: 4.3k

Droplets of brownie batter are splattered atop the marble counter, half-dried, beside the neatly packaged box filled with an assortment of fresh, fragrant, and warm homemade desserts and pastries. A sink full of dishes is left in the wake of the impressive spread, and your kitchen is reminiscent of the aftermath of a cyclone. The mess glares at you, incredulous at the fact that you’d dirty such a luxurious space, but you want to deliver the fruits of your labor before they get cold. You have yet to meet your neighbor across the hall, and if you learned anything from your grandmother, a good first impression is rarely set by empty hands.

Or messy hair. A halo of frizz stares back at you in the reflection of your microwave. Quickly, you dip into the bathroom to tug your hair tie loose, smoothing down your flyaways and combing through your hair with your fingers.

“That’s… acceptable,” You mumble, dabbing your face with the remnants of setting powder left on your brush until you’re no longer shining and slathering on some lip gloss. Paint and what you assume is flour stains your worn t-shirt and shorts. You give yourself a once over in the mirror and find the rest of you to be acceptable, too. Balance.

Before you go, you check your phone for a text from your boyfriend, but no dice. It’s been radio silence since you moved in. You placate yourself with excuses for him, because he might be tired, or busy, or… something like that. Saying that things have been a breeze lately would be a blatant lie, though. To put it lightly, Toji was hot and cold. He was too busy to help you move in, but not too busy to stop by and fuck you before you left; he was fine with you leaving, but his mood soured every time you rambled excitedly about your new place; and like now, he would ignore you for days, but pick a fight if you dared to take more than 10 minutes to answer his texts.

The unholy lack of notifications stares back at you like a prophecy. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in, filling every corner of your lungs before exhaling sharply. You pocket your phone and grab the box.

So far, all of your neighbors have either been pretentious financier DINKs or older couples drowning in their bottomless retirement funds. Before this unreal opportunity of an internship, you would have been lucky to even know about this part of town, much less be in the vicinity of this building. Lady Luck has kissed your sweet little head several times this year, so being lonely in the big city is a small price to pay for your newfound fully funded lifestyle. You shove your complaints in the “First World Problems” file cabinet of your mind, but part of you hopes that the neighbors across the hall are at least a little friendly.

Bracing yourself for another set of snobs, you take a deep breath and knock on the door. Lady Luck spits in your face and cackles.

Your jaw drops when the door swings open to reveal snow white, cerulean blue, golden tan, six feet and three inches of him. Long, muscular arms frame his smug face as large, strong hands brace his absurdly tall figure at the top of the door frame. A shiny white gold chain hangs around his neck, sitting handsomely against his tight black shirt. Your slack jaw slams shut when you see his infuriating smirk, complemented by his infuriating dimples.

Satoru Gojo is like a cold sore. He just keeps fucking coming back.

And even though he’s skimmed through your Instagram annually, he hasn’t seen you in person in almost four years. Your sparkly, girlish energy still decorates your face, but your features are a little more mature now… Not just your features either. Those blue eyes drag up and down your body, simultaneously checking you out, re-familiarizing himself with you, and trying his damndest to fluster you.

It only works a little bit.

Disgust paints your features, your lips curling as you squint at the human embodiment of an unchecked ego. But a hand splaying out over Gojo’s ribs prompts him to make room in the doorway for another figure. Next to Gojo stands a man you don’t know, almost as tall, just as broad, all olive skin and dark hair and eyes that seem to swallow you whole. There’s not enough room for two men as tall and broad as Gojo and whoever that is to be comfortable in the doorway, yet they make it work, shoulder to broad, thick, muscular shoulder. You fix your face into the sweet smile you wore previously.

“What’s that?” Gojo asks, nodding to the box tucked in your arms. Your sweet smile momentarily reverts back into a disgusted snarl as your eyes flick back to him.

“Not for you,” You quip. Stepping one pace to the side, you plant yourself directly in front of the stranger and fix your face once more. Gojo feigns offense with a gasp, and the other man’s eyebrows fly high on his forehead, lips pressed into a tight line as he poorly conceals his amusement. You shove the box forward.

“You can have some, though,” You muse, and your new neighbor takes the box with a grin. Sweetly holding your hands behind your back, you introduce yourself and explain that you live directly across the hall, you’re new to the city, and you’re a concept design student at the University of Tokyo. From his peripheral vision, Gojo watches his roommate look you up and down as you talk, and it isn’t lost on him when Geto’s eyes hang onto the most notable parts of you. Eyes, lips, chest, hips, chest, lips, eyes. Gojo stands quietly–for what you assume is the very first time in his life–his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you. If you cared to pay him any mind, you’d catch the glint of… jealousy? Annoyance? Yeah, annoyance. If you cared to pay him any mind, you’d catch the glint of annoyance swimming in his ocean blue eyes.

“Suguru Geto. I’m working on my masters there, actually. Computer science,” Suguru, as you now know, explains, holding the box in one arm to gently shake your hand. The beige hoodie he’s wearing smells amazing. Ambery, peppery, heavy… almost sweet but not quite. His voice is the same, rich and smooth and warm. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Suguru Geto’s eyes are violet. And intense. Your phone buzzes one, two, three times in your pocket. Toji.

“... Anyway.” Gojo breaks his silence and pockets his hands as he leans against the door frame. Your sweet smile remains even though your eyes tell a different story, annoyance clipping your friendly demeanor. In his usual style, Gojo holds your gaze of unabashed dismay with one of unshakable confidence.

“Glad to see you’re still painting. Is that creature you’ve got on your Instagram funding this?” Gojo snickers, and is rewarded with another eye roll.

“Is your daddy funding that?” You retort, tiptoeing and batting your eyelashes as you gesture past the two men crowding the doorway. Geto rubs over his face to wipe away the laughter that’s begging to tumble out of his mouth. “Or did that end when he bought you your degree?”

“Woah, is that… hostility? Are there some lingering feelings you’d like some closure for, sweetheart?”

“No time, babe. You’ve probably got an appointment for your biweekly penicillin shot.”

“You wanna call and ask your little boyfriend if he wants to come with me?”

By the time Gojo finishes that sentence, your phone is ringing in your pocket, and Gojo grins. Annoyance has metamorphosed into daggers in your eyes, glaring at the ever so smug bastard standing so coolly before you with your fists balled at your sides. Turning on your heel, you march across the wide hallway to your door, and before it slams shut behind you Geto calls out one more pleasantry.

“Knock for anything!”

—

Gojo forgets about the little white box full of desserts for an impressive eight hours. It definitely helped that the damn thing was hidden in Geto’s room, even then, the box hadn’t crossed his mind since your door slammed shut behind you. Instead, he was thinking about the swish of your hips, the way your stained shirt nearly fell past your tiny denim shorts, the way you totally checked him out before your feigned disgust set in. Sweets don’t have a perfect ass.

But the sweets were still important. Geto returns from his shower with the box in hand, immediately pulling Gojo from his quickly wandering thoughts.

“She said it’s not for you,” Geto reminds, smug and faux-snide as he chastises. Delicately, he tugs a loose end of the silky pink ribbon until the bow it's knotted in is freed. He tosses the ribbon to land awry on top of white hair, and in a huff Gojo snatches the silky pink length of ribbon off of his head. As if to taunt him, Geto oh-so-cautiously pries open the tabs that once kept the box closed, careful to keep the sweet contents obscured from Gojo’s eyes. “Ooh…” Gasp!

“Suguru, I wanna see— what’s in— the box!”

A flurry of hands lurch forward, push away, reach around, until Geto is using his legs to keep Gojo out of the box’s reach. “Oh, wow…”

“What is it? I wanna see!”

“Really, wow. That’s so cute. Is that—?”

“Suguru!”

“Aw, it’s pink! I think it’s strawberry…”

Another flurry of grappling arms, legs, and hands. Geto’s leaning off the side of the couch now, cackling around a fingerful of frosting. Pink sugar sprinkles litter the corner of his grinning mouth, and Gojo gasps in offense. “You must have really pissed her off, Satoru. I think this frosting is homemade. You’d love it.”

“That’s not fair!” Wriggling to climb the length of Geto’s body, Gojo’s hands almost reach the box before Geto rolls out from under him. The box is unscathed when he lands on the floor with a thud, and he sticks a leg out to keep the pouting Gojo away. They're both huffing from their struggle as Geto takes another smug swipe of frosting. So far defeated, Gojo plops himself back on the couch with crossed arms and watches Geto taunt him with your box of prohibited treats.

After a heavily surveilled mouthful of a homemade strawberry cupcake, topped with buttercream frosting and pink sugar sprinkles, Geto hums in amusement. “So what’d you do? Is she someone from college?”

“Nothing. No.” If Gojo pouts any more than he already is, his face might cramp. You used to make those cupcakes all the time, and over half were always devoured in the span of an afternoon by him alone. Not only that, but Gojo knows there’s more than just your strawberry cupcakes in that box. He can smell chocolate.

Gently setting the cupcake down in the box, Geto moves onto the next little dessert. He breaks a piece off of one of the softest chocolate chip cookies he’s ever had the privilege of eating and pops it into his mouth. Does he have the same sweet tooth as Gojo? Absolutely not, but it’s so fun to watch him throw a tantrum. Plus, it’s all really that good. “You had to have done something. These are amazing. I don’t even like chocolate like that.”

Gojo lets out a whine, dramatically wilting over the side of the couch like an unwatered flower, back curved along the arm rest as his head and arms hang. “She’s theatricizing. I want a cupcake.”

“So you did do something? Is she your ex-girlfriend, Satoru?”

He whines again, louder this time, hyperbolically drawn out and frustrated and ragged. Gojo slides along the armrest until he’s on the floor, flat on his back with his legs propped up over the side of the couch. A man of his stature, sprawled out on luxury, dark wooden floors like a toddler is quite the sight. However, Geto wants the details. He doesn’t laugh.

“If you stop pouting and tell me I’ll give you the box.”

“She was a year below me, we dated in my last year of high school and I broke up with her.” Silence. Geto’s waiting for the rest of the story, shoving another piece of soft cookie in his mouth. Gojo throws his hands up in exasperation, but it does nothing to placate his roommate. He pulls his legs down from their position on the couch, propping himself up on one elbow and letting his head rest limply on his shoulder with a huff.

“I broke up with her a week before her birthday so I could be single for college,” Gojo murmurs, hurried and hushed, leaning over to reach for his reward. His fingertips are just a hair shy. “Gimme the box.”

As he promised, Geto slides him the box. It doesn’t come without a disapproving tsk, though, which Gojo ignores in favor of finishing off the bitten strawberry cupcake. Casually gathering the excess frosting off the side of his mouth with his fingertip and casually sticking it out, Geto casually takes Gojo’s frosted middle finger into his mouth to casually suck it clean. Which could mean nothing. Neither of them linger on the action very long; sharing is like a second nature to them, and that’s all that was.

“I mean,” Gojo starts through a mouthful of cupcake. “I don’t think she’s actually upset. It was such a long time ago. If anything,” Another pause for another bite. “It’s a schtick. I let her down pretty gently, if you ask me.”

All he gets in response to that is a raised eyebrow. If Geto knows anything about the sugar fiend sitting adjacent to him, it’s that he has an extremely skewed view of what it means to let someone down gently. A muffled stream of sounds tears his brain away from the secondhand embarrassment of thinking about a less mature version of Gojo “letting someone down easy.”

Gojo’s not privy to the sass packaged in that single quirked eyebrow, nor the noise, too busy on a spiel about your famous strawberry cupcakes through a mouthful of the second one. “I knew these would be in here. She used to make them, like, every week. Did you know that she uses real strawberries to—“

“Shhh.” In the fleeting, stunned moment of silence his hushing offers, Geto can hear the voices slightly clearer than before. It’s an argument, he can tell that much, but he can’t tell which apartment it’s coming from.

“… Um, anyway. As I was saying, can you tell that she uses real strawberries to—“

“Satoru, shut up,” Geto emphasizes, waving a dismissive hand in Gojo’s direction and heaving himself up off of the floor. Watching incredulously as Geto slowly saunters towards the front door, Gojo’s slack jaw opens and shuts around a silent exclamation of offense. But just when Gojo finds the words to constitute a thorough chastisement, he freezes, stiff as a board on the floor. He hears it.

