#i would run this bitch like the fucking navy

[sleepybunn-y]

the dol modding community has to be one of the least helpful, unorganized communities ever it legitimately makes me want to kms

information is strewn about amongst several different channels with no correlation and it makes me feel like i’m going crazy

[rcmclachlan]

Return of the Mack

For @alchemistc. Hope you feel better soon!

At the fire academy, three things are beaten out of every trainee: fear, a normal sleep schedule, and the social influences that prevent one from intervening in the event of an emergency. Some have jokingly called the third one the Anti-Bystander Effect, because if someone needs assistance—whether it's to stop an assault, run into a burning building, or help a little old lady find a quarter she dropped—a firefighter will immediately rush in to save the day. It's a special brand of classical conditioning that instills an elevated sense of responsibility in every trainee, and it's paid in full by the state of California.

Which is why it's so odd for there to be three capable firefighters standing around doing nothing while there's an old man clearly in need of dire assistance. If the LAFD higher-ups knew they were actively choosing to watch the carnage unfold instead of lifting a finger to help, they'd all be shitcanned. 

Luckily, there's a fourth firefighter on the scene doing the absolute most. 

"I thought we made a pact to keep him from using his powers for evil," Eddie says, taking a dispassionate sip of his coffee. 

"Is it evil if he's actually using them in service of a greater good?" Hen's attention is half on what's going down and half on the Notes app on her phone, where she's typing out the week's grocery list. "You know, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Draped over the railing like his bones have melted, Chimney gives a sage nod. "He's like a one-man Suicide Squad." 

In the apparatus bay, they watch as Vincent Gerrard uses the distraction of B Shift heading home to duck behind one of the engines, most likely to regroup after being thoroughly ambushed the second he stepped into the station five minutes ago. He slumps back and breathes. The moment of weakness costs him: a grinning demon rounds the corner and makes a bee-line for him as though he can taste blood in the air.

"So, which one of you said 'spreadsheet' three times in a mirror?" Ravi sidles up next to Chimney and unwraps a breakfast burrito from Delia's. 

Chimney gives him the stink-eye. "I hope you brought enough for the whole class."

"Nope," Ravi says, taking a cheerful bite.

"None of us summoned him," Eddie says. He leans down to try and catch the conversation being had, but he's too high up. For a second, he thinks he hears the words 'crack whore' but it's probably a trick of the bay's acoustics. "He's everywhere, always, just watching and waiting for you to slip up. Like God."

"Or the Devil," Hen says in agreement.

"Or Santa," Chimney adds.

Ravi chews thoughtfully. "I thought we threw out all the clipboards. Who gave him that one?"

"Tommy," Eddie, Hen, and Chimney say through a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh. 

It's not just any clipboard. It's the king of clipboards. It's the only clipboard that has ever fucked. The thing is a navy blue polycarbonate beast with "Buckley 118" embossed in fire engine red on the back, and the clip looks like it was forged in the fires of Staples HQ. 

At the bi-weekly Beer and Bitch Night last Friday at Golden Road Pub, Tommy had pulled it out of a bag and presented it on one knee like he was proposing, or bestowing a sword to a king. The entire brewery was then given front-row seats to an intense game of tonsil hockey that nearly went into overtime until Eddie threatened to call Athena because Bobby looked like he was seriously reconsidering sobriety.

"Does he know what he's unleashed?" Ravi sounds genuinely curious. 

As if on cue, Chimney's, Eddie's, and Hen's phones chime with three incoming messages. 

T.K. 07:26am: Has it started? T.K. 07:26am: Remember: you promised one of you would film it T.K. 07:27am: I'm offering 3 nights of free babysitting to the first person who delivers

That last one is followed by a gif of J. Jonah Jameson shouting "Bring me Spiderman!"

Hen frowns down at her phone. "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Chimney mutters.

H.W. 07:28am: Why are you so desperate for video?  E.D. 07:28am: What 40-something year old still pinky swears? H.H. 07:28am: Clipboard Buck better not be a weird sex thing for you, Kinard

Tommy's typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears and disappears again. Then appears—

"Yeah, no." Chimney hastily pockets his phone. "Those two were made in a lab for each other, I swear to god."

Down in the bay, Gerrard has moved to stand almost directly underneath them. While they can't hear what Gerrard says to Melanie Wu, an electrician so talented she could probably take down the entire grid with her eyes closed, that puts such a dour expression on her face, they can hear it when Buck, popping up behind Gerrard like an insane Jack-in-the-box, says, "Don't worry, Melanie! This is something to bring up during Thursday's workplace conflict seminar."

"What seminar?!"

Buck isn't cowed. He taps his clipboard and says, "The one I scheduled with Chief Alonso. You know, the mandatory one we all need to do in order to keep our certification—well, we'll keep it as long as nothing comes up during the seminar that might call into question our ability to do the job."

There's a charged moment where it almost looks like Gerrard might take a swing at Buck, but then he notices the audience hanging above him like a Greek chorus and shouts, "Someone'd better top off the fuel and DEF or—"

"Already done, Cap." Buck makes a show of turning to the second page on his clipboard and lists off, "All fuel, DEF, oil, and coolant are set. Tires have been aired up. Hoses have been drained and cleaned, and re-rolled. Engines were all waxed yesterday, all medical supplies have been inventoried and stocked, and I've made a list of the harnesses and cutting torches that need replacing. Just need you to sign off on everything. Sir."

The ingratiating smile on Buck's face would fool even the wiliest of senior officers, and Gerrard himself looks like even he's not sure if what just happened was disrespectful, but they know better. 

"Diabolical," Ravi whispers, awed. 

