#i climb my ladder and i give him a smooch

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

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

[unnerving-presence]

If you don't take requests, please feel free to disregard this message, and my apologies for bothering you! But, maybe Caleb or Herman with a SMOL gremlin s/o?

Ahdhskdudjdjd I don’t take requests as of now because I don’t like the way I write

But that’s not gonna stop me from writing this

I also decided to just do Herman because I’m not very familiar with Caleb yet-

Herman Carter w/ a gremlin s/o

He absolutely loves how small you are and your type in humor is an added bonus in his book

Yall are meant to be at this point don’t even @ me about it. You guys could be cuddling and giving each other little smooches when all of a sudden you just squeeze his tibbies and he’d burst out laughing. He thinks it’s funny as hell

He definitely randomly says stupid stuff aswell. Oh, you’re on the hook? “SKIBBITY BOP MM DADA” *zooms off to find the other survivors* Oh god, your gremlin is spreading.

Don’t worry, outside of trials he’s pretty chill, but if you start making jokes, then he will too.

You’re definitely his little assistant. I imagine he likes switching up his wardrobe sometimes (*cough cough* anger management) so he’ll give you his coat to use so you actually look like a little doctor!

Stop climbing on the ladder in his office just to jump on him once he walks into the room! He admires the fact that you want to surprise him, but he accidentally shocked you once. Luckily it wasn’t enough to kill you, but he doesn’t want to do it again.

Herman loves it when you get on his shoulders, but sometimes you want him to run and he’s scared you’re gonna hit your head on the top of the doorframe-

S/o: MY NOBLE STEED *grabby hands*

Herman: MY MIGHTY WARRIOR

The Blight is not allowed to be near you due to personal reasons and if he even thinks about laying a finger on you, Herman will shatter his fucking spine

Whenever he goes to do trials, he either leads you to the campfire so you have people to keep you company or a killer that he trusts like Max or Philip. He doesn’t like the idea of you being alone for some reason.

When he comes back to get you, you excitedly run over to him and grab his arm as he gives you a little kiss on your nose.

Good trial, bad trial, doesn’t matter, he ALWAYS gives you cuddles when he comes back from one. He really wants you to know how much he cares about you.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Hero Santa

Sero x fem!reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing

A/N: wow it’s been a long time that I’ve posted a oneshot. Sorry about that. My job keeps me busy and the fic I’m writing takes priority. This isn’t a request either so I’m ;;; this is entirely self-indulgent. I’ve just discovered a newfound love for mr. tape boy and wanted to write something about him. There’s a lot of cringey things in here. Like, secondhand emebarssment type things. But I just wanted to write something funny and wholesome, straying away from the incessant dubcon that litters my blog. If this makes you embarrassed then I think I’ve done my job right? If this makes you smile, then double points for me, I guess! Also, fuck you, I'm still mourning the loss of blockbuster movies so it exists in this one shot. huzzah.

You barrel in through Sero’s threshold, clutching your sides as you bust out laughing, exhilarated from you and Sero’s grand escape from a dastardly encounter— you seeing your ex boyfriend in public. Sero flings himself after you, clamping his hands down on your shoulders practically shaking as he tries to catch his breath.

“D-do you think he saw us??” He snickers, twirling around you to throw his house keys down on his front door counter top.

“I’m sure he did! He said my name right before you grabbed me!”

Sero’s grin widens as he sifts through your bag to grab one of the many sweet treats he picked out for the both of you. “But are you really sure that he saw us?”

“Sero, you literally spider-manned us out of blockbuster. The entire store saw us! They’re going to have to get a long ass ladder to get that tape off the ceiling!” You grin at him and with your best, most formal tone, you mock, “that was quite indecent, young man!”

“Ehhh. I’m sure they have somebody at the blockbuster who was like a leg extension or flying quirk. They’ll be fine!

You snort. “I can’t believe you just referred to blockbuster as ‘the blockbuster’ like you’re some kinda old lady!”

“Now, why don’t you make a decision on what my identity is? Who am I: Spider-Man or Gammy NumNums?”

“Who am I to say? I don't know Spider-Man’s secret identity. How are we so sure that Gammy NumNums herself isn’t Spider-Man?

“Oh shit, I think you’re onto something there.” Sero plops down on his couch, setting his treats down on the table next to it. “I’m really living the greatest triple life, huh? The best of all worlds.”

“I’ll say.” You mosey into the room, vibrating with happiness and comfort you get whenever you’re in Sero’s house. You nod at the pile of blankets he has at his feet. The two of you are going to be having a blanket fort movie night, something you’ve been looking forward to all week long. “Shall we get started?”

“Nah nah nah, lemme take care of all of this! Can you get the popcorn ready?”

You nod and grab two different packets from your bag. “Butter or kettle? I couldn’t decide.”

“What do I look like, an animal? Butter! Buttery butter. I want my popcorn to slide off my fingertips!”

You mock a gag. “I think maybe you are an animal,” you say and throw a pillow at Sero’s face before hopping to the kitchen before he could retaliate.

You leave the room with a giant smile on your face. Back at the store, you let yourself freeze in front of your ex while a thousand thoughts ran through your head. It’s always been odd seeing him in public after the two of you broke up, but every time you have seen him, you’ve been able to hide yourself immediately. Thankfully Sero was there when you were discovered and you recovered from your mental paralysis as soon as he swung the two of you out and away from him.

Sero has really been a special kind of hero towards you since your breakup. He’s been nothing but supportive of you— there for you whether you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to bring a smile to your face. Sero is your guy. Sometimes both! You recall an instance where you were done crying but had said something along the lines of “my heart might be broken,” and without hesitating, Sero clicked out a piece of his tape and placed it over your chest, telling you that he’d be there to fix it. That’s when you first realized that maybe your heart could change fall into a new direction. He has really become something very… special to you. You find your heart skipping a beat during certain instances. If his hand lingers on your waist for a second longer than you’re used to, your mind goes haywire. It’s funny— you know you have feelings for him, and you’re pretty positive he might reciprocate those feelings, but the two of you avoid saying anything about it like the plague. You’re completely comfortable with him, but sometimes when you’re alone, when you’re close, the air grows thick with tension and the two of you sit in silence until one of you inevitable break the silence by making some lame joke. But god, sometimes you just want to hold the boy down and smooch his face!!

You pause in the hallway to check yourself in the mirror, pursing your lips as you turn to inspect your teal blue pajama bottoms. You sigh, embarrassed to have been in public with your lounge wear: slippers and all. If you had been expecting to see anybody, you would’ve done your makeup, maybe put on a skirt and some cute boots, but he saw you looking like a slob with a shit ton of candy in your hands.

After you pop your corn, you return to Sero’s living room, amazed at how quickly he made the fort transformation. Blankets hang from the walls and ceiling, cascading down with nice curves centering on an arena of fluffy pillows with Sero sprawled out in the middle, languidly pushing chocolate covered cookie dough into his mouth while he bats at the controls to get the movie started. You pause at the doorway, shifting your weight from one leg to another nervously until he looks at you, lifting a brow when you bite your lip.

“I know,” he says with a grin, “I’m absolutely brilliant.”

“You’re just alright.” You take you seat next to the boy, and burrow your cold feet under his legs. He gives you a funny grin, but you shrug it off. “I’m cold!”

“I think I-“ Sero presses his lips together, a worried look crawling over his face “-I’m certain I spared a blanket or two for us to actually use.”

He takes a moment to look around and after he finds nothing, he gives you a wide eyed stare. “Oh no.”

“See, this is why you're just alright.”

Sero hops up. “No, no, no— I’m not just alright. I’m the king of this here fort.” Sero raises his hands to feel around for a blanket used for the roof that’s unnecessary for the structure. His shirt lifts, exposing his tight midriff to you, and you tell yourself to look away, but you just can’t bring yourself to. Your eyes linger on his naval before drifting down towards his gray sweatpants where you can definitely make out the outline of his dick. You could scream.

“Do forts usually have kings?”

“This one does.”

You get to you knees, fully aware of how it might look to him if he so much as glances down, and ask, “if you’re the king, what would that make me?”

“That’s easy,” Sero says, carefully peeling some tape off a loose blanket, “you’re the princess.”

“HA! So you’re my dad?!”

Sero snickers before his eyes meet yours, blanket falling into his hands. He hesitates for a moment while he looks down at you, his brows furrowing as the tips of his ears grow to be a redder hue.

“Absolutely not,” he whispers in a tone softer than you’re used to. The blanket fall to the floor, but Sero stays stock still, eyes glazing over as he takes in your suggestive position.

“Then how does this work?” You quip, growing all the more embarrassed that you’re practically begging for him to make a move while at the same time, doing absolutely nothing.

“Don’t you remember?” Finally, he crouches down, leveling his head with yours. You can feel his breath dance across your face as he continues, “I swept you off your feet. Stole you right out from under the nose of a beastly emperor. The princess is merely a guest at my fort; it’s a safe haven for her.”

“Then one could say that the princess owes the king a lot for saving her life…”

“The king is only happy when the princess is safe and happy. She owes him nothing.”

“Is that so…?” You reach a hand into the popcorn bowl, grin sinisterly at ‘the king’, and buck a handful of the buttery goodness Sero loves so much right at his face. “Little did you know, the princess has been planning to assassinate the king in order to take the fort for herself!”

“Damn you, princess!” Sero laughs, throwing his own handful right back at you. “The king has been betrayed one too many times after giving in to acts of charity!”

“The king is a fool!” You yell, swinging a pillow at his face, knocking him back into his cushioned seminar. “Long live princess me!!”

Sero moves to remove your assault weapon from his face, only to have you climb on top of him to pin his hands behind his back

“You suck.”

“You sure wish I would.”

“I—“ Sero’s face flushes beat red while you smirk down at him. You tighten your thighs hold around him but get distracted by something poking your chest. It’s popcorn.

“Oh. Ew.” Without thinking, you pull the bits out from your bra and pop them into your mouth. Sero gives you a funny grin and it’s your turn to flush. You hide behind your hands and cry, “GAHH! I’m not a princess! I’m a troll!”

Sero uses this opening to his advantage, grabbing onto your hands and using sheer strength, flings you onto your back, panning you down against a pillowy wonderland.

“Ahhh curse your hero training,” you laugh, wiggling your legs around so you can lay more comfortably under your faux assailant.

“Troll princess,” Sero sighs, his warm breath cascading down your neck, causing shivers to prickle all across your body, “I've got you now.”

“Oh nooo.” You toss your head back, subtly lifting your pelvis to press against his. Heat floods into your belly when you feel his hardening erection pulsate against you. This isn’t what friends do and you know that. He has to know that, too. “The King’s got the poor, helpless princess locked beneath him. Whatever can she do? Whatever will he do?”

Sero goes silent. His eyes scan over your face, lips patting when they land in yours. You’re unsure of what to do— what to say. At this point you might as well tell him to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” he says in a sort of morose way. You heart falls and your stomach goes to knots. Maybe you were wrong about him feeling the same way for you do? Maybe the two of you are just really good friends. But his hands don’t move from their pinned position.

“Sero… we don’t have to do this if you don’t w—“

Your sentence gets cut short by Sero’s lips suddenly locking onto yours. You hum in surprise, but kiss him back, your skin practically screaming in delight when his tongue slides over your bottom lip. You try to reach up to him but Sero’s bolted hands hold your wrists firmly, keeping them above your head and all you can do is roll your tongue over his, trying to catch as much of him as you can before the kiss breaks.

But it doesn’t. He pushes your wrists together so he can hold you with one hand while the other slides down to your body, caressing your side until he squeezes your waist. You lift your pelvis and his arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer against his body. His cock rubs against your pubic bone and you can’t help but imagine what it may feel like inside of you.

You manage to free one of your hands and swiftly move it down to his sweats, greedily massaging him through his pants. Finally Sero pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“Oh, heh~,” he says, seizing your hand. “I’m, uh, really sensitive…”

“Oh? I’d like to see just how-“ again, you’re cut off by Sero claiming your lips, the kiss more forceful the second time around. It’s messy, and wet, and desperate, and you find yourself sighing into his mouth every time you get a chance to breathe, only to have those short moments thrown away by your own need possessing your body to kiss him back harsher, hands reaching up to his hair to tug and pull, exciting you when you hear a groan build up in the back Sero’s throat.

“Fuck.” Sero’s lips meet your neck, his hand resting against your exposed belly. It’s cold but you don’t mind; your body craves his cool touch. Using his tongue, Sero draw a long strip up from your neck to your ear, causing your body to shudder. You practically melt when he whispers, “I want you. I want you so bad. You have no idea.”

You sigh as Sero nibbles in your ear, his hands boldly exploring farther up your body. “I… think I have some idea.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sero leans back, his eyes shamelessly scanning over your body. You didn’t think it possible, but your skin warms up even more from his lingering gaze. As much as you like the attention, you want his hands right back on you pronto. “There’s no way you could possibly like me as much as I like you…”

You scowl at him. Too much talking and not enough kissing. You pull your shirt off and unclasp your bra, throwing your garments to the side, exposing yourself to him. Nervous tingles nip at your body, but the look on his face, the way his eyes flick from your face to your chest and back to your face as his adam’s apple bobs, makes it all worth it.

“Shit… you’re so— you’re everything to me, I need you to know that, like, if you’re at all uncomfortable or like if I do something you don’t like— god, you’re gorgeous, I just wanna—“

“-Sero…” You take his hands in yours and lead them back to your body. “Please… touch me.”

“Y-yeah…”

Sero presses his lips to yours in a sweeter manner, him molding to you nearly perfectly as his hands run up your sides. Goosebumps erupt across your body when he pushes you back down against the pillows. His right hand cups your breast as he trails kisses down your chest, only pausing when he begins to snicker.