From the living room, it sounds like weird, warbled, distant mumbling, incoherent sounds traveling through thick doors and thicker walls. It’s impossible to decipher even with ears as keen as his own, and for a moment, he allows himself to relax. Whatever it is isn’t his business, and he’s sure Geto is only curious about the hushed sounds because the two of them are the only ones who make such cacophonous noise in such a quiet place. However, the relief he feels is fleeting. He can now distinguish two things about the muffled racket, the first of which being that it’s coming from across the hall—from your apartment— and the second of which being that it’s a man’s raised, agitated voice.

In an instant, Gojo leaps off of the floor, long legs carrying him in determined strides to the front door until his feet are planted firmly at Geto’s side. With an ear pressed against the door, his violet eyes, usually so composed that they’re unreadable, are held wide open, swimming with uncertainty, discomfort, and concern. For Gojo, who’s already dancing on the edge of entering fight or flight, it’s an alarming sight to see. His shoulders are tense, his eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are worried by sharp teeth, obviously disturbed by something Gojo didn’t quite catch from his place in the living room. From Geto’s perspective, things are not much better. Beside him, Gojo’s reminiscent of a guard dog on high alert, all adrenaline and potential energy and paradoxically controlled instability. He’s got a white knuckle grip on the door handle, his blue eyes flicking back and forth and up and down in a way Geto would describe as erratic if he wasn’t so familiar with him.

Neither of them need to say anything. It’s written in olive, and golden tan, and black, and white, and violet, and cerulean. Gojo stares through the peephole in the door, catching the moment your apartment door swings open.

It’s him. The guy you have littered all over your social media accounts. Not quite as tall as himself or Suguru, but muscular, broad, denotatively handsome in a sharp, steely way. If he didn’t know any better, Gojo might even say that he looks like the dangerous, violent type. That thought doesn’t go away when Gojo watches him lean down, purposefully imposing over your much smaller frame, until he’s eye to eye with you, saying something Gojo can’t make out with either his eyes or his ears but he knows it’s not something good. He hears a mumble, and assumes that’s what prompts the man to scoff and stand up straight again.

“You’re always fuckin’ complaining about something. Fuck’s sake,” He says with a shake of his head, his body language anything but loving or caring or whatever boyfriends are supposed to be. Geto looks down at the floor once your boyfriend’s words to you register in his head, while Gojo looks straight ahead like a laser sight on a sniper rifle, scarily still.

“I’m going home. I’m not staying if you’re going to act like a fucking crazy bitch just because I’m too busy to text you. Some of us have real fuckin’ jobs.” Without a second look at you, the man starts down the hall and disappears into the elevator. It’s cruel. It’s hard to watch.

Your apartment door is left wide open, with you standing pitifully still and shrunken in the doorway, the antithesis of the version of you that gave Gojo’s wit a run for its money just eight hours earlier. Never before has he seen you look so… scared. So stripped. So small. Something about the way that man has left you nothing more than a shivering shell of yourself makes his stomach twist. Gojo watches your bottom lip quiver as you stare at the floor, and the tears that roll freely down your flushed face as you weakly close the door.

Solemn, sobering silence fills the air of their apartment in the aftermath of what they just witnessed. Gojo doubts that, next to him, Geto isn’t also simmering with a nauseating mixture of nasty emotions, but even if neither of them can muster up anything to say in the moment, they both know it’s different. It’s personal for Gojo, it’s visual, it’s visceral, it’s more than something that happened to the sweet new girl across the hall. As if he were on autopilot, Gojo grips the door handle again, waiting for Geto to move out of the way.

“What are you doing, Satoru? I don’t think now is the best time…” Geto whispers, casting an apprehensive gaze to the hand on the doorknob.

“It’s fine,” Gojo whispers back, and although Geto’s unsure of how true that statement is, he steps away from the door. There’s something unfamiliar stirring in his blue eyes. Something bigger than what he’s thinking of.

Shutting the door behind himself, Gojo bridges the gap between his apartment and yours in two slow steps. It feels weird to stand in the same spot as him; it feels weird to stand in the place of someone who spoke to you like that, swearing at you, shouting at you. To Gojo, it almost feels like standing in the wreckage after a disaster, wondering why the earth kept spinning after something so awful.

He can’t get the image of you standing in the doorway out of his head. Gojo sees every version of you he knows flash in and out of that doorway. The version of you that was so happy to wear his hoodie, and the version of you that was so nervous to show him your art for the first time. The version of you that was dressed head to toe in cheesy Christmas pajamas. The version of you that was soaked from the rain at his house. The tiny version of you that was caught in pictures lining every wall of your parent’s house. The version of you that stood in front of his door in shock that he was your neighbor. The versions of you that were all so lively, and witty, and sharp, and strong, all crushed into nothingness by a piece of shit that didn’t care to look back at you as he walked away. A sorry fucking bastard that purposefully towered over you just to scare you, and that yelled at you like you were a kid, and that swore at you, and that called you a fucking bitch.

It isn’t until now that the questions start to roll in. Is he always like that? Is this a common occurrence? Is it worse than what he just witnessed? Does anybody know? Has anybody else witnessed this? Has anybody helped? Has anybody said anything? How long has it been like this? You looked scared, you looked embarrassed, you looked hurt, but you didn’t look surprised. The thought makes his skin burn. Part of him wonders if Geto was right about this not being the best time to bother you, but by the time he finishes that thought he’s already knocking on your door.

You’re just on the other side of the door when he knocks. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, it’s replaced by a type of exhaustion that runs through your veins and seeps into your bones, heavy and achy and sore. You’re tired. You’re embarrassed and ashamed. You want to go to bed.

“It’s me. Open up,” Gojo says through the door, uncharacteristically reserved and gentle. The softness of his voice catches you off guard, juxtaposed against the venomous words spat at you ten minutes before like the merciful coolness of the night after a brutally hot day. Your throat feels tight all over again, choked up from something as simple as someone speaking to you so gently. Tears well up in your burning eyes as you stifle a sob, and you know the sharp inhale can be heard through the hardwood. It’s a nauseatingly sad sound, and Gojo frowns. “Come on.”

It feels impossible to turn the knob, impossible to pull the door open, and impossible to stand once you’re no longer guarded by two and a half inches of mahogany. Right now, standing in front of Gojo feels worse than being naked, like you’re more exposed now than you ever have been when undressed. You want to run away from the vulnerability. You want to slam the door in his face and hide. You don’t want his pity. But you know whatever he’s here to give you is not pity.

“Hey,” He starts, his fidgeting hand rubbing at the back of his neck where his skin meets his undercut. You recognize the action, born from the same fidgeting movement as when you really knew him, when his hair was longer, when he would twirl the hair at the base of his head around his slender finger over and over and over again. It’s not a nervous tic, though. It’s just something to do with his hands. Focusing on that is easier than focusing on the concern in his eyes.

“Hey,” You reply in a whisper, your voice hoarse, warbled from teary eyes and a trachea that feels like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. Shame smothers your weak body like a weighted blanket, but you hang onto what’s left of your pride and force yourself to keep your chin high.

For him, it’s easier to focus on the lock of hair left out of your haphazardly tied ponytail than the way your hand shakes against the doorframe. “I’m not here to fuck with you or anything. Suguru wanted to exchange numbers for…”

If you need them. For when you need them. For when you’re feeling unsafe. For when that sorry fucking bastard scares you again.

For when you want to make sure it’s the last time that piece of shit scares you.

Gojo’s steely blue eyes flick down the hallway, tracing the path to the elevator. You watch his jaw clench.

“… Emergencies.”

Swallowing, thick and dry like your throat is coated in a layer of cotton, you nod. If he caught you at any other time, you’d roll your eyes. You’d make a snide remark and squint up at him. You’d tell him you can handle yourself. But there’s a reason he’s caught you now. Gojo wouldn’t have done this at any other time and you want to throw yourself in a heap on the floor and cry.

Wordlessly, the two of you exchange numbers. It’s nothing more than two new contacts, yet Gojo passes your phone back and it feels two tons heavier in your exhausted, shaking hand. You mutter a “thank you” and step back into your apartment, but Gojo catches the door with his hand and makes sure to meet your weary eyes with his own. For a fleeting moment, it feels like you’re seventeen again. His five words of parting linger in the air around you for the rest of the night.

“Just… don’t be a stranger.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jjk geto #suguru geto #stsg x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #stsg x you #vallification

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 years ago

Note

Congrats on 100!

Could I please have angst 06. “You never even cared about me.” mixed with fluff 05. Person A kissing person B in the rain. - with Jake please!

All I ask for is a happy ending!

Hi, Fe! Thanks for your congratulations! As requested here is your mix of Angst Prompt 6, “You never even cared about me” mixed with Fluff Prompt 5, Person A kissing person B in the rain. I hope you like it! The italicized parts are lyrics from the song Something's Gotta Give by Camila Cabello 🥰😘🤩

Something's Gotta Give

Like all the most cliche stories, it started with an arrangement. You’d joined the Dagger Squadron out of Naval Air Station North Island six months ago. You’d never thought you’d enjoy being in one place for so long, but you do. You’d quickly become close with Halo and Phoenix, the three of you bonding as the sole females in a squadron full of men. The three of you had been decompressing over beers and cocktails at the Hard Deck, avoiding the men while sitting at one of the tables. The conversation had started with sharing stories of how you’d gotten your callsigns. Callie had shared how she’d gotten the monicker Halo, and Natasha had shared how she’d gotten Phoenix. After their cool stories, you’d felt ashamed, sharing that you’d gotten Lily for your Lily print Lanyard and notebook during flight school. That had just been the start of the night. The three of you had each downed a drink, plus a shot of Tequila apiece when Callie pulled you and Natasha forward conspiratorially.

“Okay. So we’ve all been in a couple of relationships, right?” Her voice was hushed and mischievous.

You and Natasha had shared twin excited looks, grinning and then nodding at her.

“What’s your experience been with orgasms, then?” She’d pulled the two of you forward closer, “Cause I didn’t actually cum unless it was with a woman. The men who I’ve dated couldn’t have found my clit if it had been pointed out to them.” You couldn’t help how you giggled as Natasha shared her experience. Your face had been flushed with laughter and the alcohol you’d consumed when they’d turned their gazes to you.

You’d stuttered out how you’d never cum at all with a man, or in fact, by yourself, not expecting a heavy arm to wrap around your shoulders or a Texan drawl to purr in your ear, “Well, darlin’, if you ever need a man to help you with that, look my way.”

Nat and Callie’s eyes had gleamed dangerously, and by the end of the night, you’d found yourself a very willing participant in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Jake Hangman Seresin.

His cocky confidence hadn’t been a sham or show. He knew what he was doing, and once you knew what you’d been missing, you’d chased after your orgasms as single-mindedly as you approached flying. Your downfall was your damned bleeding heart. You don’t know when or how, but you’d fallen in love with Jake. You'd found him to be sweet, kind, and generous. When he wasn’t playing the part of ‘The Hangman’, he was incredibly easy to befriend and even easier to adore. You wanted nothing more than to have him in your bed all night instead of seeing him get dressed after you’d cum together. It had gotten to be too much. How could you take it anymore?

That decision is what brings you to now as you wait outside his apartment door on a rainy November night. You’ve been agonizing over what to say to him, though you guess you know what to say when the door opens, and a blonde model wannabe strides out. It’s like a scene out of the movies, you, in your frumpy jeans and t-shirt, looking at this girl in her sparkly dress and heels walking out the door as Jake stands in the doorway wearing only gray sweatpants.

“Hey.” Your voice is quiet as the girl walks away.

“What’re you doing here, Lily Flower?” Your eye roll is harsh as you step into his space. He stinks of overly sweet perfume, the scent making you feel even sicker than you already are.

“We need to talk.” You can see something new in his eyes before he steps aside to let you into the apartment.

You can see the emotions warring in his eyes as you sit on the edge of his sofa. He’s pacing in front of you, running his hands through his already disheveled hair. “You’re here, Lily Flower. So talk to me.”

“Jake. We need to stop this.” Your voice rings out like the crack of a whip in the silent apartment. He stops moving entirely, his hands falling to his side as he looks at you wide-eyed in the dim lamplight.