Hissing through his teeth, Gerrard spins on his heel and storms away in the direction of the little office in the administrative section of the firehouse where he's taken to holing up like a miserable groundhog until they get a call that forces him back out. If he sees his shadow on the firehouse wall, it's six more hours of bullshit.

As soon as he's gone, all the firefighters that had stopped to watch the show burst into laughter and applause, and Buck cracks up, taking sweeping bows and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

Chimney rolls his eyes and looks to see what Hen's expression is doing, because no one gives good face like she does, but she's holding her phone in a way that clearly means—

"You're filming this?" Chimney demands, betrayed.

She gives an unrepentant shrug. "Three nights of free babysitting? I'm not proud."

"You do know this means Buck's going to get laid and be absolutely insufferable about it, right?"

"Three nights," Hen bites out through very audible regret.

Buck looks up, flashes a grin, and the second he clocks the phone he salutes it with the clipboard. Then he struts after Gerrard, calling almost lazily, "Cap, wait up! I wanted to talk about setting up a mock exam for everyone who's planning on taking the TCFP D/O!"

They all watch him go. Silently, Hen sends off the video with the air of someone about to make a drug drop. 

"So, when does Taylor Kelly's exposé come out again?" Eddie makes a dubious face in the direction of the administrative offices. "Because I don't know that Gerrard won't off himself before it does."

"We win either way," Chimney points out. 

"It comes out next Monday," Hen says, slipping her phone into her pocket and elbowing Chimney in the arm on her way to the stairs. "Karen and I are hosting a watch party that night and you're all invited."

Ravi beams. "Thanks, Hen. I'll definitely be there."

"And you'll be bringing dinner from Taco Azteca—for everybody. Make sure you get enough carne," Chimney calls over his shoulder as he follows Hen. 

"I'm not a probie anymore," Ravi whines. "You can't haze me like this."

Snickering, Eddie pats him on the shoulder and says, "You do this and I'll make sure you're not sitting anywhere near Buck and Tommy when Taylor drops the bomb about Gerrard and Ortiz."

"Extra al pastor and buche it is!"

[muniimyg]

TO BE (yours) // KNJ

he'll give in... right?

+

oc has always had a crush on her bodyguard, nam joon. when her monthly family dinner goes to shit, she turns to him for comfort. tonight, it was different. tonight, he just might give her exactly what she wants

navi | m. list | ask me !

pairing: bodyguard nam joon + heiress oc 

au/genre:

bodyguard au

one shot

porn with(out) plot

warnings: oc has some grandma issues, oc is insanely unhinged (oc makes nam joon watch as she pleasures herself), masturbation/fingering (oc makes him hold her hand while she fingers herself), nipple play, blow job (oc chokes), slapping (of face and ass) and riding... name calling (joon calls her a slut, whore, and bitch), cockwarming ?? making out,, yeah idk ! find the rest out for urself ;)

note: happy birthday @joonsjuice LMAO

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

“I hate this fucking life!” 

Before you can slam your bedroom door shut, a foot is placed to prevent you from doing so. 

You huff, knowing exactly who is following you.

There was no point putting up a fight. Regardless of what you do, you know exactly how he would handle you. So, you move on. You focus on your feelings and the stress wrapped around it. As you take off your skirt and unbutton your blouse, he makes his way to his regular position.

Nam Joon stands beside the door, feet firmly planted on the ground, his hands placed in front, and his gaze straight ahead. If this was any other bodyguard, their presence would irritate you and ignite your anger even more… But this was Nam Joon. 

It’s different. 

Oddly enough, there's a sense of comfort when he's around. It feels like it's okay for you to be angry and throw a tantrum. He'd cover for you. He'd protect you. He'd deal with you.

Regardless, this is routine.

Once a month, you attend your infamous grandmother’s family dinner. There, you’d share your company’s progress and plans, and receive criticism.

No praise.

No empathy.

No encouragement.

It is never good enough for her. Even though you have a more successful business than your siblings and cousins—it meant nothing To your grandmother, it didn’t matter.

It always better.

To do better.

To be better.

After these horrendous dinners, you’d go home in tears. The pressure she’d put on you is often unnecessary, but you feel it. To your very core, you feel how intense the need to please her is.

Sometimes, you were angry. Often, you were sad.

For comfort, you’d typically contact your family friend, Jung Hoseok for some… Release. Sometimes, it was talking things through. Other times, it included fucking… But those nights were rare.

During those times, Nam Joon would wait outside the door. It made you wonder that night if he liked what he heard… Or if he felt jealous…

If he even gave it a second thought at all.

You see…

You’ve been unhinged since birth. By your grandmother’s orders, she hired a bodyguard service for you. To keep you in check or whatever (as if you’re this wild child that isn’t running the biggest company in your family). To keep you safe. To keep an eye on you. To keep you from doing bad things.

Sucks to suck because the only bad thing you want to do is your bodyguard. 

Thank you, Grandma!

When Nam Joon came into your life, it felt like Christmas. He’s tall, handsome, smart, and funny in his own ways. If anything, he’s perfect for you. Aside it being his job, you really feel like he knows you. Your next moves and even your feelings—he’s good at predicting and protecting them.

It’s like not you could hide your intentions and attraction either. No, you take any and every chance to flirt with him.

Truth be told, you really need him to dick you down.

“Crazy how I’m literally changing in front of you and you would rather look at the wall,” you tease, as you unclip your bra and throw it at his head. 

Nam Joon removes your bra from his head and continues to stay silent. Him ignoring you is something he does when he knows your emotions are high.

Rolling your eyes, you open your closet and grab your pajamas. You chose wisely, of course… You noticed Nam Joon’s eyes linger a little longer when you wear flimsy things. So, that’s exactly what you wear tonight.

