#i JUST bought new eye brushes a month ago so…. maybe it’s not All My Fault LOLLLL

[yuwuta]

looking back on undergrad pics and my full halo eye and liquid lipstick at 3pm was crazy and now i can’t do my eye makeup for shit

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧

summary_ your heart was big enough to love two men, but your head too messy to pick one, so when both stood you up on your birthday, when you thought everything was over, you realized it had just started.

warnings_ AGE GAP (reader in her early 20s and American), literally implied threesome at the end, implied sex, cheating, in-ho and salesman have a really good relationship with reader, questionable morals, do not romanticize irl.

notes_ today is my 21st birthday omg, wasn’t on my bingo card to fall for older Korean men while in my twenties. I’m obsessed with JENNIEs new album, this is inspired by starlight bc I was just a white lie!!!!!!!!!

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 lee byung-hun

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

It’s cold, foggy, and rainy when you turn off the shower. Your apartment had a large crystal window that allowed you to see the landscape of Seoul. And although the view was unclear thanks to the clouds and fog, you just knew the city looked as beautiful as always.

You enter your bedroom with your semi-wet hair hanging all disheveled and a towel around your naked body. You start grabbing a pair of underwear, dress pants, a sweater, and picking a pair of boots.

The towel falls to the ground and you look back at your bed. Tangled with a mess of sheets, there lays your boyfriend, already eyeing you with a sleepy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous” You blow him a kiss and he smiles even more, rubbing his eyes and starting to stretch. “I left you scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, and bagels”

“Is there anything you’re not perfect at?” He questions as you kneel beside him in the bed while in underwear.

“If you stayed a whole week with me… you’ll realize I’m far from perfect” You lean to kiss him, which he doesn’t reject.

His hands end in your back, palms softly pressed against your skin before unclasping your bra.

You laugh amid the kiss, you feel him smiling as well as his big hands start caressing your breasts.

Maybe it’s because his touch was gentle, precise, and very distracting, but you let him slip his tongue and the kiss turns a mess.

Until you moan and realize it’s Tuesday and you have to be punctual.

“Nice try, but I won’t be late to work again, In-ho” you whisper, leaving one last kiss in his mouth, knowing damn well you will leave him hard and needy.

“You’re bad…”

“Not really” You grab your boots and bag before turning to look at the man in your bed.

Damn, he had a great body to be an old man.

“When are coming back?” You ask, leaning on the doorframe. In-ho sighs, brushing some hair off.

“Thursday and Friday” you nod.

“Okay, bye, baby. Kisses!” You finally leave.

When you met In-ho at a pet store, you literally laughed at the sight of him buying a goldfish. You bought a hamster and In-ho said it was ugly as fuck.

And you ended up fucking him that night after having casual dinner.

The hamster died two days later.

He was a retired cop, single, had a wife who sadly passed some time ago, was sweet but rough in bed, and enjoyed when you cooked for him.

Eight months ago you started seeing him. And he earned the privilege of having the key to your apartment.

Well, one of your apartments.

Your phone started ringing when you hopped onto the train. Your shift as head pharmacist was about to start and you weren’t expecting a call until 3:00pm.

“Hello?” You say after answering. “Why are you calling so early?”

“I slept well and woke up early…” you smile.

“I have a proposition…” your smile grows.

“Oh…” you can hear him chuckling at the other side of the line.

“Perhaps the lovely lady I’m talking to is free this weekend to go on a little trip?…”

“To where?” you just know he’s smiling.

He always smiled when you were clueless, being reckless and showing him traces of affection.

“It’s a surprise…”

He and his surprises.

“Pick me up Saturday morning” The way you were smiling like an idiot while still on the train was enough to let you know how down bad you were. “Any recommendations for clothing?”

“A fine dress, like the sapphire one you wore for our last date. And something to get in the water…”

“Hmm, good clues” he chuckles again.

“No clues, baby”

“How am I supposed to wait till Saturday?” You dramatically ask. “I already miss you so bad”

“I miss you too, love”

“Just some days and then I’ll have you the whole weekend and Monday” You knew what he wanted to add. That he will ruin you.

Your legs rub together before any wet mess can happen and the anticipation begins.

“You’re a tease! I’ll pick only outfits that’ll make you cum as soon as you see me”

He lets out a laugh.

“I have a lot of self-control, darling”

“Mhm, I’m sure you do. But I’m afraid I have to leave you. I need to go to the restroom. I’m starting ovulation week and I’m so wet all the time. Bye, baby!” you hang up, a cheeky smile plastered all across your face.

Your boyfriend was cold but easily melted for you.

He also had a key to your apartment, just not the same as In-ho.

You had been dating him for six months. And he was a core shaker. Your salesman had so many secrets, you knew. How he avoided talking about his job, infancy, and the lack of empathy with the poor.

But you also had one or two things well hidden under your sleeve.

Starting that you were not a pharmacist. You were a biomedical chemist and every two months you took a boat ride to an island, where once a year you were in charge of picking the right organs from deceased people.

Morally wrong, financially right.

Just as you and your two lovers.

Morally wrong but emotionally and sexually right.

…

To say you were spoiled by your salesman boyfriend was an understatement. You never asked for anything from him. He was the one buying your stuff out of nowhere.

Your cheeks felt hot while you waited for an assistant to come with your Tiffany box.

“Why did you pick a necklace instead of a ring,” your boyfriend asks, getting distracted by your asymmetrical skirt and black top.

“Because, my dear, when I get a necklace, I never take it off” he smiles, pleased with your answer.

He wanted you to emotionally depend on him. He wanted you to be as obsessed with him as he was with you.

And so far, he felt pleased.

Like a good girl, you thanked him with a big kiss at the parking lot of the luxurious mall. Your salesman grew impatient and shoved you into the backseat of his Maserati.

Quickly, you ended up straddling him, grinding against the tent in his dress pants and mixing your saliva with his through a sloppy kiss.

“Please” you don’t even know what you’re pleading for. His kisses were some addicted poison that could never get enough from.

He was so odd that just by the touch of his lips, he had you clenching around nothing and soaking your underwear.

“Please what, baby?”

“Don’t make me say it” you say between moans. He smirks, holding you by the hips and motioning you to move against his erection.

“You have to use your big girl words, baby” he says, looking in awe at your beautiful sweaty body.

You take off your shirt and bra and your salesman wastes no time in leaning to suck on your breasts.

“Please fuck me”

“What did you say?” He was mocking you, twirling his tongue around your nipple and making you look stars.

“Please fuck me!” You repeated with urgency, pulling at his soft dark hair.

“I’ll do more than that…”

He kept his promise.

…

You feel your mascara running down your face, it’s all because of the mask. Different from the pink guards one, but still a mask that kept your identity private.

The late Il-nam hand-picked you after you started treating his illness years before he died. He said you had vast talent and urged you to work for him.

Your condition was to keep your identity private, he agreed.

The first weeks of inspecting dead bodies, weighing human organs with thin gloves, and feeling the weight of death, all used to haunt you.

Until you grew used to it. And you weren’t proud of your hidden job. You were not at peace with your tasks and you’d never understand the mentality of the people who paid and gambled to see people dying.

Those were steps of capitalism you’d never reach as much as you worked for the ones leading it.

You sigh, looking at the blood-drenched gloves and dropping the metal silver tools into a bassinet.

Once you step out of the procedures room, you see the man expecting you; the frontman.

“What are today’s numbers?” His cold and modulated voice from the black mask he wore sent shivers through your spine.

“Sixty-three bodies. 38 females and 25 males. Two were fully discharged because the livers, kidneys, and hearts weren’t in perfect condition” he nods once.

“Good. Send the full report to my office and then you’re dismissed”

Your hands looked young. He can’t see well enough because of the blood covering your gloves, but he knows he’s speaking to a young woman.

In-ho wondered why such a young person was already involved in such a dark matter like the island. And you came into his mind.

His young pharmacist girlfriend.

He wouldn’t like it if you were involved in a job like his.

But you already were, and you were mastering it.

…

As if it were an alternative reality, In-ho and you are not strangers working on an island holding child games to kill people and traffic their organs. There is no pleasure in death and the air is light with pure nature and virgin sand.

In-ho and you are a couple. He took you to the beach to the opposite sea of country, parallel to the island.

There’s a hill to walk down.

“Look!” you say excitedly, pointing at the sunset. In-ho stops to turn and see you, taking pictures.

Your happiness made him smile. He had a lot of free days ahead. With you by his side, he easily forgot about his job as the frontman. He wishes there was no frontman job, that way he would feel completely worthy of being with you.

Only that way he wouldn’t feel like his wife was seeing him proudly, wherever she was.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You ask, but upon no answer from him, you turn. “In-ho, darling, Are you okay?”

You pull him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yes. So sorry, love”

His English was so perfect. You always tell him he sounded almost like he had an Aussie accent.

“I was thinking that maybe we should have dinner…” he says, his right arm around your shoulders as both of you kept walking.

“That sounds nice” you agree. “And then, we’ll wait until midnight to get into our private pool”

In-ho starts chuckling.

“Why until midnight?”

“The energies, In-ho! We have a gorgeous full moon about to come out” you tell him as if it was the most obvious thing.

Sometimes your older boyfriend would forget how superstitious and younger you were.

“You and your witchcraft” At his words you start cackling. You nudge him as walk past him, pretending to be annoyed.

“I was joking, darling”

He jogs to be by your side again, chuckling and putting his arms around you to prevent you from walking.

“You’re still fast to be an old man”

“I was a policeman” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Theory; your policeman instinct left you developed tons of stamina in your late forties” Both of you start laughing.

The last rays of the sun are directly hitting your face. You have to close your eyes but there was a playful smile on your face.

And In-ho notices the necklace hanging on your neck. Golden with a little heart plaque pendant.

“Is that a new necklace?” you open your eyes and look down at your cleavage.

“Yes, I bought it last week…” you reply sounding calm and confident.

If only he knew.

“Is pretty…” In-ho answers.

He isn’t fully convinced. He has an odd omen after paying attention to the necklace but tries to ignore it.

The feeling returned when you were changing into your bikini to get into the pool with him. He was looking for a balm you asked for in your bag.

In-ho stumbled across a golden lighter. It wasn’t his, it wasn’t you because you didn’t smoke.

Have you started smoking? There was no trace of a package. Something was off?

Just as a certain salesman found a locked drawer in your place. He forced it open and found three different cracked phones, lots of keychains, stacks of money, and two guns.

Something was off.

…

There are two rolls of sushi, previously folded in aluminum wrap, three different sauces, two beers, and tempura between you and the salesman.

You lean forward as he places his golden lighter in front of you to get you going with your cigar.

Both of you start smoking in silence, the city is far from being silent but the sounds of the traffic, and the bright lights in the middle of the night form an appealing silence between you and your boyfriend.

“When I was little I always used to say I’d never live where there wasn’t a city” you start, blowing out the smoke from your cigar. “And now that I’m getting older, having a ranch and living in the countryside sounds more appealing”

The salesman pays attention to your words. He never thought about it. He always knew that where he lived didn’t matter since his misery would always be carried along.

“I’m bringing it up because I really liked our rural trip some weeks ago”

“Maybe when we’re older…”

Your eyes snap open.

Was he hinting at a possible future together?

Of course, you wouldn’t reveal your sudden love for the countryside because both of your boyfriends spoiled you with nature-filled trips and you wanted to live happily ever after with both.

Would it ever come the time to pick one man?

Or would karma take what’s theirs and make you end up alone?

You know you’ll go crazy if that happens one day. It wasn’t your intention to be with both. You would never hurt your boys. But you knew the guilt you felt was justified.

And it’s wrong, but that guilt is the only thing you need to know you’re not insane for dating two men at the same time.

“Hey, your birthday is coming right?” Your salesman asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You never thought he’d remember.

“You remember…”

“Of course I do” he answers with a proud smile. “What do you want to do?”

In-ho asked you the same question days ago.

“I don’t know. Maybe dinner…” he nods in agreement.

You didn’t know who would you spend the night with.

It was at that moment that you questioned how far you had gone for love.

…

All your birthdays had been good as a kid. Each year there were fewer invitees, but they didn’t stop being good.

Your first birthday in Korea is rather bittersweet. Your boyfriends stood you up on your birthday.

Were you really that much of a bitch?

Being part of an organization that was cruel, and shushing while allowing people to take more power than granted. And then, dating two men at the same time.

Neither of them answered your phone calls.

You start weeping as you walk back home. The guilt of seeing both started weeks ago, it should have been enough proof of what was about to come.

You open the door of your main apartment. The biggest out of the three you owned. There were your most personal items and all your secrets.

And when you drop your keys in a random bowl, you see two silhouettes sitting in your coach.

You get startled, until you distinguish who were those two silhouettes.

“I’m sorry” you whisper loud enough for them to hear.

They don’t look at you until you start walking towards the living room.

Not a good start but at least it was honest.

They look a little taken aback but calm.

“We’re sure you are” The tone the salesman used made you shiver, questioning that mocking and arrogant face he used to recruit players.