“Stop it?” You’re not expecting to hear the anguish in his tone. “Why?”

“I can’t keep doing this. I broke the first rule of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. I fell for you. Hard. And by the looks of the blonde that just walked out of here, it’s obvious that you don’t feel the same. Something's gotta give, Jake. Something's gotta break. But all I do is give, and all you do is take. Something's gotta change, but I know that it won't. No reason to stay is a good reason to go.” You can’t hide how your voice breaks in time with your heart as you spit the words out.

“I should have never agreed to this. You make me feel so good that I forget everything my brain is screaming at me about you. I ignore all the warning signs, and it’s ripping me apart.” You can’t hear anything other than the hitches in your own breathing as you stare into his luminescent green eyes. “You never even cared about me. I was just a means to an end. A way to get off and another notch on your bedpost.” You’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself as you breathe raggedly.

“You knew what you were getting into, you know that, right, darlin’?” His voice is cruel as he rips into you. “I should know by now. You should know by now. We should know by now. You walked into this of your own volition. So how is it on me if you fell in love? Did I ever once tell you that I would stop seeing other people?”

“No.” Your voice is quiet. “Then what was the point of the kisses and soft touches? The pet names? Calling me your good girl? Any of that?” Your chest burns as you speak. “I’m not completely innocent, Jake. And I’ve never heard of any of that being a part of an arrangement like ours.” You’re standing now, walking towards the door.

“So that’s it, huh? I was wrong, you were too. You’re leaving now. We’re done? Three months of the happiest I’ve ever been, and you’re ending it?” Your legs buckle at the pain in his voice as you yank the door open. Your voice is stripped bare as you return his words. “If these three months were the happiest you’ve ever been, why haven’t you said anything? Why aren’t you asking me to stay? If you feel anything at all for me, why aren’t you doing anything? Why aren’t I in your arms right now?” You wait a few beats, but you walk out the door when he doesn’t move and just stands there.

It’s never been harder to walk away. As you step unseeingly through the puddles and unlock your car, it's pouring down. You break, sitting in the leather seat, sobbing with your head against the steering wheel. It’s silent in the car, only your stifled gut-wrenching sobs and the tapping of the raindrops on the windshield. You’re not expecting the door to be yanked open, though. Or to find yourself crushed against a chest, you know too well. His arms are like steel as they wrap around you. You melt into him, crying even harder now that you can feel Jake around you. His lips press against the top of your head, and you can hear his breath stutter as he holds you.

“I’m not letting you go, Lily Flower. You’re under my skin, too, sweetheart. I want you in my arms and in my bed. Every day and every night. You’re not the only person who fell, darlin’ and fell hard. I did too. I was just too stubborn to tell you the truth. I resorted to bringing home girls like the one you saw leave to try to get you out of my head. It didn’t work. It hasn’t worked. I don’t think it ever will.” His hands are gentle as he pulls away from you, brushing tears from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You slip out of the car seat, shut the door, and stand in the pouring rain facing him.

“So, where do we go from here?” Your voice is hoarse as you look into his eyes.

“I want to do what I should have before this. Let me take you out? Let me show you how precious you are? Let me show you how much I love you?” His jaw is clenched as he stares at you, water dripping down his torso.

You nod once, abortively, before leaping into his arms. The kiss he presses to your lips is all-consuming. It sends heat through your veins, and you kiss him back just as hard. When you part, you’re fighting for breath. Jake sets you carefully back down on your feet, watching in the rain as you open the door again and grab your purse as well as your car keys. His smile is sweet as you lock the car and take his hand in yours.

“Take me to bed, Cowboy.” You’re smiling at the look on his face. “I love you.”

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

#star writes #100 follower celebration #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fluff #top gun angst #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fluff #hangman angst

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axcel-lucci · 2 years ago

Text

R.I.N.G

PT. 2 from here (clickable)

Trafalgar law x reader

"Is everything going according to plan?" Law asked Bepo as he nodded excitedly

"We'll leave you tonight, captain!" Bepo gave him a thumbs up with a cute wink making law chuckle

"I hope nothing goes wrong..." He sighed and he placed a hand on his pocket to feel the velvety texture of a small box.

"Don't worry captain! We will keep an eye on the sub"

Law scoffed with a faint blush dusting his cheeks, "that's not what I meant... Idiot... I just hope I don't stutter out my words..."

"Calm down captain!" Bepo huffed with a cute face, "it's just (y/n)-chan! She'd definitely say yes!"

"Worst case scenario is she'd say no..."

"Don't dwell on that captain" Bepo pouted, "you should be preparing! Go. Go back to your room and prep yourself!"

"Don't order me around" law rolled his eyes but complied anyway.

Timeskip later that evening ....

The crew left to give them some space just in case they want to... DO the thing and might be embarrassing if the whole crew knows....

Law breathed in sharply before exhaling a small sigh, "(y/n)-ya? Are you ready...?" He knocked as he fixed his tie.

He wore a white dress shirt, tucked it into some black slacks and a red tie.

"Almost done... Just a minute" she called.

Despite the room technically theirs, law still wanted to give her some privacy while he goes over the words and gathering the courage to say those lines.

"I'm done!" She cheerfully exclaimed snapping law out of his own daydreaming

She opened the door to show him the dress she chose to wear

It was a red sleeveless dress that clearly hugged her upper body but had a free flow at the bottom as the skirt stopped above her knees. A black jacket draped over her shoulders and he recognized it to be that jacket he bought her.

He smiled softly at the outfit only to feel his jaw open agape at her entirely.

Her hair was fixed into what he'd call "10000/10" hairstyle and her eyes were sparkly as ever, her lips looked juicy and plush with a soft fade of pink.

"Law? What's wrong, dear?" She asked as law snapped back to reality and swallowed

"I... Uh... Uhm-" he swallowed again, he was internally cursing himself for stammering over his own words.

(Y/n) softly laughed and reached out a hand to grab his tatted ones, "calm down... You're stammering again..." She smiled and caressed his hand sweetly

He breathes in and out before smiling at her, "my apologies... You looked like a goddess on earth... I couldn't help myself"

She giggled and leaned in to kiss his cheek, "apology accepted"

Law swore he could feel his energy levels immediately spike before leading her to the gallery which was now a pretty dating place.

The chairs and tables were on the sides of the room with only a table covered in clothe and two chairs facing each other in the middle.

It was dimly lit by the moon and various candles, too.

"Let me help you sir" he offered, pulling out a chair for her and pushing it in when she sat down,

"Thank you" she hummed as he chuckled

(After the sweet date)

"The food is delicious...! I love it honey...!" She praised making law blush bright red.

He, indeed, was the one who cooked all the food they just ate. He was glad it wasn't mediocre and followed the instructions on the recipe book very closely.

"Thank you..." He muttered making her hum and hold his hand

He looked at her as she softly smiled, "I love this side of you... So caring and honest..."

If bright red could be brighter, that would be the shade Law's face is in.

She just laughed heavenly before he calmed down and swallowed thickly

"(Y/n)..." He muttered as she hummed and looked at him

His grip on her hand was slowly tightening before releasing a heavy sigh

"Remember the first day we met?" He smiled sheepishly

"Mhmm... How could I forget? I saved your ass"

"Yeah... And I'm glad you did...! Then I wouldn't have met you" he grinned softly, "ever since that day... I couldn't stop thinking about you, missing you.... It's like I couldn't bare the thought of letting you go. So...."

"You kidnapped me" she rolled her eyes, "it's alright though... I needed to get away from that island anyway"

"I'm sorry about that though..."

"It's alright"

"Where was I...?" He pondered before smiling, "oh that's right" standing up, he walked around the table as (y/n) watched him intently before he held both her hands and pulled her up to her feet as she gladly did so; "and from the day I confessed to now... Roughly two and a half..." He hummed, "you are the best thing that ever happened to me and the best decision I have ever made... You made me the happiest and the luckiest man in the world..."

Stepping away for a bit to kneel down on one knee, (y/n) just watched with slow realization as he pulled out the velvety box

"(Y/n)... Will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?" He asked as he watched (y/n) bring her hands to her face, her eyes fill up with water and she desperately tried not to let them fall and ruin her makeup but it did anyways.

If words can describe how you feel right now, the whole dictionary wouldn't be enough.

"Yes... Yes!" She gasped as soon as she can take hold of her own emotions

Law basically jumped up and rushed to place the ring on her finger as it shined in the blue light.

"It looks beautiful on you..." He smiled sweetly, "I'm glad you accepted"

"Why wouldn't I? I love you so much... Law" she answered while wiping away her tears and thankfully not ringing her make up THAT much. She still looked presentable.

"I love you too..." He sighs out and leaned in to kiss her in which she eagerly reciprocated as she threw her arms around his neck while his were wrapped around her waist.

One hand trailing up her back and behind her head pulling her deeper into the kiss.

Pulling away due to loss of breath, law placed his head on her shoulder

As soon as they regained their breaths, they stared at each other's eyes lovingly before slowly swaying unnoticeably.

Softly dancing to the beats of their now conjoined hearts, law could see his future in her eyes.

The wedding, the honeymoon, the children... Hell, even possibly the type of house they'd live in.

How he'd make Bepo the right hand man, a priest announcing their hearts being one to another... But he thinks the strawhat would be the ring bearer.

"I thought you'd never ask, baby" she smiled happily as he chuckled and kissed her again

"I'm sorry it took so long, I swear I was supposed to ask you last month but I kind of chickened out..." He chuckled to himself

"It's alright... The important thing is that... Everything is perfect." She smiled brightly

"Just like you..." He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear making her giggle

"How about we seal the deal, hmm?" He grinned with eyes shining with lust, "I may or may not have prepared a specific room for the both of us just for tonight" he playfully winked making her blush

"Oh you..."

This time it was his turn to giggle.

"God, I love you so much"

"I love you more, Trafalgar (y/n)..."

#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #random #law x y/n #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d water law #op

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spaces0ngs · 2 years ago

Note

Curious, confused, head tilts unbidden in his wonder of the other's sudden appearance from the other side of the room. There is a phantom brush of fingers to the warmth of velvet flesh against the back of his neck just before the collar is folded and tucked against it. Clarity. Ah, that's what's drawn the other out of their little nook behind the bar. The dancers lips curled into a grin, wrinkling the corners of his hues sharp. Digits follow the seam started at the back of his neck until tips smoothed lapels to the arch of collarbones. Perhaps, lingering just a bit. Or is it his imagination?

Orbs flickered to regard him over his shoulder briefly; then, back to the mirror up above the bar, but the stare down doesn't last very long this time. Deimos set his glass down so that he could turn around in the tight space between the dancer and the bar at his back. Pressing hips flush to the very edge of the surface, he put his full weight on the sturdy wooden surface with the right hand for stability. Obsidian black strands fell like a cascade when released by the left hand, singular side swept back behind the curve of an ear. He released a small, breathy laugh to the air, throwing his head back, baring more of the pale and unblemished skin of his throat as he did so.

❛ why thank you , darlin'. That all that brought you over here ? ❜ he's far too sweet asking them this innocent little question, wide-eyed and batting lashes far enough to brush the tops of his cheeks. He paused in his laughter to lower his head back down, setting pearl hues to glint in the low light. Brow rose minutely under the heavy set of his brow at this angle, turning grin lopsided, mischievous. Gaze watched the other through the thick spray of said lashes. ❛ the ha'ness too tight to get the rest of the buttons by meh'self, ❜ purred out softly. He moved to stand at his full height as a means to draw attention to the way his shirt falls open enough in the small space between the bottom of the harness and the top of his pants. The stress on the only button at the very bottom was titanic, straining against the tension being held open too far under the vice of the harness is very apparent when he stands this way.

