#i just wanted him to be extremely beefy and extremely handsome

[suchdevastation]

What is up, it's Kleskizhae, he's Garlean, he's god's favorite atheist, the feared eikon-slayer, the beloved Warrior of Light!

He can't cast spells, but he's got a guy who can do that for him. It's fine, voidsent are buddies, they're pals, they're an ancient Garlean tradition that you should respect, and they help him sword and scythe and gun and gunblade better than anyone else! He was already better without the voidsent, it's just now he's extra better and has a friend. Not that he didn't have friends before! He definitely doesn't drive people away by being weird and loud and kind of an asshole sometimes!

Everyone back home hates him because he is so good at swords and is also actively overthrowing the Empire, whilst screaming about how good it is for Garlemald that he's overthrowing the Empire! Maybe they should instead go back to that Republic thing and stop imperializing all over these good people! No one has ever disagreed with him whilst also being better at gunblades than he is, so he's obviously correct!

Invite him to sing at your birthday parties and weddings at unlistenably loud volumes!

My mood is down, so:

FFXIV tumblr, show me/ tell me about your characters who do not fit neatly into the in-game playable races! Any character whose race is not simply "an Elezen" or "a Hyur", etc.

[evansbby]

⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference,  age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.

“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.

But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.

“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”

He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.

And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.

You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.

“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).

And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.

“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”

Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.

“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”

“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”

“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”

“That’s okay, baby.”

You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.

But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”

You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.

Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.

He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.

No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.

“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.

He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.

Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.

“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”

You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.

But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.

Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.

You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?

Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.

Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.

“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”

You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”

“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.

Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.

“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.

“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”

“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.

“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.

“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.

Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”

“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.

Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.

“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.

“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”

That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.

“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”

In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.

And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”

“Please put it in, Ari!”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.

With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”

“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.

“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.

You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.

“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”

“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.

“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”

He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.

You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.

Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.

“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”

You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.

“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.

“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.

“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.

“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.

“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.

The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.

Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.

“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it’s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”

And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.

You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.

“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.

“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”

Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.

“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.

THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!

[iheartpeppino]

I'm bored, so I'm just gonna write what I find most attractive or appealing about each Pizza Tower character!

Peppino Spaghetti - His superhuman strength and speed is extremely impressive, and watching him in action is immensely satisfying. Also, the fact he takes the time to save the bosses from the crumbling Pizza Tower shows he has a caring heart. I'm also very fond of how expressive Peppino is, and I'm also quite fond of his design in general; he's a middle-aged, balding overweight man yet I find him very handsome.

Gustavo - Admittedly, I find Gustavo quite handsome and even cute. I also like that he's supposed to be a Mario expy whose partner is Rick the Hamster instead of Yoshi; it's an interesting spin. It's also nice Gustavo cares enough about Peppino that he's willing to help him take on the Pizza Tower, even if it means facing giant rats. I found out not too long ago that Gustavo has a son... but he's not married? Is he divorced? WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MINDS WOULD DIVORCE GUSTAVO!? HE'S SUCH A NICE GUY WHAT THE HECK!?

Brick - Just like all the Stupid Rats, Brick is super adorable. One look at those eyes and I'm done. He's too cute. I love him. I want a Stupid Rat plushie and I want it NOW.

Mr. Scott Stick - This bald, skinny twig of a man... is admittedly handsome in my eyes. He's a jerk who scams desperate people for money, but GOSH... I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Mr. Stick can get it. He's a cutie. Is it the suit? I dunno, maybe. That, and he's apparently a huge dork when he's not scamming people... which I find endearing, oddly.

Phil Pepperman - This pepper is an absolute unit with a big grin and striking blue eyes. I wouldn't call myself a simp, but I understand completely why some people find Pepperman attractive. Personally, I find his pseudo-intellectual personality off-putting, but he is quite good-looking for a pepper.

Vigert Ebenezer Lantte - He's an older guy with a cowboy motif and a great sense of justice and responsibility. How can you not find that attractive? Yes, I know he's a cheese slime, who cares! Don't think I haven't seen people simp over this guy and draw him as a human, either!

Theodore "The" Noise - I'm not a Noise simp by any stretch, but if there is one thing I can say that's attractive about him... it would be his youthful spirit. Yes, The Noise is a manchild, but that's not always a bad thing.

Noisette - She's a very silly little lady whom I find very cute. I appreciate that her design is just as goofy as her boyfriend's, too.

Fake Peppino - What can I say? He's a monster, and I'm a monster lover. I like that he's adorable, silly, AND super deadly! I wanna kiss the frog man, if he'll let me.

Pizzaface - I've seen people draw this mech with a big, beefy body. I get it. Pizzaface's design is appealing, why wouldn't you give him a beefy body to match how powerful he is...?

Pizzahead - HANDSOME UNHINGED SILLY-ASS PIZZA CLOWN MAKES MY MIND GO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. The sheer autism I have for this guy is unreal. His laugh, his design, his obsession with Peppino, his weird motivations... HE'S NUTS AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

Pillar John - Uh... I like his hat? I mostly find John intimidating due to his sheer size and that damned Meatophobia music that plays when you go near him...

Gerome - He has a neat design. I've seen some interesting fan art of him hooking up with pretty girls who are much taller than he is. Good for him, honestly.

BONUS: Maurice Spaghetti - He looks like Peppino but with more hair and facial hair... in other words, handsome. Too bad his personality is utterly abysmal!

[broodybuck]

Title: Doing his Job

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, sex worker Steve, dom Steve, sub Bucky, dirty talk, recovering Bucky

[ao3 link]

Bucky never thought he'd be here. Sitting in a strange man's living room that he paid to have sex with. But he hasn't come in a full year. That's how long it's been, that's how long he's tried that he'd gotten desperate. So it's come to this.

Steve's site said that his clients don't need to talk about any trauma or potential causes of their inability to perform. It also explained that one could get their money refunded if Steve is unsuccessful. Which honestly is the main reason Bucky chose him. He doesn't really believe this is going to work.

When Steve steps into the room, he sits across from Bucky on a kitchen chair with a notepad and pen in his hand. He’s as big and beefy and as his picture online. His blonde hair is combed back, a single curl hangs over his forehead. Bucky didn’t think he had a type anymore but whatever is happening in his stomach tells him evidently Steve might be it now.

"I always start by asking a few questions so that I can take note of any precautions I may need to take."

Bucky simply nods, remaining mute. He's so uncomfortable right now. This is awkward... is it supposed to feel so awkward?

"Do you have anything that is absolutely off-limits? Could be a sexual act or something as simple as a spot on your body you don't want touched, a word you don't want said?" Steve questions.

"No," Bucky answers quietly.

Steve nods, writes something down.

"Is there anything specific that you know you like sexually, that you would like me to do to you?"

Bucky swallows, feeling a blush wash across his face.

"Make me come?" Bucky cracks a small smile. It's the whole fucking point of being here.

Steve smiles too.

"Yes, that is the goal and I intend to meet it."

"Can I ask you a question?" Bucky says.

"Of course."

"Do you... find me attractive?" He hears the quiver in his voice and he hates that he couldn't keep his voice steady to ask it.