A little ditzy floral pyjama set.

The fabric itself is thin and tight, making it easy for your nipples and the curve of your breast to be outlined. The shorts are practically panties… Guess you won’t be needing underwear either, right? 

Once you put on the top, you bend down to take your underwear off. You throw it back, aiming for his head again. Perfectly, it lands just where you want it to.

“Oops! Sorry, I meant to get that in my laundry bin.” You explain, laughing as you put the shorts on. 

You see Nam Joon’s shoulders rise and fall. He sighs, as he takes your underwear off of his head and places it in your laundry bin for you. 

Cutely, you bump into him as you make your way to bed. Nam Joon purses his lips at you, almost feeling the need to choke when he sets his eyes on your pajamas. 

You were doing this on purpose.

He knows it.

Tilting your head at him, you ask, “Do you like it?”

Nam Joon clears his throat as he stands to the side. Gestures at your bed, he ignores your question but replies with; “you’ve had a long day, Ms. ___. Please go to bed.”

“You know what else is long?”

“Ms. ___—”

“Oh, come on!” you whine, as you drop to your knees. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve asked.”

“It’s also not the first time I’m saying no,” he chuckles. Then, he bends down, grabs you by the waist, and lifts you. 

Your heart begins to race as he carries you.

He’s done this only a couple of times—more because you were having a temper-tantrum and he had to remove you from the environment. There was also this one time when you were crying so much at your grandmother’s dinner table that he swooped in like a knight in shining armour. That was probably the day you felt something for him…

A feeling beyond your wet pussy, that is. 

Nam Joon sets you gently on your bed. As you lay, you reach for his hand. He turns to you and blinks.

“Joon…”

“Did you need something?”

“You.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“Go to sleep, Ms. ___.”

“Awh, come on!” you cry as he leaves your side. You miss your heart fluttering already. “You don’t even have to make me cum—”

With a warning tone, he interrupts you. “Goodnight, Ms. ___.”

Annoyed, you shift around your bed and attempt to make yourself comfortable. Unfortunately for you, all you can think about are your grandmother’s harsh words from tonight's dinner and the silence of your siblings and cousins whose lips did not even twitch to defend you.

Your grandmother’s invasive words begin to consume you. The feeling is… Horrible. It was rough, to say the least. Maybe, instead of distracting yourself… You could use Nam Joon for something else. 

“Do you think my grandma hates me?” you ask with a weary tone. 

Nam Joon reaches over to dim your bedroom lights and takes his time to walk back to his placement. As he does so, he thinks about it. This was also routine of you….

To hit on him, to get sad and look for comfort, and then finally go to sleep. It wasn’t every night—just the family dinner ones. On the regular, it would just be you making one or two flirtatious commentaries and then falling asleep as soon as possible. 

Moments where you look for validation and comfort he thinks these are the purest moments of you. The fact that you’re about to rest, but can’t because you’re reflecting on the things that make you feel uneasy… Well, let’s just say that it’s on the list of reasons why he hasn’t quit his job. Aside from liking his profession, he also likes you. 

There’s never a dull moment. 

“I think she just wants you to be the best.” He answers plainly. “She just doesn’t express it well.”

You sigh. “So that means what I do right now isn’t the best? It’s not good enough? Is that it?”

“No,” Nam Joon shakes his head. “I think she expects more because you are more. The potential she wants from you is real because it lives in you. She’s impatient about seeing it, but business is all about growth and building. Ms. ___, you know you’re amazing, right? You’re perfect. Your grandmother could never hate you even though it may feel like it.”

Snickering, you cross your arms. “Are you just saying that because you’re on her payroll?”

“No,” he assures you. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. Besides, you’re smart enough to know when I’m lying anyway.”

His words hit you. 

Suddenly feel better. There’s no other way of explaining why. Sometimes, all you really need is a friend… But being friends with Nam Joon?

You hate that. 

“... So, you think I’m amazing?”

Nam Joon doesn’t respond. 

So, you try again.

“If I’m so amazing… Then, why don’t you want me? No one’s here, you know! It’s just you and me. Nothing bad is gonna happen… You don’t need to protect me—”

“Ms. ___—”

“I’ve wanted you for so long… You know it too! Come on, I know you just as well as you know me—“

“Highly doubt that, princess.”

“I want to know you… All of you,” you confess, quickly getting out of bed. You stand in front of him and look up at him. Batting your eyelashes, you try to sound as innocent as possible. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Nam Joon feels a shiver.

He gulps as you place your hand on his chest, slowly moving it around to feel him. In an even slower motion, you begin to slide your hand down from his chest to his abdomen. He lowers his gaze at you as you give him pleading eyes. Gulping, he watches your hands make their way to his belt. 

Then, he stops you. 

Just as you’re about to unbuckle it, he grabs your wrists and pulls you up. 

“I don’t want you.”

His words cut deep and his tone is harsh. 

Too harsh. 

There’s a look in his eyes that you’re well aware of. In that understanding, you don’t feel so awful anymore. So, you keep your head high. If he wants to play like this, then so be it. 

Let’s play. 

“Good thing I’m smart and I know when you’re lying.” You then place your hand on his cheeks and squish his lips together. Tiptoeing, you place a small kiss on his lips. 

Nam Joon is caught off guard. 

This never happened before! It never went this far…

He thought he was immune to you. In a cliché sense, he didn’t this would happen. He’d be an idiot to not recognize that sexual tension between you two since the very beginning—but he never pictured it like this. 

He never pictured his dreams to come true. 

Just as Nam Joon is about to give in, you pull away. 

It’s then that he hates himself. He wishes he spent more time memorizing the way your lips felt against his. Who knows if you’d ever do this to him again, right? This was a once-in-a-million for him. 