He makes a show of himself guiding fingers from the sides of his throat, down the center of his mass to the apex of the split in his shirt; a trail of nails catching skin, tickling it to raised goosebumps, leaving flushed flesh in its wake. A flush that rose high enough to lick at the swell of once touched collarbone. ❛ you help me with this, too ? Since you so helpful. ❜

THEY ALWAYS TRY TO BE GENTLE, TO KEEP THEIR MOVEMENTS SLOW. they don't want to come off like the customers, annoying and touchy, nor like an overbearing owner ( although they are the child of the people who own this place ). they just want to be friendly and, yes, helpful, so that they can foster friendships. there is nothing worse than a bad environment in a saloon, with the dancers after each other. iris also knows that if they weren't like this, they'd be left alone. a spoilt child, they don't want to seem like they get more than the other employees, or special treatment from the owners. they use their position, flexible shifts and attitude to instead help out when they can, rather than slacking off.

it is why they approach deimos to help with the fancy getup, crossing the floor easily on their high heels. whereas deimos cuts a striking, contrasting figure, iris always does better selling the girl next door act. in their sparkly corset and cowboy boots, hat with fringes tipped up to expose their face. their hair is blonde and wavy, spilling over shoulders, altogether an opposite to the other. IN TRUTH, girl next door isn't much on an act. well, boy next door, cowboy next door. they are sometimes a touch too bubbly and loud.

A SOFT LAUGH SPILLS PAST PARTED LIPS, faint blush spreading over freckled cheeks. ❛ i just wanted to make sure you are comfortable, ❜ they say, earnestly. ❛ of course i'll help. here, ❜ their hands aren't clumsy, however, practiced, and quickly unbutton the last of the shirt, before head is tilted in question. ❛ anything else ? ❜

#hedevil-ism #oh i love them so.#iris is so baby in this... pls be gentle deimos <3

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astrophysicist-guitar-god · 3 years ago

Photo

brianmayforreal

Merry Christmas !!!

And also especially to you lovely folks in ARGENTINA, AUSTRALIA, KOREA, POLAND, IRELAND, WALES, SCOTLAND, ESTONIA, HOLLAND, BRAZIL, CUBA, GUATEMALA, NORWAY, DENMARK, SWEDEN, ECUADOR, BULGARIA, RUSSIA, LATVIA, UKRAINE, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, CHINA, SWITZERLAND, INDIA, PAKISTAN, ISRAEL, IRAN, IRAQ, PALESTINE, SYRIA, LIBYA, BELGIUM, AUSTRIA, ITALY, SPAIN, PORTUGAL, ARMENIA, GREECE, SOUTH AFRICA, TURKEY, TANZANIA, ZANZIBAR, NEW ZEALAND, VENEZUELA, COLOMBIA, CHILE, PERU, CZECH REPUBLIC, ROMANIA, UAE, MALAYSIA, THAILAND, PHILIPPINES, CANADA, JAPAN, FRANCE, GERMANY, MEXICO, HUNGARY, LUXEMBOURG … and ENGLAND !!! …. because I know we have devoted fans in all these countries. And apologies to anyone I have left out. PEACE. Bri (💥💥💥💥 still trying to figure out why my Guinness clock post (about 8 posts ago) got to nearly a million views … ! But thanks !! )

(x)

#Brian May #my guitar god love #what a sweetheart <3 #tumble.com wouldn't let me embed the video .. so go to Brian's insta to hear him saying Merry Christmas in several languages #I continue to love him a lot #his sparkly space shirt and that sweet face #12.25.21

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r0binarellan0 · 2 years ago

Text

{ LOVESICK }💋

Finney Blake x Reader

Finney Blake never really noticed any girls before, he only ever started liking Donna because she was the only girl who was actually nice to him. Well one day, that changed, you had just moved from Michigan because your dad got a promotion from his job.

You were new and all alone, no friends, no other family, just you and dad, forever and always. When you arrived at school, you were really nervous, everyone knew each other because they had been together since pre-k. You arrived to your 1st period class, nothing special, Science, you walked in and everybody’s eyes went on you. A shiver ran down your spine as the teacher introduced you to everyone, you felt unwelcome, the girls started giggling, and the boys looked at each other funny as to make fun of your presence.

All but one boy, he was quiet, and you could tell he didn’t have many friends, you even thought you saw him turn red when looking at you up front, which didn’t bother you. He had curly brown hair that framed his face, and he wore a denim jacket with a striped shirt underneath, you also noticed him fidgeting with a little toy spaceship in his hand.

You sat next to him and took a notebook out. You saw him look over at the drawings you had made in previous days, they were of planets and stars, which fascinated you. He looked in aw at your book, cautious of what to say.

“I like your drawings” He said with hesitation.

“Thank you, i love space” you told him

“Really? me too! i love looking at the stars from my sisters telescope” he said excitedly

You found his passion sweet, you always wanted to find someone else who liked the same things as you.

“Hey, i was wondering, do you think you could show me around school, i don’t know where my next few classes are, and i could use some help” you were desperate for some help, but didn’t know who else to ask.

“Yeah, sure, i don’t really like my next class that much anyway” he said with a slight smile.

you waited until the bell rang, anxious about him walking you to your next class.

[TIME SKIP TO AFTER SCHOOL]

you walked home still thinking about Finney, he was kinda cute if you’re being honest with yourself. You found it cute that he liked space more than you, you could imagine his room, covered in glow in the dark stars, and space decals that covered his walls. You liked that someone else was as weird as you.

Later in the day you got a phone call, you didn’t know who would’ve gotten your number but you answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Finney, from 1st period”

“Oh hey! What’s up?”

“Well i was wondering if you wanted to come over later and look through my sisters telescope with me when it got dark, i heard there’s gonna be a meteor shower tonight and i want you to come, are you free?”

“Oh yeah, i’m free, let me ask my dad, one minute”

you yelled across the house to your dad, “DAD!! can i go to my new friends house tonight, there’s gonna be a meteor shower!!” he responded fairly quickly, “yeah that’s fine honey, just be back at 10!” you were pleased at his answer, you pulled back to the phone.

“He said i could go, what time do you want me to show up?”

“maybe 6 or 7? My dad will be inside for most of it, he doesn’t really like visitors.”

“Oh okay, that’s fine, what should i wear?”

“Doesn’t really matter, whatever you wear will be fine”

“Ok! See you later! Bye!!”

You hung up before he could say anything else.

[TIME SKIP TO YOU GETTING READY]

You decided to wear a brown sweater and some worn out jeans your mom gave you a long time ago, you put your hair in two braids and put mascara on, you also put on some of your favorite strawberry lip gloss, it was pink and sparkly, and it tasted so good.

you got his address and walked over there, you knocked on the front door, and a man with dark brown hair and a full beard answered it, he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

“Hi, I’m looking for Finney, are you his father?”

“I am, and who might you be?”

“I’m Y/n, i’m Finney’s classmate, he asked me to come over to watch a meteor shower”

“Did he? that’s nice, we’ll come on in, have a seat, i’ll call him for you.. Finney! You have someone here for you!”

“Coming!!” He called from down the hall, he came running down to see you on the couch playing with your hands.

“wow Y/n, you look… really pretty”

“Really? Thank you!” you could feel your cheeks and ears heating up, it felt nice to be complimented, especially from someone you wouldn’t mind liking you.

“come on, I already set the telescope up outside”

You got up and walked outside to the sun already setting, you saw a blanket had been laid on the grass in his backyard. You saw a girl come out of the back door, she had long dark brown hair that was put into two pigtails, she was wearing a rainbow striped shirt and worn jeans with grass stains on the knees.

“Finney! I told you, stop using my telescope without my permission!”

“I know Gwen, but we have a guest, and i wanted to show them the meteor shower that’s happening tonight, so can i please use it, just for tonight?” He said with a slight pout and a hand to hand grab.

“Fine. But only for tonight.” She said sternly. She walked back inside the house and left you together, alone.

When the time came, it was already 8:30 pm, the meteor shower was about to begin, you and Finney had been laying on the blanket that had been set up outside and talking about you and your past. You felt as if he understood you, and didn’t try to judge you based off of your looks like others did.

You found him looking at you while you talked, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he was admiring your features as you talked about the stupidest things, and you noticed.

You turned to face him and could see his face turn bright red, you knew, he liked you. He turned away quickly and laid on his back to distract himself from you. You scooted closer to him and laid your head on his chest, not knowing how he would respond. You could feel his body stiffen up. To your surprise, he pulled you in a little closer, which made you giggle into him. He defensively asked,

“Why are you laughing? Did I do something wrong? Did i make you uncomforta-”

Before he could spit out the last word of his worry, you pushed your lips against his and shut him up, before he could ruin the moment you both were having. When you pulled away, he was red and flustered, he didn’t know how to react, he liked it, but couldn’t handle it, he covered his face and hid from you. How cute.

You hugged him and laid back down with him to watch the meteor shower start to begin, you knew this would linger in his mind for days, weeks, months even, you knew he was in love with you, i guess you could say he was lovesick.

(Sorry this story was so long, i wanted to give a good story since i haven’t posted in months, if you like this one, give feed back, i would love to hear how i can get better, bye!!)

#finney blake #finney blake x reader #tbp finney #the black phone #love story #teenage love #fantasy

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samubytheocean · 5 months ago

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like what you see?

Summer loving had me a blast- ripped boys, hot air, sparkly drinks and throwback music?- oh those summer nights!

College party au, fluff, originally had seven parts but got too long so might become a series if y’all like this one? lmk

You swear you’ve checked your reflection at least twenty times before heading out. Ten times you’ve fixed your makeup with your phone. Five times standing awkwardly glancing at the tinted windows of the car parked just outside across the street. Made sure that your top was spread out perfectly, snug and a little naughty, but perfect for a hot night like this. Your hair set across your shoulders. So why, does your gloss feel a little smudged already? Why, does do you already feel sweaty? And why, God why is he standing just right at the door?

The sweat rolls through the back of your flimsy top, and you already feel drunk. The air smells like beer. Sweet, humid, chill with an aftertaste of bad choices. And if you squint through the electric guitar bumming through the walls, there he is, right there, a cup in his hand, leaning on the doorframe, talking to his buddy. The humble t shirt he has on does not look humble, with his pecs almost bulging out under a thin layer of sweat. He stumbles laughing at something stoic his friend says, and you can see his body contort through the shirt. There’s no way you’re not blushing now. Stupid volleyball boys and their abs. Fuck it, he invited you here. There’s no reason to back up now.

He sees you, and his warm smile widens to acknowledge that you’re here. You smile a nervous hello. Walking up the stairs, you feel naked. You’re sure you’re drenched in sweat now. Fuck. The rock is drumming through your veins. Or is it just your own beat? Whatever he was drinking, you needed to chug it down. No, like three of it. He’s still talking to his friend, listening intently and nodding, but his eyes are glued on you. You confidently put up an act, stopping right in front, maybe a few steps away from the boys. (You don’t catch him wiping his palms on his pants)

“Last but never least, huh?” His friend nods a friendly hello to you, which you respond by an absentminded small wave as he leaves indoors, leaving you the only ones out. The house is buzzing with laughter, and it feels so strange, being around so many people, but at the same time now only with him. There’s just a wall, between you two and several dozen people. You feel like you’re on a watch, but you’re not sure if it’s them or the boy in front of you, leaning down slightly. He smells like mint, the kind you pick off in your iced tea at a local cafe. Cool, but yeah. So sweet.

“Hey.” He hushes, a surprisingly gentle tone contrasted with his usual demeanor, the drink in his hand, the bass now ringing through you, or pretty much anything about the situation. You repeat the words. Looking up at him. There’s still this awkward space between, slightly too far away for a hug. You hope he can’t see the anticipation whispering all around. He raises his arm, and slowly runs his hands through his hair. You can’t help but follow the movement through with your eyes.

The rock music rises, and everything seems in slow motion. The drum, you’re sure it’s your heartbeats now, fills the damp air. His arms contract as his fingers comb his fluffy hair, and yeah, you’re staring now. How could you not? The faint vein shifting as he lets out a shaky breath, you can almost feel the ends of it on your face. It seems to sober you up a little. He notices your gaze, and his cheeks curl in the most charming tease. His arm stays up, as he slowly grabs the doorframe, his fit upper body fully tightened, his shirt basically screaming for help, all while maintaining eye contact. Smooth fucker.

“Like what you see?” He blurts bluntly, the alcohol now rushing through him. He knows how he is built, but he’s not that proud to admit it himself. He’s being satire. He hopes you know that. There’s like a hundred thoughts on his mind, a million wanting to be heard, and his pulse might just tear through his body. He also hopes you know that. He asked you here, so he knows he should get the conversation going, but you look just so pretty right now. He wants you to like him. Trying to get a pretty girl’s attention was more difficult than he thought this would be.