“Tell us, Why couldn’t you just pick one?” In-ho indicates you.

You sigh, walk further inside, and step away from them, only your living room table separating the pair of men with you.

“Because both are perfect for me. I’m so selfish that I want to keep you both…”

Both chuckle and you don’t know how to feel. Maybe pathetic…

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to us?” Asks In-ho. He was only playing with you.

“But I love you both so much!” You say sobbing. Your knees nearly wobble but you do your best to stand still.

“Oh, Should we pity you?” Asks In-ho, he turns and exchanges looks with the salesman.

They both love you too. Deep in their hearts they feel betrayed. But the luck of having you unconsciously on the same side as them, was bigger than their ego.

Both are broken enough to not mind being in an unhealthy relationship. As long as the dynamics with each one of them didn’t change. They could survive.

Until one proposed marriage or one ended up knocking you up.

You can’t tell what they are implying with the exchange of looks. But they are plotting for sure.

You see how your salesman takes out the golden lighter you know so well.

There’s a cake you hadn’t acknowledged, and he’s lighting the candles. It’s pink, and round and it had some baby pink roses as well.

Your eyes tear up again. It was your birthday.

“Take off your clothes,” your salesman says.

You grow confused, tears still spilling.

“What?” You ask.

“Now don’t be shy, darling” In-ho urges you with a sultry voice.

Your fingers shake but not out of fear. But thrill…

Your coat lands on the floor and slowly, you let the straps of your dress slip. You make eye contact with both.

You can now see what rules are in their hearts. You understand why life with In-ho felt domestic and why with the salesman felt euphoric.

Neither of them are good men. But you also are far from being a good woman.

For three different reasons, the three of you ended up working in the same place.

Feeling beyond vulnerable, you can only wait until both stop scanning your male body. In-ho was softer when he fucked you. The salesman was rough no matter what.

The salesman kissed you more often than In-ho.

You had never compared them before.

“Blow the candles, darling…” you deserved to be dumped. “Good girl, happy birthday”

But they weren’t good either. They killed people, they weren’t morally right.

You couldn’t feel completely guilty. Right?…

The only thing messing with your head was the uncertainty of what would eventually happen.

“Now what?…”you ask, kneeling at the little table.

The salesman smiles, In-ho doesn’t smile, but you can see there’s some hidden joy behind his straight face.

You blow the candles, the room falling into some heavy silence.

“We’ll share you” you hear In-ho saying.

Through the silence and complete darkness, you start smiling.

Happy fucking birthday to you.

Despite your errors, your treasons, your secrets… they’ll share you?

Who were you to complain?

________________________

Short but I just wanted to write something for my birthday. Next week finally I’ll post the Han Yun Jae fic and I’m eager to finish Coffee Prince to start part two of twin with Han Kyul.

this week I bought tickets to see Blackpink 4 for the second time with my bffs in LA, yesterday I had the most wholesome hangout, I ate so much sushi today and I’m about to cut my birthday cake with my family and drink a lot, literally a perfect week <3

oh I’m so in love with gong yoo <3333

[kissforyouu]

like that / jjk

you're spending time with yourself until you get a message from you boyfriend to...what...bend over?

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship , fluff , smut

warnings : sexual content , sort of softdom!jk , use of toys , he's pussy whippppeeddd , lots of clit stimulation , he's literally playing w her yk , squirting , fingering , anal play , he's so careful w her kinda , bit of dirty talking , cute aftercare

a/n : NOO IDEAAAA WHAT I JS WROTTEEEE. hope u like it tho :D

unedited.

that's my shit, that's my wave ~

do it like that and i'll repeat ~

don't be scared, i ain't afraid ~

swaying your hips from side to side, you hum to the lyrics and melody of the song as you cleaned the living room. you really enjoyed cleaning, sort of, you liked what the outcome made you feel like. satisfied.

you know what or who else made you satisfied? your boyfriend. i mean, as in, he always made sure you felt satisfied with your relationship. sexually and romantically.

you smile, letting out a small yawn as you think of the cute flowers he got you a couple days ago. there was no special occasion and you were confused at first when he handed them over to you.

"eh, what's this about?"

you tilt your head to the side, biting both your cheeks from the inside. your boyfriend hums, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head.

"they reminded me of you, so i bought them."

your heart flutters, cheeks heating up as you let out the girliest giggle ever.

"thank you, kook."

you tip toe upwards to press a small peck onto your boyfriend's cheek which he gladly accepted with a bright smile. you were still so shy, even though you've known jungkook for an year before dating, still, this whole relationship thing was new to you. you've been dating for about 6 months now, and it's been the best 6 months of your life so far! he loves you so much, and he shows it.

giggling at the memory, you crouch down to collect the dirt into the dustbin. as you occupy yourself with more cleaning, you suddenly hear the notifications ring on your phone. you walk towards the table where the phone was on, tugging onto each of your gloves to take them off.

you hold your phone in your hand, opening the notification from jungkook.

bab— WHAT the fuck?!

kook💘 : home in 5, be in the bed naked

ass up

what? huh? you turn off your screen, awkwardly looking around although there's not a single soul at home. for now. your cheeks were flushed in a deep shade of pink, eyes blinking repeatedly. that was always a habit of yours which jungkook found adorable all the time. whenever you were nervous, shy, embarrassed, you would blink your lashes repeatedly while looking away. cute, he'd mention.

in addition to the flushed face and blinking eyes, you keep away your broom and apron and walk to your bedroom with a wet patch forming on your panties.

you slowly take your sweats off, then your lose crop top. staring at yourself in the mirror, you reach down to pull your panties down your ankles.

since you've only been together for 6 months, your sexual experiences with him were limited — or just any sexual experiences in general. you were a virgin before you met jungkook. although you've had the sex talk about your preferences, limits and such, you never put it into action. yet.

maybe now is the time? you don't really know. jungkook was always unpredictable, you never know what he's got under his sleeve.

you remove your hair tie to brush your hair a bit to make it look nicer. you make sure to also apply some lotion to moisturize your body a bit more, some perfume and deodorant just in case you smell bad. i don't know, uh—you thought. once you're confident you smell good enough, you open the door a bit to give a little sneak peak of inside the room. giggling to yourself, you tip toe your way onto the bed, laying yourself over the soft white sheets.

to be honest, the sheets made you feel hornier. the feeling of your already hardened nipples brushing against the soft material made you wanna touch yourself then and there. you whimper, laying your chin on the pillow you placed under your head.

you were laying on your stomach, naked, waiting for your boyfriend.

he should be here any moment, you think.

a minute or two passes by. your legs were up in the air, tangled, as you hum to some random song.

"i told you to have your ass up, yeah? what's this?" a soft voice rings in your ears following with a light tap landing on your ass cheek.

you squeel, turning around to face your boyfriend.

"jungkook!"

"someone's excited..." the smirk on his face never leaving, his eyes scan down your body, eyeing your breasts down to your ass.

"mm, pretty baby" his words leave in a form of a whisper, thumb caressing your chin tenderly. you can't help but crack a small smile. Jungkook glides his hand over your shoulder blade, down your back—soothingly— and stopping right above your ass. ugh, you wanted him to touch you there the most.

jungkook lands a soft kiss on the top of your head as he got up. he runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling it after.

"wait for me while i shower?"

what.

"kook—"

"good girl. i'll come to you in a few minutes." jungkook leaves to the bathroom with a snicker, giving you side glances while smirking. it was obvious he was purposely trying to tease you, take his time and make you desperate. he's succeeding. because the mess between your legs just continued to grow.

you had your legs pressed tightly against eachother, clit throbbing as you tried to ignore the ache.

jungkook. that asshole.

you groan, laying sideways on the bed, staring at your nails trying to kill time.

about 10 minutes pass by, jungkook finally enters the room wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

"look at you, laying there all pretty waiting for me to ruin you." the tone of his voice is cocky, he sits next to you, his presence radiating confidence.

your toes curl the moment he brushes a few strands out your face, tucking them behind your ear.

"pretty." jungkook scrunches his nose up, his eyes squinted as he presses a small peck on top of your nose.

"okay, ass up now." it's as if someone sent an electric shock down your body, you're suddenly in alert and immediately raising your ass up, your knees keeping your body balanced.

jungkook hums, getting up (AGAIN.) walking to your shared closet. wait, closet, shit—

your boyfriend walks out with a pink vibrator and a dildo he had bought earlier. shit, you remember now—

"do you have anything in mind you want to try?" jungkook hums, stretching his arm out to wrap it around your waist.

you sleepily nod, batting your eyelashes with a shy smile.

"care to tell me?"

"no." your voice is small and delicate, almost inaudible for jungkook to hear. but he hears it, giggling in return as a big smack lands on your ass cheek. you stay silent, snuggling more into the pillow.

"i want to know." he asks—no, more like, demands.

you have flashbacks of the conversation you had with him a week, where you ended up telling him that you were open to the idea of using toys after he started suggesting things to try out because you just wouldn't tell him what you wanted. too shy. but you did want to tryout toys.

"like what you see?" he motions his head towards the little 'presents' he's holding. you roll your eyes, huffing at his face.

"ah, ah, up." he signals at your ass as if he hasn't been leaving you needy everytime you got ready.

you pout, still obeying his words as you push your ass up, hoping that this time he would touch you instead of walking off to do something else. this is something jungkook did, he liked to tease you. a lot.

"my good girl, always listening to me." you feel him pat your hair and the mattress dip, indicating that he was sitting behind you.

you feel your mess grow bigger as you wait eagerly for him to lay his hands on you.

...mm, finally! your breath hitches the moment jungkook's middle finger touches your puffy clit. he runs his finger up and down your gaping hole, not adding much pressure but making sure he's still lightly touching you. you whimper at the feeling as jungkook repeats his action a few more times.

you feel his fingers creeping over your clit to reach your crotch as he gently strokes you there. pressing his index finger onto the base, he rubs your crotch in circles, right above your clit.

"please, please, go a little more down and touch me there...!" jungkook cracks up a scoff, not responding to you with words but actions as he starts to press kisses onto the insides of your thighs. his soft plump lips leave delicate, soft kisses on your thighs, trailing up to your ass cheeks.

once he reaches them, his index finger switches positions from being on top of your crotch to your throbbing clit that's practically begging to get touched. he doesn't lay a finger on the very evident wetness between your puffy lips but to your clit as he begins to rub slow sensual circles right there. he makes sure to add the right pressure to press onto your clit, not too soft but harder than usual, then circling it.

all you did was whimper, letting jungkook do his own thing. you feel jungkook's kisses slowly reach down your ass cheek, then kissing in between your thighs, right next to your drenched pretty lips. he continues to leave small kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your pathetic little hole clench around nothing.

all this soft stimulation was enough to make you relax and fall asleep. you yawn even, that especially catching jungkook's attention.

"not gonna sleep, are you? feels too good and i haven't even started yet, hm?" jungkook flicks his fingers against your head.

you whimper, shaking your head.

"no, please don't stop." your voice was muffled due to your lips being pressed against the pillow.

he stops for a moment, then two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices. jungkook drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking his fingers clean. he hums in satisfaction;

"fuckin' delicious. so sweet. never gonna get tired of you." he licks his fingers again.

jungkook delivers a slap to your asscheek, gripping the flesh after to pull on it. he fondles with your ass, taking his time to appreciate your lower body. you're just a whimpering little mess for him, that's it.

you feel your body suddenly jolt up, feeling his palm lay flat on your pussy, rubbing it harshly. jungkook circles his whole palm on your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto your clit. you moan in a low tone, back arching for him instinctively.

he continues to rub you while you release a series of hums. your dripping arousal, now smeared all over jungkook's palm, created a wet slippery noise.

"a-ah, gguk..."

"hm?"

jungkook pulls his hand away to slap your pussy twice, the wet smacks echoing through the room. he then grips onto your thighs, pulling them back to have you laying on your back suddenly.

you look at him, confused, but also a bit annoyed by the loss of friction on your pussy. jungkook grabs your face and holds it tight, both of you not giving a single fuck about the fact that his hand was drenched in your arousal.

he moves your face to your left, then to your right, then proceeds to wipe your own arousal on your cheeks. that action alone had your cheeks burn in the colour red and pussy clenching again. jungkook's smirk never falling off of his face, he also wipes his palm on the side of your neck.

silence.

but clicking his tongue in his mouth, jungkook's hands touch your thighs, rubbing up and down the smooth skin. slowly, he spreads your legs further until there was full access to your pussy without any problem.

you can see him bite his lower lip, eyes glued to your clit while his other hand grabs the little vibrator he had bought you earlier.

okay, but, nooooooo.

"kook, need y-your cock instead!" you whine, "please" ; barely a whisper.

desperate.

"mhm? this what you want?" His hands reaches to grab his fully erect cock through his sweatpants. there was a very evident tent in his sweats.

"yes, yes, please!"