Steve sits for a moment then nods.

"I find you very attractive, James."

Bucky blinks, forgetting briefly that he gave his real name.

"Are you just saying that 'cause I'm paying you?" Bucky tests.

"I'm not," Steve states firmly. "It may be unprofessional to admit, but I think you're extremely handsome and not all my clients are."

Bucky gulps.

"Okay, uh. I also just wanted to say one thing. It's okay if this doesn't... happen. I'm sure you have a lot of success usually but it might not... I might be the exception and I want you to know it's me, not you."

Bucky fidgets uncomfortably in his seat when he finishes. Steve begins to frown but then covers it with a polite smile.

"You're not the problem, James. I'm confident in my abilities to help you."

After a few more questions, guidelines, and safe words. Bucky finds himself sitting on a large bed, naked, much faster than he expects. He feels self-conscious, he does, and at first, Steve tries to start things slow. He takes his time to make Bucky comfortable, touches him ultra carefully like he's fragile. Grazes his cock and balls so gently Bucky barely feels it. It goes on for a while but isn't getting much out of Bucky.

Bucky was well into thinking this wasn't going to work but then, well, Steve must have decided to change his approach. Because before Bucky knows it, he's pressed against a wall with his ass sticking out and Steve's pumping three fingers in and out of him so brutally, Bucky's babbling incoherently.

Maybe it was always this simple? Bucky thought he'd been treated rough in the past but maybe he hasn't. Maybe it wasn't ever rough enough. Because the fervor in which Steve's fucking him with his fingers is making Bucky's legs shake — literally. And the way Steve's talking to him now, it's sending shocks of arousal down to his cock.

"This is what you need," Steve tells him. "You need it just like this. Your body was made for this, honey."

Bucky whines out a little plead that he doesn't think Steve hears. But then Steve removes his fingers.

"Gonna feed you my cock now," Steve warns him. "Nice and hard. Cause that's how you need it."

There's no warning for it. Steve rams his cock inside Bucky with one rough thrust. Bucky cries out and his cock dribbles precome. Which is already more than he's gotten in the past year. Cause god, he really loves this. He does need it like this, he needs it so much. And he'd tell Steve that but he can't find his voice anymore.

Steve's hands thread into his hair and grip handfuls of it tightly. Bucky keens in the tug backward. Why has no one pulled his hair before?

"I'm gonna get this come out of you, sweetheart," Steve growls by his ear. The juxtaposition of his demanding threats and sweet pet names is making Bucky's brain go fuzzy.

"You want that?" Steve yanks his hair back with the question.

Bucky gasps in some air and then whines.

"Use your words, pretty thing," Steve coaxes.

"P-please," Bucky stammers.

"Good boy," Steve praises and Bucky goes limp with the acclaim, his body vibrating off it like a drug.

Steve fucks him mercilessly. Pounding into him without an ounce of caution. Bucky can't get enough. He's practically drooling with his head hanging back, still being pulled by his hair. And he's so close. Closer than he's felt in so fucking long. He's in complete disbelief.

"S-Steve," Bucky manages.

Steve slows his pace and his demanding voice softens.

"You okay?"

"I'm... I'm close," Bucky whispers back in shock.

"Oh. Fuck yes," Steve celebrates and then rails right into him again, picking up the pace until Bucky's full on trembling.

Steve lets his hair go and wraps both arms around Bucky's midsection, drawing him flush against his chest. He keeps fucking him as he nuzzles against Bucky's ear.

"We're gonna get it out of you, baby. I know you can do it. I know you can let go. You're so close."

Bucky moans, desperate for the release. He'll do anything for it.

"You need to come for me," Steve growls aggressively, switching tones like a light switch. It makes Bucky's skin boil hot.

Steve grabs Bucky's leaking cock and starts fisting the shaft as hard as he's fucking him.

Bucky wails and his body keeps tensing in and out, almost letting go but not quite. He's so unbearably close but his body is holding back. By this point, he needs it so bad he could cry.

That's when a tear drops from the corner of his eye. Then another and another. Bucky's body jerks violently and then he's coming harder than he's ever come in his life while sobbing through it.

He's pretty sure he passes out because when Bucky comes to again, he's lying in a bed. Steve's cradling him with one arm while the other hand softly brushes through his hair. Bucky blinks wearily.

"What happened?" Bucky asks.

Steve hums contently.

"I did my job, sweetheart."

[onsunnyside]

Okay new fic idea bestie 💡

what about a Steve or Andy mob au with innocent reader who comes from a blue collar family, super hard working. Our parents worked their butts off for it and now we’re attending a private university. Only for us to meet them!maybe we share a class together. He’s the first one we meet on campus🥺 our Big and beefy mob daddy! We think they’re so sweet, showing us around and making us feel welcomed, too bad we don’t know they’re in line to become the next head of a major crime family😭😭Bonus points if we don’t find out who they are until it’s too late🫡🫡 bc we’re too in love to let them go. And well, who said we had a choice in the matter anymore? Once they found us, they had no intentions of letting us go anyways🫠🫠

-💋

ok hold on bc i was listening to lovefool and really wanted to write a fic inspired by it and this is perfect !! now... which daddy to choose !! Steve, Andy, or Ari? shall we switch it up a bit and go for someone who isn't Ari? 🫡

you're sweet and shy, smart and studious but not enough bc you didn't get a scholarship at your dream university 🥺 bc it's private, it's super expensive and you knew you couldn't attend without the scholarship but oh my !! with some help from your grandparents and your extremely hardworking parents, your academic dream comes true !!

on the first day, you're nervous and shy, getting lost on the vast campus bc you didn't want to bother anyone and ask for directions. that's why you end up to your lecture late and have to do the walk of shame to the only empty seat in the hall. you stutter out apologies and eventually settle down, slowly taking out your things and opening to a fresh page in your notebook, only to realize you don't have your pencil case:

a gold pen grabs your attention, and your eyes follow up the huge hand to a handsome man, wearing a soft smile. "I have an extra."

"O-Oh my, thank you!" You say a little too loudly and earn yourself a few glares. You cower into your seat, hiding in the blank pages of the notebook as the stranger simply glares back. You shakily print the date at the top corner and don't notice everyone quickly whip around, going back to minding their own business. 🌚 (bc everybody knows)

fast forward: you and he grow close. he's kind and charming, very chivalrous and always opening doors for you, paying for your lunch and offering to hold your bag (you politely declined those offers).

"You want to come over tomorrow, button?"

"T'ya house?" You blink at him with a mouthful of your lunch, "Sow'y." You apologize, washing down the food with some water. "I'll have to ask my parents. Uhm, I've never been to a boy's house before..."

He chuckles quietly, reaching out to wipe your mouth. "It'll be fine, we're just going to study. Maybe watch a movie to relax and I could finally show you my car."

bc he gets dropped off and picked up by a sleek black car with heavily tinted windows every day, he said it was bc his parents were overprotective of him. he's had his driver drop you off at home a few times but sometimes you preferred going by yourself.

"I could take you for a drive... Show you my favourite spots. Or we could just stay inside, my parents kind of went wild when building our house. There's a lot to do."