“There��s someone trying to get through.” You suppress a small laugh as you walk closer, the sudden situation rushing your body with dumb confidence. You put your hands on his broad chest, pushing him slightly backwards. You’re met with no resistance, as he looks down to meet you with wide eyes, clutching at his now all melt cup. He follows your fingertips backwards, the alcohol, heat and the music all dizzying him up, and your simple touch is the only thing he can focus on right now. Apart from your pretty face. Wherever you’re pushing him backwards into, he’s willing. Fuck, he’ll skip backwards there if that’s what you ask him to do.

You look up at him, his back now against the hallway wall. He doesn’t even notice the people slightly grinning at him as they get out. You smell so good. Coconuts? Raspberry? Whatever it was, he could drown in it. Gladly. Your eyelashes fluttering, your small hands still on his chest, the small surface of touch sending electricity straight to his heart. He gulps, awkwardly forming a smile, trying to think of something, anything to say. Fuck, the only time he tries to use a line on you, just be his luck he fails miserably. He has to say something now. Maybe something dumb? Something nonchalant but sweet? His face is blushing furiously now. He can feel the back of his shirt sticking to him. You’re just too pretty. And too close. He feels like passing out.

And he almost does, right there and then, when you nervously look up flashing the sweetest smile and say-

“So back to what you asked me,”

The sound of people singing along the music subsides to nothing as you lock eyes,

“Guess I did, but it feels even better.”

HINATA, BOKUTO, IWAIZUMI (okay a little bit more stoic in front of oikawa but hear me out), SUGAWARA, DAICHI, GOSHIKI

YUUJI (my frat boy yuuji agenda is strong), INO

JEAN, REINER, and fuck imagine ERWIN in his early twenties

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chemicalpink · 3 years ago

Text

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Words: 4.7k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff if you squint really hard, childhood friends to lovers AU

Warnings: unprotected sex, bathroom sex, infidelity, JK is a heartthrob that is bad at feelings, YN realises she’s been in love with JK all along.

A/N: this is me trying to write longer fics, I liked how this one came out yayyy. This goes out to the @thebtswritersclub monthly prompt _____ to lovers, in this case it’s childhood friends to lovers. I just- I really liked how it came out, I’m so excited to know what you guys think of it.

Summary: Falling in love is such a curious thing in life, Jungkook would know best, after pinning over you for years on end, only to have his best friend take away his opportunity, or does he?

The sun was shining brightly over the park as you made your way down the slide, hot skin scorching at the contact with the yellow plastic, although you couldn’t bring yourself to care as much as your mother would, meeting Sungho at the end of it, who was covering his eyes as best as his arms would allow him to do, summer was almost coming to an end and you two had decided to spend every single second of it together, much to both of your mothers’ dismay who had long decided to take turns to tire both of you out by the neighbourhood park, nothing too exciting, if it weren’t for your young imaginative minds combined, which turned you into the closest a six year old could get to being a menace.

As you smiled brightly at your friend, you couldn’t help but turn your head towards an almost inaudible whimper coming from the shaded side of the park, finding a kid around your age plopped down by the tree, desperately drying his eyes with the back of his hand, small sobs coming out of his lips as three other kids, which you knew to be a little older than you and quite disrespectful at that, kept laughing at the boy, so really, what else were you supposed to do if not come in to save the day. “Come on Y/N they’ll make fun of us too” Sungho said as he tried to tug you away, only to have you stand your ground firmly

“If they make fun of me, I won’t cry” you crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest

“Y/N let’s just go”

“You go, Sungho” Sungho was always the type of kid that your mother kept reminding you to be more like, always righteous, never picking fights like you were known to do, but you really couldn’t stand watching the mysterious kid crying by himself while no one else did anything in the slightest. So you stood between him and the three kids that were still making fun of him, head high, fists up by your sides in a superhero pose “You shouldn’t make fun of others”

“Why don’t we make fun of both of you then, Y/N?”

“At least I can put my shirt shirt when I’m dressing myself, Areum” the girl looked down for half a second before staring you down, full of rage before huffing and turning around in true mean girl fashion.

You turn back to find a pair of bambi eyes staring at you, sobs silenced, although his chest still showed him trying to fully catch his breath. You extend your hand for him to take it so that he could stand up “I’m Y/N what’s your name?”

“I’m Jungkook” you were quick to grab his arm and pull him to where Sungho had watched the whole scene with Areum, now staring at the way you dragged the slightly shorter boy towards him

“Well Jungkook, this is Sungho and I just decided that all of us three are going to be best friends forever” the small boy smiled at that, bunny teeth showing in the process, eyes sparkly with wonder and pure appreciation, contrasting the look on Sungho’s face.

“Y/N I think you need to have girl friends to have these sleepovers with, Jungkook and I are boys” Sungho says as soon as you pass him the mirror and he is left staring at his reflection with a ton of glitter eyeshadow on his face, you turn to look at Jungkook, who is currently sprawled out playing with his nintendo, a set of pigtails adoring his head along with the hottest pink lipstick you could find

“I don’t mind it” he stuffed his mouth with chips as he continued to play on his console, not sparing any of you a look, although you smiled at him fondly, grateful to have him play along whenever Sungho didn’t feel like it, which seemed to be more and more as all of you grew older.

“Well I’m going to take this off” he said as he ran into the bathroom to wash his face. Good luck trying to get rid of glitter.

You huffed out a sigh at how boring it was getting if Sungho didn’t like to play your games, along with Jungkook being stuck inside his own little world. “This is so boriiiing”

“It was your idea Y/N”

“Yeah but you guys are no fun”

Jungkook pauses his game to turn to look at you “We can watch a movie if you’d like”

If someone were to tell 6 year old you that twelve years later, the kid that used to make fun of you would turn into your best friend, you would have probably laughed in their face, although as years went by, Areum had finally gotten better in terms of personality, up to the point where she had a full on talk with you before you decided to give it a try, even more so as she now took it as her job to protect you in high school, seeing as she was a year older than you.

“Jungkook has changed” the brunette said while taking a seat next to you inside the cozy smoothie shop, crumpling up her receipt inside her bag distractedly as you just stared at her, not knowing what had prompted her to talk about your best friend, Jungkook wasn’t exactly what one would consider popular, especially amongst the higher grades, especially not given the bickering grudge he held against Areum after all those years.

“What do you mean?”

“Just- seems like before summer he was this scrawny little thing, deer eyes, soft smiles” you looked at her intently, Jungkook had gone on vacation with his family for weeks as soon as finals were over, leaving with the promise of hanging out for the few days before school started again, similar to how you were now hanging out with Areum, her having arrived back a few hours before Jungkook “Now- well”

There were a million thoughts running inside your mind, some seemingly more plausible than others, tow hich yopu found yourself asking “Areum, did you fuck Jungkook?”

“I mean- we were both staying at the same hotel Y/N” Areum sipped on heir smoothie as a way to act coy about it, wide eyes turned the other way at the prospect of having said out loud that her latest conquest was none other than little Jungkook, the guy she had always made fun of for one or another reason

“Oh god you slept with Jungkookie” and you really tried to picture her, accepted into college, beautiful Areum, long lean legs, model faced Areum, flirt queen that always seemed to go for older guys Areum, paired up with sweet Jungkookie, sure, your best friend was cute, handsome even, there was no denying it, he was just not- Areum level handsome, Areum liked going out to party, let men shower her in drinks while Jungkook absolutely loved staying home battling Sungho in the newest video game that was around “I-I have no words”

“Y/N- Y/N don’t judge until you’ve tapped it” your friend seemed to space out for a second, as if looking back at her time with Jungkook, dreamily. “The guy got buff”

And sure he did, not only did Jungkook was now full of muscle, he also apparently had renewed his wardrobe, bought a motorcycle and apparently had even grown a few centimeters taller, or at least that much was said by Sungho as you three met up for lunch the day before classes started again, trying to catch up as you did every year when the three of you didn’t get a chance to hang out much.

“So are we getting that newly released game Kook?” Sungho mentioned in what appeared to be the background, your eyes completely fixated on whomever the man sitting in front of you was, definitely not your best friend Jungkook.

“Nah dude, I sold all my consoles and games to buy my bike” your eyes widened at the confession, probably mirroring the uttermost shocked look that Sunho was also sporting. Jeon Jungkook selling his videogames was definitely a sign of the apocalypse. You were about to make a comment before you heard a very familiar voice behind you, making you turn your head towards it.

“Jungkookie, you wanted me to come over?” her eyes had that sparkle in them which you have come to recognise as her being infatuated by someone, even if she didn’t really talked about it openly, you turned towards Jungkook in disbelief

“Yeah, Areum, lose my number”

You consciously close your mouth at the exchange as Areum backed away from the table muttering an ‘oh..okay’ as Jungkook smiled daily at her, your eyes lock in surprise with Sungho’s, both of you silently agreeing that this Jungkook was certainly a new side neither of you could yet guess whether or not you would continue to be able to befriend, although the history between the three of you spoke volumes.

And just like that, enough to get whiplash from it, Jungkook’s lazy uninterested eyes were replaced by the squinty smile you had learned to adore over the years, bunny teeth showing as his laugh resonated in the restaurant “Oh god you guys should have seen your faces!”

Your eyes travelled along the expanse of the space you three were in, looking at Sungho for a clue to pick up about what was happening, coming up empty handed as he spoke first “Dude I almost had a heart attack, I thought you had sold your games!”

“Oh no that I did” Jungkook took a sip out of his drink calmly

You tried not to show how nothing made sense in your mind “And that thing with...Areum?”

He placed his cup down, looking at you with wide eyes humming softly “Yeah that was a thing too, she’s been texting me non stop after we hooked up. I’m just glad I’m back with you guys”

So Jungkook had changed, that much was true, just not as much as he let people believe. Sure enough, the guy was now pure muscle, rode a bike everywhere, and made it his lifeplan to conquer as many girls as his schedule allowed him too; he also made a few other friends outside of your friends' circle, enough for rumours to go around about him being involved in shady business, or him hooking up with somebody’s mum. Either way, if you were to turn a blind eye to his social persona, Jungkook was still your and Sungho’s little Jungkookie, bambi wide eyes that teared up whenever it was movie night and you picked some chick flick, bunny teeth and loud giggles as he played a prank on Sungho, even though you could tell his heart just wasn’t in it as it was before.

“I’m gonna ask Y/N out” Sungho has asked Jungkook to meet him outside of campus on the first weeks of college as all three of you decided to attend together, uninterested on whatever it was that he was about to tell him, but trying to keep up his fractured friendship with the man (and you) he had shown up, even so a little fashionably late to make his point clear.

“And you’re telling me this because..”

“I don’t want to make it awkward, Jeon” Jungkook scoffs before rolling his eyes at Sungho “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you little boy crush on her for years”

“What I think you haven’t noticed is that I don’t do feelings” Jungkook retorts as he approaches him “And although I find Y/N to be quite fuckable if you ask me, I appreciate her enough not to put her in a weird place like you’re about to do, asshole”

Once weeks rolled around, things kept on being as the were after that fateful summer where Jungkook completely reinvented himself, even as semesters came and went, Jungkook grew a bit more separate from both Sungho and yourself, although it became a little harder to discern whether it was because of Jungkook or due to the fact that Sungho and you had started dating during the first semester of college. Sungho had no real answer to give you when asked about it, saying that outside of the scheduled movie night you three kept on sharing, he barely even texted Jungkook on his own.

“I heard your girl is getting married” his friend said as he handed him an opened beer, taking his place back against his bike in the middle of the night after some race they had gone to near the outskirts of Seoul.

Jungkook took a swing out of the bottle, squinting at the questionable choice in alcohol “I don’t have a girl Jihoon”

“Oh? Then what’s Y/N?'' he felt the blood draining from his face, heart heavy, breath hitching inside his throat as soon as your name left his lips. Of fucking course Sungho would try to marry you before you graduated. That bastard.