"listen to me well and you'll get it, hm?" he reassures you, hand caressing your hair.

you gulp, nodding. jungkook turns on the pink vibrator on medium intensity, then angling it on your clit.

your hips immediately buck up slightly, making you gulp down your saliva. the vibrations weren't too intense, but not too less either. there was a light buzz heard in the room, mixed with your soft pants.

the smug look on jungkook's face never came off as he tightly presses the vibrator onto your clit, making you result in jolting up again. not only that, he also has the audacity to increase the volume to its max intensity. immediately, your hips started shaking, thrusting upwards as well. your moans were a mess, mixed with whining and small cries here and there.

"shh, it's okay, pretty girl." he tries to soothe you down with his hand caressing your thighs.

"ah! ah! gguk, p-please, mm!" you fist the bedsheets real hard.

"yes, sweetheart? how does it feel? feels good?" jungkook hums, never stopping the soothing rubs on your thighs.

"ah, ah, n-nngh, please, please, please, gonna cum!" your body was going crazy. body shaking with hips trusting upwards with intensity. jungkook had to press your legs down to the mattress, fingers gripping tightly onto your thighs.

"jungkook! f—fuck! ah, nnh, mm, gh— cumming!" your whole body shudders, shaking as your white liquid gushes out.

jungkook immediately turns the vibrator off, fingers reaching to gently stroke your pussy up and down to soothe you.

you were a panting mess.

"sensitive baby, came from just that. didn't even start yet. wanted to cum so bad." he gently blows on your swollen bud, then pressing a light kiss on it after.

you whine louder, hands squeezing your breasts really hard due to sensitivity.

"think you can take more?" he asks.

immediately, you shake your head from side to side, signalling no. fuck, maybe you could, but hell no.

"come on, baby. you can take a plenty more. it's okay, my love." he starts planting kisses across your shoulder blade, hands caressing your breasts.

you melt into his touch, almost forgetting the little ache in between your legs. jungkook grabs a nipple, twisting it to the side before releasing it.

"need you to get on all fours again, pretty girl."

you groan, lazily picking yourself up again and turning around, body now laying flat on the bed. jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, lifting your ass up. you put pressure on your knees to balance yourself again, your ass up in the air for your boyfriend.

"love this view."

you hum in response. he begins to slap and squeeze you a few times again, kneeding your cheeks as if it were some dough.

jungkook begins to touch your pussy again, fingers circling your clit. your body grinds onto his hand, whimpering. his fingers slither away from your clit, now touching your puffy folds.

"oh, fuck", he caresses your folds, fingers slightly dipping in between as well.

"mine." jungkook kisses the top of your ass cheek.

jungkook gathers your wetness from in between your folds, then dragging those fingers to your hole (read:other hole) to smear it all over.

you audibly gasped in shock.

"kook..." you ask.

"mmh, will you let me?" he presses his thumb onto your hole.

"mm, mm." you hum in approval; hands clutching onto your pillow beneath you.

jungkook grabs the dildo this time, then shoving it right up your pussy. you make a squeaking sound, startled.

he chuckles, "what's so shocking? 'know you like this, baby."

he didn't even give you time to prepare.

"so pretty like this. just a little hole for me to stuff, hm?"

he traces his pointer finger on your agape folds then thrusting the dildo in a little deeper.

"g-gguk!"

he ignores your yelps, turning on the vibrating dildo.

fuck, wait, you didn't know it vibrates— your body is immediately falling to your pillow, full weight on it and your entire body squirming around.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK–"

you clench your hole so many times, the pleasure slightly unbearable. it wasn't a secret that he had put it on max intensity.

"how do you feel?" jungkook reaches your hair, caressing your locs softly while you squirm on the bed.

"p-p-please, mmh! gggood! feels good!" you choke out.

jungkook laughs, kissing the tip of your ear. he leans back to reduce the intensity a bit, now on medium vibrations. you feel your body calm down, but still, squirming around and your pussy a big fat mess.

he spits a fat globe of spit onto his fingers, then spreading it across your tight hole. jungkook moans, thumb rubbing your hole in the form of circles.

"pretty baby." he murmurs.

you're whimpering - music to his ears -, jungkook enters his pointer finger inside you, just a little, but fuck, does it hurt. this is a weird feeling, you've never had anything put inside...there. it's an odd feeling, but you trust jungkook. it's okay.

he pushes it in a bit more, earning a lengthy moan from you.

"so fucking tight. gotta get you to loosen up, hm? yeah?"

"yes, yes, i need to—" you gulp, "loosen up. for you." you were nodding your head frantically, pussy clenching over and over around the vibrator.

this was all fun for jungkook, he loved seeing you so obedient and squirming under him as he toys with the vibrations of the dildo inside you. his pretty little girlfriend. who knew she'd be into this kind of stuff? nobody, exactly. he'll make sure he's first and only person to ever touch you this way, and to love you.

he spits on you again, smearing it all over your hole then pushing his finger in deeper. you had to admit, you kind of enjoyed it. being stuffed on both your holes. as filthy as it sounds.

jungkook begins to slowly thrust his pointer in and out of you, loving the way your falls feel around his finger.

"think you can take two, sweetheart?" he caresses your cheek with his free hand.

you bite your lower lip only to let go with a small bounce, you nod your head.

"words, baby, need to hear you say it." his touch is really soothing.

"yes, two. take t-two..."

jungkook squeeze your ass, then pulling his finger out to replace it with his pointer finger and middle finger. he spits on you again, getting it all over his fingers and your hole, then slowly thrusting it in.

"mmh! hurts! ...a little, ah!"

"'s okay, baby, it's okay." his thumb on the same hand rubs your cheek softly.

jungkook begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you at the same time, maintaining a decent pace, not wanting to hurt you too much.

meanwhile, he also makes sure to increase the intensity of the vibrator. again. fuck, not like hr ever told you, anyway.

"shit— gguk! ggukie, ah! ah!"

your legs start shaking due to the intensity, which results in jungkook having to wrap his arm around your thigh to keep you still.

"it's okay, baby. you're doing so good." he says while pulling his fingers in and out of your puckering hole.

he holds you down to the mattress harshly while your moans are muffled by the pillow, drool gushing out of your lips and making a damp mess in your pillows.

"shit, feels so good—mmh!"

you reach your arm down to grope your breast, flicking your nipple with your finger.

if someone had asked you an year ago what you'd be doing now, you definitely wouldn't have guessed to be on some man whom you call your boyfriend's bed with both your holes stuffed. but oh well. life.

at this point, you don't even feel your legs anymore from this position. but oh, so worth it.

jungkook curls his fingers inside you with a smirk, his other hand suspiciously sneaking around you waist and—

"ooooohhhh, oohhh, ah, ah! fuck, gguk! you're gonna make me cum!"

—rub your swollen little clit in circles. shit, shit, shit. his fingers tug on the little bug, pinching it and pulling it to rub it all over again.

this felt like heaven.

you grind your hips onto his hand, now both your fingers working on your sensitive nipples as your body begins to completely shudder, shaking and squirming.

your pussy grips tightly onto the dildo, clenching over and over again as you yelp out an extended moan.

"kooook!" you moan out afterwards.

"yeah? my baby's gonna cum? gonna cum all over this good for nothing dildo like a little slut?"

your tongue was out, your mind was fucked and you could barely think of any words. there was only one thing you could focus on and that was the stimulation jungkook's giving you and the fucking dildo that's shoved up your pussy. you feel so full, so stuffed that at one point you found it hard to breath even.

so you just nod your head showing agreement and jungkook's fingers dipping deeper into your flesh while you squirm around. that's definitely going to leave a mark.

and without another second being passed, your orgasm comes crashing down to you, your shoulders shrugging and whole body slumps down to your bed.

your legs are shaking, heartbeat increasing, nails gripping the bedsheets as you scream in overstimulation while your boyfriend continues to rub your clit. you're a whining mess, the room filled with your sweet moans and groans.

"please, please, please, please, please!"

you scream, tears at the end of your eyes.

"fuck, you fucking squirted."

that was the second time you've squirted. first time being from jungkook's dick, of course.

he turns off the vibrations, slowly and gently pulling the dildo out of you.

"shit, y/n."

he holds your ass cheeks separate, spreading them to take a closer look at your completely ruined pussy. big mess on the bed too.

"my girl..." he coos.

you're whimpering, body fully exhausted from the whole session you had.

"baby, are you okay? y/n, sweetheart?" suddenly, he's concerned.

"you just fucking ruined my cunt, moron." you cuss out.

jungkook's nose scrunches. he leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your cheek.

"come on, you need to pee." he pats your ass cheek.

"no, too tired." your words are barely audible.

"alright." jungkook hums. for a moment, you think he's sided with you, but no, you squeak once you feel his hands flip you to your back, then two arms enveloping your entire body as he picks you up.

instinctively, your legs wrap around his little waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

jungkook takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet.

"pee. you want me to look away or?" he asks.

you nod your head. jungkook takes that as a sigh to walk out of the bathroom after muttering a "call for me when you're done".

while you pee, you take a moment to take everything in. your boyfriend had just fucked you hard with toys, made you cum and squirt and now you're in his bathroom, taking a piss. you probably looked like a mess right now, also.

once you were done, you also make sure to clean yourself with some tissues.

"kook! done..." you shout, then mumble the last part. your post sex self was always quiet and too fucked up. in addition to that, always feeling confused and lazy. jungkook would happily take care of you instead.

your boyfriend opens the bathroom door and sees you cutely sitting on the toilet, fingers fidgeting with one another.

"cute baby" he snorts.

he parts your hair to the side, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. but your attention is paid to only one thing. the big fat dent on his pants and the big wet patch.

"kook, let me..." still drowsy, but you reach your hand to cup his rock hard cock through his sweats.

"mm, no, no, you're tired, sweetheart." he gently pats your hand away, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"but you're still hard..." you mumble.

"doesn't matter. i'll handle it myself. besides, i already came." he smirks.

"huh?" you were this close to falling asleep on spot, but your head shoots back up at his words.

"who wouldn't. i felt satisfied from your satisfaction. that's all what matters to me, hm?"

"hmmm..." you hum, nodding your head, eyes threatening to close. your head was leaning against jungkook v line as he caressed your head with a chuckle.

"hey, wait, don't tell me you're asleep?" he asks you, immediately waking you up from your 5 seconds of sleep.

"no! awake! me!" you shout.

"right." his nose scrunches.

jungkook hooks his hands on your armpits, hoisting you up to carry you out of the bathroom. since the bedsheets were ruined and there was no time left to change them, he decides to take the guest room instead. he takes you in there, gently placing his lovely girl on the soft mattress.

he goes back to your room, opening the closet to pull out one of those soft cotton white pajamas you wear. he goes back to the guest room to dress you up in the cute little pajama gown and granny panties.

he leans back, admiring his little cute girlfriend. chucking to himself, jungkook then gets in the shower. he was still hard of course, so he had to take care of himself. afterwards, he wears a comfy pair of grey sweats and heads back to the guest room.

the adorable sight of you sleeping on your stomach and now turned to jungkook's side of the bed with an arm thrown over it as well and lips in the form of a pout.

he chuckles in my mind, a bright smile on his face as he makes his way to the bed. jungkook gently lifts up your arm then slides under it to lay on the bed. he places your arm back, but this time around his waist. he makes sure to pull your comforters over both your bodies to keep you both warm.

you suddenly move on your spot, then snuggling closer to jungkook's chest to seek warmth.

you looked so cute and beautiful like this. fully passed out next to him with a bit of drool on your chin. he happily wipes it away though, then proceeding to press a little kiss on your forehead.

"goodnight. i love you."

[sorrowsofsilence]

Cymbal-ism • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected pnv, pls wrap it b4 u tap it; male!recieving, slight degrading, rough!folio) enemies to lovers, arguing/bickering

Prompt: You're the new bad omens drum tech, and Nick Folio sure does get on your nerves. Is he a pain in the ass? Or is it the fact you two have some un-discussed sexual tension? Sent via anon

Author note: its hella late, ive had three margaritas, and this is not proofread lol

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

“You’re fucking insufferable,” you muttered under your breath as you brushed passed the short-haired brunette, shoulders knocking against him.

He scoffed, his dark brows narrowing as he hollered after you down the hallway, “Huh? What did you say?”

You glanced his way, flashing him the middle finger with a sarcastic smile while you opened the studio door, before slamming it loudly behind you in frustration.

Nick fucking Folio.

You two got off on the wrong foot the first day you met him two weeks ago. You had bought coffee for the team as a kind gesture, hoping to make a great first impression since you would be with them around Europe for two months.

However, shit hit the fan when you and Folio collided in the hallway as you got off the elevator, spilling the drinks all over him, and immediately giving him a childish vendetta.

To him, if his new drum tech was that clumsy, this tour would be the longest two months of his life. But to you, he was the one who entered the elevator looking down at his phone, not paying attention.

And even though you two barely knew each other, he already made your blood boil.

Perhaps it was the fact he was always trying to nit-pick every little thing you did or the way his attitude was always witty, having a sarcastic retort for everything you said.