“What?”

“Salty,” he says, his tongue licking dangerous close to your nipple. “You taste like popcorn.”

“Ohhhh noooooo-ahhh~!”

A pretty sight: Sero’s pink tongue rolling out to lav over your puckered bud. 

His lips wrap around your nipple; he sucks and your body jolts forward. He’s not the only one who’s sensitive. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sinister grin. “I like it.”

Your breathing grows heavy while Sero makes his way down your stomach, making sure to pay extra attention to the places that make you squirm when he kisses them. He gets to your pajama shorts and pets your clothed slit with a knuckle. Your hips buck up when he leans down and licks you through your shorts, excited pulsations grabbing at your core. You need more.

Your shorts fly off by your own doing, whether it’s to get the ball rolling or if you want him to be giving you the exact same lustful stare he is now is lost to you, but you’ll take it. You love it. You want him to look at you like that forever.

Sero pets your core, his own breath shuddering as you roll your hips at his touch.

“You’re already so fucking wet,” he says, annunciating every word as if it pains him to say it. He rests his head in your thigh as he lazily teases you, seeming to enjoy your light mewling that comes when his fingers grow closer to your clit, the way your body moves to his touch. “I want it.”

“What ~ahah~ what are you gonna do about it?”

“Hmmm.” To your severe displeasure, Sero removes to hands, only to strip himself of his own shirt. You stare at him in awe; of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, but under these circumstances, it’s different. And you’re sure he’s bulked our a bit since the last time you caught him half-naked. Goodness.

“Ohh my god,” you sigh when he tosses his shirt to the sigh, the sight of his muscles moving over you incredibly enticing.

“What?” Sero gets to his elbows and spreads your legs open for him. He gives your pussy a long lick and groans, closing his eyes when he kisses your pubic bone. “You got something to say?”

“You’re just… so… ohhhh~!”

Sero begins laving at your heat, drowning the room with your surprised moans. His skillful tongue traces your caverns until his mouth is covered in your need. He eats you out like he’s starving for it— hell, he could’ve been famished if he says there’s no way you can like him more than he likes you. His tongue circles your clit, his never ceasing groans adding to your pleasure. You reach down as grasp at his soft hair, massaging his head as he toys with your sensitivity.

“So what, Princess?” He asks as his fingers tease your hole. The nickname sends shivers up your spine. You don’t mind it, you just didn’t think that something so cheesy could sound so hot coming from him.

“So— ahhh ahah~!” A loud moan you aren’t expecting tears out from your throat when Sero plunges two fingers into your depths. He chuckles and returns his attention back to your clit, watching your face contort in pleasure through heavy eyelashes. He sucks in you while his fingers curl against your walls, the threat of your own release building up against your stomach. You moan and pull his hair, whispering incomprehensible words, trying to find the right way to encourage him, the right way to warn him that you’re close.

“I know, I’ve got a big tongue, huh?” Oh, so he could be a smug bastard, too?

“Sssaaah~” You try saying his name, but it’s lost to you. You don’t know what to call him: Hanta? Sero? He’s been your friend for so long that saying his actual name might sound weird on your tongue, but what if saying his last name sounds weird to him? “Hero…”

“Hmmm?” His low voice murmuring into your core sends your body into a frenzy. Your body starts to shake and grip onto the cushions to keep you grounded, but that doesn’t save you from the next word you yelp out as your body is lost to ecstatic fits.

“Fuck! Oh god, Santa~ nnng~ hah~!” You squeeze your thighs together, locking him in as he gifts you with little kitten licks, elongating your excruciating orgasm with the low reverberations of his voice while he laps up your pleasure.

Your body settles but that doesn’t stop him at first. He savors your twitching body, kissing your swollen bud tenderly, brushing his hands across your sweat covered body, until he looks up at you and grins.

“So you have some kinda Christmas kink?”

You catch your breath, gazing up at the makeshift blanket ceiling, before looking back down at his goofy, red face. “What do you mean?”

“You just called me ‘Santa.’ I mean, Christmas isn’t for another month but I’m sure I could find a Santa hat somewhere if that’s what you’re into. I live to please.”

“Oh no.” You bury yourself behind your hands. “No I didn’t. No, no, noooo!!”

Sero climbs on top of you and kisses your hands. “Hey,” he sings at you, “don’t hide. I don’t kink shame.”

You grab a pillow a fling it into his face. “Shut up! Noooo!”

The two of you laugh together, his breath fanning you as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stay like that for mere seconds but it feels like an eternity. He made you cum, but still, you crave him. You want more of him.

“That was actually really hot.” You feel him grin against your neck. “You forgetting my name. It kinda made me feel good. Really good.”

“I could… I could make you feel better,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his back, using your fingernails to tickle his skin. He flushes.

“Is that so?” He leans down and pecks your lips. “‘Cause I wasn’t done with you. I wanna see if I can make you say all seven reindeers’ names.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He quirks a brow. “You wanna?”

...Desperately. “Yes.”

Sero’s all too quick to free himself of his sweats and you side him by pulling his boxers down. You gulp at the sight of his erection; it’s a nice size with a beautiful curve, pre-cum already seeping out through the slit of his reddened head. You look to him and bite your lips. You grasp at the base of his length and guide his cockhead to to your mouth, pulling you tongue out to lick at his knob.

“Ahh~, um, I’m really-“

“Sensitive?” You ask before lulling your tongue underneath his cock.

“Y-yess,” he hisses, grasping at your hair to pull you back.

You grin wryly back at him. “Then how’s this going to work?”

“With me in control-“ he smirks “-lay back princess.”

You pout at him but he moves to kiss your neck, gently pushing your shoulders down so you’re back on the cushions. You reach your hands up and arch your back, an obvious ploy to get him all the more hot and bothered, and not an unsuccessful one at that.

“God damn,” he breathes, stroking his cock while taking in your figure. “God, I lo—… I need to say something before we go any further.”

“Hmmm?” You run your hands down your body. You stop at your breasts, teasing your nipples, and biting your lips. “You can say anything to me.”

“Sweet Jesus, you’re not making this easy.” He sighs and falls over you. A hand cups your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. It looks like he’s eating to say something serious, but you can hardly think straight with his hardened dick resting against your thigh.

“This,” he says, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek, “can’t be… I can’t be just a rebound for you. I know I might not seem like it, but I’m an all or nothing kinda guy. You can either just be my friend—my really good friend that I’ll think about for all eternity, or you can be… my friend who I’m allowed to take on dates and kiss in public and have high make out sessions whenever we want…”

Oh! Oh he’s asking you out! You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face, but you don’t realize you’re not responding until he continues with—

“And if you’re not yet over that guy… I think I can wait for you, but I don’t… want to get my hopes up or anything…”

Sero your DICK is on my THIGH!

“Sero, you’re not a rebound. I would be very happy if you would take me on dates, kiss me in public, and have high make out sessions with me. I’d even be happy if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He beams. “You mean that?”

“Yesss, I do. We were practically dating already!”

“Nahhh, I’ve just been warming you up. You don’t know dating until we’ve conquered the entire laser tag arena together.”

This dork. “Then I’ll wait for that with bated breath. Now, please for the love of god, fuck me before I explode!”

“Oho, we can’t have that…”

Sero lines himself up with center, allowing his cockhead to toy with your hot, needy entrance. He curses and rolls his head back as he inches himself forward, testing your heat before pulling out completely. His eyelids grow heavy when he pushes into you again and you feel yourself clamp down on him. You whimper. He feels bigger than he looks and it takes some pull before he’s completely inside you, but god, oh god, after you get used to it, you can’t help but moan as his dick slides in and out of you.

“Mmmphhhfuck, that’s good.” Slowly, Sero rolls his hips, gently fucking you at a near excruciating pace. He breathes through his teeth as his cock grinds into your walls. It feels fantastic having the head of his cock rubbing against the certain spot deep inside you. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you flush against him, your breasts bouncing against his chest as he quickens the pace, kissing you fiercely, hungrily , while his hands lock you into place.

“You don’t know,” he seethes, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

He bites down in your neck and you claw at his back, mewling. The force, even though he’s taking his time, is addicting and you find yourself syncing up with him in no time; cursing, and panting as you sync up with him. He feels so good that you could cry, instead, you beg.

“More,” you sigh, practically his humping cock, “please Sero. I ahhh~ I need more!”

Sero growls and it sends you body spinning with lust and agony. He pushes you back down and forces himself to his hilt, making you cry out in sheer ecstasy. He presses his hand against your belly, pulls out and pushes back in with the same extremity. “More?” He growls in a sort of sensually dark tone that floods your body and shakes you to your core. “You want more, babe? I’ll give the princess anything she wants!”

“Fuuuck!” You cry, filling the room with pathetic moans as Sero drills into you with such indignant fury that it nearly makes your eyes go black. Your body grows wet with perspiration and lust, Sero pushing into you with pools of his own sweat meshing with yours.

He silences your pathetic moaning with a violent kiss, biting down on your bottom lip while he greedily paws at your breasts. Then, he stills completely, pulling back, fanning your face while he pants, “ho ho ho, amiright?”

“PFFFFT NOOO!!” Your belly clenches as the two of you bust out laughing, until Sero eyes completely glaze over.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groans. “Keep laughing, that feels so—ohhhhh fuck!”

Something completely takes him over and you laughter turns to screams of delight when he starts completely pulverizing you with such an intense, bruising velocity that you could see your soul escape your mouth. He slams into you, lifting your leg over his head, keeping his quick and relentless pace until you feel his cock begin to throb.

“You’re. Just. So. Fucking. Hot!” he says through gritted teeth. His fingers quickly dance around your clit, rubbing at your pleasure until you feel yourself coil and your cunt flutters around his girth. “God, I can feel it. You’re close. Fuck! Babe, you need to cum. Princess, please, I can’t-!”

“I’m ~nggg~ so close!!”

Sero kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours, urgently needing to taste you. His dick twitches within you, his fingers desperately trying to get you to keep up. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck. Your coil breaks. You clench around him and allow waves of pleasure to burst through you as he rams into you with rigorous intent. You cling on to him, crying out about how good he feels, how you can’t stand not having him fill you up, how you want to feel his everything deep, deep inside of you.

Sero grunts and ruts into you. Warmth floods your core as thick ropes of cum line your hungry walls. There’s so much and it doesn’t seem to stop coming as he slows his grooving, kissing your forehead while his orgasm chases yours. You breathe in sync with one another, staring each other in the eyes, unsure of what to say, what to do, before he finally pulls out and let’s you leak onto the cushions.

“Oh, whoops,” he says, inspecting the mess. “Lemme just— warm towel…”

He hops up, but you grab him by the wrist and pull him down into a kiss. He grins against you and you feel yourself growing jubilant with everything that just happened.

“You’re incredible,” you say, holding him there for a moment before letting him back up.

“No, you.”

“Pfft!”

“I mean it!” He brings his hands up in mock defense. “You have no idea! You have no idea! I just-! Lemme get a towel and then I’ll shower you with praise!”

Sero is gone and back in a flash, warmed wet towel in hand. He takes his time wiping the sweat off your body, making sure to talk uncharacteristically sweet to you while he takes care. He wraps you in the blanket that hath forsaken him and cleans the white mess on the cushion before joining you under said blanket. His body is warmer than the blanket and you love it.

“Sooo… the movie. Movie night with my girlfriend!”

“Ha! That’s right! This is one of my favorite movies so you better pay attention! No distractions!”

“Mhmmm,” he hums half-heartedly. “No distractions.”

But even while the movie plays, your warm bodies are pressed right up against each other. There’s definitely going to be more distractions. The two of you have been waiting for this for too long, and Sero has to prove that he’s not just alright, and he certainly wants to learn all about your secret Christmas kink.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

[well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now]

Hmmm, how about “love made me do it” for fake fic titles?

Human au! Childhood best friends/kid fic!! No plot just fluff

Mammon grows up in a foster home with 7 other kids (they're all siblings as far as they are concerned, they even refer to two of them as twins because they happen to share the same b'day.) The man in charge/their father also owns a business that keeps him busy and the oldest of the kids more or less takes over as the parental figure. MC's one of the neighborhood kids.

MC & Mammon meet back when there are only two kids in the house and Mammon's still the baby of the family. They're both around 5 and are in the local park/playground when Mammon (who has a bad case of sticky fingers) steels MC's spade and completely denies it when asked about it (despite the fact that he's still holding it in his hand). MC being a rational 5 year old does the Just thing and tackles Mammon to the ground. This ends up with Lucifer (who at just 7 is very mature after having being forced to sacrifice his childhood in order to be a parent towards his troublemaker of a baby brother) comes running to break it up. Tossing MC the spade and pulling a wailing Mammon away back to their father who is seated on a bench and on a rather long phone call (Lucifer desperately pleads with him not to cry and how he'll buy him ice cream, because the crying is starting to make his eyes water as well).

The next time MC sees Mammon at the park they give him the spade and tell him he can come make sand castles with them. Mammon who had been scowling at them from behind Lucifer's back eventually follows them (after a decent amount of prodding from Lucifer). And under Lucifer watchful eye they build a sandcastle (if you can call it that) and promptly destroy it (they're the bad guys in their game)

Over the years they keep meeting in the park.