You sit back, gaze flickering between his hand holding yours and his pretty face. "Is that—Would that be a date?"

"Think of it like a pre-date. We could get to know each other outside of all of this," he gestures to the campus and your uniforms, "If I want to win you over on our first date, I'll need to explore the playing field beforehand." He winks.

ugh as if he didn't have your heart the moment you laid eyes on him !!

[astr-worlds]

DAD STATZ - Heights

Aka the series no one asked for at all!

I’ve been listening to this podcast for a really long time (on like my 60th relisten), and I love everything about it! I wanted to 

So the actual physical descriptions of the dads and teens can get..a little vague, which is great! Because that leaves space for a lot of fan interpretation! However, I thought it might be fun to try and gather a master source for actual stats and “prove” them in canon. This is all just for fun and not trying to ruin anybodies headcanons or anything! I love seeing different versions of the dads!

Ron is the easiest (and shortest).

The first mention we get for his height is from Episode 3: The Lord of Chaos. Beth says this “Um, I’m maybe 5’ 4” and 120-ish pounds.” This height stays constant for the rest of the pod, there isn’t any other height ever listed for Ron Stampler! Which makes Beth my favorite for this part!! Go Beth!! 

As for the rest of the dads.. Well. 

Darryl isn’t too difficult, we get a few different mentions of his height throughout the show. 

In Episode 25: Mummy Issues we get this line when they are trying to decide how tall of a body they need for the ride:

“All right, Darryl's six. So we’ll say,”

Interestingly he gets taller in Season 2! In episodes 23 and 24 (Alright and Spider-boyz: homecoming) we get two mentions of Darryl being 6’3:

“So he's like 6'3 now and he is like 140, fucking built—”

“And I gain… two— I gain one inch! I go from 6'2 to 6'3.”

With anything improvised I try to stick to the most recent information or the information that is repeated the most. Given that the sn 2 just came out, we’ll stick with Darryl at 6’3!

Now, onto the less than forthcoming dads. Henry and Glenn get a couple of mentions of their height throughout the show, nothing I could find where their characters actually mention their heights though. Going strictly off of my own character design brain, it makes sense to have them serve as the middle ground between our two extremes (Darryl and Ron), so I want to put them around 5’8-5’10. Canon mentions do seem to support this as well! 

In episode 25: Mummy Issues this is said:

“Henry's probably like, 5’8”.”

“Glenn's probably like a good average 5’8”.”

So they are both around 5’8! I considered just bumping one of them up to 5’9 for some difference, but it’s kind of silly if they are the exact same height!

EDIT: in episode 62: Sonscreen, Henry shrinks to 2'11, which is described as half of his height, so he is 5'10.

Last but not least We have Jodi Foster. Jodi wins worst dad for this week because he has ZERO canon mentions of his height! In Episode 49: Contact, we get this brief description of him 

“And next to him is a pretty handsome, pretty beefy guy who is laughing uproariously at a joke that he has seemingly just told to the young boy.”

And thats fucking it, we learn later he has a tummy, but nothing on how tall he is. 

Personally I think he is just a little taller than Glenn, mostly because it’s funny. I know a lot of people want him and Glenn to be the same height, but given that Henry and Glenn are already the same, it felt like too many 5’8 bitches. Given that Athony made them officially brothers with Episode 23 (rip closefoster shippers, if you existed?) it would make sense that they would be closer in physical appearance, but not exactly the same (they aren’t twins im pretty sure).

And that concludes dad statz! I have no idea why I spent like three hours on this at all

Ending statz

Ron: 5’4

Darryl: 6’3

Henry:5’10

Glenn:5’8

Jodi:5’10

(shoutout to my sister @purenssteele for helping me)

[violet-moonstone]

more httyd OCs

ok so I've got more next-generation dragon riders for the fic im working on

but they're the kids of the antagonists - the warlords of the northern alliance (im probably gonna come up with a different name for them, idk)

their perspective on dragons is somewhat complicated because they grew up with their parents telling them how horrible the world was before they subjugated dragons and how they have to be harsh with them to keep them in line...but at the same time, they grew up as dragon riders who have pretty close relationships with their own dragons. So they kind of see dragons in general as a force that has to be put under the "right" kind of control (ie, subordination, not cooperation).

sooo here's my lil guys!

Oktai (16/17ish) is the younger son of Griselda the Grievous and Chaghatai Khan (yes, I put them together, it just made sense to me, idk). Oktai gets along much better with his dad, who is more easygoing and laid back, whereas mom is suuuper intense. Oktai's sort of the runt of the litter of the warlord kids. He's not a fighter at all - somewhat similar to Hiccup in HTTYD 1, but a lot more cynical and moody. He's extremely jealous of his older brother but also looks up to him. He excels at learning about dragons — specifically how to manipulate them. It upsets him but he tries not to think about it too much cause he's just trying to get by and not piss anyone off, especially his mother. Any time he feels a twinge of empathy he shoves it waaay down. Damn pesky conscience.

Appearance: Medium height and thin. Messy, black shoulder length hair, usually in a ponytail. Light brown, cat-like eyes. Pointed facial features.

Fun fact: Oktai is a Mongolian name that means "he who understands." Yes, this is important.

Oktai is the only one who does not ride a dragon.

Alaric (early 20s) is Oktai's older brother. He's handsome, tall, charismatic, honest, a great fighter, etc, etc. He's brave and a good leader—definitely next in line to lead the Warlords. He adheres strictly to the worldview his parents taught him—that dragons are a force that must be conquered. His father goes about this from more of a "greater good" perspective, whereas his mother wants to do away with any forces that stand in the way of her ability to exercise power. Either way, Alaric is not about questioning his worldview. Whereas Oktai avoids doing so out of fear, Alaric just doesn't understand why anyone would. He believes that they're the good guys. Not like those reckless anarchists on Berk...right?...Right?

Alaric doesn't really understand his baby brother but he looks out for him as best as he can.

Appearance: Tall, broad-shouldered. Long, dark brown hair in a braid. Light brown eyes. Rectangular features. Annoyingly handsome. And his teeth are just like...stupidly perfect. What a show-off.

Fights with a sword and rides a Typhoomerang...I think. Might change that later.

Bjorn (late teens/early 20s) is the older son of Ragnar the Rock. He's tall and beefy...like not muscular—BEEFY. He's kind of an asshole to Oktai but not when Alaric's around. He's very serious and easily-angered. His little sister annoys the hell out of him, but he's still protective of her.

Appearance: Tall, and as previously stated, beefed up. Covered in tattoos. Short, curly ginger hair shaved on the sides.

Fights with a mace and rides a Crimson Goregutter. He really likes the name.

Edda (about 15) You CANNOT stop her, she can only be contained. Younger daughter of Ragnar the Rock. She's mischievous, impulsive, and sneaky. Also tends to be mean to Oktai, but not always on purpose. She kind of just opens her mouth and stuff comes out. Who can keep track?

Appearance: Short with an athletic build. She has a cute baby face (but don't let that fool you. She will set your house on fire). Short, curly ginger hair. Absolutely covered in freckles.