It’s also possible it was the way Jolly, your childhood best friend and how you landed the job in the first place, was constantly teasing you about the sexual tension budding between you and Folio.

Or deep down, you thought that maybe it was the way Nick’s annoyingly perfect hair slicked back so effortlessly, or how flawless his ochre eyes were when he glared at you, the deep abyss titillating every time his brows furrowed in your direction.

Everything about him, and to do with him, pissed you off.

But it made you even more mad that you found him extremely attractive, his presence making your heart pound with anger and infatuation.

Nick stormed into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot, “If you’re going to insult me just do it to my face, you coward.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you said, kneeling next to the drum kit, loosening bolts on the boom stand.

Folio hovered over you, analyzing your movements as you adjusted the cymbals, taking them down one by one to place them in their cases. There was less than an hour until sound check, and none of the drum gear was moved from the studio room to the stage- thanks to somebody.

Groaning, you stopped to look up at him in annoyance, “I’m glad you think I’m pretty Folio, but maybe you can take your eyes off me and help? Instead of ogling?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he started sliding the copper off of the loosened bars, “I’m just making sure you’re not fucking up my set.”

“Sure buddy,” you said, standing up and starting to unscrew the kick drum.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the air thick as miffed glances were shared taking apart the kit.

You tried not to watch the way his arms would flex as he twisted the rack tom, tattoos glistening slightly as the room heated.

You averted your eyes for a final time when they met his once again, stacking the cases onto the trolly to wheel it out to the stage.

Folio pushed passed you to grab the handles, ready to cart it down the hall even though it was your job.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You asked as you trailed way too closely behind him, just to push his buttons. The smell of his faint cologne and slight musk of weed on his tanktop left your heart picking up pace.

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, about to walk past the stage entrance.

“To the left- the left-” you shook your head, staring at him with disdain, as he completely ignored you and continued walking, “Oh my god- Folio! it was left!”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Jolly and Ruffilo walked down the hall, stopping at the backstage door as they watched you humorously.

Rolling your head back you gave them an exasperated look, sighing audibly.

“You two ok?” Jolly smiled, folding his arms.

Shaking your head in frustration you bitterly laughed, “He is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m seriously debating quitting the industry as a whole.”

Ruffilo snickered, glancing at Jolly and then Folio, “He only does that because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Excuse me-” Nick interjected, shaking his head in disagreement, “I’d rather kiss a wall for five hours. At least it would be quiet.”

Shooting them a pointed look you walked passed the boys as they chuckled, letting Folio follow you onto the stage.

It only took about ten minutes to set the kit back up before you sat on the stool, practicing a few solos to test the position.

Nick watched in irritation from the side, but what you didn’t know was under all that show, was an immense amount of admiration. The brunette loved watching you play. He was always impressed with your coordination and keen ear, the ability for you to instantly stop playing and slightly adjust a drum before falling right back into a quick rhythm, breathtaking.

He’d never want to admit how good you are; but he would always be biting back a smile as he watched you test out his kit for him, making sure it was set and tuned to perfection.

You sighed once you finished your adjustments, before tossing Nick the sticks.

“All yours pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” He huffed, before looking at the kit, “Also, your dumb ass forgot the hi-hat.”

Not believing him at first you glanced at the drums before swiftly swearing to yourself.

He was right.

Getting up you pushed past Nick, but he followed you back down to the studio, an annoyed murmuring coming from your mouth. As you entered through the door Folio closed it behind you, locking it.

“Nick seriously what-” You began, but were cut off by the brunette.

“God, do you ever shut that annoying fucking mouth of yours?” He said, standing close to you as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s so annoying to you, make me,” You scoffed, tilting your head to the side.

The proximity of Nick subconsciously began to make your face warm as you backed up from him, but he was right on your trail.

You hit the soft padded wall of the studio, Folio’s body millimetres from pinning yours against the surface.

The tension grew as you both stared at each other with hatred.

“Fuck, you.” Nick spat, false venom dripping off his words.

Without hesitating you sneered, “You wouldn’t, pussy.”

It took all of two seconds before his auburn eyes flicked to your lips, a greedy hand reaching up and gripping your jaw as his mouth attached to yours.

It didn’t take long before you melted into Nick’s touch, angry at how good his tongue felt swiping against yours, the grip on your face tightening as his other hand reached to grip a fist full of your hair at the back of your head.

Fury, hatred, and lust fueled the fire between you two as your fingers gripped his belt loops, tugging his hips toward you as you began rutting against him.

You wanted nothing more than to claw down his skin, begging to dig your nails across the ivory and ink, embedding your mark. You wanted him to wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as your imprint but decided that grazing your teeth along his lips would have to do.

Nick moaned into you, quite literally ready to tear your shirt off, tempted to rip the cloth from its seam and destroy the fabric; but he withheld himself, aware that the two of you were hallways away from the exit to the tour bus.

The two of you pulled away panting, catching your breath.

“What the hell are we-”

Nick stared into your eyes, attempting to shift his desire into a glare as he leaned down to bite against your neck, nipping and kissing down the skin, “Just shut up, for five minutes. Please.”

A small whimper escaped you as his tongue grazed your collarbone, Folio’s fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans. You shimmed the fabric down your legs, kicking it off as you tugged at his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

His fingers gripped your hips, pulling them toward his own as he rubbed against your underwear, the bulge and stiffened desire evidence of how badly he wanted this. Reaching for the bottom of your shirt you tore it off your torso, exposing your chest.

Folio pushed your hips into the wall as his fingers danced along the hem of the thong you wore, threatening to dip lower to where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whispered, desperation falling from your tone.

Folio shook his head, almost throwing his head back in humour, “We need to do something about your mouth.”

He pushed your shoulders, beckoning you to the ground before pulling his belt from the clasp. Freeing himself from his jeans, you watched hungrily as he gripped the back of your head, lining up his hardened desire to your lips.

“Open. Now.”

You obeyed, too turned on to fight back his commands. Wrapping around him you began to suck along the skin, closing your eyes as you relished in the feeling of how hard he was, all for this.

You reached up to stroke the base but he gripped your wrist, holding you in place as his hips thrust forward. He took complete control of how fast and how deep he went, using you to his desire.

“Your whore mouth exists for me to fuck,” Nick swore, his other hand holding the base of your neck as if feeling for himself through your skin, “All that backtalk can be shoved right down your pretty throat.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on Nick’s thrusts as you took your free hand between your thighs, allowing yourself to slide past your panties to trace small circles against the skin.

Your arousal coated your fingers as your hips rutted against your hand, Nick’s fingers leaving your wrist to grip the back of your head. He pushed you down further on him, your eyes watering as he forced you to gag along his cock.

Air dissipated from your lungs, your body shuddering from the lack of oxygen momentarily before Nick pulled you away, causing you to cough.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost chuckling.

You licked and sucked against him for a moment longer, before he pulled you up, gripping your hips. He kissed you desperately again for a few more minutes as his cock pressed against your thigh, before you pulled away, a hand against his chest.

“Are you going to just kiss me, or fuck me like you said you would?” You pushed, your hand gripping his erection, fingers dancing across his skin.

Nick moaned into your lips again before taking his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers between your folds as he prepared your body for his, “Don’t make it a challenge, or you won’t be able to walk after.”

The brunette lifted your leg, gripping underneath your thigh as he hoisted it up to his hip, positioning himself against your arousal. It was a matter of seconds before he slid between you, your body taking him eagerly as your head fell back, mouth agape at the sensation.

He filled you fully, satiating the hunger you always had for the drummer as he began to thrust into your core, pounding senselessly. The angle gave him access to where you wanted him most, soft cries heaving from your chest as your brows furrowed.

Frustration dissipated into pleasure as Nick gave you everything, fucking you with complete adoration and need. Your nails gripped his shoulders, digging into the skin with haste as you rested your forehead against his neck.

“I hate how gorgeous I think you are,” Nick mumbled into your ear, soft groans escaping him.

Your laugh turned into a moan as his fingers trailed to stimulate you while he thrust, your body convulsing from the bliss, “I hate your perfect laugh, and how you have a lopsided smile.”

“I hate how talented you are.”

“I hate the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

“I hate how you walk with a skip when you’re excited.”

Your eyes lidded as Nick gripped the back of your head, forcing you to watch him as he spit on himself, lubricating your combined story as you pushed into him to meet his hips.

His thrusts began to waver as you clenched around him, the stimulation from his cock and fingers causing your legs to shake. Nick was close himself, trying to push you to the edge first before allowing himself release.

“I h-hate how-” You tried to get out your words as complete bliss took over, but Folio’s lips attached to yours once again, his pace never ceasing through your orgasm. Your walls engulfed him as Nick succumbed to you, his breathing staggered and haste as his chest vibrated in contentment.

His hips jerked into you as he allowed himself relief, taking over your body.

You watched him for a moment before his eyes met yours, lips agape in a pant.

The brunette shook his head as his fingers squeezed the skin along your torso, “We have two minutes till sound check.”

“Of course, you’re making us late,” you frowned.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Tags: @sammyjoeee @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @foliosgirl @thatchickwiththecamera @blackveilomens @xserenax-13

[slaymitchabernathy]

Passing By

| in honor of tom turning 30, here’s coryo turning 30 :)) |

“Do you like it? Is it good?”

Coriolanus continues chewing the cake in his mouth, letting the flavors melt all over his tongue. It’s vanilla, a simple flavor but he’s a simple man.

Besides, he loves vanilla because she smells like vanilla.

He looks up from his plate and finds his girlfriend staring at him with such an intensity in her eyes. She wants this to be perfect for him, from the cake to the entire day even though it’s almost over.

Coriolanus has two hours left to enjoy his birthday.

It’s not really that special to him, never has been, never will be. Thirty is a basic number, it just means that he’s on track, nothing to celebrate. Forty is when he’ll start taking things more seriously.

But Soarynn cares. She cares about everything including his birthday. It’s a shame he had to work today. The office has been making him work longer hours and with rent going up, it’s not like he has a choice.

The bitter part of him mind wishes he were younger only so he could have more time to make a better life for himself, for her.

They should be living on the Corso, not in this tiny, cramped one bedroom apartment. The heat doesn’t always work, the water is always frigid and sometimes rats chew through the walls.

She still bought him cake though.

Only once slice since that’s all the bakery had left when she got off her own shift at work. Soarynn works as a seamstress, it’s hard on her hands but it brings home some money so she stays there and works hard.

He wishes she didn’t have to work at all.

“It’s very good,” he tells her, still chewing but Coriolanus knows the longer he takes the answer, the more anxious she’ll get. Soarynn sighs, sitting on her knees, “Good, I couldn’t find any candles, sorry.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, placing a hand on her knee, “No need to be sorry darling, the cake is more than enough.”

Soarynn gives him a soft but tired smile. He knows she’s as exhausted as he is when it comes to living this life.

He came home exhausted, ready to go straight to bed when he found Soarynn in their small bedroom, with the slice of cake and a card. He already read the card, it’s sweet, she’s so sweet to him.

“Still,” she mumbles, brushing her hair behind her ears, “wish I could’ve gotten you something else. Some new shoes maybe.”

His shoes started getting holes in them about a month ago. Coriolanus didn’t mention it to Soarynn, didn’t want to worry her. Looks like she still noticed.

“For your birthday we’ll go out for dinner,” he tells her, setting the plate down. Soarynn’s lips twitch into a frown, “No we won’t.”

Now they’re both frowning.

Coriolanus wishes more than anything that they could afford the smallest of luxuries. New shoes, a night out on the town, new clothes for Soarynn, fresh groceries.

He always liked to think that Snow landed on top but he seems to be stuck at the very bottom.

At least he has Soarynn. With her, he feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Yes we will,” he says gently, giving her knee a squeeze, “I know I’ve been working longer hours but that means a little extra spending money. Might even be able to get you some new dresses hmm?”

Soarynn shakes her head, “Coryo we won’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Yes we will darling, twenty-nine is a big thing to celebrate.”

“Coryo, I never got to turn twenty-eight.”

Coriolanus closes his eyes but it doesn’t help. Doesn’t help him forget that she’s not even here right now. That Soarynn died almost a year ago in a car accident when she was crossing the street to get to work one morning.

He didn’t even find out until he got off of work and realized that she never made it home.

And he never got to say goodbye.

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone in his room, in his tiny, crappy apartment with no Soarynn. No warmth. No laughter. No kisses.

Just him and the slice of cake he bought himself on the way home from work because he knew she’d want him to celebrate.

Even though he doesn’t want to.

There is nothing to celebrate now that she’s gone.

“We’ll still celebrate,” he decides, ignoring her.

He doesn’t talk to Soarynn often, it’s too painful. And she only comes to visit him every so often, like on days like this.