They dig in the mud and pull out worms after it rains

They try to catch tadpoles in their palms (Mammon falls into the pond, MC jumps in after)

They hold quests to defeat the Evil Lucifer

MC starts carrying colourful plasters in their pockets because Mammon has a bad habit of running too fast and tripping over his own legs

Mammon steals an ice cream for MC from the cart on a day where they are in a bad mood (Lucifer pays for the ice cream)

They play wrestle on the grass and get covered in grass stains

They are always ready to throw hands with anyone who picks on or hurts the other (usually it ends up with them running screaming towards Lucifer)

They nearly break their necks climbing trees

They trip over people reading books and having picnics while they are running about flying kites

Basically they are those loud annoying kids at the park that no one has any control over.

Over time as Mammon gets more younger siblings some of them also start becoming part of their games (Mammon is less than amused)

Mammon climbs through MC's window in the middle of the night (they can't climb through his cause he shares a room) and they watch movies under the covers and fall asleep like that. The first time it happened and Lucifer woke up to Mammon missing in the morning he was hysterical

Sometimes when they both can't sleep they both sneak out and go cycling in the middle of the night.

They sneak into movies together and get kicked out because even in a film hall Mammon is loud when dealing with his emotions and his crying/screaming/cackling/yelling usually gets them caught

When Lilith, the second youngest in the family (Satan's the youngest) gets a crush on a guy she comes to Mammon because "You've basically had a S/O your entire life!" and Mammon's just !???????????????????????

So Mammon goes to MC and is like "Ya not gonna believe what Lilith jus' told me!" & MC after hearing the full story is like "Mammon,,,,,,Mammon I've been in love with you for the longest time.....Mammon we're fucking dating wtf!?" And Mammon after going through 6 different complex emotions in the span of 5 seconds settles on saying "WHAT THE FUCK."

MC: "How did you not know this! I cleaned and bandaged your scraped knees with Dora plasters and kissed them better!"

Mammon: "WE WERE FIVE!"

MC: "THIS WAS LAST WEEK!"

Mammon: "I thought we were just ya know, best friends?"

MC: "We are! I just happen to love you too...as more than a friend...and I thought....but if you don't....I'm not gonna stop being your friend and cleaning and bandaging your scrapes or covering for you with Lucifer or cuddling with you after we watch a scary movie....if you're still comfortable with it...then I wouldn't stop because I am in love with you but you're my best friend too and that takes priority...and those are all things that loving my best friend made me do....the falling in love bit was just an added bonus..."

Mammon: "yeah....okay...c-cool"

MC: "...are you crying...."

Mammon: "No! Shuddup! I - just....stealing ice cream for you, last week, an' cycling down the streets together and pullin' pranks on Lucifer and holdin' your hand when you're sad...all that's things I'd do cause I love my best friend but....fallin' in love with ya? That was just an added bonus"

*Tearful giggly smooching*

*Lucifer leaves and gets a part time job with his best friend's dad while working through college on a scholarship. Each time one of his siblings turn 18 he lets them crash with him till they get a job/start uni/find a place of their own. He frequently visits the ones who are still under 18. After graduating he works full time at his current job and actually rises up the ladder impressively fast. With a crazy good paycheck he starts saving up money to buy one of those cheap houses that are kind of big but so old and damaged they look like a strong wind could blow it over and also like a whole family was murdered in it, and spends lots of his free time forcing his siblings into helping him renovate it. The house is for him and whichever of his siblings are currently out of a job/working part time/in college/just overall going through a rough time. His siblings are mostly in and out of the house and at a time there at least 3 people living in it. Most of them end up coming back though to live in the house permanently because they realise 7 people sharing the the maintenance of what is basically a Gothic frat house is a lot cheaper than each of them individually paying for an apartment (Lilith, who is the only actual adult here actually leaves home and gets married)

[arcqna-hoe]

okay so i put a LOT OF EFFORT into doing these and then forgot my computer was touchscreen and tried to clean a smudge off....in conclusion these are bad because i had to retype them and i am a n gr y   anyways here you are nonnny!!!

Julian (6′ 4″)

sometimes julian emerges from the shadows behind MC and just envelops them in his coat and doesn’t let them out til they smooch

also he loves just randomly picking up MC to give them a great big doc jules hug!!!

annoyingly uses MC as an armrest all the time smh

saw lion king ONCE (once) (1 time) and is constantly trying to do the baby simba lift at the end of circle of lfie

“hey i didn’t know gnomes lived in vesuvia”

tries to lie in MC’s bed and has everything from his knees down just hanging off end lmao

when he and MC hold hands his arm is just fully extended while their arm is just at a comfortable side level (and he still hunches a little bit hsdkjhfjkdskfs)

Nadia (5 10″)

loves to find MC clothes that suit their shortness!

such a big spoon and loves feeling MC curled into a tiny ball against her stomach/chest

lucio: “hahaha they’re so short they’re like two inches tall”

nadia: “bigger than your d-”

hugs from behind and leaning over to kiss MC on the top of the head??? what a blessing god i love nadia

loves mc sitting in her lap and just looking down at them and planting more kisses on the forehead

Asra (5′ 8″)

“hey did you know you’re 2.5 fausts tall?”

uses simple levitating spells to get MC to eye level when he wants to smooch !!!

also holds things about MC’s head and doesn’t give it to them until they smooch (at which point they just abandon the item and make out lmao)

same thing if MC needs help reaching something in the shop

loves feeling mc’s head against his chest when they hug or when they sleep in the same bed (that’s his fav position, head on the chest)

hair ruffles a l w a y s

Muriel (6′ 10″)

this man is so tall FUCK

piggy back rides. PIGGY BACK RIDES

it hurts his back to bend over so much at this point he just gets down on his knees if he wants to kiss or hug MC

if MC falls asleep on the couch he’ll carry them to the bed and just laugh about how little space they take up

speaking of beds: muriel dies from happiness if MC attempts to be the big spoon. it def doesn’t work that well but my tall boy really just appreciates the effort

world’s best big spoon

“my s/o is so short everyone thinks they’re my kid/little sibling help”

Portia (5′ 1″)

so so SO bitter that MC is just one inch taller than her

“we are not short, we are FUN SIZED”

(julian makes fun of her for that one)

wears thick-heeled boots just to spite MC and get even (literally) with them

she and MC swap clothes so often since the hem length is just right on both of them

if there is something in the house they cannot reach they just call it gone for good and move on because there is no way in hell they’re gonna get it without help from julian god guys just invest in a ladder already

Lucio (5′ 10″)

makes fun of MC all the time but secretly adores it

he loves to take MC horse riding and has them sit in front of him and he wraps his arms around them and rests his chin on their head or shoulder and UGH

running his fingers through MC’s hair all the time

pulls MC close to his chest..”hear that heartbeat? it beats only for you.”

loves to waltz and ballroom dance and does so many spins and dips and it works so well since MC just passes right under him and fits so perfectly into his arms

his shirts are always so long on MC so if they spend a night together and MC climbs out of bed the next morning with it on??? boy oh boy i hope they’re ready for round two if you know what i mean ;)

[heretyc]

correct words and grammar for your fics + common mistakes. [+ formal and informal writing]

Spelling mistakes are common and every writer makes them. It’s life. C’est la vie. 

But sometimes, you might genuinely not know a certain word, or how to use a specific word. Well, buckle up pal cause I’m here for you. I didn’t get honours in English, TWICE, for nothing.

...cause you know i fancy u [fails at replicating the dances moves]

They’re - short for “they are”

ex: “have you listened to that new group? they’re great tbh.”

Their - a possession 

ex: “oh, they left their sweater here.”

There - a place

ex: “hey, let’s go over there.” | “i heard it’s great there, although it rains sometimes.”

You’re - short for “you are”

ex: “YOU’RE BREATHTAKING!”

Your - a possession. 

ex: “that book is yours? you have good taste.” | “your emotions matter too.”

�� - if that is within a word, it is likely there is a word following after. SOUND IT OUT and TEST IT before you insert it to make sure it’s grammatically accurate. 

examples;

it’s = it is

that’s = that is

you’re = you are

There is, sometimes, exceptions to this.

An example of an exception could be “Who’s”, which is short for “who is”.

‘Whose’ is its cousin and is a confusing word to some. Whose is a pronoun accompanied by a question, such as “whose phone is this?”

That is where it is confusing. 

You could also say “who is the owner of this phone?”, but Whose is like that cousin who is lazy as fuck and gets straight to the point. If that makes sense.

If you use in correctly, the sentence might look like this:

who is phone is this?

Unfortunately, “who’s” means “who is”, and of course the ‘is’ is implied.

Like I stated above, if you use Whose in a sentence, sound both that and “who’s” and see which one sounds better. If you’re unsure, ask a friend or use Grammarly. 

Too - in addition to something, or is a higher and undesirable degree.

ex: oh, he’s coming too?

ex: you’re speaking too fast....slow down.

To - has multiple uses, but also used for expressing motion or direction toward a point, person, place, or thing approached and reached, as opposed to from.

ex: we’re going to havana for a month.

Two - the letter 2.

ex: it’s been two years since we’ve been together. holla!

Here - to be in a place; a specific spot

ex: we’re here.

ex: come here, I need to tell you something.

Hear - to hear something

ex: did you hear what that guy said? he said you were cute.

ex: i hear music. 

Heard - past tense of hear

ex: i heard the craziest thing today...

Herd - a group of animals

ex: look at that herd of deer.

|Common mistakes I see in fanfics. Both regarding incorrect information and incorrect words.|

Latter Vs Ladder.

A ladder is something you climb. Latter means to select a last option, or a second option when given choices.

LATTER:

“You can either break up with her or talk it out, but if I were you, I’d choose the latter.” [2 choices]

“You have 3 options. Take medication for the headaches, go home, or go to the hospital. I’d choose the latter, if I were you.” [multiple choices]

-

Choke Vs Chock.

A chock is a wedge placed against a wheel to prevent it from moving. Choke is where your windpipe is blocked off. This is common when you choke on food.

CHOCK:

“Hey, can you pass me the chock? I need to work on my car but the wheels won’t stop moving forward.”

CHOKE:

“He choked on his words; he could feel the embarrassment, and right now he’d give anything to crawl in a hole and suffer.” | “She could feel the piece of food get stuck in her throat. She began to choke, and in a panic, held her throat while trying to resolve the issue herself.”

-

Fourth Vs Forth.

Fourth represents Four/4 in a sequence. It’s an adjective. Forth means to move onward.

FOURTH:

“You’re the fourth person to come in today.” [number] 

FORTH: “Come forth, towards my throne.” [to move onward]

-

A vs An.

Both of these kick my ass. Like, they grow fucking legs and kick me in the ass as I write.

“A” is used before words starting in consonant sounds and “an” is used before words starting with vowel sounds.

I had to grab the above from Google because THEY ARE KICKING ME IN THE ASS SO HARD RIGHT NOW. WHY MUST YOU BOTH BE SO CONFUSING SOMETIMES? WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT?

A:

“Well, that’s a shame.” 

AN:

“That’s an unfortunate turn of events.”

MY SCREAMING AS I WRITE THIS:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-

Cervixes and their existence.

I’m just like you; I read smut fics for practice and to see how those talented bastards do it because I blush like crazy when trying to write it.

But I’ve seen a lot of “his pp was so big it kept slamming into my womb/uterus!”

Unfortunately, this is inaccurate. As hot as it would be to have a dick slamming your womb to bloody chunks, that would mean your cervix is basically useless.

The cervix is a small hole made to protect your womb and your uterus. If your cervix was big enough to fix a bigass penis it would be ineffective. Especially if you’re into the pregnancy sex. Your kid will have brain damage [depending on how your child is placed in the womb] rofl

More info here provided by Google,

“The cervix plays vital roles in the control of movement into and out of the uterus, protection of the fetus during pregnancy, and the delivery of the fetus during childbirth. The cervix makes up the lower one-third of the uterus and its tissues are continuous with the tissues that make up the rest of the uterus.”

Continue your smuttiness, but don’t expect it to be accurate if your cervix is suddenly letting a penis invade your innards.

- 

Accept Vs Except Vs Expect.

Accept is to find an explanation to be accurate and to accept it, or to accept a gift.

Except is to exclude something. Can also be used as a conjunction.

Expect is to regard something that will likely happen.

ACCEPT: “Will you accept my confession?” [to accept an explanation or similar] | “Did you accept my gift? I thought of you while picking it out.” [to accept a gift]

EXCEPT:

“All fruits are good, except for oranges. Too sweet.” [to exclude something] | “I told him everything, except he got mad and he stomped away before I could tell him about...you know...” [a conjunction]

EXPECT:

“Oh, my boyfriend is coming over. Expect him at the door in an hour.” [to regard something]

-

When you hear informal and formal wording, you might picture words in fancy formal suits at a cocktail party.

...No? Just me? Okay.

Now, lemme give you a few sentences, and tell me which ones look best in a fic. I’ll be using my characters’ names cause I can’t think of ones off the bat rofl

“Soren is feeling sad. He can’t believe his friend said that about him behind his back.” 

“Soren’s current mood could be considered a combination of humiliation and sadness. His friend really had no right to say that about him, and especially behind his back.”

“Cassiel looked happy when he was at the beach.”

“Cassiel’s face held joy as he felt the sand between his toes, and the sweet heat of the sun against his pale skin.”

Picked the best ones? Well good for you! 

The first and third sentences have informal wording, while the second and fourth have formal, as well as relevant detailing.

This is, obviously, very helpful information for English class cause the teachers slurp the fuck out of formal wording in there. They moan, too.

Let me tell you something that I live by:

SYNONYMS ARE YOUR BEST FRIENDS.

Can’t find a good, formal word for “sadness”? SYNONYMS, BABYYYY

Can’t find a formal version of “good”? SYNONYMS, WOOOOOOOO

The BEST website for this is my absolute favourite. I married this fucking website. BYE VAL SEE YOU NEVER! [...sorry val bby i don’t mean it :( *i smooch val*]

Here it is, my friend: Thesaurus.com

You’re cheating on Synonyms, because this website is your best friend too. Except the website is...the mother of synonyms...oh god. Awkward.