Fights with knives and rides a Raincutter, whom she has secretly named Puddle (they're not supposed to name their dragons). She loved Puddle too much not to name him though.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 26 — Face Sitting

Pairing || Beefy!Librarian!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 1100

Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names, size kink, begging, teasing, face sitting, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s been one of your favourite places to go for the last few weeks—the small and cozy library that was nestled relatively in secret that not many people knew about it. And that was probably for the better because you felt right at home wandering the almost empty rows of shelves which held endless stories for you to get lost in.

Once you had found a couple of books, you would sit and read on the sofa that's been dubbed as yours in the best and secluded area of the library. No one interrupted you as you sat with a cozy book and a warm drink in hand, except, of course, every once in a few hours, an exceptional someone would check up on you—the extremely hot librarian, and you didn't mind at all for his interruptions.

Along with the books and intimate environment, he was another reason for you to return regularly. You honestly couldn't believe that such a hot and kind man existed. And that he was a huge book nerd like yourself was the cherry on top. He was so dreamy, your absolute dream man, and luckily, you and he had become close the last few weeks, very close.

You were currently rereading one of your favourite books—getting so lost in the cherished story that hours passed without you even knowing. That was until you were reminded that it was late and closing time.

“Hey, doll.”

You gasped as you got pulled out from the book that you'd been so focused on. Looking up from the page, you saw him resting against a bookshelf—arms crossed over his chest and a tantalizing smirk curved on his lips. He looked so snug and beautiful with his warm sweater hugging his broad torso and glasses framing his handsome face.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you smiled at him.

“It's late.”

You looked out of the window to find that nightfall had covered the city, and you hadn't even noticed.

“Yeah, it is.”

“And, uh, there's no one here.”

You perked up your ears to listen for any sounds, but it was dead quiet in the library.

“So,” you closed the book, “we’re all alone here? Just you and me?” You smirked at him as you tossed it to the side.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked as he walked closer to where you were sitting and took off his glasses—anticipating where this scenario was heading.

“Well then.” You got to your feet, and you both stared at each other for a few seconds before closing the gap between you two—lips finding one another and molding together as you kissed your needs away. His hands held your hips in a delicate grip while you fisted your fingers in his long hair.

He pulled you with him to the sofa and laid down with you on top of him—never breaking the kiss or his rousing touch on you.

“I want you to sit on my face,” he muttered between kisses.

“W-what?”

You pushed on his chest to break the kiss and looked down at him which furrowed eyebrows.

“Sit on my face, babydoll.”

“I-I-”

“Shhh,” he caressed your cheek, “don't think, baby, just do. I need you on top of me. I need it so bad, please.”

Although his request left you quite flustered, the way he was smiling so charmingly at you, along with his encouraging begs, had you put your insecurities to the side and do as he wanted.

“O-ok, Bucky.”

Once your pants and underwear were off, you scooted further up until you were situated just where he wanted, with your thighs on each side of his head and dripping cunt right on top of his face. He held a firm grasp on your hips as he moaned at the sight of you.

“Surrounded by my two favourite things, books and you, babydoll,” he groaned before he nuzzled his face in your pussy, licking from your opening to your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue on the sensitive nerve, making you moan softly at his action.

You thought he would eat you out, but instead, he decided to be a tease and kiss and lick everywhere but your needy cunt, making you whine out in protest.

“Please, Bucky,” you sweetly begged as you started to move your hips, hoping it would entice him to put his heavenly mouth on you.

Finally, after your convincing begs, he wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, altering between licking and sucking, making you moan and whimper at the instant pleasure. The added sensation of his scruff on your skin made you clench your thighs around his head.

One of your hands tangled in his hair while the other rested on the back of the sofa. The pull on his locks made him groan against your core. The vibrations had delicious tingles flow up your spine, making you shiver on top of him and lose your balance, despite Bucky keeping you upright with his muscular arms. You collapsed forward, resting your forearms on the armrest as he continued to eat you out.

His lips released your clit to lick up your gushing slickness, moaning at the taste of you. “You taste so good, babydoll.”

Once again, the delicious vibration had you weak and trembling as your eyes shut tight to revel in the pleasure. Moans, whimpers and pleas of his name went on like a broken loop as you started grinding on his face, wanting more.

Bucky held you still as he returned to his assaults on your swollen and throbbing clit that was in need of being sucked and stimulated.

“F-fuck, just like that, Bucky. Feels so good,” you mewled in pleasure.

You wouldn't last much longer. Not when Bucky took great advantage of the angle and exposure of your dripping cunt on his face, putting his expert skills on you.

You sobbed and convulsed as you came on his face, seeing stars in your eyes. The orgasm intense as he continued to suck your throbbing clit through your high.

Bucky was a kind man, so he tried his best to prolong your pleasure as he licked and kissed your abused clit and dripping slit while you came down.

Once you were fully satisfied, he pressed sweet and comforting kisses on your inner thighs while you pet his hair to show your appreciation.

He helped you sit upright and held your hips as you were still very unsteady. His breath fanned your core, making you needy for more.

“You know, I've wanted to do that for the longest time, doll.” He smiled up at you, making you all flustered.

“T-that was really g-good. I, um, c-can you do t-that—”

“Again?” He finished with a satisfying smirk on his lips. “I'll continue on for as long as you want, babydoll.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[izjeon]

LIVESTREAM !

idol!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship, pwp (kinda)

word count: 1k

warnings: MINORS GET OUT!! not proofread, consensual sex, d&s (dominance & submission), s&m (sadism and masochism), oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dom!jk & sub!reader, beefy kook, unrealistic sex, extreme overstimulation, multiple orgasms, copious amounts of cum, mentioned unprotected sex, unaware audience, and reader’s cooch has been through it ⛲️

+a/n: this is a repost of an old drabble for somebody who used to read my old ffs ♡ . also, this is one of my favourites from my old writing so i hope you enjoy! btw… there’s no impreg kink in this one 🙏🏾.

++ “anything for my angel.”

𖥻 L𝗶VES࣪TREAM

jungkook gripped the leather arms of his desk chair and forced a smile for the vlive he'd switched on ages ago. bts' new song, dis-ease echoed around the room and through his screen to the millions of people watching his live. "arm—” he paused and glanced underneath the desk. his breath hitched in his throat.

gosh, the sight was amazing.

with your teary eyes looking up at him so beautifully, he could just see the begging and need for mercy in your eyes as you pleased his sadistic ways as part of your punishment. he eyed the runny mascara mixing in with the hot and sticky ropes of his blissful orgasms that had pooled inside your mouth instead of shooting down your throat.

he almost came at the sight of your puffy, swollen lips perfectly swallowing the whole of his large cock. he could even feel the outline of him inside your throat with the one hand he'd kept down there to provide comfort and pet your head or push your head down even further, leaning forward to hide it from your unaware audience.

he brought himself back to reality within a second or two, "ah, my apologies, army! i thought it was getting a bit messy down there with all my devices and was thinking of ways to organise— the mind of a cleaning-freak, haha!" your hands tied behind your back with his belt didn't help at all when he suddenly bucked into your mouth twice, hiding it with him just 'adjusting himself' on the chair.