You’re his one. 

“Since you want to stand there and watch… Fine. Stand there and watch.” 

Without saying another word, you twirl his tie in your hand and gentle tug him to follow as you make your way back to your bed. Nam Joon doesn’t really move though. He stays still, only letting his head turn as you let go of his tie. He watches with lustful eyes as you crawl onto your bed. Positioning yourself, you lean your back against your headboard and sit up in a way where you can comfortably plant your feet. Nam Joon’s eyes almost fall out of his head the second you suck on your fingers, open your legs, and shove your lubed fingers inside your shorts. 

Nam Joon feels stuck.

He should look away, right? For some reason, he can’t. He has looked the other way every time you changed or tried to kiss him… Tonight, was different.

Tonight, he was weak. 

As you let out a breathy moan, you begin to rub yourself. 

Feeling the way your soft pussy is against your fingers, you whimper at the thought of Nam Joon caving and taking his place in between your legs. You apply some pressure and rub circles on your clit. Doing this begins slowly, but as you stare at Nam Joon in his suit, you can’t help but feel sensations in your pelvis. You rub yourself faster, feeling your legs tighten as you do so. 

You rub yourself for what feels like a good 5 minutes. Noticing how quiet it suddenly became and how he’s not making any comments, you take this opportunity to tease him. 

With a small voice, you ask, “N-Nam Joon… A-are y-you watching?”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Can y-you look at me, p-please?” you stutter through the sensation. “I’m touching my pussy for you… So you have to be watching, okay? This is for you.” 

Expecting silence, Nam Joon surprises you with his words. 

“I’m watching, princess.”

You feel a relief. 

In an even softer tone, you whine, “Good. D-do you like it? Do you like what you see? Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah,” he confesses. “Doing so good, princess. Don’t stop.”

Biting your lip, you spread your legs out even more. As you rub yourself, you squirm from the feeling of this not being enough. 

Meanwhile, Nam Joon feels like he’s stuck in a trance. He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you pleasure yourself. He wishes to do it for you… But not yet. A part of him is curious to see how far you can push yourself. How much can you take? How far will you go? He wants to know when he’s needed… He wants to wait it out and let you have this. 

“My pussy is leaking through my shorts… Is it pretty?”

Nam Joon’s breath hitches. “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you think so… I’m thinking of you. You made this mess.”

The truth is, he’s afraid when you give this to him… He won’t be able to quit. He’ll be selfish. He’ll have you any way he wants and ignore what you want. So, this is him being considerate. This is him being patient. This is him letting you have your fun. 

“Should I stick my fingers inside?” 

He utters a hiss... Yet, with a soft tone, he encourages you, “Do what you want.”

“I need help.”

Nam Joon huffs. “You can do it yourself. If you can start this, you can finish.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “A-arghh, fine… Can you hold my hand though?”

He raises a brow. 

But he also picks up his feet and makes his way to you. 

He stands on the side of your bed and offers you his hand. Gladly, you take it. With your other hand, you split your folds open. Tugging on his hand, you pout. 

“Can you spit on it? I would do it but… Your spit would help me cum faster.” 

Too stunned to speak, Nam Joon sucks his inner cheek, runs his tongue along his teeth, and gathers spit from the back of his throat. He then leans over and—

“Mhmm,” you moan, massaging his spit in your pussy. “Fuck, that got me so horny. Are you horny?”

Nam Joon glares at you. 

“Hurry up and cum,” he hisses. “ I’m supposed to be watching—”

“You are, aren’t you?”

Nam Joon gets the feeling you’re alluding to something completely different from his job. It makes him sick to his stomach that he’s fucking into it. God, did you have to be this compelling? All he can do is push you away… At least, try to. 

“This is getting ridiculous.”

You let a small laugh escape your lips. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs. 

“Nam Joon, you’re holding my hand, spitting on my pussy, and about to watch me finger myself… Me asking you if you’re horny is where you’re deciding this is ridiculous—”

“___, just fucking cum already.”

Instantly, you roll your eyes at him. 

The attitude.

He needs his dick sucked or something.

In response, you wiggle your fingers at him. He gives you a blank expression and turns away for a moment. You take that as your sign to start. With one finger, you insert it inside you. Your pussy clenches and your reaction extends to you squeezing Nam Joon’s hand. As you finger yourself, you try to focus on hitting your climax. 

It’s much more frustrating than it is easy. The man whose cock you desperately want inside of you is just fucking standing there while your fingers do you no justice. 

So, in the silence of your dimly lit bedroom, you shut your eyes and imagine him more intensely. You imagine Nam Joon’s fingers inside you. You imagine how his lips would feel against your skin. How his soft tongue would feel like giving your clit kitten licks. You moan at the very thought, and get excited over the fact that he’s actually here. Even though he’s not touching you the way you want right now, at least he was here. 

He was watching.

Listening to every whimper.

Every breathy utter of his name. 

Then, you feel the sensation in between your legs take over. You pump your fingers faster and lazily begin to rub yourself to finish off. You squirm, murmuring his name in between breaths.

Nam Joon can’t stop watching the way your pussy spreads and how tiny your fingers are. Every time you squeeze his hand, his eyes dart to the way your pussy gets more swollen. On top of that, he loves the way your chest rises. Your nipples are so fucking hard right now. 

He’d kill to lick them. 

To bite them. 

To suck on them. 

Fuck it.

Maybe he should fold. 

So lost in thought, he misses it. In a blink of an eye, you cum and let out a lewd moan. As you catch your breath, you let go of his hand and massage your pussy. 

“Are you finished?” Nam Joon asks. 

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It was fun but honestly? I’m still horny.”