It was quite funny really, Jungkook knew from the very start, back when all three of you had 6 years old and you had saved him from a set of mean kids in the park, that Sungho was never fond of him, or rather, of the relationship you had developed with him, sure, the two men had bonded over a few shared interests as they grew up, but the only thing that kept them together was you. Sometimes Jungkook guesses it could have been him instead of Sungho, asking you out, sharing nights together, even being about to get married. But those thoughts were only wishful thinking, he had long ago decided that you deserved so much more than what he could give you, what with his eternal fear and inability to give himself up to others. So he had let you go, never thinking about the possibility of Sungho taking a place he wasn't worthy of either.

"Good for her"

It wasn't long after learning that you were engaged, that the invitation arrived to his apartment, just a few days after graduation. It wasn't really a surprise anymore, even back when he first heard the news, it wasn't that surprising, he guessed it was the years of knowing both you and Sungho, learning your patterns, that he had somehow seen it coming. It didn't make it any less hard to wish you weren't about to walk down the aisle to a man that wasn't him though. But he kept repeating to himself to stop being selfish, he had lost his chance, not that he ever had one to begin with, but as long as you were happy, he would be too.

And you really did seem happy, so he was willing to just ignore the way that his chest seemed to constrict every time your eyes locked on his from across the room as the rehearsal dinner, you were sporting a gorgeous emerald dress, the same colour as when you two first met eighteen years back, his mind spinning with impossible scenarios as each minute that passed really just turned out to be a minute closer to watch you walk down the aisle to another man, one that was supposed to be his best friend at that.

“Bride’s or groom’s” A sweet female voice called him as he sipped on his fifth? sixth? champagne flute, finding a woman staring at him with what he has come to recognise as lust.

“Eh.. you could say both”

A glimpse of recognition could be seen in her eyes before she spoke again “You must be Jungkook then, the overseeked bachelor”

“In the flesh” He smirked at her as she took a hold of his hand, guiding him upstairs to where you and your soon to be husband had booked bridesmaids and groomsmen alike for the night. Not that the blonde had anything to do with how utterly horrible he was feeling about the whole wedding situation but perhaps fucking his frustrations out would help just a little.

Jeon Jungkook was never the one to stick around until morning, that much was true, and although he might be known for a varying of unspeakable things, nothing could have prepared him for what he had to witness at ungodly hours.

He picked up the rest of his clothing after half dressing himself, not even sparing a second glance at the woman that was laying on her bed peacefully, careful not to make more sounds than the inherently necessary, his curiosity is peaked as he hears faintly moaning and skin slapping skin coming from the room next door, seeing the door barely open, and against his better judgement he peeks inside only to feel his heart pounding against his chest, blood rushing inside his ears as he can’t seem to look away from the image presented to him. Sungho, your soon to be husband, the one that he used to consider his best friend for years on end, the oh so righteous Sungho, ever morally correct Sungho, bending your other so-called best friend and maid of honour, Areum, over the comforter as he fucked into her. A few hours before he got married to you. After everything that he had put him through, making him believe that it was in your best interest top let you go, that he should have handed you over to him, that he was the best option out of the two of you to build a life with.

Jungkook sees red and doesn’t quite remember anything other than Areum running out of the room as he punches Sungho in the face, receiving some punches back.

“You absolutely disgust me”

The bastard has the guts to laugh at him “You know, Jeon” he goes to inspect his face in the mirror “If you burst Y/N’s bubble, you’ll forever be remembered as the stupid little boy that was jealous enough on her wedding day to ruin her life”

Jungkook clenches his fists by his side before deciding to turn his heels and leave the room, vision still blurry in anger, breathing ragged, a small trickle of blood making its way down from his eyebrow as he almost automatically walked himself to the other side of the hostel where he knew you must have been resting, taking a few too many second to decide to knock on the door.

“Jungkook? What are you- oh god” sleep seems to leave you as soon as your eyes lock on his beat up face, him smiling at you in a futile attempt to have you not worry that much about his well being, but of course you were already searching for a first aid kit as he took a seat on your bed “Jungkookie, what happened?”

And perhaps he didn’t think it through that much, but he couldn’t let you walk yourself into a marriage blinded by the persona Sungho had always made you believe he was. “Y/N” he took your hands in his, stopping you from rubbing any more antiseptic into his cut “You’ll hear,a nd probably have already heard, too much shit about me”

His eyes beg you to stare at him intently, and although the whole scenario had you giggling out of nervousness, it soon died down “Kook, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N- Sungho is not the man he’s made us think he is” your eyes scan his face for any more clues on what he’s saying a syou feel a beeping sound closing in on your ears, overwhelmed by the situation “And he’ll probably say this is me just being a jealous asshole after being in love with you for more than half of my living years but-”

You stare at him in horror as your hands remove themselves from his hold as if he was burning, standing up from where you were seated next to him, feeling your whole world being crushed down a few hours before what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life “No” you take a step back as you hold your chest, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes “Jungkook please don’t do this shit to me”

“Y/N just- don’t marry Sungho” somehow he had willed his voice to remain calm

Your head shook fervently at him, as if somehow the action would make him retreat his words “Sungho loves me, Jungkook”

His eyes were ice cold at your words “He loves you enough to fuck Areum a few hours before making you his wife”

He really didn’t mean the bite on his words as he said them, this had nothing to do with you and everything to do with that asshole you called finacé, so he could completely understand when through your tears, chest heavy with rage and head spinning you asked “Please leave”

And he did.

Everything seemed like a fever dream. The words that Jungkook had said, the implication that it had. And really, if it weren’t for the fact that Jungkook was gone from the whole ordeal, you could have sworn your life that it was nothing other than a nightmare, Areum was as bubbly as ever, helping you get ready. Sungho’s good morning text still found its way into your inbox. Jungkook had not only accused you fiancé of cheating, but had said he had always been in love with you, no further proof to his words, so you decided to go as planned, yet you found yourself hyper aware of every move Sungho made, especially when they involved Areum.

You stood in your pristine white dress in front of a couple dozens of guests as traditional words were spoken, your mind a thousand miles away as you kept on looking towards the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would open up, Jungkook would show up and stop you from making what could potentially be the worst mistake of your life.

"If anyone objects to the marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace." your eyes trail to the soor, yearning to hear Jungkook’s voice amidst the otherwise silent chapel, but it never came.

“Hey, Y/N come dance with us,” one of your bridesmaids say as the night progresses after dinner, some loud beat taking over the venue at the reception, making everyone stand up to dance, including your now-husband as you find yourself sulking sitting on your designated table.

“I’m fine, you go” you try to flash her the biggest smile you can as she goes, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Thoughts that mainly involved Jungkook, figuring that after all these years, life had managed to finally separate you, heart yearning to have him close to you, the more you became aware of your current life path, the more you realised what a humongous mistake you had made. You had always thought that marrying Sungho would give you a sense of utter happiness, of fulfillment, whether what Jungkook said was true or not, as you watched your husband having the time of his life without you. If he were Jungkook, he would be seated right by your side.

Jeon Jungkook, as deviated as he appeared to be to everyone, as much as he slept around, he had demonstrated to be the most loyal human being by your side up until the last second of your friendship, unlike Sungho, he had always been interested in what you wanted to do, had always let your voice be heard, had helped you through rough times when Sungho was nowhere to be seen, perhaps you had chosen the wrong best friend to fall in love with a few years ago, the wrong man in your life to marry. It had been Jungkook all along. It could have been Jungkook all along.

Your eyes fixate on the way that Sungho whispers something on Areum’s ear and you feel your blood boil, more out of self-pity and annoyance at letting such a man manipulate you rather than jealousy as you stand up to make your way to the bathroom, in hopes of freshening up before coming up with a plan to fix this mistake.

You sigh as you hold yourself up by the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, pondering just how deep you’ll have to dig to come out of the mess when you hear an all too familiar deep chuckle behind you “So you realised”

You turn your back to the mirror to face Jungkook “That Sungho was an asshole or that I’m in love with you?”

His eyes turn into those deeply surprised deer shape you remember from when he was younger for a split second before they’re filled with something else between lust and deep appreciation as he backs you up further against the sink, a tattooed hand coming up to your chin “Does that mean I get to kiss you with no regrets now?”

“Would you kiss a married woman, Jungkook?” you ask playfully, matching the brattiness in his tone

“Only the ones whose husbands are assholes” and so his lips capture yours in a sweet quick kiss that has you wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in once again, escalating from a very much due kiss filled with words that are unable to be said, into a fiery pit in the low of your stomach at the prospect of kissing Jungkook while still being in your wedding dress, just a few hours married and kissing another man.

Jungkook’s hands have abandoned their place on your figure in favour of trying to undo the little buttons on the back of your dress, breaking the kiss to complain “God just how many buttons does this dress have?”

Soon enough your dress lays forgotten on the floor, matching lingerie covering your body as Jungkook has most of your body up against the mirror, panties aside in favour of having him fingering you, arms almost failing to keep you upright as he mouths at your skin, moans escaping your lips regularly as he pumps and curls his fingers inside you, lewd noises taking reverbating on the small bathroom’s walls, a faint trail of bass coming in from the party “God you’re so perfect Y/N” he grunted as you heard his zipper coming down before feeling the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, his hand coming up to grip your hair making you face the mirror, makeup completely wrecked, the sight almost unrecognisable to you, a slight burning but pleasurable sensation on your scalp “I bet that bastard Sungho wouldn’t be able to wreck you like this” without further notice entering you from behind, your walls clenching against him as you felt him slowly but firmly making his way in and out of you at a building rapidly pace, a moan slipping past your lips and Jungkook shushing you in exchange as he increases his speed and you bit your lip to forbid any noises from coming out, afraid of being heard even when you knew it would be almost impossible to do so over the loud party noises, this bathroom being so far away from it.

Jungkook had placed your right leg up the sink, hitting an even deeper spot that had you building your orgasm at an incredible speed, throwing your head back in pleasure, feeling him completely inside you as heat pooled in your lower belly.

“K-Kook I’m gonna-ah! I’m gonna cum” a few flicks on your clit with his expert fingers as he helped you keep yourself upright did the trick as Jungkook made sure to somehow thrust even deeper, a loud moan scaping you as he spilled his warm seed inside you, quickly adjusting back his boxers and trousers as one of his fingers collected some cum that was dripping down your thigh to push it back in, letting go of you to hold yourself up against the sink, pulling your panties back in place.

“Think that counts as a wedding gift?” he turns to leave the bathroom, leaving you heaving to haphazardly step inside your dress as you trail behind him, finding him resting against a wall, his bike roaring a few meters away as he smiles your way knowingly as he puts on his helmet, throwing another one your way "So.. all ready to leave that asshole of a husband now or should I wait another 15 years?"

#thebtswritersclub #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #bts imagine

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into-crazy · 3 years ago

Text

little something

Just some headcanons where J gifts you Louboutins

Ledger!Joker x Reader

Warnings- Cursing, mentions of criminal activity, brief nsfw points, ages 18+

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any rights to the products that are mentioned in this post. Copyrights of the mentioned products belong to Christian Louboutin.

This is probably the most random set of headcanons I've done so far. I don't know exactly how this came to me, but it did and I just kinda rolled with it. To be honest, I'm not sure if anyone will like this or not. But if you do, then hey thanks!!

J never criticized your style or choice of clothing. The man found you gorgeous in everything or nothing at all. It wasn't the clothes which made you attractive. No. The fact that you're so unapologetically you, now that he found attractive. You were fearless in expressing yourself in and out of your clothing.

Sure J didn't care much, but he did pay attention. His attentiveness had him noticing when one of your articles was new. Every so often would he even give his attempt at a compliment on them.

"I like that shirt. It's new, right?" // "Those jeans are lookin' real good on ya, doll." // "Oh is that a new little bra ya got there, bunny? Hm, I want nothing more than to tear that off of you right now. But I won't since ya just got it.. although, ya could get another.."

To others, these might have come off as creepy. But you found them pretty endearing.

With a unique taste for various styles, you appreciated going to thrift shops. Those places usually have the cutest clothes which you could mend to your liking. Cheap articles to style and wear as your own. Department stores with moderately priced clothing were a go-to, too.