Just like time, she’s only passing by.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @evilmenarehot @erensrealgf @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead |

[mothduchess]

Kitsune HRT Part 2

Pre-Medication --------------------------------

"It wasn't this bad the first time around." That was my first thought as I sat in the park with eyes on the birds flitting about. The various thin layers of my outfit, colored browns and pinks, was decorated with a smattering of crumbs from a delicious sandwich that I had bought an hour earlier. It was the first time I was out of the home in what felt like months, and in large part it was thanks to an accessory I'd dug up out of the bowels of my closet: a fluffy fake fox tail, bought at a convention years ago. Who'd have thought that such a minor purchase would feel like a life preserver nearly a decade later? "Was it really that long?" I looked closer at the park; the rusting metal frames of damaged swing sets and playful slides that I once clambered upon sat side by side the colorful plastics of new play sets. It was hard to recall memories of this place, even being right there. What was that little boy wearing? What did he even like? "Stars, I think?" Two decades later and here I was: an echo of that little boy. My fingers wove together as thoughts passed between my ears as a hollow gust. My cloudy walk down memory lane was cut short by the sound of soft foot falls against the weed-eaten pavement. Looking up, there I beheld a man in cotton white fur and a green shirt that had surely been the warzone for many moths at some point. He wore his smile like a shining helm, ears wobbling atop his head proudly. After staring a few moments, I tucked back into mys- He sat next to me; he was already stretching out his feet and pulling out a water bottle. My senses couldn't help but notice how soft the lightest brush of his fur felt when I scooted to the side. Of course, he wasn't fully a rabbit - patches of human flesh poked through beneath his shirt, and legs seemed off in a way that I had no ability to express. He turned towards me, black pearls gazing at my hunched figure. "You okay?" Mentally, probably not. Physically...? "I... think so." "Shitty heatwave am I right?" "Yeah. Fucking ridiculous. Nice breeze though right?" He chuckled with a few short nods. Judging by how water fell short of his lips and his attempt to catch the droplets, his quasi-snout was a recent shift. "Note to self - buy a straw," he muttered. Words tumbled behind my lips. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but what if I was wrong? There was a chance he wasn't like me for why he chose to change, and I knew how shitty it was to be asked questions out of the blue. That peskering swarm known as anxiety billowed forth from its hive that had nestled itself within my bones. "-iss? Hey, you alright?" Ears that existed only in my daydreams perked up at the question; I turned to face him. "You got water?" "Uhhh... no." He handed over his water bottle with a friendly smile. As I drank, he leaned back for a spot of sun bathing. "Nice tail. Noticed it on my laps." "Thanks. Would've worn some other stuff, but it's a bit warm for that." "Sure. Furry?" "...Dunno." "You don't?" "I'm still figuring things out. Turns out, not all furries are-.... well, apparently furries only *like* anthropomorphic animals. They um. They.... don't...." "This was a mistake. Just leave." I shook my head and went to get up. As I did, he grently grabbed my wrist - my head bolted around in surprise. "Hey. I don't know if my read's wrong on this. Maybe it is. But have you ever looked into making that tail real?" I took a long pause. He was a stranger, in the middle of the park. The rabbit had grabbed my arm, and it felt awkward to simply leave. The clouds overhead began to part, however, with a flock of birds streaming by. "...Yes," I squeaked out. He pulled away, and handed a card. With a quiet farewell salute, he gave a knowing nod and took back to the pavement. My heartbeats matched his steps in tandem as he quietly walked off; my fingers toyed with the hems of the long skirt I wore, my other hand clutching the card and spinning it over. A breeze of wind blew away the buzzing stillness of anxiety. I looked towards the card after a long minute of standing.

I swore I could smell roses.

Kitsune Transition (Pre-Medication) Week 1:

-The tail works!!! So much fewer dysphoric feelings. -kinda sucks with my cute skirts though, need a new anchor -wish it was cold enough for the gloves

-Can't believe that guy gave me this card -(wish I knew his name, thank you rabbit dude)

-Just one small step forwards. You got this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- <PREV FIRST NEXT>

[pastelminx]

Too Many Chances

“I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that! What were you thinking Audrey?! We have been over this way too many times now. I’m very disappointed in you tonight. I want you to go wait in the restroom and think about what just happened while I say goodbye to my colleagues, I will come get you shortly.” I scold her, so frustrated that she let this happen again. She sniffles and brushes the tears away before she hangs her head and walks off to the restroom like she was told. I know I was a little hard on her but she needs to understand this isn’t something to brush off. She’s 26 and having accidents in her pants like a little girl. I tried to get her to wear a pullup tonight for the event so this could have all been avoided but she obviously lied about listening to my instructions.

The drive home is quiet aside from her sniffles. I know she’s upset so I’m giving her the time to calm down. She stiffens as we pull into the drive, remembering what’s next.

“Okay, Audrey… go wait in your corner upstairs. I’ll be up shortly.” I instruct her. She visibly cringes but doesn’t say anything as she makes her way upstairs.

The punishments and lectures aren’t working for her. They help with certain things but her accidents haven’t improved. I think it’s time to try a different tactic since scolding and basic punishments aren’t working. If she wants to act like a little girl, I’ll treat her like one. Maybe a childish treatment will be a better approach like I was reading about. About a month ago I bought a sample pack of adult diapers as a backup threat for her. I haven’t brought them up yet and I think I need to do more than threaten her with them.

She’s waiting with her nose in the corner like she was told and I can’t help but smile. I come in and start taking my tie and cufflinks off, not addressing her yet. I watch her fidget in anticipation. Finally, I let out a sigh and she goes still.

“Come on over, sweetie, we need to have a chat.” I tell her. She turns, tears still in her eyes. She’s pitiful but so cute like this. She walks up to me sitting on the bed, knowing she has to stand so she doesn’t dirty the bed. I start undoing her dress pants for her, noting how soaked they are. After peeling her wet pants and panties off along with her blouse, she stands in front of me naked. I know she’s embarrassed because she’s blushing like crazy and chewing on her lip.

“I know I was harsh earlier at the event and I’m truly sorry for upsetting you. I shouldn’t have been so mean, I’m sorry sweetie. I’m not happy about your little accident but I should have handled it better. You know this can’t keep happening though, big girls shouldn’t be having accidents like this. You’re 26 but keep wetting your pants and ending up over my knee and getting corner time like a little girl. Do you like this kind of treatment, sweetie? Are you having accidents on purpose for this attention?” I ask like I’m actually talking to a little girl.

Her eyes go wide in shock at my questions. “N-no! Of course not, Cole! I don’t like any of this, I can’t help the accidents. I’m really sorry for embarrassing you but none of this is necessary and I’m trying to get a handle on them.” She apologizes to me.

“You can’t help the accidents, sweetie?” I ask softly. She shakes her head no with a sad look on her face.

“Okay then, I think I have something that will help you after your spanking. Yes, you’re still getting one. Come on over my lap, it’ll be over before you know it.” I tell her, not giving her a chance to ask questions or argue. Her spanking goes as it always does, she cries and begs for me to stop, promising she’ll be good and do better. I soothe her afterwards, holding her and rubbing her back, praising her.

“You did such a good job sweetie. I need to grab something for you, go back to your corner for me.” I say softly, kissing her on the forehead. She listens, siffling over to the corner.

I wonder how she’s going to act when I bring out her new underwear…

[moon-alight]

hiii! i love your writings a lottt!!

can i please request &team's reaction when they realise they forgot their anniversary with their s/o? doesn't have to be angsty, it can be funny/chaotic or however you choose! :)

thank youuu ✨️

Yay! Of course I can <3

Masterlist

&Team forgetting your anniversary

Warnings: bit of angst, crack

Word Count: 776

-K

-He received a notification on his phone about 12 hours before the day would arrive.

-Freaks the hell out!

-Stares at his phone and the notification for about 20 minutes before he starts to panic. He does his best to fix something but all he can think about it pizza and some candles.

-When you see the guilty look on his face you laugh at him because at least he put your anniversity in his phone, right?

-The pizza was literally the best, just so you know

-Fuma

-for your information. . . Fuma would've remembered if his phone didn't die and he lost the charger.

-He had so many calendar reminders but unfortunately, he wasn't able to receive them for the past week.

-Completely freaks out when you appear at his front door with a gift in your hands (he would be the type to smash the door in your face out of panic)

-Tells you honestly and you just brush it off because you know he didn't forget on purpose.

-Nicholas

-This guy doesn't even remember what day you got together, he never placed the date in his phone so he wouldn't have a clue

-Is in a casual conversation with EJ when he suddenly goes, "so, my anniversary is coming up. . ." And Nicholas gets a heart attack.

-Thanks to EJ he remembers but unfortunately a bit too late as his anniversary was today.

-Quickly buys flowers and appears at your doorstep at like 1 AM with the stupidest grin ever as he wishes you a nice anniversary.

-EJ

-My man is busy, okay? He has an entire team to lead and new promotions so yeah. . . he forgot.

-Maybe he wrote a reminder to himself and suddenly realized or maybe it was you who reminded him the day before.

-He totally plays it off as if he remembered, though. "Oh, yeah, totally didn't forget hehe."

-Calls Nicholas and hopes he has a good idea on how to fix this but lets be honest, whatever these two think about together is the weirdest stuff on Earth.

-Don't be surprised if EJ appears with a rabbit on your anniversary because Nicholas told him "Chicks dig bunnies."

-Yuma

-This guy didn't forget, he never knew anniversaries were a thing.

-I mean, he saw it in movies and always thought it was ridiculous but now suddenly its a thing you wanna do and he . . . does not admit he didn't wanna do it.

-Instead, he keeps telling you how surprised you'll be when you see what he had planned.

-Runs to K last minute and explains the situation. (K laughs at him for about 10 minutes)

-At least he has a small self-made picnic organized the next day. (It were just some peanut butter jelly sandwiches but you both enjoyed them)

-Jo

-He could cry!

-Feels absolutely torn that he forgot something as important as your anniversary and admits it immediately when you show up.

-You don't mind of course, everyone can forget this but he still feels so guilty.

-About a week later he has the best date ever planned. He takes you to all the most beautiful places and gives you a promise ring just because he wants to make up for his forgetfulness.

-Harua

-He had bought a teddybear about a month ago but he does not remember why or how.

-Stares at it for a good ten minutes before he realized he bought it for your anniversary and immediately feels his heart sink in his chest.

-Like Nicholas will appear deadass at your house at around 1 AM with the teddybear just to hand it to you.

-You smack him with the teddybear but let him in regardless.

-He apologizes profusely but you just push his present in his hands and rub through his hair telling him he shouldn't feel bad.

-Taki

-I wholeheartedly believe you both forgot about it after being busy.

-You're sitting on the couch together while watching a movie and this guy looks you dead in the eye and deadass goed "Isn't it our anniversary?"

-You think for a good moment before remembering and just nodding.

-"Want sushi for dinner then?" You agree and that's now a literal tradition. You're eating dinner together and watching movies on every anniversary coming and it's the best.

-Maki

-He doesn't forget.

-How could he with 20 reminders, 17 handwritten notes around his room and the date markes on his callendar with little hearts?

-Arrives fully prepared and with a cute grin on his face.

-It is more likely you were the one who forget, tbh.

-He wouldn't risk forgetting it, you matter way too much.

[lonesome-witching]

Chivalrous

This was a very interesting prompt to write but I hope the anonymous prompter is happy with it. The idea was Robin being a chivalrous girlfriend and that is what I tried to write here.

You can send me prompts or read my previous ones.

Things had changed.

Nancy had expected things to change. Just not like this. With Steve it had been different. But then again, it wasn’t because they were best friends (soulmates, Nance, we’re soulmates) that they were the same person. 

For the past few months, years, Robin had been chivalrous. She’d opened doors for Nancy and the sentence ‘ladies first’ almost became her catchphrase. It’s just that after they started dating Nancy had expected it to stop. She had thought it was a flirting technique, that Robin had only done that to get her to like her. Which honestly had worked.  

But instead it had… escalated. 

“Robin, did you see the prices?” Nancy’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets like she was some stupid cartoon character Holly used to watch on lazy Sunday mornings. 

Robin hummed in response. 

“We can’t afford this.” Nancy lowered her voice. The last thing she wanted was one of the waiters hearing her complain about money. 

“Of course we can.” Robin smiled over the top of her menu. 

Maybe she should have expected something like this when Robin had insisted she wore the fancy red dress she had bought for a work event a year ago. Or when Robin herself had pulled on a suit that made Nancy’s mouth water and her heart skip a beat. They perfectly fit in with the old gray haired men who took their too young girlfriends here. 

“Did you win the lottery or something?” 

“Nance.” Robin laughed. 

A waiter cleared his throat before Nancy could probe or even simply comment that Robin hadn’t actually answered the question. “Are you ready to order?” 

Robin glanced at her with a questioning look in her eyes. 

“Yes, we are.” Nancy responded. She tried to quickly check which item was the cheapest but apart from the appetizers everything was out of their price range. She ended up ordering a pasta dish with a name she couldn’t properly pronounce. 

“What has gotten into you?” Nancy asked after the waiter left with both of the menus. 

“I want to treat my girlfriend to a lovely dinner, is that so weird?” 