“Not good enough?” 

“You tell me,” you grab his hand and tug him to your pussy.

He didn’t expect it.

It’s too late for him. By the time he registered what you were doing, his fingers were already inbetween your folds. You hold his wrist and control the way he touches you. Dragging his hands up and down, you feel tingles begin again. 

“See? I came, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Nam Joon stutters for the first time tonight. “So wet.”

You scoff. “I usually cum more than this… This is so weird! I don’t get what I did wrong. I thought of you as usual—”

“Princess…” He takes his hand away, signaling you that you’re crossing the line. Shrugging, you offer him an innocent look. “Don’t.”

“Taste me,” you suggest. “If you don’t like the way I taste then you can go back to your little spot over there and do whatever you want. You can keep listening and watching me pleasure myself… But just know, I won’t cum for a long time. I’m horny as fuck but I just can’t get off all by myself! It’s too hard… Deal?”

“Deal? You’re insane,” he grumbles. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I do…” you assure him. “Do you hear me? Because it doesn’t have to be like that. You can stand over there—hey, I’ll even let you jerk off—or you can do it yourself. Make me cum. Fuck me as hard as you can. Take what you want. Your choice.” 

Nam Joon gulps as you sit up and wrap your arms around his neck. Tilting your head at him, you look into his eyes and wait for his decision. 

Nam Joon waits for a second too long. 

Your gaze softens as you take his silence as a no. That’s okay. You can just keep touching yourself and drag it out longer. It’d be fun for you anyway… This was his loss. 

As you pull away, just as you’re about to lay down, Nam Joon cups your cheeks and crashes his lips against yours. He kisses you deep, slipping his tongue in. You waste no time, finding his tongue and sucking on it as he pull away for air. You smile against his kiss, and continue to make out with him. His hands travel from your cheeks to your breast and holy shit.

You’re so fucking happy.

He palms your breasts and pays special attention to your nipples. They’re so hard and sensitive. He knows it. So, he takes his time.

First, he pitches them lightly. You gasp and he laughs into the kiss. Mumbling, “sorry, sorry… my bad, princess,” into your kiss. He runs his thumb over your nipples, stimulating your drive evn more. He then twists them and earns another gasp from you. This time, a moan follows. Next, he cups your entire breast with his hands and squeezes them. Pulling away from the kiss, he scrunches your top over your breasts and dives in. 

He licks your nipples, slaps your breasts, and bites them. 

God, when he bites them—

“O-okay, okay,” you stop him, “gonna need you to start fucking me or else I’m gonna cum with you just doing this.”

“Like me that much?” he teases.

You glare at him. “Might lose interest after seeing your dick though.”

With that, Nam Joon folds. 

He towers over you, as your hands instantly make their way to unbutton his shirt. Midway through, he kisses you. It’s deep and desperate—like he has wanted this for so long too. 

When his shirt is off, you move on to unbuckle his belt. You do it as quickly as possible, ever so happy to finally be able to see his length. Taking his pants off, he tosses them aside.

You can’t believe it. 

His cock is so perfect. 

It’s chiseled like it’s meant to be art. 

“Okay, y-yeah,” you choke. “I’m interested.”

Before he can even respond, Nam Joon throws his head back from the pleasure of you sucking his dick. Holy shit, you just went for it. 

As your mouth wraps around his tip, you take in how he tastes. The precum that sat in the crease of his tip was a little salty. He tastes even better the more you suck. His cock in your mouth is so big. It’s full, girthy, and long. Without needing to try, his length hits the back of your throat multiple times. With teary eyes, you gag, choke, and slobber all of his fat cock. 

Like a fucking dog. 

Like a fucking bitch. 

Like his fucking whore. 

Nam Joon loves the sight. 

He takes a handful of your hair and fucks himself deeper in your pretty mouth. This time, when his cock hits the back of your throat, he holds you still. You breathe in through your nose, sucking as much of him as you can. When you let out an intense gasp for air, he pulls away and feels his stomach twist as strings of your saliva drip. 

Nam Joon repositions you.

He lays down on his back and places you on top of him. There, you let your hands roam his chest as he helps you take your shorts off. His pecks are large and rock-hard. You love the way they feel and as he takes heavy breaths in, you note the way his abs flex.

It’s such a beautiful sight. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Nam Joon scoffs, as he reaches for his dick. He pumps himself lazily before placing it at your entrance. “Want me so bad? Let’s see how much. Do you think you can last bouncing on my cock? You barely lasted 10 minutes fingering yourself. You were thinking about me too, right? Holding my hand and shit? Have you always been a fucking whore?”

You pout, nodding. “Yeah. I am such a fucking whore for you… I’ve been so patient. Did I wait well?”

Without warning, Nam Joon slaps you in the face. 

“This is about me,” he growls. “You want me. You have me. You get to fuck me. Get that? You waited, and you got the prize. Me. Shut the fuck up and do your fucking job, slut. I’ll praise you when I want. Don’t ask for it. Understand?”

You nod. 

He slaps your face again.

“Answer me, bitch.”

You bite your bottom lip. “I understand.”

“Good,” Nam Joon says, satisfied. “Whenever you’re ready…”

You purse your lips, asking for one more kiss. He kisses you, and as he does so, you take his cock and try to put it in. For some reason, perhaps because of how wet you are, his cock keeps slipping or your hole is just too fucking small for him. When he realizes what’s going on, he sits up a little. 

In a low tone, he offers, “Here, I’ll help you put it in.”

You look at him as he guides it in. You watch how soft his gaze turns the minute you sink into his member. You swear he feels the butterflies too. As you adjust to his size, you begin to move a little. Rolling your hips, you also add a little bounce. For stability, you place your hands on his chest. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “my slut is such a good girl.”