"ah, i only wanted to come on for a short while before i went back to punishing you—" your core quivered around the vibrating length inside of you and you muffled a whimper by voluntarily deepthroating him. "—...punishing you all with my handsome face."

he grinned before throwing his head back with a laugh, "that was so embarrassing, i apologise." jungkook's right fist hidden from the camera clenched and unclenched as his thumb repeatedly pushed against the plus symbol on the small pink button until he knew he'd reached the highest level.

not being able to see the devious smirk your boyfriend had on his face, your eyes bulged out of their sockets as you were forced to take in the device’s small vibrator on your clit as well as the twitching, plastic length inside of your cunt. drunk on your climax, you involuntarily squirted all over the hotel room’s carpet.

and to hide the sound of you brutally coming undone for the 13th time under the desk, jungkook continued speaking to his fans as if nothing was happening. "oh, wow," he mumbled with a glance at his phone and feigned innocence, looking back to the camera, "guys, have i really been on here with you for 35 minutes?"

"hm, i guess i'll go now since it's been a while." he smiled at the camera with a wave, "bye guys!"

you patiently waited, your hips stuttering and grinding against air in need for a fat cock to stuff your pussy. jungkook remained silent, making sure everything was off, before wheeling his desk chair backwards.

slowly, he petted your head and looked down upon you with a coo. "my little sweetheart." you whimpered and shuffled closer to him on your knees, giving his hard and erect cock a twirl of your trained tongue. you were pleading so innocently: ‘daddy, please?'. he could almost hear it.

jungkook hurriedly shoved your head flush against his inner thighs and placed his both hands against the back of your head. he started to buck relentlessly into your warm fuckhole. "so f-fucking pretty—!" and with a pained shout, he shot his third load straight down your willing throat.

you didn't even have to put in work to swallow it as it all just shot rope after rope down your throat. with heavy eyes, you moaned around his cock at the beautiful view you had of jungkook falling apart because of your mouth. your mouth. nobody else could please him as you did. nobody.

he groaned as he pulled out of your battered fuckhole, strings of white following after his pink tip. "so fucking perfect..." he mumbled, rubbing his mess all over your pouting lips with his length.

jungkook grabbed your face from under your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek, and pulled you up to stand. his fingers fell onto your breasts, ghosting over the nipples that he loved so much. then with a u-turn, his fingers traced over your back, giving you chills. his hands did a quick job of unbuckling your wrists. he gave you freedom.

your legs felt as if they were going to give way when you reached a shaky hand down between your legs. you cried out, fingers grazing over your swollen clit, but you slowly pulled out the vibrating intruder and held it up to his view.

"suck it clean," jungkook ordered and turned off the vibrator. his curious fingers trailed down to your own mess. covered in your juices and jungkook’s cum, the pink vibrator slid past your lips, welcomed by an eager tongue.

"oh, baby," he groaned as his fingers felt around your inner thighs. three of his fingers slipped in with little to no struggle and even though he was terribly overstimulated, he was beginning to twitch back to life.

"how many times?"

you pulled out the device and swallowed before whispering, "t-thirteen..." you cried out at the increase in his pace as he fucked you with his fingers. you collapsed onto his chest, fingers gripping tightly onto the hoodie he wore.

"p-please," you begged before biting harshly on your lip; you knew better than to ask for something from him when it was your punishment. but jungkook grinned, turning the both of you around and throwing you onto the bed.

"anything for my angel."

#livestream; fin.

all rights reserved. © izjeon

do not steal, modify, or publish my work.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[evansbby]

he has pretty privilege fr ///

Bruh I swear I've been meaning to say this for a while like he is sooooo pretty privileged in this fic- everybody is like I've 2 terrible person to choose between but one is just slightly better just a tad bit so what we'll do??? We'll chose the pretty one. And as renne rapp said in her iconic interview- I get it , I get it. Honestlyy he is Ari I get that people chose him over steve🙂

[bro also I just wanna say ik every one thinks that Ari and Steve are equally terrible - but in my mind like I see ari in a much bad light him leaving her in the bathroom that night like - sir that really broke me heart no kidding and Steve has just met reader . Him treating her shitty is completely different from ari treating her like shit and he has also given her a bunch of insecurities. And a serial cheater who is so nonchalant about this topic is much much much worse to me like personally in my eyes than someone who is actually accepting that he did something wrong . Ari is just giving the energy like he didn do anything andddd without even registering once he wants to move on and paly house-house with reader?????? Like that is beyond immature to me! This is like getting very practical and real lifyyy but honestly that type of delusion is only equals to lack of emotional intelligence . Bro this got serious I didn't mean to take the ask in this direction but oh well - I'm sorry ik this debate is like moths old, sorry 🥲 I can't believe I'm saying this but rn poyt Steve seems better than ari like- atleast bro made her his girlfriend the next day they fucked wg !Steve bro please take notes but not the part whe he cheated on her tooo helppp why are all these boys sooo terrible 🥲😭😭]

Bestie you are like the number one wg!Ari hater 😂😂😂😂 I admire it!!

And yeah, when you really deeply think about it… wg!Ari is awful 😭😭😭 like the serial cheating and lying and leaving reader in dangerous situations…. HE IS JUST… wow… now I’m shocked that so many people hate Steve more bc they are at the VERY LEAST, equally bad 💀💀

Bestie your words are ruining my daddy Ari for me 😭😭😭 but tbh that’s ok bc even with poyt!Steve… he did extremely awful things but then he had his redemption arc. And I still think poyt!Steve did worse things than the Wicked Games Boys! (Forced mating, bullying, cheating etc) so yeah!! I’m sure the wicked games boys can redeem themselves!!!

But tbh Ari is just so fucking unbelievably hot and sexy and handsome and beefy that it really DOES help his case bahahahaha so I don’t blame the girlies preferring him lol sorry Stevie (wg!Steve has a pretty big fanbase too tbh)

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Skinny Jack is attractive Jack and this is one and only truth

NO BUT FR THO

(If anyone is confused, this post is in reference to a post I read about weird traits and characterizations of Jack Frost in fanworks!)