It wasn’t just a dinner, it was also an overpriced bottle of champagne that Nancy would end up drinking most of. 

“It’s not weird but… Robin, I know we’re not exactly poor but we also don’t have to indulge like this. I’m fine with ordering pizza and cuddling on the couch.” 

For the first time that evening Robin’s smile faltered and her shoulders fell. Nancy hated it when Robin looked like this, so beautifully defeated. The doubt in her eyes reminded her of the night that they had sat across from each other, tipsy and foolish and not thinking straight, and the words that tumbled out of Robin’s mouth changing the axis Nancy’s world turned on. I really like you, Nancy, and I think it might kill me. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love this.” She quickly added, placing her hand on Robin’s on top of the table. Forgetting about the different couples sitting around them. 

“How about we just forget about money for the rest of the night? Instead I would love to hear about the new project they’ve given you.” Robin leaned back on her seat, her hand slowly sliding further away. Neither of them fully let go, their fingertips still brushing against each other as the waiter filled their glasses with champagne. 

“You want to hear about my job?” 

“Yes, I do. It’s important to you so therefore it’s important to me.” 

And so this time it was Nancy who rambled. She rambled about Brian who had nearly stolen her project from under her nose, she rambled about the interviews that sometimes felt like a never ending torture and that often didn’t lead anywhere, she rambled about the writing she got done earlier that day and how she was proud of how the article was coming along. And when she had said all of that she rambled about Caitlin who was sleeping with her boss just for better projects and she rambled about George who flirted with her that morning and how she had turned him down as politely as she could before laughing in the bathroom. She rambled until they had finished eating, she rambled as Robin pulled the receipt toward herself and only fell quiet for a second when Robin pulled out her wallet. 

“I can pay for my food.” Nancy said, already reaching for her own purse. 

“No, no, it’s my treat, Nance.” 

“Honestly, it’s no problem, we can split it.” 

“No! I’m paying and I don’t want you to worry about it. I want to pay for you.” 

“Okay. But I’ll pay next time.” Nancy relented and when had she started relenting in the first place? 

“Did you have fun?” Robin asked as she pushed her chair back. 

“Yes, this was incredible.” Nancy smiled as she got up. It had been more than fun. It had been a breath of fresh air after a week of barely seeing each other. It had been a moment to wrap herself in Robin’s presence and finally relax and maybe they really should make this a weekly thing. Not necessarily the fancy restaurants but the going out, the being together without instantly falling asleep. 

“Good.” Robin offered up her arm for Nancy to lean onto as they walked toward the exit. “Ladies first.” She said as she pulled open the door, motioning Nancy to walk out first. 

“You know you’re a lady too, right?” Nancy laughed as she often did. 

“I might be a woman but I am no lady, Nance.” 

Nancy shivered as they started walking back to the apartment. Robin putting her hands on Nancy’s waist to pull her away from the street. According to Robin it was safer that way and Nancy would not protest any action that got Robin to put her hands on her. 

It wasn’t a long walk, not more than fifteen minutes, yet the cold was lapping at Nancy’s bare arms and this really was not an outside dress. She hugged herself, trying to keep as much of her own body warmth in her own body. The second Robin noticed, she shrugged off her blazer and placed it over Nancy’s shoulders. Robin often ran hot, she was a living furnace at night and it wasn’t all too different now. The heat still somewhat trapped in the jacket now warming up Nancy’s shoulders and arms. 

“Thank you.” Nancy’s cheeks were hurting from all the smiling she was doing. She really was getting used to this. 

It was halfway to home that Nancy’s left heel broke off the shoe. She nearly toppled forward, the only thing keeping her upright was Robin’s strong arms. 

“Nance, you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, leaning down to grab the broken heel. “Shit.” 

“Let me check the damage.” And right in the middle of the sidewalk Robin sank down to her knees in front of Nancy. “Oh, yeah, these are unsalvageable, Nance.” 

Nancy wasn’t sure what to reply, the image in front of her so innocent yet so obscene. 

“I think there is only one solution for this.” Robin stood back up. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Robin swooped up her girlfriend in her arms, bridal style and Nancy didn’t want to think about what that did to her. 

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked instead, even though her arms were already hanging around Robin’s neck. 

“Carrying you home. I’m not letting you walk barefoot on this dirty pavement.” 

“You’re going to carry me all the way home?” 

“I’ll carry you anywhere you want to go.” 

And god dammit, Nancy was in love.

[gakehc]

The filmmaker

Your boyfriend Olli has a new obsession: an old 2000s camera. He looks so excited about it that you decide to join him on his new hobby of making films.

♡ Author's note: This one is all about the dialogues. I got really inspired by Olli and his camera on tiktok so I decided to write this. Again, it's a short oneshot but it's fun! Let me know what you think.

♡ Warnings:  This is a work involving real people but it's 100% fiction writen. Please remember that this is only for fun purposes and it doesn't reflect their real thoughts and behaviors. Don't take this work too serious. +18 only. Sex film, oral sex, f masturbation, fingering, v sex, dirty talk.

♡ Characters: olli×reader

♡ MASTERLIST HERE.

"Could you stop for a while?" you ask as you try to focus on your job. 

You are sitting on the couch with your notebook on your lap, trying to finish your job as soon as possible so you can finally chill and maybe watch some stuff on Netflix. Olli is filming you with his new old camera - he thought it was a good idea to film his touring routine with the band. It is a good idea indeed, but that doesn't mean he needs to record all your movements when he is at home with you. 

"I'm trying to learn how this works" he replies.

"Bullshit. You already recorded me a thousand times today. I was doing the dishes and there you were, holding this fucking camera. I was brushing my teeths and you were there, too! Are you going to film me taking a shower?".

"It's a great idea".

You roll your eyes as Olli just laughs at you. Deep inside you think it's cute how he is enjoying being a filmmaker and maybe this will become his new hobby. He always took a lot of pictures of the places he had been while on tour and tried to share all his experiences with you but now it will be more fun because he will record everything just for you. 

"And what comes next? Porn?" you ask. 

"You are so creative, baby" he approaches you and leaves a kiss on your forehead. "I will edit some of this stuff. Ask me if you need something".

"Finally, a little bit of peace!" you laugh.

                              •

 Olli went out to buy some food while you are rolling on your bed. The idea of making a porn video is sounding exciting to you now and you're sure that Olli got really interested, too. He would love to record you so he would have something to watch while he is on tour.  

Quickly, you take off your clothes and put on the nice lingerie you bought a month ago and never used before so that means that Olli didn't saw it yet. 

You hear the sound of the front door opening and you start to feel your heart racing. You grab the camera from the desk and waits for Olli to enter the room, laying on the bed and recording the door. 

"Babe?" He asks, looking for you.

"I'm in the bed".

When the door opens, Olli looks at you with his mysterious looks. You love when he stares at you this way but you also hate it because it makes your blood boil and turns you on to a point where you can't resist. 

"Well…" he walks in small steps towards you "Seems like you changed your mind".

"You are a good filmmaker after all". 

He smirks while he takes the camera from your hand. He sees that you already pressed the record button so he starts to film you while you caress you tight, looking deep into his eyes.

"If you want to do this, I will be the director. I'm in charge" he looks serious.

"Fair enough". 

He focuses the camera on your feets, making you giggle as he grabs one of them and massages it slowly. The camera is now on your legs and Olli makes you spread them for him. 

"Hmm… this lace panty doesn't cover anything. I can see your beautiful wet pussy through the lace" he says.

"That's how you make me feel".

"Don't say anything yet honey". 

You nod and he starts to play with the string of your underwear. He likes when you wear nice lingerie for him and he even buys you some when he sees something nice while on tour. 

"Now I want you to take it off and give it to me" his voice is firm. You obey. "The fabric is soaking wet" he shows it to the camera. 

Soon, the focus is your boobs. Olli likes to play with them while you are watching a movie on the couch, it's one of his favorite parts of your body. He just likes to touch them a lot and play with your nipples.

"Take your bra off and show me how round your boobs are" he demands. 

It's great to see the shine in his eyes while he watches you squeeze your boobs and soon he can't hold himself. The camera is very close while he presses your nipple with one hand, making you moan a little. 

"Did I allow you to moan?" you just nod a no "Right, but I will accept that. You can moan".

Suddenly, he stands in front of the bed, far away from you. You still have your legs spread and you can feel a little pain inside while your whole body craves to feel his touch again. Just the thought of having him inside of you in front of a camera sounds the best idea for you now. 

"Turn around and stand by your hands and knees. Now spread your buttcheeks".

You do like he told you and you feel him getting closer, probably focusing on your holes. 

"Look at this beautiful butthole. I didn't gave it up of fucking you there, honey" his voice makes your whole body shivers "You are dripping wet".

You moan when you feel him touching your clit with his thumb. It's hard to stand on your knees when Olli is touching you in such a good way. The circular motions he does is breathtaking, and soon he inserts one finger inside of you. He already knows your body so much that it doesn't take him too long to find the right spot that drives you crazy. When the second finger comes in, it's almost impossible to hold it. 

"You can't take it anymore, don't you?" He giggles "Alright, lay on your back again. I want you to come in my mouth".

Of course you do what he says as fast as you can, spreading your legs for him to fit between them. He places the camera on the side table, focusing on your face. 

"I want you to watch how beautiful you look when you cum".

When his warm tongue finally meets your pussy, you feel your back arching almost involuntarily. Olli is a master when it comes to oral sex. He knows where to work his tongue to make you feel the biggest pleasure of your life. He is truly a sex god. 

 It doesn't take you too long to feel your whole body shaking. You're coming so good that your moans are getting louder and you can see that Olli is smiling between your legs. He likes to satisfy you. 

"It tastes so fucking good, babe. You are the best" he says, making you feel like the best woman in the world. 

You want to feel Olli inside of you so bad but are not allowed to talk to him. You try to give him a little bit of puppy eyes to see if he allows you to speak, but he just laughs at you. He knows you are desperate for him and you can see that he is hard inside his pants. 

"You want to talk, right? You can say some words but first I want you to touch yourself for the camera".

You run your fingers on your clit really fast like you are begging him to possess you. He is still laughing, having no mercy on you. 

"Alright, you had enough fun in front of the camera. Now it's my turn".

The way he unzips his pants while he stares at you makes you anxious for him. He knows all your weak spots and everything that annoys you so he makes sure to move slowly just to see you going insane. He strokes his cock while he positions himself on top of you and between your legs. It's so good to feel his body touching yours that you grab his back and crave your nails on his skin in the same second that he penetrates you. He goes deep right away, feeling your walls embracing his length in the best way. You can see that he is working to make you cum again before he feels his own pleasure. 

"Now you can talk with me, honey. I like to hear your pretty voice while I'm fucking you" he mumbles on your ears. 

"Fuck, babe. I love you, I love your cock".

"Yeah I know you do. I love you too, babe".

He goes faster and faster and you start to cum again. He smiles as he sees that you are at your apex, you bet he is feeling proud of himself. This allows him to focus on his own pleasure, and soon you can hear him growling while he is at full speed.

"Yes, come inside of me" you say, looking into his eyes.

He opens his mouth while he releases his load inside of you. You love to feel him coming and giving him pleasure because he is always so good to you. Olli is the perfect boyfriend you ever asked for. 

"Oh, sweetie…" he says, collapsing at his side of the bed. 

"I can't wait to watch our naughty movie". 

"You can't wait for anything" he laughs "What if I want to edit it first?".

"No, you don't. I want to watch it now!". 

"Ok, but maybe I will get turned on again and ask for a second round".

"I'm in".