“Mhmm,” you breathe, “s-so good. You fill me up so good, Joon.”

As you ride him, you begin to feel more and more desperate for his cock to fuck you. This entire time, you had been doing all the work and goddamn it’s fucking exhausting. You slam your pussy onto his dick visciously, picking up the pace and trying to catch your orgasm—but you get so fucking tired.

It’s so annoying. 

“I—” you cry, “a-agghhh!”

“I got you.”

Suddenly, Nam Joon wraps his arms around your body and holds you tight. It’s like a hug, but as he does it, he drills his fucking cock into you. Like never before, you feel his length reach spots you missed as you rode him. Nam Joon drills like there’s no tomorrow. It’s so rough and intense, he slaps your ass while he’s at it. You’re constantly moaning, and at this point—

“You like it like this, little slut? Such a fucking whore for wanting it like this… Gonna take my cum? Gonna get so fucked up you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“Mhmmm,” you sob. “Yes, I want it like this. J-just like that! Fuck yes, yes, yes!”

“You think about this, huh? Always imagining how it’d be like for me to fuck you? Are you happy now? Are you fucking happy? Greedy little bitch always gets what she wants, huh?”

“So happy,” you gasp. “I love your cock. You’re so good to me, Joon.” 

Something inside him flips. He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way this feels and is even more in love with the way that it’s with you. With that being said…

He fucks you harder.

Rough, sloppy, messy. 

It’s so fucking good that you grip onto his hair and let out a few sobs. You murmur his name into his ear and your pussy clenches every time he kisses you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and concentrate on how blissful this all is. After a few moments—

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—” 

You cum. 

But it doesn’t stop there. 

Even though you came, he didn’t. 

Nam Joon continues to fuck you through your orgasm as he reaches his. Feeling the sensation, he curls his toes and digs his cock deep into you as he releases. Nam Joon stuffs his cum inside you, and pumps in and out a few more times. 

Then, he leaves it inside. 

As his cum spills, he keeps his cock inside you. Too tired to pull out, but also too in his head. He wants this to last longer than it has. He wants it again if possible… But that’s asking for too much. He knows it. 

Without exchanging any words, you lift your face and lean in. You and Nam Joon make out, nice and slow. It’s so opposite from what you two were just doing… But it was nice. You even play with his hair as you two kiss. He likes it. You know he does because he smirks against your lips. 

When you pull away, it’s like a wave of emotions hit Nam Joon. 

What the fuck did he just do?

He isn’t sure what to say or to do… All he knows is that it was good. It was fun. He had wanted this moment for a while too. Is that something he should regret? Getting what he has wanted and waited for? He doesn’t know. 

As you two lay beside one another, you reach for him and curl into his embrace. Quickly, you fall asleep. The entire thing tired you out. Nam Joon contemplates if he should get up and resume to his usual service… Or should he just lay here? Be with you? 

Was that an option?

Either way, he knows one things for sure…

He’d be here in the morning. 

To protect you.

To fuck you.

To be yours.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i don’t know, blame the air force?

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

a/n: listen….this is very self indulgent and that’s all i’m going to say. i literally wrote it this afternoon after…well i got fucked by the government in the form of taxes on my bonus. also yeah she’s kind of a brat in this one, but i think it’s a little deserved. rated t for language and suggestive comments 1.2k

It wasn’t often that you beat Bradley home from work, but sometimes on Fridays you would sneak out of the office at lunch and work the rest of the day from home. It typically put you in a good mood and gave you the opportunity to run a quick load of laundry or get started on an - admittedly - rudimentary dinner. Sometimes you’d even go for a dip in your building’s skyline pool.

But that afternoon, you were seething. Properly seething. And no amount of stress cleaning or tanning was going to make you feel any better. Maybe you just needed Bradley to fuck you six ways to Sunday later? Surely the serotonin from a couple orgasms could soothe this particular anger brewing inside of you.

As per every October, you had gotten your year end bonus with your paycheck earlier that day, which always inspired equal amounts of giddiness and angst within you.

The giddiness, of course, because who doesn’t love extra money? It was like found money twice a year. Sure, you worked extra hard for it, many late nights at the office, client site visits, and presentations over the last four years could attest to that. You were up in the air over whether you should add it to your brokerage account or splurge on something? Because again - you worked for it.

But then there was the angst.

The angst because you inevitably lost half of it to taxes. And this angst appeared like clockwork, twice a year, every year, for the last six years you’d been working at PwC. You knew this - it was inevitable.

Except, earlier that morning, you’d been at your desk reading the WSJ with your coffee and had seen a headline. A stupid, annoying headline that had made you purse your lips, realization dawning as you rushed to check your pay stub on workday.

Pentagon Refocuses Spending on Weapons to Deter China

As you read further, you saw that as part of the FY24 budget, the Pentagon was increasing the $30.6B defense budget a further 12% with a focus on missiles, rockets, and - yes - airplanes, specifically for the Air Force.

Uncle Sam was taking 35% of taxes out of your bonus for that? Fuck that.

So, when Bradley came by your apartment later that afternoon, freshly showered after a quick trip to the gym after work, you were steaming. And though it was not Bradley’s fault - not in the slightest - seeing him in that stupid(ly tight), grey, US Navy t-shirt only further contributed to your sour mood.

“Hey!” he called out, letting himself in with his key. You turned your head towards him and hummed, letting out a gruff hi. He toed off his sneakers and left them by the door before coming over to where you were laying on the couch, doom scrolling through Instagram, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

He frowned at your tepid response and you felt like a absolute bitch for a moment. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You briefly glanced at Bradley and then went back to staring - glaring - at your phone. “I’m just in a mood - tired.”