That site is your GOD when regarding writing and learning new words to insert into your fics!

This is the end. For now. I hope this helps you.

My fingers hurt after this, btw. Irrelevant but...yeah. 

[baekthecorgi]

Can I request a Drabble for #78 with Renjun?? Thank you!!

78. “Don’t argue. Just do it.” + Renjun

As much as Renjun shows affection to Donghyuck or Jaemin, or Sicheng who was three years older than him, the one and only person to which he can’t seem to express his fondness with was you. You would understand if your relationship was new, but three hundred sixty-five freaking days has passed and still, no skinship. Nada. No touching. No smoochies. The closest he got to kissing was placing a quick, shy peck on your forehead, and that awkward hug thing he does when he bids you good bye. Of course, it frustrated the hell outta you.

You weren’t really asking for much, really. Although, you would kill to feel his soft lips on yours for a split second, but at the same time, you didn’t want to force Renjun to do something against his will.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“If I were you, I’d find a mistletoe and carry it around wherever I go,” Jaemin suggests after a moment of reflection.

“That’s stupid. Who even does that?” You ask, scoffing, arms neatly crossed against your chest.

Jaemin rolls his eyes and pushes you out the door. He retorts, “You will, bitch. Now go get your long-awaited kiss, dumb ass!”

So that's what you did. You bought what seems to be a box of fresh mistletoe from the store down the block. Under every door frame in their dorm, you hung a mistletoe, securing that smooch you've always wanted. God, their dorm has so many door frames, but you weren't one to complain. More mistletoes, more chances of getting that kiss.

You request (read: beg and treat them for lunch the entire week) the guys to stay out of the dorm for the day. You wouldn't want to end up kissing the wrong boy under the mistletoe, don't you?

"You can't be here!" You shout from the kitchen as soon as you hear the front door creak open. Assuming it was the guys messing around, you slowly climb down the dilapidated ladder.

"Oh, well in that case I can leave--"

A familiar voice sounds soft and bashful, one that you've grown accustomed of. It was Renjun. Huang Renjun, your boyfriend. The boy who almost got you deceased when the ladder nearly tumbles over a few minutes back. The only boy you wanted to give a sweet kiss under the mistletoe, as cliché as it sounds.

You call his name again in a hurry. You might have frightened him with your strict tone. "No, you idiot, get over here."

Renjun clears his throat loudly. "Is that mistletoe?" He points out, finger directing to the ceiling.

"As fresh as ever," you grin. 

"What are you doing with that mistle--oh. Oh."

"You know what they say. You have to kiss someone you meet under the mistletoe."

"I guess..." your boyfriend trails off, prolonging the tension between you and him. You silently cheer when he says the words, "...I have to kiss you now, don't I?"

"If it's okay with you. But if you don't want to, it's fine! We can raincheck this some other day, or year. Whatever, it's totally your call," you assure him, tone soothing as if you weren't desperate enough to hang a mistletoe under every doorframe.

"Of course I want to kiss you! I've always wanted to, actually," Renjun babbles like a child tattling over a piece of candy. The spark never leaves his eyes when he declares the same desire. "I didn't--don't want to disappoint you. I mean, I'll be your first kiss but the thing is, I have no clue how to kiss someone as special as you."

A pinkish tint colors your cheeks at your boyfriend's words. He really is the sweetest.

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Renjun. It's not like we'll explode into a million pieces. It's just kissing, not rocket science," you beckon, not wanting to sound pushy. That's the last thing you wanted to imply.

Renjun closes the gap between the two of you. His hands were shaking nervously so you clasp it together with yours, filling the gap between his fingers. You beam, lightly squeezing his hand for reassurance. You playfully scrunch your nose, emitting a hearty laugh from the latter. You place your forehead against his as a sign of confirmation. That you really want it--the kiss. Or just Renjun freely expressing his love for you. It could be both but you decide to lean more to the second reason.

"What if I mess it up?" Renjun whispers against your lips. His breath creates a gust of cold air prickling your skin, making you shiver.

"Then we can try again 'til we do it right. Stop worrying so much," you remind him, giggling to ease his nervousness.

"What if--"

"Renjun, stop it," you hiss, flicking his forehead. "The mistletoe's gonna fall any moment now."

"But the--"

"Don't argue. Just do it."

Before you can comprehend what the hell's going on, Renjun finally, finally, finally leans in and locks his smooth lips with yours. It was nothing but divine. Heaven, if you must. At first he was still, memorizing how your lips feel, how your cherry chapstick seeps into his tongue. Then, he moves. He moves so languidly, delicately, as if one wrong stroke of his lips would shatter you, break you into a million pieces. All the while, Renjun lifts his free hand which fits perfectly on the curve of your cheekbone. He strokes invisible shapes with the pad of his thumb as his lips synch with the movements of his thumb.

People's stories were all lies. You didn't hear any fireworks booming at the background. You didn't feel your insides flip. It was all baloney. All figurative. However, you did note the way his lips fit perfectly onto yours. You feIt the kiss burning every part of your skin, head to toe. You feel Renjun everywhere. It convinced you that soulmates were real. (There's a rational part of you that says no, it isn't.) It seems real because with Renjun, anything and everything seemed real. 

Renjun decides to take a step out of his comfort zone. Be a bit daring. He swipes his tongue on your lower lip, making you gasp in shock. Quickly, you pull away just enough for Renjun to catch your shakened figure stumbling backward.

"Did I do something wrong?" He questions. Renjun looks at you with worried eyes.

"T-The tongue. Didn't expect that."

Renjun brings his hand back, rubbing his nape sheepishly. "Sorry, just excited. I guess I got too carried away."

"We'll save that for New Year," you chuckle, sending a quick yet flirty wink to your boyfriend.

Renjun tries to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. He smiles, a soft one, but his eyes trembles. "How was your first kiss?"

"Our first kiss, Ren."

"How was our first kiss?" Your boyfriend repeats.

"Sweet. Adorable. Damn, I knew your lips were kissable but I didn't know they were that kissable." You say, throwing your hands up in amazement. He laughs.

You continue, "You? How was our first kiss?"

"Magical," Renjun breathes.

"I agree. The kiss was magical."

"Not the kiss. You."

--

note: phew !!! this took a while,, STREAM HAIR IN THE AIR, BEST DAY EVER, and LOVE SHOT !!!!! all my babies made me proud that i stan them ❤ renjun's voice in hair in the air SKSKSKSKKSKS HIS VOICE IS SO HANDSOME HE'S SO HANDSOME GODDAMN I LITERALLY SQUEALED AT THAT ONE PART WHERE JENO CLOSED THE DOOR AND BOOM THERE'S HUANG RENJUN

requests are: CLOSED

masterlist

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 24

“Goddammit, fuck this shit!” Sean kicked the dresser making Shayla jump back in shock as she walked out of the bathroom, “Oh djeezes, Sean, you scared me, what's wrong? what are you doing back here?” she put her hand over her chest to calm her hammering heart. “That boss of yours is fucking my friend, that's what's wrong!” he barked at her, “what? Who? What friend?” it was too early in the morning to solve riddles like this, “Jared is fucking Harper, that's who! For crying out loud, do I need to drop another bomb so you'll wake up? He is fucking Harper for fuck's sakes! I ran into them in the hall, he was practically ripping her clothes off”. Oh god no, anyone, but not that alternative trollop, how blind could she be? Now they'd never see the end of it “why do you care so much? Your 'friend' is gonna be out the door sooner than you can say 'relationship', Jared doesn't do relationships, he's not the type, a thousand Harpers cross his path over the course of 6 months or so, and where are they now? Not even one of them stuck to him, so why would she? she's obviously the one who seduced him, that stupid, fuckin' golddigging cow! but what bothers me the most is that you seem so very worried about her..again!”. Don't give in to her, no, don't do it, she doesn't understand, how could she? “of course I'm worried about Harper, she's..we're friends, best friends, Shayla and whatever you say or do isn't gonna change all that, you've been bitching about her ever since she got here, and you need to stop! Do you hear me? You need to STOP”.

Finally his hands slid under her T-shirt, fina-fuckin-ly, she was ready to go and so was he from the feel beneath those stupid pajama pants he was still wearing, she had reached down there a few times, but he had gently swatted her hands away, she was the centre of his attention and not the other way round, but this foreplay was just driving her insane, they hadn't even undressed for god's sakes, her lips were raw and tingly from all the biting and sucking, but it was the sweetest pain. “Jared..please..” she breathed as she put her hands on his chest so their lips had to break contact but he immediately attacked her throat instead, his hot breath dancing against skin there “what? What is it?”. He dared to ask what was up? You don't know? Hang on, I'll let you feel what is up, and as she lifted her hips to let him feel that down there she was roaring to go, there was a sudden banging on the door, nonono, noooo ignore it, they'll go away, ignore..he slowly let go of her..it! a frustrated breath escaped her as he sat up. “Don't..move, ok?” he tugged her bottom lip with his teeth before he jumped off the bed, not funny Leto, not funny at all, she pulled her shirt down over her stomach again with another frustrated sigh.

”This better be really, really good” he opened the door to see an obviously agitated Shayla about to pop a few veins in her head, standing there “you need to get to the venue right now!” she hissed at him while her eyes seemed to look for something in the room behind him. “I'm..kinda in the middle of something, Shay..I'll deal with it later” had she officially gone bonkers?. “Is she in there?” ah, there it was, took her a bloody long time to figure it out, “none of your business” he snapped and was about to close the door on her, “the car will be at the entrance in fifteen minutes, better get cracking, Jared..oh and I've got a room booked for her so she won't have to sleep in your's anymore” what??? you stupid, snarky bitch! He slammed the door shut in her face and stood there fuming with anger for a second, until he realized who was waiting for him, fuck all the foreplay, taking out all that anger and frustration in a rampant, steaming sex session that would not know it's equal was the only thing on his agenda right now. Oh nononono, he found her curled up and in a deep sleep when he entered the room, jetlag had finally caught up with her, GODDAMNNNN!! no no no, you have to be awake, we have to finish this, I swear I'll explode if you don't...he touched her leg..nope, out like a light..ok, last attempt, put the duvet over her, keep her warm..still nothing..just go before you do something irreversibly stupid and fuck her awake, no, no, NO!..he turned and tiptoed over to the bathroom, it would have been a lie to say that nothing but a cold shower could cure the heat coursing through his body, just go!.

”Let's get one thing straight, you do NOT interfere with my love life ever again, is that UNDERSTOOD?” he slammed the door shut behind him with an almighty bang as he got in the waiting car, “it's not because your love life is a complete disaster, that you have to ruin mine along the way, oh and another thing, wrap that leash you have on that so called boyfriend of yours a little bit tighter around his neck, because I know what his intentions are with her, he's like a goddamn dog in heat around her”. Shayla nervously plucked the scarf resting in her lap, yes Jared, I know, what do you think I'm trying to do?, she only nodded, she wasn't in the mood for more arguments, she knew by now when to back down, so all she could do was bite away the tears as she pretended to be interested in the city coming back to life on the other side of the carwindow. Hmmm, the smell of Jared wafting up to her from the sheets, what better way to wake up..wait..wake up? But..oh my god! Harper sat up in bed, looking around her..she was in Germany..didn't she..didn't they? Fragments of their make-out session started rolling in her head..no they didn't have sex..fuck..where was he? Did she fall asleep on him? Oyoyoy..phone, where..? oh..

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Didn't Sleeping Beauty sleep for 100 years?

Sleepyhead,

Everything inside me screamed to lay down next to you, cuddle up to you and just have my very, very wicked way with you, but duty called..so here I am at the venue all frustrated and aching to touch you, feel you..I need you woman..

Anyway, if you read this, why don't you come over? Have (late) lunch with me?

I'm sorry I'm not being more poetic, I just need to be with you.

Your frustrated prince charming Joe

Ahhh..sweet, adorable man, she clutched the phone to her heart, this was too good to be true, this was the stuff fairytales were made of and so far her life hadn't been anything like that, no..no dwelling on that old subject again, you're gonna get up, you're gonna take a shower, get all dolled up and then..she danced towards the bathroom..she was gonna see that hunk of hers with the gropygrabbyfeely hands that lit her skin on fire, yawwzaaaa! She giggled swaying her hands above her head and her hips in the same rhythm.

”No, I want the whole battery of lights on me..taddaadadaddaaa..and bang” Jared shouted instructions over the music to the lightcrew, fucking hell , what was so hard to understand about this? A loud whistle followed by “All lights front of house on chorus” made his heart do a million somersaults and his head turn, together with all the lights above his head, the right way this time, that's my girl, damn sure!. “Hey” she crawled on stage and walked towards the centre with one eye on the lights above their heads, “I don't know if you can help me, sir, but I'm looking for my frustrated prince-charming-floppy-hair, he's called Jared really, but as weird as it sounds, I can call him floppy hair, have you seen him?” and then flapped her eyelashes at him. “Dingding, you found him alright” he smiled and cupped her chin to kiss her, “I'm sorry” she whispered against his lips, “for what? For falling asleep on me? you're here now, that's all that matters”. Sean who was hanging in the ropes above their heads cursed under his breath, great just great, did they really expect him to stand aside and watch them frolic like that? Godfuckingdamn Harper, where's your head at? I thought you were smarter than that? Fuck Shayla, he was going to have a serious talk with his best friend later and make her see sense. Enough with the smooching already, ENOUGH! “Yo, Harp, the fuck you're doing leaving me hanging here? What's next? Just get your ass up here, it's your fucking lightbox” he shouted down at her. A chill ran down her spine as she felt Jared's grip tighten on her waist “it's ok, I'll just go show him that the alpha male of the pack around here is a woman” she took a step back with a forced grin, the fuck did he just say to her? Jared reluctantly let her go and turned his head to see Shayla dissapear in the catacombs of the venue, my god how the hell did things get so crazy around here?.