Without bragging, you had a great talent for wearing cheap clothes and making them look expensive. You knew how to style and accessorize. Put together a $15 pair of jeans, $4 top, a $40 pair of shoes and you've got an amazing outfit to work with.

You avoided high end departments. Even though you had the money to indulge and shop in them, you simply chose not to. You didn't see the appeal for overpriced clothing.

Hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of dollars for something that you'd just wear. Simple attire that was priced as such because they're popular and high end. No way you're going to cough up $150 for a simple brand top with a tiny logo. That should be a crime all in its own for robbery! Plus, often times the department clerks and other shoppers in those shops were snobby, rude, and rather nosey.

Though there was one luxury brand item that struck your fancy- Louboutin red bottoms. The high-end stiletto footwear that incorporates shiny, red-lacquered soles. Now those are a sexy pair of heels. Very elegant and stylish. Also in the hundred/thousand dollar range, but ohh are they so worth it. Although you thought it would be nice to own a pair or two, you wouldn't buy them.

You casually brought it up to J one time as you skimmed through a magazine. On one of the pages, there was an advertisement for the stilettos. You'd shown him the picture. "Now, I'm not one for material things. But these, I'd definitely wear these."

J listened in curiosity, he knew you so well. You didn't buy expensive things for yourself, and you never asked him for them. However, he seen it in your eyes how much you wanted them. If you saved up, you could buy them for yourself. Plus J had a large amount of stolen money to give to you- which you never asked him for any of, either. He could steal them for you. But then again, you never asked. So he engaged. "If ya like 'em so much, why don't you have any?"

"Hell no!" You retort. "Could you imagine if I were to walk around Gotham in those expensive heels? I'd be a walking target!" You remind him that your goal is NOT to draw unwanted attention while you go about your daytime life.

I mean, you both know that you can take care of yourself. You had knowledge of basic self-defense combat and how to handle a various array of weapons. Special thanks to J for helping you spruce up on your tactics and even teaching you new techniques. Also, you always carry a concealed handgun when going out. So to the best of your abilities, you can hold your own. It's just better not to opt for any more problems.

J doesn't say anything after that, he simply hummed. But the thought had started bouncing around in his already busy mind. A new task. He figured since he wore custom high-cost clothing, the best of the best, then why shouldn't you own a nice pair of shoes? After all you're his, and he wanted to give it to you.

A few days later, you came home to a sight that genuinely surprised you- Set up nicely around your living space, there were 8 large Louboutin gift bags arranged on the floor. No question, you already knew they were from J.

You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief. You hadn't thought that J had actually taken that brief comment you made about liking these shoes into consideration.

Each bag contained a brand new pair of the signature stilettos in various colors and styles. Two of them being boots for when the weather's colder.

You were surprised that he'd gotten them in the correct size. He really does pay attention. Or perhaps he rummaged through your closet to find out for himself. Whatever the case was, you didn't care. Since J rarely ever got you any gifts, and never anything as pricey as these. So you savored the precious moment.

He left the receipt in the gift bag containing the classic black pair of stilettos. He'd actually bought them rather than just steal them, which would've been a more ideal and convenient thing for him to do. Come on, he's The Joker. When's the last time he ever paid for something?

He'd even left a note for you to find in one of the boxes. Written in his own scraggly handwriting- No one's gonna mess with you, I will make sure of that xoxo -J

Tears formed beneath your eyes, how much you wanted to thank him. Hug him, squeeze him tight. Kiss his painted lips and face repeatedly while his face scrunched in mock annoyance to your affections. It deeply frustrated you that you couldn't right then. But alas, he had a city to terrorize and a caped crusader to antagonize. So you had to hold on to that energy for a later time.

You don't know what you've done to deserve such a bitterly sweet(but will never fucking own up to it) man as your J.

Pairing the red bottoms along with the articles in your wardrobe was a tricky task. But with your natural talents and a bit of shopping, you've managed to put together some classy and elegant outfits.

You'd even purchased a tasteful, sparkly anklet with a letter J on it. Which undeniably, J surely liked to see on you- THEN coupled with a pair of heels he'd gotten you? Now that's a sight he's very pleased to see.

It was something which J was quite fond of- you expressing your appreciation for his gifts. Just don't expect him to admit that.

It's also no surprise that you'd wear the stilettos with lingerie(or nothing at all) and it leads to some pretty steamy sex sessions.

J especially savors the pleasant sting as they dig into his lower back when he's on top of you. So don't be shy to dig those heels in there!

When you just so happen to wear out your red bottoms, J might consider getting you a new pair or two. Again, as receiving gifts from him are rare occurrences. But at the times which he does surprise you with a gift, no matter what it is, it never fails to take your breath away.

#into-crazy #heath ledger joker #tdk joker #the dark knight joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x y/n #joker x reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker imagine #the dark knight

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Note

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #steve x reader

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softlimefluff · 2 years ago

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Jean Pierre Polnareff (little irl things for your JoJo f/o)

Requested by @leftsidebonfire

-First off, little merch you can work into your life! Pins for your jackets or bags include this officially licensed zen monkey studio sparkly one and a fan made SDC one on etsy

-For stickers, there's an adorable froggie polnareff a very very squishy pol the jojo chariot card as a sticker and a very cute Polnareff face I want to squeeze (I mean look at him:

If you want some official JoJo merch, there's this cool metallic p5 card and a p5 shiny can badge!

-Unfortunately this etsy shop is taking a break atm, but they have the coolest coco jumbo and key friendship necklace set!!!

-Good news though, there's still an officially licensed turtle key keychain!

-Since Pol's favorite color (according to Araki) is gold and his tarot card is the chariot, I think this necklace is the perfect nod to him!

-When I think of Pol, the scene where Silver Chariot skewers the coins stands out, so here's a cool yes/no divination coin you can have in your pocket for him

-Another little Silver Chariot nod you can wear are these cool moon and sword earrings!

-Next, here are some accessories and clothes if you want to work his outfit into your wardrobe:

-Clear heart earrings like his and a few different finishes in the same style from an etsy seller (like glitter, solid, metallic)

-A black one shoulder shirt like Pol's (that goes up to 2x)

-Cuff bracelets that give me similar vibes to his

-Instead of just a rucksack, there's a cool oversized green corduroy tote

-If you want to learn some French phrases and conversations to connect with Pol, here's a pocket reference book

-And if you want to make french food as another way to connect, there's a great "kids" cookbook with some basic but delicious recipes as a way to dip your toes into the cuisine!

-I also think Polnareff is really into fashion, so having some french magazines around to flip through can bring him into your space! I recommend the Vogue Paris Collections magazine (they usually release after fashion week and I've found it at Barnes and Noble before!)

-For a cute solo date, buy yourself red roses from Pol, grab a baguette and some garlic and herb cheese (the laughing cow one!) and (if you're of age) some sweet sparkling white wine like a moscato (don't forget a glass)! If you want extras, pick up some fresh strawberries or melon, meats like salami or ham, and your favorite chocolates. Grab a blanket, find an open spot, and have a picnic <3

-Finally, music suggestions!! Pol's namesake is Michel Polnareff (and I love how he absolutely claims the character, it's so sweet:

You can check out his whole discography, but my personal reccs are Lettre á France , Fame à la mode, Radio, and Sur un seul mot de toi

-Other french artists I think he would love are Phoenix (If I Ever Feel Better), Daft Punk (Digital Love), Stromae (Tous les mêmes), Madeon (Pay No Mind ft. Passion Pit), M83 (Walkway Blues), and Justice (Randy)!

-As always, I recommend writing your f/o a letter (either in a journal or on @ jojolovenotes), sketching your favorite screenshots, rewatching the episodes your f/o shows up in, and making a playlist inspired by your f/o (including their music namesakes).

#this took a little but I hope you love the list elfie!!! ily #jean pierre polnareff #jjba #little irl things for your f/o

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littleaxebad · 3 years ago

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Pampering, Personal Attention & Affirmations (Part 2)

Back by unpopular demand, fuelled by @deadlilmoon yelling about horniness, and @the-girl-who-flies putting the phrase “pamper kink” into my brain (and dedicated to @the-girl-who-flies because I said so) - here is part two of Pampering, Personal Attention and Affirmations (or alternatively: Petting, Personal Attention and A-E-A)… This is just straight up smut.

Threw in a little bit of hair play for… uh… reasons.

My soul left my body while I was writing this so I apologise for any mistakes. it’s also a lot longer than I meant it to be.

Summary: Jason tries his hand at pampering Salim and things take a deeply intimate turn.

Salim explained to Jason the order he should follow, which products needed a cotton circle and which he could use with his hands. Jason inspected the bottles and then quickly stood up.

“Wait there, I want to add some things…” He crossed the small space and disappeared into the bathroom. Salim undid the top buttons of his shirt while he waited, sipped his cooling tea, and sat back comfortably. Jason came out holding his hands behind his back.

“OK, you have to close your eyes for this.” Jason wasn’t whispering, but his voice was low, almost husky. Salim had always found Jason’s strange drawl alluring, but like this it made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He complied, closing his eyes, unable to prevent a smile from blossoming on his face.

“OK, so we clean your face first with the minty stuff.”

Salim bit his bottom lip to hold in a laugh. Jason was fairly gentle, and he could feel how close the younger man had gotten, leaning in and steadying himself on Salim’s knee.

“Smells good,” Jason tilted his head back, “I’m just gunna work it down your neck, and on to your chest a bit.”

Salim slid his hands up to undo another button, giving Jason more to work worth.

“Thanks babe.”

The touch was gone too soon, but the air smelt sweet and fresh between them.

“Gunna pat this one on your forehead, and down your nose,” came Jason’s voice, and Salim could hear Jason’s movements - the scratch of his jeans on the carpet, the bottle being opened and the little cotton pad rubbing between calloused fingers. Jason placed his palm against the side of Salim’s face, caressing the cheekbone with his thumb while he patted with the little cotton pad.

“Lookin’ nice and sparkly, but you always look nice. Always smell nice too.”

Jason’s affirmations were clumsy, but honest, and they warmed Salim’s heart.

“How’re you feelin’, babe?” Jason asked, withdrawing to move onto the next product.

Salim hummed, “very relaxed, very happy…” he left off mentioning the other things he was feeling, for the time being. Jason was tapping on the serum bottle, still except for the movement of his fingers. Was he contemplating Salim’s unspoken words, or simply filling the air with the pleasant sound of nails on glass?

“OK, well, next is hydration. Give your skin a little drink.” He unscrewed the dropper, but instead of putting it on Salim’s face, he dripped it onto his hands. Salim heard him lean forward, and then Jason’s fingers were on his face; massaging lightly, moving along his cheek bones, his forehead, down around the frame of his face to his chin.

“Look up a little, sweetheart.” Salim complied, tilting his head back.

Jason started lightly, massaging up and down his neck, then out onto his shoulders. Salim shuddered and straightened involuntarily when one slick hand came back to rest gently around his neck, squeezing ever so slightly, while the other trailed down his chest.

“You’re blushing,” Jason’s voice had dropped even lower, “and you look so fuckin’ pretty.”

Salim let himself be handled, his fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. Jason was so soft with him, so sweetly gentle, rubbing the serum into the muscles of his chest, holding his head steady with a pleasing pressure.

When the hands were withdrawn, Salim pouted. “Couple more things I wanna do to you.” Jason said, and there was laughter in his voice.

Salim could hear the moisturiser being opened - Jason hadn’t washed the serum from his hands, but Salim didn’t care. He let his lover rub gentle, rosy-scented circles into his cheeks, his temples, his shoulders - and then he felt Jason fist his hands into Salim’s shirt and pull him in for a brief, hot kiss.

“Turn around for me babe,” words whispered against his lips. Again, Salim complied, curious to feel what Jason would do next.

“Take your shirt off for me, OK?”

“Of course.”

“M’gunna give you a little massage, then I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Intrigued, and more than a little turned on, Salim discarded his shirt. Without needing to, Jason copied him, shifting closer to Salim.

Salim could smell the familiar scent of spiced oil, a favourite of his and Jason’s, that they used for almost everything - including some things it probably wasn’t strictly made for. Jason poured a few drops along Salim’s shoulders, and setting aside the oil, he began to massage the skin, alternating between a light and heavy touch, and adding small kisses to the base of Salim’s neck. The first one had made him shiver, and Jason had laughed.