You could see him doing the mental math, trying to figure out if you were on your period, but that wasn’t until next week. “S’okay. We can just hang out and have an early -”

“- Crash any planes today?” the words slipped out before you could think better of it. Before he could even respond, you cut Bradley off. “What’s it matter anyway? They’ll just buy you new ones? Fuck the kids, I mean, they don’t need to eat school lunch? And the Postal Service can cut off Saturday delivery? Hmmmm maybe we should cut Social Security even more? Our infrastructure doesn’t need to be fixed, let’s just let our bridges and roads crumble! Fucking taxes bullshit.”

“Uhhh...”

You got up in a huff and started pacing, getting more and more worked up. “It’s not that I mind paying taxes - well, that’s not totally true. But like? Actually put them towards something that’s going to help people? Not just stupid rockets and missiles and fucking -”

“- Did you get your tax refund or something?”

Bradley was standing next to you, trying to put his hands on your shoulders in what would have been a calming motion had you not been acting completely crazy over eleven thousand dollars.

“It’s October?” you snapped.

“I don’t know?” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, getting a little worked up himself. “Rich people are weird? And your dad seems like he’d know how - nevermind.” You rolled your eyes. “What happened?”

Your shoulders sagged. Fuck, this wasn’t Bradley’s fault. It was that piece of shit House Majority Leader’s, who was so far up Lockheed Martin’s ass he could see -

“I got my year end bonus check today…” you grumbled.

Like you figured, a huge smile lit up Bradley’s face. “That’s amazing - or not?” he backtracked.

“I lost like 35% of it to taxes.”

“Ahhh.”

“And I saw this article in the Journal this morning about the new Pentagon budget and how they’re purchasing these new planes for the Air Force and it just - it’s dumb but it made me mad because I just wish my taxes went to the things that will actually benefit the average American?”

Bradley tucked your hair behind your ear and clucked your chin. “That’s a lot to put on your shoulders, kid…”

“Do you think I’m acting like a brat?” You knew you were, you were just curious if Bradley would say the same thing.

He made a face. “Well,” the word dragged out, “maybe a little…” You hung your head and leaned against his chest. “But it’s kind of valid, I’d be pretty pissed losing all that out to the Air Force, too. But the Navy’s different. They don’t just put anyone in the cockpit -”

“- Oh, really?” You peered up at him. “And how many planes have you crashed, Bradley?”

He pursed his lips. “Like on purpose or -”

You threw your hands up and groaned, eventually making your way over to your bar cart. “- Like on purpose he says! Bradley!”

There wasn’t any ice in the ice bucket, but you didn’t care. You needed something. Anything to take the edge off. You were too annoyed, too fussy - too bratty.

As you poured yourself - and Bradley - a drink, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed in your ear, “I promise you, I have only crashed three planes on purpose.”

Oh how you wanted to laugh. You leaned back against Bradley’s chest, fully ensconced in the smell of his soap and aftershave. “Hmmm, that’s $195M down the drain. Could’ve fed a lot of kids in Kern County with that money, repaved a lot of roads, too…”

He grabbed the drink you had poured for yourself and took a sip, hissing at the burn of the tequila. “I don’t know about the kids, but I can make it up to you.”

The glass was placed back on the bar cart with a clink and Bradley placed his right hand on your hip, while the left slipped underneath the waistband of your skirt and eventually your underwear. Your whole body sagged against him and you hated how keen you were for this - for him. Apparently you really had just needed to get fucked.

“Such a pretty girl…even if you are a bit of a brat sometimes,” he finished, nipping at your ear. “Hey, kid?” You hummed. “You know if I was an astronaut I would cost the US government even more money, you still sure you want me to go down that route?”

“Shut up and fuck me, rocketman.”

“Can do, hell I’ll even buy you dinner.”

-----------

this was so random so i hope people actually like it??? idk if no one does i never wrote it??

small taglist: @howdysebby (happy early birthday!) @sometimesanalice (thanks for the eyes alexa!) @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @rae-gar-targaryen @jupitercomet @sunderlust @softspiderling @seasonsbloom @heartsofminds @cloudycluster

[greenishghostey]

Prompt lol

"Are you humping me?" "...maybe."

The good shit right here 👌

///

Most people would look at Eddie and assume that he was a slob. The town’s running theory about how he lived was close to that of a feral raccoon in a restaurant dumpster.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Eddie was messy - who wasn’t at the best of times. But he was never dirty. He always made sure to do the dishes, hang up laundry and vacuum when needed.

Eddie “domestic goddess” Munson. That’s what you liked to call him while he dashed around doing chores because you showed up to his trailer too early.

There was something oddly attractive, almost sexy, about watching Eddie clean. He usually changed into comfortable clothes that he didn’t mind getting wet. An old Slayer t-shirt and navy pyjama pants with one of the back pockets missing. The pyjamas hung low on his hips and shifted perfectly when he walked.

After a magnificent spaghetti and meatball dinner, Eddie insisted on doing the dishes because you were the guest. He always seemed to forget just how much time you actually spent at his.

With his back to you, Eddie hunched over the soap-filled sink. The muscles in his back moved as he scrubbed at the dried tomato sauce on the bowls. His hair was loosely tied back so he wouldn’t need to keep shaking it out of his face.

The guy was obscene. And he was doing the dishes. It amazed you just how effortlessly alluring he was. Even in the most mundane moments, there were little flecks of saccharine intimacy.

The sweetness of the situation was comforting, and calming too. But you had a much better method of expressing just how much you appreciated his domestic efforts.