Harper felt a surge of pain shoot up from her hips to her shoulders as she crawled up the rope ladder, don't let them, and definitely not Sean, see you're in pain, don't give him the satisfaction, he knows well enough that she took a hard tumble back in NY which she still hadn't recovered from and now he asked her to crawl up a rope? “What the fuck is your problem, Sean? Want me to show you how it's done? Well get out of my fuckin' way then!” she pushed past him on the narrow beam high above the ground, that was only held up by ropes “if that's how we talk to each other these days, then fine, anything you can do, I can do fuckin' better” she hissed, God, she smelled so good, it even made his heartbeat pick up having her so near, no, he was in love with Shayla, not her. Jared let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he watched her trying to keep her balance so high up there, he should take her rock climbing and teach her..she was fast and damn agile and he could only dream of what that would be like to have her wriggling and heaving underneath him..ok focus, tonight was gonna be the night for sure, just keep those dirty dreams for later, but damn, seeing such a beautiful woman operate a heavy lighting system was just fuckin' HOT!. Ok, left, right, front wall and cube open..perfect timing, damn she was good at what she did..and she actually loved doing it, it was like painting, creating images with light, she looked down and saw all the thumbs up from the crew, phew, ok, she could sit here all night actually and wallow in her freshly gained respect from a whole crew of men, but she had a much more important man to please down there. “That's how it's done, you got that?” she crawled back on the wooden beam where Sean was standing with an even bigger thundercloud plastered on his face, “now if you'll excuse me, I've got more exquisite company waiting for me down there”. Jared watched her wobble a bit as Sean kept standing there and hissed under a sharp intake of breath, stupid ass, just get out of her frikkin' way, do you want her to fall down?. Harper wasn't even near the last few steps on the ladder when she felt a pair of warm hands on her waist that plucked her off the ladder like she was a feather, oyyy she could be glued to this man for eternity and she wouldn't even protest, what a body, what a mistery, what a glorious, glorious man. Mouths searched for a second, instinctively found each other, lips locked, tongues danced, teeth bit down hard on a lip, don't let go of me, whatever you do, don't let go of me, not now, not ever, hold me this tight and this close to your body forever, I'm not falling for you, I'm head over heels in love with you and I don't ever want to feel anything or anyone else in my life again, youyouyouyouyouyou, beating in the rhythm of my heart.

[martiansonearth]

Day 5: Haunted House

Klancetober 2018

List of prompts X by Ikimaru

Link if you want to read it in AO3

Sorry this was a day late. 

Summary: Keith and Lance think they are going to a real haunted house that Pidge suggested, but it turns out she was just playing them. They still go inside, neither of them expecting the house to be actually haunted… until Keith can't find Lance, and weird things start happening.

The haunted house experience

'You gotta turn right on the next street' Keith said looking at the map on his phone.

'Okie-dokie' Lance said turning his blinker on and turning where Keith said.

'And... Pidge said we should park around here'

'I can't believe they couldn't come, again!'

'Well, is not that, she did have a real thing this time... that's why we are saving the other haunted house for next weekend, so we can all go' Keith locked his phone and unfasted his seatbelt as Lance parked the car. 'And that's why she suggested we come here tonight'

'Oh... is it an abandoned house?'

'Yeah... I hope we can get in easily'

They got out of the car and started walking.

'I still don't know why I keep accompanying you to these things...' Lance sighed.

'I know why' Keith said with a cocky smile on his face 'Do you want me to tell you why?'

Lance felt his face hot 'Nope, I don't wanna know' He said without looking at Keith.

'Come on, is gonna be fun' Keith smirked, and held his hand.

Lance rolled his eyes but kept walking.

When they arrived at the address Pidge gave them, Keith's smile fell to the ground.

They were standing in front of a fairly small two-story old Victorian house, that had a small sign that read: "Haunted House experience".

'No' Keith said flatly.

'Yes!' Lance jumped excitedly 'I love you Pidge'

'That little gremlin' Keith groaned. 'She totally played us'

'Come on!' Lance pulled Keith this time.

'Lance, no'

'Why not? You said so yourself... is gonna be fun' he sassed.

'We both know this is going to be super lame'

'I don't care, we are going in' Lance said walking to the entrance where there was an old lady sitting in front of a small table.

'Hello' She greeted them cheerfully.

'Hi! We want to get the haunted house experience!' Lance grinned.

'Oh, you are just in time for the last visit of the day!'

'Oh, lucky us' Keith commented lifelessly, not even trying to hide his discontent. Lance nudged his side, but the old lady didn't seem to notice the interaction.

'The last couple is going to be out in 5 minutes' She continued, looking at her wristwatch 'In the meanwhile, you can pay for your entrance'

'Alright' Lance looked in his pockets but he didn't find his wallet 'Uhhhh...' He looked at Keith

'No' Keith glared, as he saw the opportunity to leave.

'Pleeeeaasseeeee?' And Lance was giving him puppy eyes.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking his wallet out and paying the old lady.

'So, how does this works?' he asked as the lady gave him his change.

'You have one hour to explore the entire house'

'Nice' Lance exclaimed as he tried to peek through the window, but the glass wasn't see-through like it was covered with newspaper or something. Weird.

'And you'll be locked inside, to add more fun' She winked at them.

'Okay...' Keith hesitated.

'Is this house really haunted?' Lance asked, curiously.

'There are stories, but nobody's ever seen anything' The lady smiled.

'What stories?' Keith asked, now more interested.

'The family who owned the house stated seeing the ghost of a little girl, who sometimes played with the toys of their children'

'But you've never seen anything?' Lance said holding Keith's hand again.

'Oh no, I've never seen anything'

Keith deflated again. The old lady stood up from her seat and went to open the entrance door, letting out the couple that was inside.

'Did you have fun?' The old lady asked.

The boy and the girl came out holding hands very cozily, and Keith couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow and look at Lance, who was trying to hold his laughter at the sight.

It was their turn on the haunted house experience and they went inside without further due. The old lady locking the door behind them.

The century-old house definitely seemed bigger on the inside, which was odd, because from the outside it looked rather small. It had many rooms that varied in shape and size but were all decorated in an antique way.  Old furniture, paintings, mirrors, chandeliers hanging on each room, and an excessive number of dolls distributed all over the place, with a small room exclusively dedicated to them.

The house did, in fact, look creepy, but nothing else.

'Well, maybe we can find a card deck to pass the time' Keith muttered.

'Can you stop being such a bummer? I'm actually trying to enjoy this' Lance frowned at Keith.

Keith shook his head. 'You are right, I'm sorry, Lance' He apologized.

Lance came closer and gave him a soft quick kiss.

'Come on' He said pulling him to another room 'If you behave, I'll let you smooch me in front of the dolls'

'Oh wow, so appealing' he said with sarcasm but stopped complaining altogether.

They spent the first half an hour exploring the house, and it was interesting, not really scary, but interesting. They checked the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, and the two bedrooms upstairs. Nothing weird happened at all, and Lance was more than happy with that, Keith on the other hand...

'Okay, I admit it had been entertaining to check this weird old house' He said coming downstairs 'But I think I'm all done and we still have 30 more minutes to go' he grumbled, and threw himself on the living room couch, laying on his back. 'Can we just take a nap until is time to go?'

Lance snorted very loudly 'I would never take a nap in this place' he said and laid on top of Keith, resting his head on Keith's shoulder and entangling their legs.

'What would you do then?' Keith asked.

Lance lifted his head and without losing a beat started kissing Keith, both of them accommodating themselves to be more comfortable.

'Really?' Keith chuckled. He could not believe that was Lance’s idea.

But Lance kept going, and while Keith was really enjoying their sweet, tender kisses, he opened his eyes wide and stopped.

'What?' Lance complained.

'What if... What if this house is actually a weird ass motel?' Keith frowned.

'That's gross, Keith' Lance said kissing him again. 'but where do you think the other couple fucked?'

Keith closed his eyes frowning because he hadn't thought about that before and... 'They most probably did in this couch'.

'UGH, I hate you for saying that' Lance grimaced.

'It's the truth'

'No, maybe they used the beds upstairs'

'Weird ass motel' Keith whispered, and Lance chuckled.

Neither of them moved tough, and they continued their kissing session.

That until they heard a very loud creaking noise.

'What was that?' Lance lifted himself.

'Old house noises'

'I'm not so sure' Lance said looking around. 'I'm gonna go see' He then disappeared into the kitchen, where he thought the noise was coming from.

'Wow, so daring' Keith sassed and stayed laying down.

A dull loud thud making him sit up fast, and then something like a bowling ball rolling on the floor.

'Hey, Lance?' he called.

There was no answer, so he got up and went to the kitchen, but Lance wasn't there.

'Ha, Ha' He said laughed flatly 'Come on, time's almost up'

Keith looked in the rest of the rooms, but there was still no sign of Lance. The last room on the first floor was the doll's room, and Keith wasn't scared to go inside it, but he had the strange feeling of being watched and the dolls inside the room only accentuated that feeling.

The doll room had pink wallpaper all over and a couple of Victorian style armrests near a small tea table. The rest of the room was occupied by shelves full of dolls. Porcelain dolls, rag dolls, even a few plastic dolls. It was chilling.

Keith heard the sound of someone going upstairs fast, and then someone walking on the second floor.

'Lance' Keith called again 'Stop fooling around!'

Keith groaned and started walking upstairs. This was getting annoyed.

As he got to the second floor he saw a ladder in the middle of the hallway that led to the attic, and Keith hadn't seen that before. Without even thinking much about it he climbed the ladder and got to the attic.

The light was on, but again Lance was nowhere to be found. It wasn't a creepy attic though, it was mostly empty with the exception of a few small boxes laying around.

'Lance!' He shot, getting his cell phone out of his pocket 'Where the fuck are you' he said more quietly.

The lights went out and Keith was left alone in complete darkness.

'Dude, If I happen to trip my way downstairs I'm breaking up with you!' He warned loud enough to at least be heard on the second floor. He didn't really mean it though, he was just tired.

All of a sudden, he felt cold and there was a noise behind him. Keith froze.

It sounded like a pair of feet slowly shuffling across the floor, and it was getting closer to him.

Keith swallowed hard and turned on the flashlight on his phone. He counted to three and turned around, pointing the light up front.

Nothing.

'Shit' He whispered, as he could still hear the shuffling noise behind him again. He turned around again. The room was still as empty as when he came in, except... except now there was a doll sitting on the attic floor staring directly at Keith.

'Oh fuck' Keith hissed. Something was definitely not right.

A scream of agony came from downstairs and a loud thud followed.

Lance, he panicked.

Keith left the attic fast and ran downstairs. He found Lance on the floor, sitting on his butt staring inside of the doll’s room with a frown on his face.

'What happened? Are you okay?' Keith said frantic, helping Lance getting up.

'Yeah, I guess...'

'Why did you scream?' He worried.

'I think I saw something, but... I didn't scream' He hesitated, looking at Keith.

'I've been calling you, didn't you hear me?'

'What? No. I’ve been calling you all this time! I couldn't find you' He exclaimed in a high pitch. The lights came back on.

'Ooookay, we are leaving this house, now' Keith decided, grabbing Lance by the arm and leading the way to the entrance.

'Wh-Why?' Lance asked.

Keith turned around, to see a very confused but composed Lance.

'I’m just- why are you so calm?' Keith asked, worried.

'I don't know' Lance shrugged

Keith raised an eyebrow at him but didn't argue back.

'Come on' Keith tried to open the door but the door didn't even move.

'What the-' The light turned off again. Keith tried to look outside but just couldn't see anything. He started banging the door for the old lady to hear them.

The entrance got very cold. Keith held Lance's hand tighter, and as the feeling of something coming closer to them for behind got stronger the front door opened. The old lady appearing on the other side.

'Time's up, boys. Did you have fun?'

'Ma'am, your house is definitely haunted' Lance said frowning at her.

'Nonsense darling' She brushed off 'I live here' Both Lance and Keith opening his eyes wide.

Keith opened his mouth but decided to not say anything. He nodded the lady thank you and pulled Lance outside.

'We aren't coming near that house again' he said when they were far enough.

'Keith?'

Keith kept walking towards the car but Lance stopped him.

'Keith!'

'What?' he turned back.

Lance stared at him, worried.

'I’m sorry' He shook his head 'I just... for a moment I thought something happened to you' He smiled sadly.

Lance gave him a reassuring kiss. 'I’m alright' He said looking at him in the eyes. 'But yeah, let's not go to that place ever again' he agreed, making their way to the car again.

'Pidge is going to be so jealous though'

'Oh yeah, definitely' Lance chuckled.

[fer8girl]

OC Kiss Week

Dixie and her sister Khabet thought it’d be fun to smooch @moonlitalien‘s Viktar, he seems like he needs some affection >^,^<

“No!”

“You said anyone.”

“But he’s so…. big.”

Dixie eyeballed the huge Cathar sitting at the bar and huffed. Figures her sister would aim her at the meanest looking guy in the joint. Even the patrons seated a few stools from him had inched away, unconsciously giving him a wide berth. “You sure it’s gotta be him?” she grumbled and Kha grinned smugly at her.

“It’s that or forfeit Sunrise for a week,” she purred.