Like Jack Frost legit played a huge part in high school me realizing I vastly preferred fun-loving, sassy twinks to buff, macho dudes who like...get off on their own "manliness" and seem to think being aggressive and mean is somehow hot -_____- So when people make Jack ripped or super jocky in fanworks it confuses the fuck outta me because like...the fact that he's a fun, kindhearted twig is what makes him so attractive??? Like a more "unconventional" type of male attractiveness, yes, and a blatant rebellion against the type of body girls are "supposed" to want, but still extremely cute!!! It baffles me how some people are apparently SO married to this idea that the only way for a man to be handsome/desirable is if he's super muscular and athletic and hypermasculine that they feel the need to make any male character they like fit this stereotype to be "worthy" of a ship or love interest. Like my dudes, we ain't living in Neolithic times anymore, there are things to fall in love with in guys besides their ability to bring down a mammoth to feed you for winter XD

Honestly I say either take Jack (and his body) as he is, or don't take him at all, because my homeboy doesn't need you projecting your toxic-ass and severely outdated male beauty standards onto him lmao. I mean like a) he's a cartoon, why are you projecting your thirst for beefy men onto a super skinny CGI character of all things lmao and b) he's lovely as he is, and he deserves all types of love--platonic, romantic, familial, what have you--without having to beef up!!! For what it's worth, same goes for all IRL skinny guys--y'all are beautiful, and I'm sorry if anyone has ever made you feel like you're not a catch because you're a little gangly. It's just so annoying that people feel the need to take this character who's attractive in kind of a non-traditional way and just...make him some conventionally buff jock and have him just rebuild all the stereotypes he originally defied so nicely :/ Like if y'all really wanna thirst over a buff CGI cartoon, go lose your minds over like...Kristoff or something lol. But leave my boy Jack out of it!!! Let him stay skinny, for god's sake--the world has gone to shit enough in 2021 without people body-shaming a fictional frost boy for literally no reason (indirectly body-shaming, but a kind of body-shaming nonetheless--people wouldn't feel the need to change his appearance so drastically otherwise). Good grief, just make an OC if you're THAT invested in the idea of a white-haired blue-eyed dude who's also super ripped.

I know it might seem like kind of a petty thing to be irked by, but guys really don't get enough body positivity, and I feel like giving skinny male characters "buff makeovers" can kinda teach dudes with a thinner build to hate their bodies the same way women are taught to hate their bodies. Is it that deep??? Nah, probably not. Jack Frost is a cartoon, and ultimately this boils down to me preferring the general public not give my beautiful twig son beefy arms XD However, I can and will rant about and overanalyze most anything, so...even if it isn't that deep, I can MAKE it that deep XD

[willowcrowned]

Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress. 

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat. 

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic. 

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

[lostcoves]

ft. bodyguard!goshiki tsutomu x fem!gang princess!reader

genre: smut

wc & warnings: 1.5k | drunk!(y/n) in the beginning, gun violence, murder, gangs, mention of arranged marriages, cunnilingus, blowjobs, cum swallowing, mommy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, virgin!(y/n) and virgin!goshiki

premise: as the daughter of one of japan’s most notorious gang leaders, you have a duty to protect the integrity of the gang. but when your father proposes an arranged marriage to a rival gang’s heir, you turn to your bodyguard goshiki tsutomu for a shoulder to cry on.. and something more.

note: my contribution to @theehoneybunii’s back to the streets collab! it was a joy to write! i wanna thank @ultimate-astridwriting​ for beta reading this piece for me, you’re the best <3 remember to filter #lostcoves.nsfw if you’re a minor and DON’T INTERACT WITH THIS!!!

the casino was buzzing with energy, as bodyguard goshiki tsutomu watched you play craps drunkenly with other attendees. you let out a holler of victory after winning another round, happily accepting your winnings. 

goshiki sighed and checked his watch, “miss (y/n), we gotta get going,” he whispered to you, “your father will be expecting you open soon. wouldn’t want to anger him with tardiness.”

“that old man can suck it,” you spat, your words slurred. goshiki ran a hand through his bowlcut and gently grabbed your arm, “please, miss. (y/n).. i don’t want to get in trouble if we show up late.”

your expression softened, “okay, let’s go.”

goshiki helped you pack up the cash you won and placed it in his bag. he offered you a smile and promised to you, “we can come back to the casino tomorrow, miss. (y/n).”

“you won’t be going anywhere,” a security guard approached the two of you, stern and arms crossed over his beefy chest. goshiki stood in front of you protectively and asked the security guard, “is there a problem, sir?”

“your little girlfriend is under suspicion of cheating,” the security guard answered, reaching out for your arm, “she needs to come with me for questioning.”

goshiki latched onto the guard’s arm and glared, “whenever she’s going, i’m coming with her.”

the security guard pulled out his gun, “you’re a dead man, goshiki.”

goshiki smirked and quickly disarmed the security guard, taking the gun and putting a bullet between the guard’s eyes. a loud bang echoed throughout the casino, attendees screaming in terror and scattering about. 

“did you really have to kill him?” you asked, pouting slightly. goshiki looped his arm around your waist and smiled, “see that tattoo on his wrist?” he gestured to the dragon tattoo on the dead man’s skin, “it’s the sign of the kokuryū, your father’s rivals.”

“i see,” you replied, as the two of you exited a panicking casino. a limo pulled up and goshiki opened the door for you, you entered the limo with goshiki and took a seat. goshiki signaled the chauffeur to drive.

“here,” goshiki handed you some crackers and a bottle of water, “to sober up.”

“thanks,” you gulped down the water and ate a few crackers.

“your father has news for you.”

“he does?” you asked, eating a few more crackers.

“just don’t get- we’re here,” the chauffeur announced your arrival to the residence of the white jackals. goshiki exited the limo and did a perimeter search to clear the area before letting you out. 

“goshiki,” your father- shiro- greeted his daughter’s bodyguard upon entry to the white jackals’ headquarters. goshiki bowed respectfully to shiro, “boss,” before stepping aside. you embraced your father tightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “daddy!”

“there’s my precious angel,” shiro squished your cheeks, “it’s good to see you in one piece. did you win anything at the casino?”

“about ten grand,” you smiled.

“that’s my girl,” your father chuckled, “now, let’s get to business.”

“goshiki said you had news for me,” you stood beside goshiki, nervous. you hoped it was good news. your father nodded and answered, “i do. i have arranged a marriage between you and the heir to the blue dart frogs gang.”

“you.. you what?” everything froze.

“it’s necessary to secure our position as a gang, especially since the kokuryū has been gaining more influence,” shiro explained to you, “i don’t expect you to be loyal to your husband and neither does he but i do except you to maintain a public appearance of love with him.”

“daddy..” tears formed in your eyes, “i.. okay,” you admitted defeat.

“thank you for being understanding,” your father sighed, “i’ll be sure to buy you something nice in return. goshiki, take (y/n) to her room.”

“yes, boss!” goshiki exclaimed. he held out his hand to you, “let’s go.”

you took his hand and goshiki led you back to your bedroom. inside, you collapsed on your king-sized bed and sobbed into your pillows. an arranged marriage!? was your father insane?!

“miss. (y/n)..” goshiki sat down next to you on the bed.

“go away..” you cried, your voice muffled by the pillows.

“is there anything i can do for you?” goshiki asked, stroking some hair out of your face. you looked up from your pillows and sniffled, “stop this marriage for me, goshiki.”

“you know i can’t do that,” he responded.

“i know,” you muttered, hugging goshiki for dear life. he held you close and gave you a kiss on the top of your head, “i’ll be here for you, every step of the way. i promise that.”

“goshiki..” you cupped his cheeks, “i love you.”

“(y/n)..” goshiki looked scared. how would your father react if he found out about this? you smiled fondly at goshiki and whispered in his ear, “i’m not married yet. it will only be one night.”

“have you sobered up?” goshiki didn’t want to take advantage of you.

“i have,” you began nipping at his neck, “make love to me, tsutomu.”