[clover-writes-poetry]

"promise"

i spent so much time with your head in my lap i forgot what it felt like when it wasn’t there 

maybe i should’ve held onto the wisps of you that were stuck to my sweater and kept them a box inside my heart 

i think i’ll be forever chasing the feeling i left on your back patio two years ago in some version of the past 

the last time i really slept was in your sheets staring up at the constellation of your face  

i find an excuse to bring you up at every chance i get 

mentioning you to the cashier at 7/11, telling my grandma about your latkes 

even when your jaw slipped from my fingers like sand from an hourglass 

and under the cover of night i still listen to songs you like and wish i could banish myself to go live in the field behind the graveyard 

among the skeletons and the dead flowers 

do you ever think about the flowers i gave you that sat on your windowsill for 3 months? 

sometimes i wonder if you look at them while you brush your hair in the morning in front of the photos of us stuck to your mirror 

almost identical to the ones on the corkboard in the kitchen 

breakfast at 7 am, your voice in my ear, the rush that came with boiling water, our favorite plates on the drying rack 

i miss you when you’re next to me and i wish i could reach out to tell you that 

imaginary fingers choke the back of my neck and i settle for watching you make dinner instead 

i loved it when you cooked, i told you that once 

you shrunk away from my voice and went back into the kitchen  

but i could see your face light up in the reflection of the white tile 

when you came home after work with a blue toaster i knew i was done for 

a week later i found us teacups on someone's doorstep 

we put on a record we didn’t care about, and you had your hair tied up in the kitchen 

making a pasta dish we’d had 100 times 

i poured the wine into our mugs, toasting to your hips as i raised my fork to yours 

in the dining room i’d eat your weapons first because i have always been disarming  

with your armor gone maybe you would let it be me who got to hold your hand under the table as if someone was watching us  

we said grace for our own religion and when i opened my eyes your hand was resting on my plate 

that night i put up a shrine to your name in the corner of our living room 

you laughed when i made heart cookies and they turned out as misshapen lumps  

pressing a kiss into my cheek you assured me they were just as good  

i used the nice jam we bought at the farmers market in midtown  

lines blurred between love and need as we spent all weekend writing the laws of our new country  

were you laughing when we walked around the city for three hours trying to find your favorite ramen place? 

i don’t remember but in the photo sitting on my dresser you were smiling, mouth full of noodles, eyes bright with joy 

when i signed the check, you made fun of how i write my ys and i snaked an arm around your waist in a way that seemed almost overfamiliar 

months later i stand in our bedroom door and pretend that i know a thing about love and anger and you 

i think this is what they wrote about, when i read that love is falling 

because i don’t know where the floor is 

because i know it’ll hurt when we hit the ground 

at one point i promised myself that i could be a person without you 

[i broke that promise 3 months and 2 years later when i lay on the cold tile floor and cried]

[bornforastorm]

nice guys? or pm 4B 👀👀?

you got it, babe:

nice guys: Holland’s old lunk of a Mercedes is crumpled completely. It’s beyond totalled. There’s steam coming out from under the hood like in a goddamn cartoon. If only Holland had bought that new car he’d been eyeing four months ago. Healy had talked him out of it, but maybe that flashy Mustang had some new safety features that would have helped him. As it is, his old junker didn’t even have seatbelts, let alone an airbag. A part of Healy’s mind says that when they buy Holly a car, hers will have an airbag. 

Emergency workers are standing around, ten feet back from the wreckage, clucking their tongues. The back of Holland’s head is visible over the seat of the convertible, sitting up perfectly straight. A cop hooks Jackson’s arm before he can make it over.

“You Healy?” He nods. The cop, a young guy with a pencil mustache straight out of 1940, frowns. “I’m Officer Flight. We spoke on the phone.”

“Oh, sure,” Healy says. He can’t quite pull his eyes from the back of March’s head. 

“Glad you made it so fast. He wouldn’t let us do anything until you got here. Just kept saying your name. We had to look you up in the book. He’s been conscious through all of it, pretty miraculously, but he’s in real bad shape. You’ve gotta convince him to let us get him out of that car.” 

Jackson nods. Another deep breath. 

The cop pulls him back. “But, look, prepare yourself okay? It’s pretty ugly.” 

And Jackson goes over to the car.

Both of Holland’s hands are on the steering wheel, white knuckled. He’s staring straight ahead with a terrible focus and he’s wearing that horrible purple suit that he’d bought on their first case together. It’s so out of fashion now, and Healy can’t remember him wearing it once in the past year, but here he is wearing it. God, Healy thinks darkly, ain’t that a bookend? 

“Holland?” Jackson puts a hand on Holland’s shoulder, very lightly. “Hey, pal, how ya doing?” 

Holland blinks slowly, his eyelids fluttering. His attention moves just barely from staring at his own knuckles over towards the shape at his shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is bleary like he’s just woken up from a nap. “Hey, aren’t you that diner guy?” 

“Yeah, yeah Holland, it’s me. It’s Jackson. I’m here.” Jackson brushes his fingertips over Holland’s fine, soft hair. He’s in shock, clearly. He’s trembling. This is bad. 

“Fuck, I don’t feel so hot. Where’s Holly?” 

“She’s here. She’s nearby. I wanted to see you first.” 

Holland blinks. Apparently totalling his car hasn’t sobered him up. Or maybe it’s the shock. Or maybe it’s something else. He looks bad. Very, very pale. Wavering like he’s under water. A streak of hair is stuck to his forehead, which is coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“You know when I first met you?”

“Yeah?” Healy lifts the lock of hair and lets it hang loose, where it falls over one furrowed eyebrow.

“Some chick had written you will never be happy on my hand.” 

“Okay.” Shock. This has to be the blur of shock. 

“And then a fucking smiley face. Never be happy. That’s fucked up, huh? I thought she was right.”

“What happened here, Holland?” 

His focus is wandering. “Crashed, I guess... But then, you know, I met you and we got going. And things with Holly were better and… I uh, I, I guess I just…. I don’t remember. Fuck, Jack, I don’t know...” 

Jackson looks down and finally sees why everyone was being so morbid. First of all, Holland’s legs-- those long, wonderful legs-- are caught under the mangled wreckage of the engine of his car. That’s ugly enough. Worse is that a sheet of metal from somewhere under the hood has come through the dashboard and didn’t stop until it hit the front seat. It’s sitting now somewhere between Holland’s hip and his ribs, bisecting his right side nearly entirely. There’s a lot of blood and a thick pad of bandages where the EMT’s were able to stop up the bleeding. Jackson’s stomach turns. That’s a mortal wound, he thinks. It’s gotta be. There’s no coming back from this. That Holland is still conscious-- hell, that he’s still alive at all-- is really a miracle. It’s a miracle that the metal came through at such an angle that his spine is still intact. It’s a miracle he wasn’t cut right in half and died immediately. His guts are being held in by that hunk of metal and certainly, when they remove it, he’ll die. That seems to be the only thing that could happen. It’s terrible. Fuck, it’s a goddamn tragedy.

“I mean, I’m dying,” Holland says, with that stubborn certainty of his that inflects down to hell at the end. It would almost be more comforting if he were shrieking, like he usually does in bad situations. Instead, his small, sad voice pulls Jackson’s attention back to his face. “I’m dead. It’s over.”

“Don’t say that.” Healy puts a hip against the car and continues his gentle petting of Holland’s hair. A little smile flickers under Holland’s mustache, which itself is spotted with blood from a bloodied nose. He must have smashed his face against the wheel when he hit the tree. Airbags, man. Holly needs to have airbags.

PM 4B: Terry was sitting in one of the armchairs, stiff backed and jaw clenched, in one of his nice gray suits. He had a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his legs crossed at the knee, as if that made him look casual. 

In the other armchair was our old pal Mendy Menendez with a gun in his hand, pointed loosely at Terry. It looked like the past eight years had been hard on him. 

I stayed still in the doorframe. 

Terry gave me a piano wire smile. "We have a guest," he said. 

"Hello, Cheapie," Menendez said. I felt my mouth twist into a grimace. "Funny seeing you here."

"Not particularly," I said. "Seeing as this is where I live."

"Oh yes, Terry was telling me all about that." 

"Was he?"

Menendez stood up and went to stand behind Terry. He put the nose of the gun in the crook of Terry's shoulder. Terry jumped and Mendy clapped a hard hand on the other shoulder, holding him in place.

"What do you want?" I said. I was trying to be cool about it, but there was a risk Menendez would do something rash. He looked like a more desperate figure than I remembered him being. I knew that if he shot Terry like that, there wouldn't be much I could do to save him, unless he was very lucky. 

"I came to visit my friend here, borrow a little capital for a venture I'm working on, and here I find him shacked up with the same cheap nothing who tossed him over years ago."

My teeth scraped against each other. "I'll tell you now what I told you back then: Don't call me cheap." 

He jammed the gun harder into Terry's neck. Terry looked to me a little frantically. 

"You can't play tough with me, Marlowe. I know what's going on down here."

"So you show up and decide to toss threats around? What good do you think this'll do you? If you needed help we won’t give it now." 

“I see what you are,” he growled. I wondered if I ought to give him credit for not outright calling us queers. I expected that from him, and I’d been called worse. It wouldn’t bother me much. 

“So you’re going to blackmail us? I’d like to see you try.” I was bluffing, mostly, but it was true I couldn’t imagine what real threat he thought he could pose. There was no one in our lives to impress anymore. No one who didn’t already at least half know what we were up to and accept it. We were two middle aged men who were living together. It seemed pretty obvious. Any visitor could see we only used the one bedroom. No one had kicked up a fuss yet.

He gave me a nasty look and in one abrupt movement cracked Terry across the back of the head with his pistol. Terry gave a little cry, hardly that, more a grunt, barely a groan, and slumped in his seat. I took a sharp step forwards. 

"If you've hurt him--" Menendez turned the gun on me.

"Now here's the truth of it, Marlowe," he growled at me. I glowered right back. "You're digging into something that's none of your business."

"I thought your business was in Acapulco."

"My business is all over." 

Ignoring the gun, I stepped across the room and kneeled in front of Terry's slumped figure. I checked his pulse-- a little quick but steady-- and checked the back of his head-- pulpy but not seriously injured. Some blood stained his white hair and the back of the armchair. 

"I don't care about your business. I care about my life here, and I care about Terry. Now leave us alone."

His lip curled. “I hate how you say that. Us. We. Like anything has anything to do with you.” I didn’t respond. He changed tactics. "You're working a case, I hear," he said slowly. "Looking into a missing husband?"

"That's right. What's it to you?"

"Let's say I need that husband to stay missing for a while."

"And worry an aggrieved wife? I'd rather not."

"I'd rather you did." Gun still aimed firmly in my direction, he walked in a wide circle over towards the doorway. "I'm sticking around in town, Marlowe. You're not tough. You're old and soft. You’re a pansy. I won't let you ruin another business venture for me. The only reason I don’t kill you now is out of kindness to my old friend there, who apparently cares about you. I owe him a favor, maybe. Just one. I won’t be so kind again."

"Yeah, because you’re such a kind guy. I don't give a shit what you do, Mendy, but if you get in my way, or threaten me or Terry again, one of us will end up dead. And it won’t be me. Don't doubt it."

"We'll see, Marlowe." And then he stepped out of the room and was out of the house. I waited to hear the door slam before lowering my hackles. What a mess. And what a threat I’d put out into the world. I’d killed one person in my entire life, and when I thought about it I still felt sick over it. I’d just promised to kill Menendez in cold blood if he bothered me again. Christ, did I even think I was capable of that? Could I do it even if my life depended on it? If Terry’s life depended on it?

[masturbucky]

The Intruder

DARK!Winter Soldier x fem!reader

Summary: You had issues with sleeping for the past two weeks. You wake up every night and you swear you can feel someone's staring from the shadows, but there's no one, and you know it's your imagination. Sometimes you feel touches. When you're tired of your mind tricks, you start taking those sleeping pills. It's good for you, and for the man who watches your sleep every night, too. But you dont need to know that. You need to sleep.

WARNINGS: DARK REALLY DARK PLEASE BE AWARE(!!!), Smut, Somnophilia, NON-CONSENSUAL EVERYTHING, AGAIN IT'S A FUCKING RAPE, Obsessive behavior, unprotected p in v, WS basically romanticizes from his sick point what he does to you, no y/n, literally NO comfort, creampie, marking, a bit of knife play(he tears your shirt off and touches you with a knife a bit), a lot of mentions of death by WS, choke kink if you squint, dacryphilia if you squint, what else? ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE! Also I kinda forgot to post it when I finished it and so i remembered only like an hour ago, changed some stuff a bit, but grammar errors are still on the table yk. Also, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. I'M NOT YOUR DADDY I CAN'T TELL YOU SHIT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MINOR, IT'S YOUR PROBLEM.

You sigh, dropping your bag on the couch while slipping out of your shoes on the way to the kitchen. It's a living hell, you think.

Two fucking weeks you can't sleep. You wake up every night, a several times at least, with a fucking panic attack, or in a sleep paralysis, or whatever the fuck it is — you don't know, you don't care, you just want it to stop.

The thing is, you're going insane.

Every night the reason you wake up is this feeling of someone's eyes on you. Someone's staring at you, from the shadowed corner of your room, every night and it doesn't stop. At first you weren't brave enough to look. On the thrid night you said fuck it and turned the light on, looking around. No one, nothing, no trace of anyone's presence. The fuck you expected to see? The windows were closed, same goes to the door — you checked, three times and one more to be sure — and you were honestly confused and tired enough to get back to sleep. Only for the same thing to happen the following night. And the next one. And again, and again, and again.

You changed locks. Better safe than sorry, you know?

It didn't helped. You still feel watched every night.

Sometimes YOU SWEAR you could feel lingering touches on your body. Cold or warm.

Again, you're going insane.

You bought a fucking camera and installed it in your bedroom under the ceiling just to find your sleepy self and your scared to hell awake self, walking around and searching for the fucking intruder, on it in the morning.

You tried to invite your friends over for the night, but — what am I, a fucking joke? — they all laughed at you, when you told your story. Fuck them, really, you should consider searching for new friends.

You decided to go to the therapist your friend (the only one who, thankfully, didn't laughed with the rest, but still brushed you off) recommended you. The point is, you'll have to wait a month to get an appointment in their busy schedule. You ain't gonna wait so long, you need to sleep for fuck's sake.