Raking fingers down her striped face Dixie sighed again. Stars knew what would happen if she approached Mister Tough Cookie, but the prospect of Khabet joy-riding in her beloved ship was more disturbing. Taking one more swig of her ale for courage she slid out of the booth and made her way across the cantina.

As she approached him she gulped, he seemed more mountainous up close. The thick black coat he wore made his shoulders even wider and his white fur more pale. Scars almost blended into the stripes on his face, but his blue eyes were surprisingly bright. He stared ahead, deep in thought and didn’t budge even when she climbed up onto a bar stool next to him. Good great galaxy! Even sitting he was half a meter taller than her.

It wasn’t until she nudged him with her elbow that his eyes shifted towards her. “Need a booster seat?” he muttered, quiet humor in his deep growl and she made a face at him.

“No! Need an helmet?” she retorted.

“A helmet?”

“Figure you’ve hit your head on more than your share of doorways, ceiling fans, ect…”

His shoulders shook in what she hoped was a chuckle and he finally looked down at her. “You’re funny.”

“Yeah, but looks aren’t everything,” she quipped.

This time his laughter was louder and she glanced at Kha, giving her a thumbs up. Her sister nodded in acknowledgement, then tilted her head and pursed her lips. Getting there, Dixie mouthed, getting a wink from the still-seated Cathar.

Do it for Sunrise, Dixie told herself. She hopped off the barstool, then used the rungs as a ladder to climb up and sit on the bar. A raised eyebrow was all she got in response from Mister Tough Cookie as she scooted closer to his drink.

“What’s your name?” she asked and for the first time he looked surprised.

“Viktar, why?”

“’Cause I don’t kiss strangers.”

She placed a hand on each side of his scarred face, pulling him forward, and planted her mouth gently on his. He froze in shock but she kept her lips to his, then his hand grazed on her leg and he started returning the kiss. Sweet and soft, it wasn’t at all what she expected and she started leaning in and enjoying it. It was only when some close by patrons started hooting and whistling that she stopped, leaning back to face him.

Viktar’s bright blue eyes glowed and a smile spread across his face. “Not bad,” he murmured and she gave him another quick peck.

“Not bad yourself,” she quipped, then held out her hand. “Comm unit?”

Still looking dazed he handed it over and she punched a few buttons. “My name’s Dixie, there’s my frequency. Feel free to comm me sometime.”

With that she sauntered back to her sister who just shook her head as Dixie slid back into the booth. “Looks like you won,” she said.

Glancing back at Viktar he shot her another quick smile before turning to his drink, and she smirked at Kha. “Yup, looks like I did.”

[hayffiebird]

Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate, The Birth

Day 1: Mistletoe And Wine: It is that time of the year when mistletoe and mulled wine lead to all sorts of shenanigans! Since Hayffismas week happened to coincide with Effie’s due month in this story I decided to go against my earlier decision and give you the birth of Hayffie’s child. Works as well as a oneshot if you don’t want to read the full story. Well, unless you want to, then it’s here.

Fluff ahoy!

The epilogue

Effie liked to think she had her ”shit together”, to use Haymitch’s expression. That he was the impulsive one in their duo (when really it was the other way around.) Haymitch if anyone knew how feisty she could be. Behind that woman’s smiles and perfectly composed features was a temperament that showed on the Richter scale.  Like now. More than ever before. The apartment was all prepared for the baby. Everything was childproofed, they had packed and repacked her hospital bag, a nursery was set up with the very eager, unasked help of Octavia, Flavius and Venia who showered them with toys and stuffed animals, one creepier than the next. Haymitch even read some of Effie’s baby books so he wouldn’t be a complete waste of space when the time came. The only thing missing now was the actual baby.

But Effie’s due date came and went. The same with the next day and the next. She used to be just mildly uncomfortable but when eleven days had passed and the kid still didn’t feel like making an appearance it was like living in a firework storage during a thunder storm. All it took was one spark. “I should have known!” Effie cussed, on day 12. “It’s your child I’m carrying after all, of course he will be late!” Haymitch stood precariously on a step ladder trying to fasten a mistletoe over the door. He threw a glance at the miserable, flushed planet on the couch that was Effie Trinket. Normally he’d tease her but he knew better than giving her a reason. She had an easy time finding those anyway. It was a real talent too because no matter what it was she always found a way to make it all Haymitch’s fault. His worst crime, the most unforgivable, was his inability to have sex with her. “It’s the least you can do when I didn’t even get to finish when we made him!” To Haymitch’s credit though he did his very best. But being rather cramped up by now the baby moved around so much and more than ever if Haymitch so much as touched Effie. Kid didn’t want him there, that’s what it felt like. Effie tried to explain, more and more agitated every time, that the baby just reacted to her rapid heartbeat but it was no use. Then add to that his fear of hurting the little kid and Haymitch got limper than a melted marshmallow. He tried other things she liked but he was so cautious with her, mostly it just added to her frustration. At least Christmas was coming up and Haymitch found a new way to keep Effie’s spirits high and himself from being kicked out of the apartment. If there was one Capitol-y streak you couldn’t quite wash out of Effie Trinket it was her love for decorating. Whether it was her hair or her face, her clothes or her home it didn’t matter. She used to love finding the perfect combination of colors and patterns and she was a sucker for big holidays. Not right now she wasn’t. Now she was just busy feeling fed up and never even mentioned Christmas. So Haymitch took matters in to his own hands and the expression on Effie’s face when he walked in carrying a Christmas tree was worth every pricked finger. They decorated the tree with green and blue and red and golden ornaments and other decorations she kept from her childhood. And instead of nagging him to death she kissed and hugged him and from that point on, whenever she asked for something he went out and got it. Garlands, socks for the fireplace or – like today – a mistletoe. Anything she wanted. And Haymitch lived to see another day. Now the place was so disgustingly Christmassy there wasn’t a thing left she could complain about. Not the decorations, anyway. “It’s so hot!” Effie fanned herself with her hands. The cup of alcohol-free mulled wine that he made her stood untouched on the coffee table. “Can’t you open a window or something?” “Already did, Effs.” “Well, open another then or is that too hard? Last time I checked we have plenty to choose from. I’m bursting into flames here!” Haymitch held in a sigh as he climbed down the ladder. “You’re gonna freeze us to death, sweetheart.” He opened a second window and grabbed a blanket from the armchair. “May I approach thee?” Effie threw him a death stare. Her cheeks were so flushed. Like them baby angels on the ceiling of Eleven’s Justice Building. “Are you being smart with me, Haymitch Abernathy?” “Oh, boy,” Haymitch muttered. He wrapped the blanket around himself and joined her on the couch. Rested his hand on her belly that seemed just about to burst. “Your mother’s gettin’ on my last nerve, kid. Better bust a move before she bites my head for real.” Effie sighed defeated and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I am going clinically insane.” She put her hand over his that rested on her stomach. “It’s close to two weeks now. What is he waiting for?” “He probably won’t show until he’s sure mum and dad are ready to have him” “Please, don’t say that, I’ll be pregnant forever,” Effie murmured. He laced their fingers together and she peered up at the new addition in the doorway. “At least the mistletoe came up nicely and… ow! I’m getting kicked in the guts. Wonderful. Just great.” A smile curved Haymitch’s lips. He leaned in and gave their little latecomer a kiss before he heaved himself up. “Come, princess. Up you go and enough with the pity party.” Effie eyed him suspiciously. She didn’t move. “Let’s have a smooch under the thing.” “The mistletoe.” “Yeah, whatever. Up with ya. I’ll sweep you off your Capitol feet.” “Mm,” Effie puffed, counting the distance she’d have to walk from the couch to the doorway. “Can’t you just kiss me here?” “Come on, Effs. I’m working my ass off creatin’ a moment here.” He took her other hand as well while complaining all the way there Effie let him help her to the mistletoe. “Are you seriously having a stab at romance, Haymitch?” she asked when they stood under it, holding hands. “You?” “That’s right so shut up before you ruin it, princess.” A smile tugged at her lips when Haymitch rested one hand against the small of her back, gently moving her closer; as close as her big stomach allowed. He cupped her cheek, eyes locked on hers and it was amazing how he could make her heart flutter, even after all these years. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers and sweet merciful heaven Haymitch Abernathy knew how to kiss! He’d always been a natural in that department. The tip of his tongue only just brushed against her lips and she parted them. A quiet moan escaped her and she held on to a fistful of his shirt, thankful to have his arms around her. She didn’t trust that her knees wouldn’t weaken and give way. “Haymitch,” she sighed against his lips. And that was when it happened. Without any kind of warning and with such force you’d think someone tipped over a bucket between Effie’s thighs it splashed on to the floor, up Effie’s legs, up Haymitch’s legs.  “What the…!” They stared at the mess on the floor and back up at again. “My water broke,” Effie gasped. “Haymitch, you made my water break!” xXx If the baby was fashionably late just like Haymitch it turned out he was every bit as stubborn as well. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!” Effie threw her head back against the pillow, crushing his hand in her fist. Haymitch was pale as a sheet. He felt completely powerless, useless. He didn’t know what to do and if he told her “You’re gonna be OK” one more time he didn’t think he’d get out of this alive. He just stood there like a damn fool, bathing in sweat while his stomach made somersault after somersault. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he said but when he made a beeline for the bathroom Effie yanked him right back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Huh!” Her face was bright red and wet with perspiration. “If I don’t get to walk out, you don’t get to walk out! It’s your magic semen that got us in this situation in the first place! You. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit!” she pressed out through gritted teeth. ”Good thing you don’t want to sleep with me because I am never having sex with you again! Be sure of that, Haymitch!” “You can do this, Eff. I know you…” “Shut up! Not a word from you or I swear to God I’ll take the hacksaw and cut it clean off as soon as we get home! Yes, I will!” But when it happened, it happened quickly. One moment it was just them and then suddenly someone else was there too, demanding to be acknowledged. Haymitch stared at the red, bawling little creature in the midwife’s arms, smeared in God knows what. His eardrums nearly popped at the sound the boy was making and Haymitch couldn’t look away. He and Effie both. “This was a fine little specimen,” the midwife smiled. She took care of him, swaddled him up and laid him on Effie’s chest. Effie who just moments ago screamed bloody murdered chuckled through tears when she felt the weight of him. “Look at you. Big baby.” Feeling his mother so close and hearing her voice had a calming effect on the baby. He stopped crying, just peered up at them in wonderment and they got a glimpse of a pair of Capitol blue eyes, Effie’s eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she didn’t do any attempt to hide it and even Haymitch found himself swallowing and swallowing. One of the nurses pulled up an armchair to him and he thankfully sat down. Effie reached out her hand to him. “I’m so glad I had sex with you.” “Boy, do you blow hot and cold,” Haymitch said weakly. Effie smiled and her gaze returned to her son. Their son. His eyes were already closing. Small wonder, Haymitch thought. He did have a pretty rough day. “What a precious little bundle,” Effie murmured. “He looks like me, don’t you think? Beautiful and special. One of a kind. Someone you remember.” Haymitch brushed one of the baby’s chubby cheeks. “Look at the size of those,” he commented in fascination. “Haymitch,” Effie sucked in a breath. “Don’t criticize my baby!” “Wasn’t criticizin’. Just an observation.” He caressed the little tufts of hair on the boy’s head. “And he ain’t all yours, Eff. He’s got my hair and everything. You don’t get all the credit.” Effie smiled and when he leaned in and kissed her it felt like the most natural thing in the world.  “Would you like to hold him?” Haymitch was positive the child would start screaming again as soon as the nurse placed him in his waiting arms. Haymitch swallowed thickly and just sat there, stiff as a statue. He never had someone so pure and innocent sleeping on his arm since his brother was alive. The nurse spoke to Effie but he hardly noticed. He only had eyes for his child. “Do you want me to take him now?” Effie finally asked but Haymitch shook his head. “Little while longer,” he mumbled. He touched one of those tiny fists and the boy immediately took hold of his pinkie – an iron grip for someone so little and no matter how many times Haymitch swallowed he couldn’t get rid of the lump in his throat. Effie eventually drifted off to sleep but Haymitch couldn’t. He just stared at his son. Drank him with his eyes like he’d never get enough and he marveled at the thought you could love someone so new so deeply so soon. Owen. He just wished his family had been there to see him. Usually he did everything in his power to not think of them, it just hurt too much. But he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours and he couldn’t push them away now when his heart was so full. Pa would’ve smiled with shiny eyes and ask if he could hold him. Ma would say, “Now you take good care of him, Haymitch” and Amadeus would just caress the baby’s little wisps of hair ever so softly. Owen gave a stir. He puckered his lips, rubbed his face against Haymitch’s chest, searching for food. Effie heard the whimpers and reached out her arms towards the sound, still half asleep. God, it was hard to pass him over, even to Effie. She put the baby to her breast and the whimpers stopped. The boy’s eyes closed again as he sucked rhythmically while he kept a firm grip on his father’s pinkie. Haymitch had never seen someone more content and at peace with his world. And Effie, she was glowing. No makeup, face damp, her hair a mess but she looked so healthy, so happy it pinched his heart. I love you. He could have said it. He almost said it. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the peacefulness of the whole scene or the fact she just birthed his child he didn’t know. He just ached to tell her. Those three little words he hadn’t uttered in decades. But Effie wouldn’t even believe him. She’d probably just laugh it off and ask if he hit his head while she slept. So he didn’t say it. Not today. But it didn’t make it any less true.

[monotype-on-phantom]

ok since im dannyXsamXtucker trash do you have any headcanons about the 3 together :))

At long last, I’m here to deliver! I actually do, as a matter of fact. Most of my headcanons for them were listed in the Team Phantom Headcanons post, but I’ve got a few specifically shippy ones. I’m more than happy to share them with you.