“okay,” he answered breathlessly. quickly, goshiki got up and locked the door before returning to your bed. the two of you exchanged passionate kisses, as you stripped one another of their clothes. 

“you’re beautiful,” goshiki hummed to you, admiring all of your body. he loved it all, especially what others would consider to be imperfections. to him, you were a shining star.

“so are you, handsome!” you giggled, gesturing to his toned abdomen and lightly tanned skin. goshiki smiled at your laughter, it was warm and joyous. he wanted to hear you laugh more. 

“kiss me,” you told goshiki. 

“your wish is my command, princess.”

goshiki pressed a trail of kisses against your skin, kissing up your legs towards your face. you giggled more at the sensation, goshiki felt his heart flutter at your giggling. he ended it with a tender kiss on the lips, holding you close. 

“you’re wet,” he murmured, his slender fingers rubbing your soaking cunt.

“a- ah! be gentle..” you asked goshiki, face heating up. 

goshiki crawled down and kissed your clit, earning a wanton moan from you. eager to please you, he began lapping up your slick juices, nose bumping into your clit.

“f- fuck!” you came, extremely sensitive from being a little virgin baby. 

“thanks for the meal!” goshiki thanked you. 

“my turn,” you pushed goshiki down on the bed and attacked his neck with kisses. he moaned happily, as you trailed down his body and towards his hardened cock. you took his cock in your hand, admiring its length and thickness, before giving it a few strokes.

“sh- shit..” goshiki moaned, also a little virgin baby.

“want mommy to kiss your cock? mhm? make you feel good with my tongue?” you purred to goshiki teasingly. he nodded rapidly and cried out, “yes, mommy! wanna feel your tongue and mouth on my dick!”

“alrighty then!” you took goshiki’s length in your mouth, slurping and sucking to the best of your ability. it was a bit awkward at first but you managed to figure out to suck dick properly after a few tries. goshiki’s moans made your cunt wetter, as you bobbed your head up and down on his dick. 

“coming!” goshiki yelled before shooting his load down your throat. it tasted funny- was this the taste of cum?- and you swallowed it. you removed your mouth from his cock and informed him, “tell mommy that she did a good job.”

“mommy did a great job!” goshiki praised you, hugging you tightly. you chuckled and told goshiki, “my baby boy did a great job, too.”

“can- can i put it in?” goshiki asked of you, his cock still red and hard.

“of course you can,” you laid back on the pillows and spread your legs, showing off your dripping pussy to goshiki. 

“this.. this would be my first time,” goshiki confessed to you.

“mine as well so be gentle,” you reminded your bodyguard.

goshiki nodded and pressed a kiss to your cunt before lining himself up to your entrance and sliding himself in. he bottomed out with a shaky breath and checked to see if you were okay, your face already contorting from a mix of pain and pleasure.

“fuck me good, tsutomu!” you shouted, as goshiki thrust himself inside your pussy. your walls were sucking him in like a vice, goshiki nearly came from the sensation. yet, he held out and pounded into you, groping your breasts to stabilize himself.

“fuck, fuck, fuck-” he chanted, “-you’re so tight, mommy! so tight and warm! i love you, i love you, i love!” goshiki sobbed.

“i love you too, baby boy!” you exclaimed before you two came, goshiki shooting hot seed into your womb.

you collapsed in goshiki’s arms, as goshiki pulled his softened cock out of your cunt. some seed spilled out of your pussy, goshiki smiled at the sight. he kissed on you on the forehead and whispered, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whispered back.

[ackermelon]

IWAOI headcanon! Oikawa is all big talk but when it actually comes down to it, Iwa is very generous with his PDA (to everyone's surprise)-- once they get together. Poor oik's heart just can't get used to it (⁄ ⁄•⁄_⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Thank you for your request! I’ve actually written something quite close to this before, but that was mostly about Iwaizumi being more open with his feelings rather than PDA.

PDA-loving Iwaizumi is my one of my favourite things to think about, so I’m extremely happy you asked for it!

**

Oikawa’s heart was a needle poke away from imploding. A needle poke.

He did not expect (after witnessing the stuttering mess he had become while attempting to tell Oikawa how he felt about him) Iwaizumi to be this comfortable, this smooth.

Smooth, as in this motherfucker just walked up to him and kissed him half to hell in front of the whole team. Not only that, but he walked away as if nothing happened, leaving Oikawa to have a staring competition with the wall.

It happened everyday – the good morning kiss as soon as they met up in front of Oikawa’s house; the tight hug before they split up to go to their respective classes; a small peck on his cheek at lunch; the intertwining of their fingers as they walked back home, arms swinging between them; his palm on Oikawa’s back as they went up the stairs to his room, because, well, Oikawa’s mother was watching, and Iwaizumi wanted to look professional in front of the future in-laws; not to mention the ten-minute make-out-session in Oikawa’s room before Iwaizumi had to go home.

This was their new routine, but Oikawa’s body clearly hadn’t adjusted to it yet, his face always turning hot and red before Iwaizumi even had a chance to touch him. He just couldn’t get used to it, he couldn’t get used to this unexpected change in Iwaizumi’s behaviour. The Iwaizumi he knew pre-relationship would punch him halfway to Mars if he were to even attempt to touch him. But this new, upgraded, evolved, Iwaizumi couldn’t keep his hands off Oikawa.

No, he was not complaining. Fuck no. We’re talking about Iwaizumi Hajime here, also known as: Mr. Beefy Arms, Mr. Sculpted Chest, Mr. Rippling Abs, and sometimes even Mr. Protagonist of Oikawa’s Wet Dreams. And if Mr. Rippling Abs wished to touch Oikawa non-stop, then Oikawa could do nothing but comply, because he’s fucking Iwaizumi Hajime.

Eventually, the team got used to the couple’s touchiness, and the snarky comments died down, except for MatsuHana’s. Those two were obnoxious – constantly asking questions as if they were writing an erotica based off their sex life. (”We don’t ask you about what positions you prefer, so fuck off.” “Makki likes doggy-style and I like cowgirl. Your turn.”)

*

Walking home on an exceptionally cold day, Oikawa gave Iwaizumi’s hand a gentle squeeze, seeking the warmth his body couldn’t provide him, because fuck this useless shell that can’t give him something as simple as fucking warmth.

And, without hesitation, Iwaizumi brought their fingers – still fitted together, like two pieces of a puzzle: perfectly – to his mouth and blew hot air over them. He then kissed Oikawa’s knuckles, his cracked lips lingering over Oikawa’s dry skin.

“Iwa-chan?” 

“Hm?” He hummed, shoving both their hands into his pocket, warmth seeping into Oikawa’s bones. 

He looked... ethereal. With his emerald irises reflecting the dying sun, slowly dipping behind the mountain; the flush of his nose as the cold breeze blew and ruffled his spikes, so soft and perfect. He was perfect. Every version of him was perfect, and Oikawa didn’t know what he did to get them all for himself.

“What’s wrong, Tooru?”