That's being said, here you are. Reading an instruction list to Flurazepam, which is like a fucking blanket itself, and grinning like an idiot, excited. Fuck your brain really, fuck it's dumb imagination, fuck the imaginary intruder! You need your sleep and you'll get your sleep, thanks to medicine!

Tonight you eat, shower, read your evening book and get to bed happily, excited to finally get some sleep. Maybe you take a bit more Flurazepam than needed. Just in case, you know?

***

He entered your apartment the same way as always - it wasn't hard to steal your keys and make a copy. He's used to be unnoticed, they would've been disappointed if he was careless enough to let you know about his mere existence. So far, you're stupid enough not to look into details. Smart enough to try and change locks and install a camera, smart enough to show him that you're safe from everyone, but him.

He stops the recording of this damn camera before walking into your room. He solved this problem the first night you installed it. It's a nice kind of change, he must admit. Seeing you from different angle other than from cameras he installed before is nice, truly. Beautiful, clever and caring about his... needs, even without knowing about him. That's what makes you so divine.

Tonight... To be honest, he was waiting for this just as much as you. He was excited, even. For your sleep and his next move in your relationship, if he could call it that.

He takes his mask and glasses off, walking closer to your bed, to your sleeping, relaxed. Asleep, more calm than usual. Just like the first night. Your breath is soft, heartrate is slow, the pills you took obviously worked. You probably took a bit more than you should have, his dumb little thing you are.

He doesn't know how it all happened, to be honest.

What he knows is, he needs you. Badly. All the time, day and night, needs to see your beauty and he needs to be close to something as perfect as you. He thought they wiped everything that could've been even close to what he feels towards you, but apparently they only made it worse.

More likely they know where he disappears every night to. They know everything, and he noticed how much easier it became to sneak out. And if they know and let it be, then he's allowed to have this. Which probably gives them even more power over him.

But he doesn't care. As long as he can see his angel, as long as he can touch something as perfect as you are, he doesn't give a fuck about what else Hydra would make him do. Consider it done. Consider it dead.

He takes his gloves off, kneeling down beside your bed. Slides your blanket off your body, and takes a deep breath. You're in your usual clothes of choice — this tempting shirt, which he often can see your nipples through, which he allows himself to touch sometimes even, and a comfy pair of underwear. He doesn't know what other men usually consider sexy, but for him it is whatever you wear. Especially this pair of panties.

Brings his hand to your thigh, more confidently than usual strokes the smooth skin up, touching the soft material of your underwear and sliding under the warmth of your shirt, to your belly. He doesn't need to be careful now. You won't wake up anyway, you're too deep in your slumber, thanks to those pills.

He almost groans only at the feeling of your soft, warm skin under his fingertips. It's not often when he touches you UNDER your clothes. Too much of a risk, he never intended to wake you up. It would mean a too big step, he doesn't need you to put up a fight and resist too much. If so, he would have to hurt you. And take you away. He's not ready to do that just yet.

But now? Now he can at least do that much without rushing things into it's natural ending. He could have you now, he could taste you now, and then he would prepare to take you somewhere where he would do that as often as possible. He just has to be patient.

For now he could just leave you a message of who you belong to. A promise, of sorts.

The bed cracked under his weight loudly, thanks god you're so deep in your sleep, and the blade shines in the moonlight, so does the hand, the whole arm. Soldier knows that what he's about to do will break you. But a broken angel is still an angel, a fallen one is not.

However, he's very clear with his messages.

Your shirt goes first. The material breaks easily on a sharp knife, he uses it to kill after all, and he's devouring every second of it. He prays that it wont be possible to erase from his mind, just like it was with you, with his angel.

"Beautiful," He breathes out, his voice hoarse and his throat hurts. He hasn't talked in quite some time.

Your shirt is no longer on his way. And oh god, seeing your chest again makes him believe in heaven, whatever this is. When you'll be his, you won't be wearing any clothes at all. It will be his personal heaven.

"So beautiful..." He lowers the knife to your chest, tracing soft skin, nipples with the backside of it. He could so easily switch the side, he could leave a permanent mark on you, a reminder of your first night as his, but he wont. Not now, at least.

Then he lowers the blade to your underwear. Two simple cuts on either sides - and it's just as dysfunctional as the shirt. But he doesn't think you'll need them anyway, now. He might as well just... Take them, as a little reminder for himself? A promise.

He lifts your pretty legs up, resting them on his shoulders when he settles in between, and slides the thorn material from under you with his flesh arm. He wants to feel this. He wants to savor every touch.

Your panties are left in the pocket of his pants, and he returns his full attention to you. Only if you knew how beautiful you are right now, naked for him, ready for him. He would show you, one day. When you would be conscious and used to him, his presence, his touches. For now, this will do.

The knife is back in it's holder, and he lowers to your warm body. Hands slide up your waist to your tits, and the left one to your neck. Metal fingers trace the warm, delicate skin, pressing ever so slightly. The only time he really focuses on how much pressure he adds. Looks just perfect on you.

He can't wait anymore.

Right hand slides off your body to lower his pants, just enough to free his almost uncomfortable erection. He was so mesmerized by your beauty that he completely forgot about himself.

Leans back slightly, once again admiring the view. His angel, so perfect and peaceful, in her sleep. Your calm face, delicate neck, chest, your belly, legs and, a fucking paradise, your pussy. He can't see much, but he knows its perfect. He had seen it, many times, on the cameras. He also knows what you play with, and where you hide it. Lower drawer of your nightstand.

Soldat leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck, tasting your skin. It's his time to enjoy, his moment to savor, so he slides his hand down to your exposed to him — only him — heat. You're wet, just a bit. Enough for him, at least. Touching you is a privilege already.

Your legs are pushed up, over his thighs. He doesn't know if he wants to hurry up or take his time, it feels like he needs both. Contradictions became natural to him since he found you.

A deep breath. He lined himself up with your entrance, stroking himself slowly, just a bit. Smearing his precum over your clit and soft folds, enjoying the moment. It's so strange to be so overwhelmed. So excited. You make him feel things he didn't knew he was able to feel, and you have no clue. You will, eventually.

He pushes in slowly, groaning and almost cumming right away, holding himself back and biting on your neck. He takes a second to remind himself about how to breathe. Unbelievable. You feel like death. The best feeling ever, the only good feeling.

When he's fully in, he thinks that calling it a heaven would've been an understatement. Your insides around him are so much more.

When he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, that's where he could've die happily.

You're so warm. So tight, squeezing his manhood just right. It's where he belonged, it's where he feels complete and forgiven. Your walls hug his dick perfectly, and he want's to stay in there until he fades away. And he wants more.

He's greedy when he starts moving. In and out, slowly at first, but getting faster — yes, he's greedy. He's guilty in more than greed, he doesn't care. With your pussy taking him so well, with your warm body under his hands, his lips, just under him — he doesn't care. It's all his, you're his.

Oh how he wants to hear more than those sweet whimpers from you.

He can imagine. His angel, you, under him, hands gripping on his arms, you'll be begging him for more and crying for him, clamping down on him so deliciously and needy. You'll be screaming — screaming the name he can't quite imagine, he can't remember, but he knows you'll be screaming it. One day.

He will take his time to praise you, to tell you how good you are for him, angel, taking all he can give, giving all you have. He will make sure you're shaking and breaking all over again on his cock, tears smeared all over your face and you're drooling with this fucked out look on your divine face-

Oh god, more. He needs more of you, he takes all he can take.

He will leave so much marks on your body, just like now, over your chest and your neck, while you'll be squeezing him inside and begging, begging for his seed-

He cums with a groan, slurred fuck left his lips, headboard of your bed cracks under his metal hand. Aftershock hit the Soldat hard. Right hand gripping on your hip, his breath is ragged and he barely remembers how to breath correctly — he knows this feeling well, but from the bad side. Now? It's euphoric. He doesn't want it to end, he wants to die right here and there, buried deep inside of your heat, with you taking his cum so well, his beautiful angel.

He opens his eyes after what feels like a blissful eternity, his gaze slowly focuses on you under him. He can hear your breath, hard and ragged, he can see a layer of sweat over your body. Small smile cracks on his face. Even in your sleep, you accepted him. You enjoyed it.

He doesn't want to pull out, but he does so anyway. He reminds himself that it's not the last time. He'll have enough chances to do it again with you, after all. He knows what to do. He knows how. He just needs to prepare it.

Soldat looks down, mesmerized by how his seed leaks out of you. There's so much, he has to resist the urge to push it back in. Or to lick it out.

You're so perfect, his beautiful angel. But he has to go.

On a second thought...

He reaches out to your nightstand, barely even looking up from your pretty cunt, still leaking with his cum. Grabs his mask and glasses. Puts both on quickly, then grabs the remote control of your camera from his pocket, and presses on.

After all, he should be very clear with his messages.

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

[jerzwriter]

One Summer Night...

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey), Samantha Carrick

Rating:                 Teen +

Category:            Fluff/Romance

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but nothing explicit

Summary:   The lights are out in Boston in the middle of a heatwave, and no one is sleeping, but it is a night full of sweet memories for Tobias & Casey... once they cool off.

Words: 725

A/N: Day 6 of @creativepromptsforwriting 's 30-Day Writing Challenge: Write about a blackout. I mean, I only went 125 words over my goal, not bad... not bad at all. :) Also participating in @choicesjanuarychallenge Day 2 - Night

Tobias & Casey Masterlist 30-Day Challenge Masterlist

It was twelve-thirty in the morning, and Casey lay awake in her bed. The thin, white nightgown she selected when she got into bed hours ago clung uncomfortably to her body. She considered yanking it off and sleeping in nothing at all. Her husband certainly wouldn’t complain. But having a two-year-old underfoot made her think better of it, especially on a night like this when no one was going to sleep. She grimaced as a bead of sweat collected atop her chest and slowly trailed down the side of her breast, finding a new home in a crease in her armpit. She had had enough.

Tobias snickered when he returned to their pitch-black room, crawling into bed beside her naked body.  

“I knew that nightgown never stood a chance,” he smirked. 

She could just see the look on his face, although her eyes were shut tight. His finger trailed delicately from the top of her thigh over her swollen abdomen and nearly reached the curve of her breast when she swatted his hand away.

“Touch me again, and you die, Dr. Carrick.”

“Damn,” he laughed. “The nightgown didn’t stand a chance, and maybe I don’t either.”

“Nah, you’re safe,” Casey chuckled wearily. “After all, if I kill you, I’ll be stuck taking care of not one but two rugrats on my own.”

“Not to mention you’d be in jail.”

“I’m not going to jail, babe. My attorney will make sure I have a jury of my peers. No woman would convict me when I explain that my husband was attempting to caress my sweaty, 7-month pregnant self in a blackout during a heatwave.”

“No lie,” he shivvered. “In fact, they may resurrect me, just to sentence me to death… more painfully this time.”

“You’re spot on,” she laughed. “How is Sammy?”

“Back to sleep… for now. But I gave her more cold water to cool down, so she’s bound to be up for a potty run soon.”

“Mmmh. I’ll get her next time,” Casey offered.

“Like hell, you will. You’ll be sleeping one way or another, princess.  Momma needs her rest.”

“It’s too hot to sleep. What is the temperature anyway?”

Tobias snuck a peek at his phone. “92 degrees at 2:45 AM. God, what I wouldn’t give for a Boston winter right now.”

“Me too,” Casey moaned.

“I told you I should have bought a generator. I’m getting one tomorrow.”

“But…”

“No buts! It’s bad enough that my wife and daughter can’t sleep, but now, I can’t even touch you? This is where I draw the line.”

Casey reached over and patted his head with a laugh. “I’m glad your priorities are in order, dear.”

“Always.”

He brushed her hair, stuck to her forehead with sweat, off her face. 

“No, no, no… this won’t do,” he said as he shot out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

Five minutes later, he led Casey into their candlelit bathroom and helped her settle into a tub of cool water. Once she was comfortable, he slipped an inflatable pillow behind her neck. 

“Now, close your eyes. I’ll watch over you so you can get some rest.”

“Mmmh,” she sighed. “This does feel nice. But why aren’t you trying to cop a feel now that I’m not sweaty, Dr. Carrick.”

“Hey, don’t tempt me there, lady,” he laughed, sticking a hand in the water and rubbing her belly. “I did this to you twice, and I’m not afraid to do it to you again.”

“You can’t get me pregnant while I’m pregnant, Tobias!” She laughed. “I think the heat’s gotten to you, too!”

With that, they heard a loud hum, and the bathroom light flickered back on. 

“Oh, praise God and all things holy, we have power!” Tobias yelled. “With any luck, the house will be cooled off in an hour, then maybe we’ll all get some sleep.”

It was two-thirty in the morning. Casey, wearing her favorite blue pajamas, was fast asleep with little Samantha clinging to her side. Tobias moved Sammy’s teddy bear to the side and turned off the light, smiling brightly as he slipped under the sheets with his girls.   He was going to be tired tomorrow, that he knew for sure, but he would still be a very happy man. Especially after the generator he just ordered was delivered.

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”