Sam and Danny totally get together first. Tucker would not allow it any other way. He’s been the biggest shipper of those two since grade school. Once they started dating, though, Tucker just…sorta stayed around. It didn’t feel right to not have him there. Dates without Tucker were weird, so he always came along.

Sam and Danny are the most shy about kisses, but with the kiss barrier now broken, kisses are a frequent thing among all three of them. Sometimes they’ll annoy Tucker by giving him cheek smooches instead of kissing each other, and Tucker gets revenge by butting in on smooches when the two of them are giving them to each other.

Speaking of kissing, Danny is the worst kisser. It’s horrible. He has no idea what he’s doing with his mouth. How do lips even work? Sam and Tucker think it’s cute, though. Sam’s the best kisser, and Tucker’s alright, though he thinks he’s much better than he is.

Danny is the damsel who must be protected. He was out voted on this. Superpowers or no, Sam and Tucker will protect him at all costs. If you mess with Danny, there will be blood. There may be things they have done that Danny must never know about. This has always been the case since the dawn of time, and there’s nothing he can do about it. It helps that both Sam and Tucker can actually pick Danny up because he weighs like nothing, but he can’t lift either of them unless he’s using his powers. They like sweeping him off his feet to tease him. (He gets harder for Sam to pick up when they’re adults, but she’ll work her muscles to make sure she can, because even if the boys are taller than her, she!!! Must!!! Be!!! Stronk!!!)

Danny and Tucker are huge cuddlers, while Sam vehemently insists that she is not. As such, they obviously like squishing her between them. They call her a Samwich. They think they’re hilarious because she’s squashed between them and she’s Sam and she’s a witch, so it is a hilarious pun. She always acts annoyed, but never tries to squirm away.

Sam and Tucker fight the most often, but they make up the quickest and easiest. When either of them fight with Danny, there is much drama. Because Danny’s a drama king. His emotions are fragile. He needs more recovery time.

They all absolutely get a place together when they turn 18. It’ll be good to get away from the parents, and they have their own lives they wanna start. Danny’s the only one who applies for college. Sam takes some private courses online and stuff because she can afford it and thinks the education is important, but she spends her days doing more volunteer work. She’s got a limited allowance now that she’s on her own, but she’s still got enough money. Tucker’s more of the breadwinner, though. He fixes computers and such for big companies, and he’s hoping to climb the ladder of success and start his own huge business someday. For now, though, he’s content with small things.

Sam and Tucker can both cook, but they can only cook the things they like. Danny cannot cook at all, and he’s even picker than they are. He usually orders out or something while Sam and Tucker make their own meals. They sometimes insist that he eat some of their cooking, though. He needs to be healthy.

While they could easily afford a house because Sam’s filthy rich, they start off in an apartment for the experience of it. And Sam has a rooftop garden. She needs it. It’s very important.

The three of them go nuts for the holidays. Sam celebrated Hanukkah her whole life, Tucker celebrated Kwanzaa, and Danny still gets Christmas blues. So, the three of them just do this huge conglomeration of different traditions and celebrations and end up with their own specific way of doing the holidays every year (and they eat tons of junk food). Danny greatly prefers it to Christmas.

They do not have beds. Those are overrated. Instead, every night they pull out some mattresses and blankets and pillows and huddle together on the floor in front of the TV.

That’s all I got right now, but hopefully that’s satisfying! I love these three.

[mylifeiskara]

NurseyDex Week Day Two: Bedsharing and Room Sharing

I once again don’t have a snappy title, but I had fun writing this one!

                                                            ...

It first happens in the middle of September of their junior year. Ever since they started sharing a room, Nursey noticed that Dex has been trying to cut back on his all-nighters, which is considerate, because Nursey isn’t always the heaviest sleeper, and sometimes Dex climbing to the top bunk late at night is a bit of a disturbance.

But this night is different. For one thing, they’re both still awake. Nursey is laying on his bunk working on an assignment for his playwriting class that he’s still not inspired enough to write, and Dex is sitting at the desk, looking back and forth from his history textbook to his laptop where he’s typing notes. For the past hour, Nursey has been listening as Dex’s typing continues to slow down. He must be getting tired.

By about 2:30 in the morning, inspiration has finally struck, and Nursey is finishing up his playwriting prompt. As he’s closing his laptop, he turns to see that Dex has fallen asleep at the desk, his head resting on his history textbook. Nursey knows Dex is going to be incredibly sore in the morning if he sleeps at the desk, so he should probably wake him up.

“Dex,” Nursey whispers. No response. He tries just a little louder. “Dex.”

He figures he’s not going to get a response, so he goes over to the desk and nudges his roommate. “Dex!”

Dex finally sits up. “Shut up, you’ll wake Chowder,” he mumbles.

“You fell asleep on your textbook. I think it’s time to call it a night.”

Dex nods and starts to stand as he rubs his eyes. Nursey puts his laptop under the bed before laying back down. He notices that Dex hasn’t really moved to get up to his bunk.

“Are you okay, man?”

“I don’t feel like climbing.”

“So you’re just going to sleep standing up?” Nursey chirps.

“No.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“Can I just sleep on your bed with you?”

Nursey’s face goes blank. He knows Dex doesn’t mean anything by asking to sleep in his bed. He just doesn’t have the energy to climb a ladder.

“Nurse? Come on man, if Holster and Ransom could fit into one bunk, we can do it too. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Dex asks again.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m not much more awake right now than you are.” He slides over to the wall to let Dex in. He pulls the quilt over them and works on getting comfortable.

It’s utterly ridiculous that two 6’2’’ hockey players are squished together in one twin bunk, and Nursey’s afraid he’s going to end up on top of Dex at some point in the night. He moves around a lot in his sleep, but even so he feels like it would still be hard to explain away in the morning. Thankfully, Nursey doesn’t really move around that night, probably because Dex sleeps on his back, which actually ends up keeping Nursey in one position. Nursey wakes up the next morning to find his roommate already gone since he has an early class. That definitely didn’t go as badly as it could have. It probably would have been weirder if they weren’t as tired the night before. It’s no big deal, Nursey thinks as he rolls out of bed to get ready for the day.

The next time it happens, Nursey and Dex are both very drunk. Bitty had put Ollie and Wicky in charge of making the tub juice, and he definitely won’t be doing that again, considering they made it stronger than Shitty and Lardo ever did. Never in the history of Samwell Men’s Hockey has there been such a turnt kegster. Nursey figures Ransom and Holster are going to be unbelievably jealous that they weren’t there to witness it. Or that they didn’t plan it. The members of the Haus are finally finishing up calling people cabs and handing people water bottles. God bless Bitty’s idea to buy them in bulk.

Ollie and Wicky don’t seem like they’re going to make it up to the attic, considering they’re both asleep in the kitchen. It’s a testament to how drunk Bitty is that he ends up half asleep on the green couch. Chowder, who is surprisingly the least drunk, figures Bitty would rather die than wake up there, so he helps get him upstairs to his room. Nursey and Dex follow Chowder and Bitty up the stairs and head into their room. Nursey’s the last one in, so he turns on the light and closes the door. He turns around again to see Dex flopping onto the bottom bunk.

“Um, Dex?” Nursey asks.

Dex just switches from his back to his stomach in response. He must be pretty drunk to be acting like this.

“Poindexter, that’s my bed.”

“Your bed is more comfortable than my bed,” Dex answers.

“How does that make any sense, it’s the same mattress, dude.”

“There’s a difference.”

“Well if you’re not going to get up, can you at least scoot over so I can get in?”

“Sleep on my bed.”

“William. You know I’m clumsy enough without adding alcohol to the mix. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on your bed. Now scoot over.”

Dex gives in and lets Nursey have room on the bed.

Nursey lays on his back, but then sits up on his elbows as he realizes something. “And don’t you dare think of throwing up anywhere near my bed, man.”

“I’m not that drunk, Nurse!”

“You’re pretty drunk, though. Should I be worried. Do I need to start Dex Patrol?” Nursey chirps.

Dex smiles and rolls over onto his side so he can face Nursey. “Man, I’m drunker than you one time, and you think you get to act all high and mighty. Why am I at all surprised?”

“I don’t know. I’d think that after three years you’d know me better and just expect it.”

“But I feel like part of knowing you is the excitement of constant surprise.”

“Yeah, and you’re so predictable that it balances things out.”

Dex looks slightly offended. “I can be unpredictable.”

Nursey laughs. “Sure, you can.”

Dex must take that as a challenge, because he leans over, takes Nursey’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s not that long, just a weird smooch, and then it’s over. The only problem is that Nursey really likes it.

“See, that was very spontaneous,” Dex says before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Nursey mumbles. “I didn’t see that coming.” He takes another glance at Dex as he starts to drift off himself.

It happens again the day after the kiss. As Nursey suspected, his sleep cuddling got the best of him, since he wakes up mostly on top of Dex. He probably would have stayed asleep longer, had it not been for the fact that Dex practically pushed him out of bed so he could run to the bathroom to throw up. Nursey sighs and goes downstairs to the kitchen to get his roommate a glass of water.

When he opens the door to the bathroom, Dex has just flushed the toilet. He hugs the toilet, awaiting another bout of sickness. Nursey hands him the glass of water and then goes to stand by the doorway.

“Thanks,” Dex says before taking a sip. “How are you functioning? You were drinking last night, too.”

“Yeah, but Bitty polices the amount of tub juice I have. So I’ve started just having one cup of tub juice and then drinking beer the rest of the night.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, Bitty’s never going to let Ollie and Wicky near the tub juice anymore.”

“It’s a wonder he did in the first place,” Dex points out. He leans over the toilet to throw up again, but then realizes he doesn’t have to. He leans up against the tub and finishes his water.

Nursey shrugs. “Call it an oversight.”

Dex’s eyes go wide, and at first Nursey thinks he’s about to puke again, but once he starts to blush, he figures it might be about something else.

“Are you okay, man?” Nursey checks.

“Um, you mean besides the fact that I’m majorly hungover? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Considering your face is still red, I don’t believe you.”

Dex looks as though he’s searching for the right words. “Well, I just remembered something, and I’m not sure if it actually happened or if it was just a dream.”

Uh-oh. Nursey knows where this is going. “What was it?”

“Uh, did I… kiss you last night?”

Yup, Nursey was right about where this was going. “Uh, yeah. I said you were very predictable, and I guess you wanted to prove me wrong.”

Nursey has never seen Dex look so thoroughly embarrassed. “Nursey, I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, man.”

“No, it’s not,” Dex keeps rambling. “What with all this talk about consent. Shitty would be so disappointed in me. Oh my god, how am I going to look him in the face the next time he’s at the Haus? This just isn’t the way I meant to address my weird crush on you. And I--”

“Wait, your what?” Nursey cuts him off.

“Um. Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Dex…”

“Okay, fine! I have a crush on you. Are you happy?”

Nursey smiles. “Yeah, a little.”

Dex narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I also kind of have a weird crush on you.”

“Shut up, no you don’t.”

“Poindexter, don’t tell me how I feel, I do too!”

Dex doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at the cup in his hands. Nursey can practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“Hey, I just admitted that I like you too. Is this the reaction you’re going with?” Nursey chirps.

“I don’t know. I’m just processing.”

“I mean, I would kiss you or something, but you just threw up.”

“Can we just get back in bed?” Dex asks, finally looking up.

“Huh?”

“Let’s just get back in bed. I feel a little better, and I kind of want to go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” Nursey helps Dex off the floor, and they hold hands the very short distance to Nursey’s bunk. They settle in, Dex resting his head on Nursey’s shoulder.

“We can talk about this more later?” Dex asks.

“Definitely,” Nursey replies before kissing Dex on the forehead.

Dex blushes, but smiles and closes his eyes. Nursey’s almost 100% sure that this is going to be the best sleep that either of them have had in a long time.

[michiigii-writes-mysme]

Sundae Evening

SPOILER ALERT if you haven’t finished the game.

Summary:  Birthday Drabble, Saeran-centric.  Damaged cutie looks back on his lowkey birthday.  In my Ideal World, post Secret Endings, established relationship.

Pairing:  Saeran X MC

Rating: G

Genre:  Slice of life/Fluff

Approx. 1500 words

Protip:  I am sleep-deprived and did not edit this.

Saeran did it.

He had managed to dodge his brother for almost the entire day.

It was almost midnight when Saeran decided it was safe to return home.  Sneaking around back and deactivating various alarms before he tripped them off, the former cult member cautiously approached the back wall where the window to his bedroom was.  It was another couple stories up, but Saeran was no stranger to climbing walls without equipment.  The doorway and lower windows, not to mention a couple handholds he had strategically carved between bricks for prior shenanigans, worked as well for him as any ladder might.

As he moved a garbage bin as silently as he could to use as an extra boost up, he thought back on the day.

The day had started well.  You had awakened him late in the morning, to have brunch with you and Saeyoung.  The first thing he could remember was his shoulder being gently shaken by you, and as he opened his eyes sleepily, his vision was filled with you, lying in bed beside him.

“G'morning,” you had murmured, smiling brightly at him.

He had grunted at you, then reached out to pull your body against his.  He wrapped his arms around you, gently pressing your head against his chest.

“Did you sleep well?” you had whispered into the front of his shirt.

Saeran had made an affirmative sound in his throat, before squeezing you tightly.

“Good…”

He had wanted to sleep in a little more, but by then, he knew he was awake.  He knew he had to get out of bed.

It had become a tradition to have birthday brunch together, after all.

“…What’s he got planned?” Saeran grumped, after a long moment of nothing but feeling your warmth.