He’d gotten so lost in Iwaizumi’s face and how fucking flawless it was, like how can someone be so fucking handsome and sexy and breath-taking and- He totally forgot that time wasn’t actually frozen and Iwaizumi was still waiting for his reply.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” he averted his eyes, opting to stare at the sunset so he wouldn’t zone out again. It tended to happen whenever he looked at Iwaizumi. “I’ve been wondering for a while now... How come you’re so touchy now?”

Iwaizumi remained silent for a while, seemingly in deep thought. Oikawa didn’t think it was a deep question to begin with.

“Well,” he began. “You were always touchy, with everyone, not just me. Ever since we were children. And this may seem silly, but I just didn’t want to be led on.”

Oikawa turned to face him, surprise obvious in his expression. “I wanted to touch you, not because it’s my nature, but because you’re Iwa-chan.”

“What, do you think I didn’t want to touch the man I was so helplessly in love with?” He smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “I’ve lost sleep imagining the day I got to kiss you goodbye, and hug you for hours without feeling like I was about to suffocate from all the love I had for you,” he breathed in the crisp air. “It still feels like a dream. This. Us. I never want it to end. I want you by my side forever, Tooru.”

That was the final straw for Oikawa, his tears flowing out all at once. Iwaizumi’s lips curved into a smile, eyes softening as he watched the golden rays reflecting off his tears. He held his face with both hands and leaned in, lips brushing over Oikawa’s ever so gently before pressing against them, planting a soft kiss.

“I love you, crybaby,�� he whispered against his lips.

“Hey,” Oikawa frowned, offended, and paused. “I love you, too, Iwa-chan.”

[arianajbb]

FIC RECS - 2

💕 stay by @you-are-my-sanctuary

A road trip to Arizona goes wrong when you catch the attention of a familiar looking dark haired man with steely blue eyes.

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💕 Tell Him, Not Me by @zsiopao

here y/n l/n lands a role in a new television series that will put her relationship to the test.

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💕Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

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💕 What Could’ve Been by @you-are-my-sanctuary

Steve stays in the past when returning the stones, leaving you behind and erasing everything you two were to each other. Decades pass and he wonders if he made the right decision. Especially since the memories of you still lingers in his mind years after.

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💕  Let Your Spirit Fly by @starlightcrystalline

At the end of a long week, all you want is to get home. Fate has other ideas.

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💕 painted with bruises by @harryspet

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

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💕 Wolf, Partner, Gloves... by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

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💕 Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup

You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.

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💕 An Unpredictable Reunion by @head-always-up-in-a-dreamworld

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💕 American Boy by @quarantined-with-bucky

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

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💕 Uptown Girl by @brooklyns-boys

You’re a spoiled, shallow party girl who enjoys pushing any button you can find. When your parents put their foot down, giving you the choice between marrying a suitor of their choosing, or being cut off from your money, you’ll have to decide between luxury and the only person who’s ever given a damn about you.

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💕 pictures of girls by @subtlebucky

you’re prepared for a fun-filled weekend with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. instead, you get a weekend with the guy who sort of rejected you and a camera. what could go wrong?

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💕 don’t forget to sing by @sunmoonandbucky

You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

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💕 bloody by @buckycuddlebuddy

he looked feral; his eyes black, face contorted in something devilish, lips blood red and shiny and the smirk on his face was promising more than he already had given.

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💕 Home by @softlybarnes

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

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💕 Kiss Me Better by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky has your heart, but he seems to despise you. Loki comes up with a plan to make him realize just what he’s missing.

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💕 x by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky receiving his first piece of fan-mail.

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💕 My Roommate’s Boyfriend by @angstysebfan

Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

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💕 life with tiny and beefy by @wiensrsoldier

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💕 Safe Place To Land by @sunlightdances

You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem.

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💕 A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts.

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💕 we’re up all night to get lucky by  @nsfwsebbie

Your soldier comes home after his prevailing victory.

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💕 Jealousy Looks Good On You by @tinymalscoffee

You go to your favorite coffee shop after your date from the morning before never shows up.

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💕 x by @sinner-as-saint

uni!seb having a thing for boobies.

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💕 Everything by @mariessecretfantasies

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💕 Stardust And Starfish by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

“Hey we kissed once in kindergarten but I haven’t seen you since and I couldn’t remember why you were so familiar.”

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💕 The Flaw Of Belief by @winterdaybreak

Y/N and Bucky fight over who can be more spiteful, who hates who more. Neither really mean it, but Bucky might just win.

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💕 dear... whoever by @whistlingwillows

a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

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💕 starring role by @baezen

in which Hollywood’s former hottest movie star faces his biggest challenge yet – proving that he’s still worth the starring role

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💕 Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by @cherrypickertheory

You and your husband, Bucky, live a normal life in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Or you did, that is, until you both realize that the other is a spy.

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💕 kitten by @buckycuddlebuddy

“you know,” bucky started, voice low and raspy. “i think i have spoiled you too much lately.”

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💕 Summer Days by @sleepypanda27

You meet a handsome stranger at the beach.

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💕 Power Over Me by @sinner-as-saint

CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

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💕 Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

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💕 House Pride by @delusionalwriterr

After encountering Bucky during a Quidditch game, both of you grow attached to each other. But is the attraction enough to overcome the disapproval of your brother, Tony, and the messy past between your families?

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💕 Meet Me In The Hallway by @yikeswtfmate

Y/N and Bucky have hated each other since they were children and now they’re forced to live together, whether they like it or not.

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💕 Postcards by @sebbytrash

Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.

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💕 x by @moteldwelling

(this isn’t a fic but it’s amazing omg)

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💕 Helpless by @prongsies

Sirius loved you. Loved you enough to let you go. Loved you enough to selflessly step back, allowing you to love someone he knows could give you the love you deserved - even if it hurts.

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💕 What Is, And What Should Never Be by @whoisbxcky

You wake up one morning to find yourself in an alternate reality, in which the Avengers never came to be, and your friends are living perfect civilian lives. However, things are not all they appear to be, and you find yourself facing the worst fear you never knew you had.

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💕 Impaled by @revengingbarnes

You’ve been pining after Bucky for months. A compromising situation during a mission brings you a lot closer to him than you expected.

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💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

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💕 Flowers by @bucky-the-thigh-slayer

Love can take a while, but the right love is always worth time, and some old fashioned gestures.

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💕 The (not naked) pin-up calendar by @bitsandbobsandstuff

When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

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💕 Rogue Angel by @harryspet

Bucky tasks himself with deprogramming you, a former hydra soldier. Will he be able to show he cares for you as his Daddy or will your training stop you from seeing the truth.

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💕 Saving The Day by @jbbmoved

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

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💕 Hidden Lagoons and Seashells by @after-avenging-hours

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💕 my heart, my angel by @paintedface

valentine’s day candy grams basically show how popular you are in the school, so you expect to get none, however, one, extremely sweet one, turns up on your desk. except you have no clue who it’s from.

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💕 Like Silver Glass by @thejamesoldier

Out of all the things you have seen so far in your life – a colorful plethora of alien species, artificial intelligence, an imaginative array of mutants and their abilities, cyborgs, superhumans, assassins, geniuses, etc. – merpeople fell actually pretty low on your ‘Shocking Things That Exist’ list.

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💕 Holiday Heist by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.