“You enjoying this, honey?” Jason already knew the answer to that. Salim had tilted his head back and was leaning into his lovers touch. Jason moved to massage up and down Salim’s arms, working the muscle, squeezing the flesh.

“You feel good?”

“So good, habibi.”

“You look good, moya lyubov.”

Salim hummed again.

“I got one more thing for ya.”

“My surprise?”

“Your surprise. Are you eyes still closed?”

Salim nodded, steadying himself as the support of Jason’s strong hands was taken away. And then he felt something he was not expecting: Jason was combing his hair. A satisfied noise escaped from Salim’s throat.

“Ahh, he likes that.” Jason’s voice was low, teasing, tugging at something inside Salim as he tried to relax into the attention. It was difficult - Jason would gently run the comb, and his fingers, through Salim’s short hair; would massage Salim’s scalp with the tips of those fingers, the oil lingering as he went; and then suddenly he would pull on a patch of Salim’s hair - not hard enough to hurt, but sharp enough to send tingles down Salim’s spine to flood out into other parts of his body. Salim tried to sit still, tried to stay in the moment, but feeling Jason’s fingers fist in his hair elicited a moan from deep inside him, and he could feel how much Jason was enjoying this as well, pressing into the small of his back as the younger man moved close enough to lean against him.

“Jason…”

“Mmm…?”

“Jason.” Salim’s sharp whisper interrupted his movements.

“You want something?”

Salim opened his eyes and turned around.

“You. I want you.”

~~~

Jason let himself be pushed onto the carpet. Salim shoved the creams out of the way to create some space for them. He pulled himself upright, and collected a pillow from the bed, putting it under Jason’s head. Then he knelt down between Jason’s legs and reached for the moisturiser. He scooped a generous amount onto Jason’s smooth chest and began working it into the skin, concentrating on Jason’s pectoral muscles, his pink, pert nipples, and down the centre of his belly. Jason looked up at him through slightly closed lids, a lewd grin playing across his face.

“You gunna make me feel good, honey?”

“So good, my love.”

Without wiping his hands, Salim fumbled with and removed Jason’s jeans, pulling them down over his legs and casting them aside. He took more of the moisturiser into his hands, and rubbed them up and down Jason’s thighs, sliding his finger tips into the bottom of his jocks to prod at his ass. Jason pushed down with his feet, raising his hips so Salim could remove the last layer of clothing. Salim dried his hands on the towel and reached for the oil. Jason was already half erect, and had his arms thrown out to the sides, one hand toying with the underskirt of the hotel bed, the other rubbing against the carpet.

“You look so beautiful,” Salim whispered, taking Jason’s length in his hand, stroking gentle and deliberate - using his free hand to continue massaging Jason’s thighs and hips. Jason’s breathing slowed as he watched Salim work. Salim considered him, eyes traveling over his exposed form: his sharp cheekbones, smooth and glistening skin, the protruding hip bones and strong legs lightly dusted with mousy hair. The contrast between Jason and Salim was stark, but Salim knew what Jason saw when he looked at the older man - glowing, honey skin, perfectly balanced muscle and fat; soft and warm, dark and burning.

Salim smiled, his eyes on Jason’s as the other began to buck up into his hands. “Patience, hayati, patience.” He withdraw his hand, and Jason stilled, biting his lip. Salim closed the distance between them to deliver fast and aggressive kisses to Jason’s jawline and neck. He edged up the eager body to settle on Jason’s abdomen.

“I’m not too heavy for you?”

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Jason’s voice was shaded with lust.

“Hmm,” Salim mused, running his fingers through Jason’s hair with one hand, and wrapping the fingers of the other around Jason’s throat. The American huffed, grinned even though he was biting his lip, and rolled his hips. Salim raised himself, and pushed back into Jason’s erection. “Ah, babe, you should take those pants off, you’ll feel better.” Salim had to laugh at that - but Jason was not wrong. He stood up, maintaining eye contact, and slowly removed his trousers and underpants. Jason licked his lips, pushing his ass off the floor, presenting unashamedly.

Salim tilted his head to the side, looking down at Jason’s cream slicked, glistening skin.

“Like what you see?”

“Always.”

Salim lowered himself back down, settling on Jason’s abdomen again, letting his cock rest on Jason’s stomach. He took a moment to admire the American’s glow, and his surprising patience; arms still spread-eagle on the floor. Salim took a deep breath, leaning forward to drag his tongue along Jason’s neck, tasting sweat and imitation rose, while he toyed with a nipple. Jason arched into his touch, dragging his cock along Salim’s ass.

“You gunna take care of me?” He asked.

“I was thinking of taking care of me,” Salim smiled into the damp skin, pinching the trapped nipple.

Jason hissed, “you’re gunna make me beg, aren’t you?” He didn’t sound disappointed.

~~~

Salim scooted backwards until he was kneeling between Jason’s thighs again. Jason bought his knees up, giving Salim unrestricted access to his body. Salim reached for the oil, rubbing it into his hands, and tipping the bottle over Jason to watch a trail of oil land on his tip, travel down the shaft and disappear into soft curls of hair.

“Beautiful.” Salim whispered.

Placing one hand on Jason’s stomach to keep him still, Salim began working on his balls; massaging and tugging, smiling to himself at the filthy moans Jason was unabashedly making.

“That feels fuckin’ amazin’, babe, feels so fuckin’ good.” Jason praised, his voice an unsteady rumble.

Salim measured his movements, as Jason turned to putty in his hands, and denied Jason any further petting when the American’s bucking became too much for a subtle hand on the stomach to control. Jason whined at the loss of sensation, but calmed as Salim ran soothing hands along his calves, up the outsides of his thighs and along his stomach. Gentle motions, up and down, up and down; cooling and stilling and comforting.

“Still feel good?” Salim asked, massaging the tips of his fingers against Jason’s ankle bones. Jason hummed in a satisfied way, his eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed against the floor.

“I’m glad. You look so wonderful, like this. I worship you.”

Moving slowly, Salim applied more oil to his hands. They had moved through half the bottle, and the air was spiced with the scent of it, overpowering the mint and the rose. Encouraging Jason’s legs further apart with his knuckles, Salim shifted closer and placed a tiny kiss to Jason’s knees in turn. Jason’s hands were resting on his stomach now, his fingers dusting across the hair. Salim’s heart melted at the sight - Jason was truely the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He wanted his lover to feel good; wanted to make him feel good. But he was not opposed to making Jason beg.

Feather light, Salim ghosted his fingers over Jason’s hole, tracing swirling patterns across the skin he was able to reach. Jason’s breath hitched and he lifted himself higher off the floor, giving Salim an amazing view of the sweet, pink flesh. He began to massage Jason’s entrance, alternating the pressure, hooking one arm under Jason’s knee to take some of the weight. Jason was keening, trying to hold the noise in by biting down on his lip and failing beautifully. Salim ducked his head, and as he inserted two slicked fingers, he took Jason’s tip into his mouth, and sucked sharply. Jason yelped, bucking into Salim’s mouth. Salim relaxed his throat, hollowing out his cheeks as he introduced a third finger and aggressively stimulated Jason’s prostate; going harder and faster than he usually would. Jason was whining now, jerking his hips, his tip hitting the back of Salim’s throat. Once again, Salim measured his movements, and at the last moment he withdrew all attention and sat back. Jason was looking at him, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, face questioning and confused. Salim smiled at the deep red blush decorating Jason’s face, neck and chest.

“Babe, please…” Jason’s voice cracked.

“Relax, darling one, relax.”

“M’fuckin’ relaxed,” Jason fell back on the pillow. “You’re gunna kill me with this teasing. Please fuck me.” Jason was staring up at the ceiling, and Salim’s eyes followed the tear that ran down his cheek. He was almost tempted to give in, but instead he leant forward to cup Jason’s face in his hands; kissing him deeply. Distracting Jason with his lips, Salim climbed back into his lovers lap, Jason’s dick pressing into his ass, his own flush against Jason’s stomach. Salim deepened the kiss, entangling their tongues, sweat and serum mingling, a string of saliva joining them as Salim pulled away. Jason lapped it up with his tongue.

Leaning back, Salim reached once more for the oil.

“Try to keep your hands to yourself, habibi,” Salim warned. Jason cocked a confused eyebrow, but bent his arms up and slid his hands under the pillow.

“Good - good boy.”

Jason watched Salim work the oil over his fingers, curious but clearly confused. Salim placed one hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason’s muddled mind finally caught up.

“Oh, babe…” he groaned. “Sure you don’t want my help?”

Salim lightly squeezed Jason’s neck, an unspoken denial. And then leaning forward, his weight keeping Jason down, Salim reached around to insert two fingers into his own ass. It took him a moment to adjust, and another moment to realise it was Jason who was panting loudly, while his own breath came in deep waves. Sliding his eyelids shut, Salim worked his fingers in and out, loosening the hole, ghosting his own prostate, biting his lip at the sudden pressure. He scissored his fingers, preparing himself, rocking back into his hand.

“Babe… babe… fuck… you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” Jason had tears in his eyes again, his dick rock hard where it rested against Salim’s leg. Pre-cum was already leaking down the shaft.

“You’re so impatient,” Salim whispered, removing his fingers and repositioning himself.

“And you’ve got me so fuckin’ horny, I wanna fuck you so bad, wanna make you cum.” Jason’s whispered words were harsh, sweat shimmering in the fading sunlight coming through the open curtains. Salim captured his lips in another series of heated kisses, whispered words of praise puncturing the contact. Then he leant back, and taking Jason’s shaft in his hand, Salim pushed down onto the head of his cock, rocking gently, allowing himself to adjust to the intrusion. Jason tried to buck up, but Salim merely withdrew.

“You have to be patient.”

Jason whimpered a wordless response.

Satisfied Jason would behave, Salim moved back into position, and slid down, taking Jason’s length to the hilt. He licked his lips, rolled his hips, and began to rock back and forth; keeping the pace even and slow, pleasuring himself, his hands resting on Jason’s waist. Jason was shivering, tears flowing freely, hands jerking under the pillow.

“You’re being so good, my darling, you’re treating me so well.”

Jason was beyond responding; hips jerking rough and erratic, forcing his dick into Salim, who felt a sliver of saliva escape his lips and trail over his chin. He could hear his breathing hitch, dirty groans breaking free, his head falling back and his body softening, allowing Jason to unconsciously dictate the speed, while Salim savoured the feeling of his stiff cock buried inside him.

Suddenly Jason’s hands were on him, wrapping around his wrists to pull him forward. Salim let his hands be directed to the pillow, placing them on either side of Jason’s head. They looked at each other for a moment, open mouthed and panting out of sync. And then Jason gripped Salim’s hips, and pushing his heels into the floor, began slamming into the Iraqi, using his powerful arms to control Salim’s movements. Salim lost himself to the feeling of being force-fed Jason’s cock. Under normal circumstances it would be Salim giving and Jason receiving but this was special. Salim greedily allowed himself be manhandled, eyes closed and fists clenching the pillow, Jason’s heady moans filling his mind.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gunna fucking cum. I’m gunna cum in your sweet ass.” Jason found his words again, shuddering with the effort of enunciating them.

“Do it, darling one, pamper me.”

Jason came on an upward thrust, buried fully in Salim, shooting his hot load into the older man as Salim contracted around Jason’s cock, taking it all. Jason collapsed under him, breathing uneven, slipping out of Salim and splaying rag doll on the floor. Salim crept up until his knees were under Jason’s armpits and wrapped his hand around his aching prick, roughly jerking himself off. Jason watched him, mouth open, eager to receive as Salim came - throwing his head back and spraying his release across Jason’s face, in his mouth and hair.

Letting the tension drain out of his body, Salim collapsed next to Jason, who slid over to make room on the pillow. They lay still for a moment, catching their breath, looking up at the ceiling. And then Jason sat up, leaned away, and came back holding the roller.

“Wanna rub your wank into my skin?”

THE END.

#salim Othman #jason kolchek #salim x jason #Jason x salim #jalim #house of ashes #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #supermassive games #HoA #fanfiction #fanfic #pampering kink #and may god have mercy on my soul

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

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