“So much stuff,” you had replied lightly, looking up into his emerald eyes, “He wants to see a movie, go to the arcade, then have dinner with the others.  Picnic by the lake so that he can go fishing, then stargazing when the sun goes down.  I think he wants to do karaoke until midnight, too.”

Saeran rolled his eyes, flopping limply against his pillow.  Saeyoung always had so much energy…

“What movie?”

“The new superhero one.”

“Hm…”

Made sense that Saeyoung wanted to see it.  There was a spaceship, after all.

You examined Saeran’s face, trying to read his reaction.

Saeyoung planned a full birthday schedule every year.  His thing was living life to the fullest and making up for lost time.  Saeran was more of a “I don’t want any attention” kind of celebrant.  The difference in approaches had caused some friction in the first couple years since they had reunited, but by now, they had agreed that Saeyoung could plan whatever he wanted while Saeran did not need to feel obligated to attend all of it.

“Are you gonna come with?” you asked, “To the movie?”

“…yeah,” Saeran sighed, “Might as well.”

He had wanted to see that movie, too, after all.

Sharing a brief smooch with you, Saeran finally climbed out of bed to get ready for the day. He, you, and Saeyoung had had brunch together, greeting the day as a group.  Vanderwood had dropped by towards the end of it, greeting the boys a happy birthday before grabbing some fruit and continuing with his day.

The three of you had carpooled with Saeyoung to the movies, but as the credits began to roll, Saeran had pulled you towards him in the dark of the theatre, brushing his lips against yours before hurrying away.

He hated attention. All he wanted were you, and his brother, and he had already spent the morning with the two of you.  As was his custom, he wanted to spend the rest of his birthday alone.  So, he left.

For the rest of the day, he stayed off of the messenger app.  You sent him photos every now and then, like a snapshot of Saeyoung’s new high score at the arcade, or Yoosung accidentally falling into the lake while reeling in a fish.  He didn’t reply, but you knew he saw the messages.

Saeran had spent most of the day cloud-gazing at the park.  He grabbed a snack towards the evening, when he saw the photo you sent of the picnic with the RFA. His day had been quiet, and calm, and at the centre of nobody’s attention.  Just the way he liked it.

Now, he reached his windowsill.  He knew that Saeyoung would have invited the RFA over for karaoke in their living room, hence the sneaking back into his own home.  He didn’t want to deal with any of the others…they would be so friendly and warm and he wasn’t interested.

However, as he pulled himself through his window, he was surprised to see that the room wasn’t empty.

You were there, lying on his bed, playing with his Nintendo while you waited for him.

It occurred to Saeran that he couldn’t hear anybody singing.

“Hey,” he said, alerting you to his presence.

He climbed into his room, shutting the window behind him and brushing his clothes off. You smiled when you saw him, putting the game console away.

“I thought you’d still be out,” he said, kicking off his shoes before crossing the room to you.

He kissed you deep, getting onto the bed beside you, curling his arms around your body.

“I convinced everyone to go to a karaoke bar and give us a little privacy,” you answered, murmuring against his lips, gripping the front of his sweater to keep him close, “…is this okay?  I know you don’t like making a fuss for your birthday…”

“You aren’t any trouble,” Saeran answered, nuzzling his nose against yours affectionately, “You know that…”

Smiling, you kissed him slow before pulling away and gently pushing him towards the head of the bed.

“I brought you dessert,” you told him, reaching under the bed and not missing the suggestive look Saeran gave you, “…shut up.”

He smirked, but moved up in bed and adjusted some pillows so that he sat comfortably against the headboard.  He watched you pull a mini-cooler out from under the bed, and you saw his eyes light up when you pulled out a good-sized ice cream sundae.

“Tadah…!” you cheered, holding the glass dish out to your boyfriend, “Hold this for a sec?”

He reached out and took it from you, eyeing the dessert greedily but letting you light a candle and stick it on top, singing the “Happy Birthday Song” as you moved.  You saw his cheeks turn pink, but he sat through it patiently, letting you curl up in his lap as you sang.

“Make a wish,” you urged when you finished the song, motioning with a spoon towards the little light.

He gave you a condescending look, rolled his eyes, then blew the candle out.

“Did you wish?” you asked as he plucked skinny candle away and tossed it onto his nightstand.

“Did you bring a cherry?” he asked instead, ignoring your question.

You sighed inwardly, but nodded.  You knew he liked having a cherry on top of his sundaes; you took a Maraschino cherry out of a little Tupperware container you had also hidden in the cooler, and placed it stem and all right on top of the hole the candle had made.

“Satisfied?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at Saeran.

“No,” he said bluntly, as if you were being completely dense.

He held the sundae out, giving you a steady look.  You met his gaze for a moment, sighed quietly, then dipped your head down to pick the cherry up in your teeth.  Grinning, Saeran bent forward, taking a small bite from the cherry, before pressing his lips against yours. Fruit juice and your natural sweetness mingled against his tongue, affection rising up in both of you as the kiss lingered.  Then, gently, Saeran pushed the cherry stem into your mouth before pulling away.

“…do the thing,” he encouraged, smirking slightly.

You were already working the stem in your mouth, looping it around with your tongue and teeth.  You knew what he meant.  It took you a moment, but soon, triumphantly, you stuck your tongue out to display the cherry stem, now in a cute little knot.

“That is so hot,” Saeran murmured, shaking his head slightly before pulling you into another kiss.

You smiled against his mouth, letting him take his fill before pulling away.  You pulled the stem out of your mouth and threw it beside the candle, before holding a spoon out towards your boyfriend.

“Hungry?”

“For a lot of things,” he grinned toothily.

You blushed, but took a spoonful of ice cream and held it out for him.

“Dessert first.  Say ‘ah’…”

There was no hurry.  You had convinced Yoosung to have Saeyoung sleep over, after all.

-fin-

[matsu-canons-and-headcanons]

Rescue Worker Osomatsu Headcanons

So remember that post I made? The one where i was yelling about how much i want this idiot to give me overized hugs and snuggle me until I can no longer breathe? Well hi, im back with headcanons to make him exist within your hearts forever now :0

1. Very cuddly, almost too cuddly really? He’s a big soft teddybear that wants to be cuddled and filled with affection 24/7 (Much more then the real Osomatsu does !)

2. He melts at animals, big animals, small animals, he’ll literally chase after pigeons if he really has to.. Osomatsu loves his animals :0

3. Really clumsy! You’d think climbing on ladders to rescue animals and people would make him have a strong balance but really? He stumbled alot, even on his own words when he has to!

4. Loves to caress his s/o’s cheeks. Since he has such a muscularly built body, he can’t really pinch his own cheeks.. so he has yours instead !! 

5. Gives the best smooches!! Whenever he’s not working, he’s always puckering up those lips to give his s/o the sweetest smooches to show his affection and love <3

6. Gets blushy really easily! He’s just a very soft character and he can’t stand compliments! 

7. He seems very sweet an’ all, but let’s not forget he’ll always joke around as the usually idiot he is.. But he never takes a joke too far! He keeps it at a nice pace where everyone can enjoy it <3 

8. ...Resu!Osomatsu wears aviators.... ngl he’d probably look really hot...

9. When he comes home, he never really likes to talk about work. He feels like it’s not necessary to bring it home, unless you generally want to know! He’s very considerate of his S/O!

10. I feel like this is really ooc but.. he likes to play video games..~ Idk he just seems like that Bara nerd that really loves his Nintendo 64...or Ps4...or Xbox One...He bought lots of consoles ;w;

11. Oh yeah, he’s also the big spoon of the relationship, because he bara and probably the more dominant, even if he doesn’t act it! >w>

Well there’s my headcanoned husband in a nutshell I guess, pls give resu!oso love ;w;

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

27, gotta be 27! :P

I was really itching to write this one and I ended up having so much fun doing so!! I hope you like what I came up with, love!! Thanks for all the love! Right back at ya! *muah*

27.   “Stripping clearly wasn’t in the plan.”

Winter had once again settledin the small town of Riverdale, a dreadful wind twirling the dry autumn leaves underthe heavy grey sky. Betty liked the scenery; it was very Tarkovsky, thatmonochrome of nature. Bringing a knitted blanket more up her chin, Betty smiledto herself as she was sure her boyfriend of over a year would be very proud ofthe cinematic metaphor in her head and sighed in content as she continuedreading Anna Karenina for what seemed like the hundredth time. Whatever concentrationshe had previously though was now completely shuttered by the mere thought ofher hot boy and his promise to drop by later, Betty feeling her cheeks alreadyflushing at the things she already knew they were going to be doing once he’dclimb up her window, like another prince charming in search for his queen. Eventhough their night rendezvous were anything but chaste and purity laced at thispoint.

Betty expected him to be nakedat some point during the night. What she didn’t expect was her six feet tallboyfriend climbing up the wooden ladder perched against her window with justhis dark grey boxers and his color coordinated beanie, dripping wet from thetop of his covered head to the soles of his black converse.

“What the heck happened to you?!” Betty wondered in a high-pitched voiceand green eyes rounded in disbelief upon rushing to open the window sill,assisting him in bringing his lanky limbs awkwardly over the small benchattached to it. He replied with a full of irritation side glance, a “don’t evenask” shade on his blue eyes behind his also wet eyelids.

“I thought you were at a brodate with Archie?” she tilted her head in confusion, scanning his absurdappearance and suppressing her need to laugh at the comical sight of himdripping on her fluffy carpet, while protectively holding his laced hands athis front, over his manhood.

“I was.” He snarled, clearlynot in a mood to be tampered with, huffing at his damp raven locks that stuckagainst his forehead.

“And since when they strip younaked and spray you with water like a freaking Calvin Klein ad down at thearcade?” Betty scoffed amused, closing her arms over the Blue & Gold logothat was sprawled in bold letters at the front of her black t-shirt (Cooper – Jones Agency: Full murder search byday, full body search by night being printed at the back, a cheeky giftfrom Veronica to both of them at their one year anniversary), raising aneyebrow and really dying to hear his explanation.

“Stripping clearly wasn’t inthe plan.” He raised his eyebrows cleverly, a shiver running down hisspine, his body now aware of the cold temperature. “Can you please give me atowel?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” She mentallyscolded herself for not thinking about his wellbeing sooner, but could you blameher? Jughead Jones in such ridiculous state was truly a sight to see. As soonas she wrapped his shoulders in a fluffy, lime green towel, rubbing his armsover it with vigor to offer him some warmth and gaining a small thank you from theboy now sitting at the edge of her bed, story time began.

“Some of those hooligans fromthe Greendale Panthers ambushed us when we were leaving the arcade, restrained us,took us six miles out of town, stripped us naked and then showered us with twowater tanks. Not to mention that they left us to walk all the way back!” Jugheadlet her know in exasperation, Betty’s eyes widening in shook, as he took offhis beanie and ran the towel over his wet locks, grumpy and irritated.

“What?! Why?!” she asked incredulously,eyes examining him for any other sign of damage, now catching a faint rednesscreeping up around his eye and a small cut on his lower lip. “And what happenedto your face?” she gently turned his head by his chin for him to look at her,thump brushing over his wounded lip and making him flinch.

“I fought back of course!”Jughead narrowed his eyes in spite. “They are being a bunch of illiterate, violence-feedingbullies! Those are just pranks they play every time a game between them and usis about to take place.” He informed her in anger what he later had learned fromArchie on their walk of shame home.

“You are not even in the team.”Betty wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Highly irrelevant.” Her boyfriendthrew in sarcasm, standing up to examine his face on her vanity mirror. “Ugh,this is gonna be a bitch to cover.” He groaned at the sight of the growing mauvebruise around his left eye. “Will you do your magic girl stuff?” he pleadedwith a look over his shoulder, not really wanting to appear like every other cockyjock next morning at school.

Betty sighed, shaking her headwith a faint, surprised smile, while walking to his side. “What else can I dosince my boyfriend is proving to be more of a fighter than a lover once again?”she teased him goodheartedly, seeing him roll his pretty eyes but cracking asmall smile at her words. “Maybe we should tell Sheriff Keller… or coachClayton.” She became serious, knitted eyebrows indicating that she was ready tofight against any kind of bullying and for anyone’s rights.

“Like this will matter.”Jughead scoffed at her idealistic good-girl ways. “This is bro world; it’s afucking zoo.” He colored the swear word with bitterness. “There’s a meaningbehind naming those teams after animals. Beast mode and male ego dominance andall that stuff. It really makes my blood boil in anger.” He huffed, fumingagain, messing his already disheveled locks just out of spite.

“Who are you and what have youdone to my boyfriend?!” Betty retorted incredulously, a clueless grimace ofconfusion adorning her pretty features. “I want back my Thomas Hardy not thisRocky Balboa.” She said in fake warning and disgust, rounding a finger over his ridiculous state that depicted his whole new persona.

Jughead licked his lips,trying to hide his cheeky smile. “I’ve told you before, Betts. I have layers.” Hereminded her with a wink, totally forgetting about his bruised eye andflinching instantly in pain, making Betty chuckle lightly at his dorkiness.

“Whatever.” She patted hischest in affection. “Just try not to get yourself between punches again,alright you tough guy?” she spoke to him like scolding a five year old formaking a watercolor mess on the floor. “I’m very fond of that face to see itbrushed every once in a while.” She grabbed his chin and shook his head lightlyfrom side to side, before closing his cheeks between her thump and her middlefinger and smooching his pushed out in a funny fishy way lips. “Grab your hidden shirtand sweatpants from the back of my underwear drawer and put something on before you catch pneumonia. I’ll get youa bag of frozen beans and something to clean this nasty cut, Robin Hood ofRiverdale.”

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