“Babe, can you bring the glasses over too?” Eddie asked, gesturing behind his back at you and the dinner table. You were already silently on the prowl towards him. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m gonna leave mine out. Need more lemonade.” You replied, keeping your voice quiet to imply distance as you closed in on your target.

“You've had two glasses already! I only got like half of one because you had to take a leak-" Eddie was just about to turn around to point a soapy finger at you, but it was too late. You had launched your attack.

Your arms snaked around his waist as you pulled yourself impossibly close to his back. You reeled your hips back and started humping Eddie like some feral animal in heat. Exaggerated moans and groans were also included - it added an element of dramatic flare that he would no doubt appreciate.

"Are you humping me?" Eddie laughed, standing still and peering over his shoulder at you. He was glad that you could be such a little weirdo with him.

"...maybe." You did your best to imitate his sex noises - groans and a wonderful amount of whimpering. "You're so wet, couldn't help it." It wasn't a lie, his hands were dripping, and some of the water had gotten on his t-shirt.

"Uh-huh, all for you," Eddie whined, trying his best to imitate your sex noises. Douchebag that he was. "You wanna feel how wet I am?" was he actually getting off on this? He couldn't be.

Eddie wasn't getting turned on - well, at least not entirely. He had about a half-boner going. The moment that you started to slow down in your thrusts against his ass was when he struck. A pile of dish soap bubbles were pressed into your chest as Eddie cackled like some mischievous gremlin thing.

"God, you bitch!" You shrieked, swatting at Eddie as he continued to basically massage your boobs. The ulterior motives were all too clear.

"Yeah, call me that again. Fuck, I'm gonna cuuuuuum." He moaned and giggled, now humping at your thigh with a firm grip around your waist - you weren't going anywhere.

[juyeonszn]

CLUMSY

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.03k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader and juhak are bio lab partners, juhak is lowkey a bit of a loser BUT DW HE REDEEMS HIMSELF, mentions of alcohol, a game of rage cage…, he’s down insanely bad, the flirting goes kinda crazy, someone calls the cops, they run from said cops, reader is Nawt wasting any time, pet names (juhak calls reader princess), tbh they’re both switches in some ways, kitchen sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie lol

SUMMARY when haknyeon ran into you at a tbz party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. or literally. or both simultaneously. but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

MORE andddddd here we go 🫡 second fic of the black out or back out collab 🙏 i forgot to link the masterlist in the last one so im gonna link it in this one in case u wanna read any of the others!! ANYWAY i had such a fun time writing this one, any excuse i get to write for juhak, i will take trust <3 if u enjoyed, don’t forget to reblog! and pls check out the other fics so far!!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

Okay. So maybe trying to secure a girlfriend at a party wasn’t exactly Haknyeon’s best idea.

But, hey. You had to give him some credit. At least he was making an attempt. Most of his other frat brothers weren’t even making an effort. They seemed perfectly satisfied with charming their ways into random girls’ pants every weekend. Unfortunately, or fortunately considering he was a gentleman, Haknyeon wasn’t into that sort of thing.

It was just a little embarrassing that Kim Sunwoo’s love life had more progress than his own. Sunwoo was literally the resident loser bitch boy of the TBZ house. How was he closer to getting a girlfriend than he was? It made absolutely no sense.

Ju Haknyeon thought of himself as a catch. He was pretty neat, his room was cleaner than most guys’ his age. He knew how to cook basic meals, again, more than the average college sophomore. His car wasn’t on its last leg. (Cough cough… Kim Sunwoo, I’m looking at you.) He was a decent dude. He supported women’s rights and wrongs!

Apparently that was not enough these days.

“…And I need you to make sure the fridge is stocked completely. I’m not trying to drink my coffee without cream tomorrow morning because some idiot drank it while they were drunk.” Sangyeon commands, typing something furiously on his phone as some of the other guys move around the furniture.

“Bruh, I was in charge of buying everything last time. Why can’t someone else do it?” Kevin groans. Something else that wasn’t Haknyeon’s best idea? Walking into the kitchen during this very conversation. “What about JuHak? He looks like he has nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Hak, I’m airdropping you the list.” Sangyeon waves his hand in dismissal, returning to his extensive presidential duties.

The sophomore deadpans, but doesn’t have the energy to argue back. You know, the usual fraternity was just a bunch of rich guys with more money than the tuition of each TBZ brother combined. However, the Tau Beta Zeta house was not your usual fraternity. It really was just a bunch of normal dudes thrown together. Though, Lee Sangyeon ran it like it was the fucking Navy.

Haknyeon accepts his defeat and grabs his things, heading out to the supermarket to shop for tonight’s party. Alcohol duty sucked more than door duty, in his opinion. You were sent out all alone, tasked with bringing back enough liquor and beer to last until early hours of the morning. It was a near impossible mission, unless you were Kevin Moon and good at practically everything in the world.

He pushes around the shopping cart mindlessly, though he knows he’ll have to make another trip. A long sigh leaves his lips as he enters the alcohol aisle. He fills the bottom of the cart with different cases of beer until he thinks he may drop one, and then starts to place things in the basket. He feels like a dumbass hauling it over to the registers, like everyone can see right through him.

He has to remind himself that this is for a good cause, that it’ll be worth it when everyone is enjoying themselves at the party. His actions won’t be in vain. Even after the second trip with another cart full of beer and various liquor bottles, Haknyeon keeps repeating affirmations in his head. This has to be the party.

In fact, he thinks his thoughts have manifested into reality when he sees you walking into the grocery store at the same time he’s leaving. You’re his pretty Bio lab partner. He’s always too nervous to hold a substantial conversation with you, so he settles for the bare minimum, which is unfulfilling small talk during your labs. It’s never what he needs though. Aside from your name, Haknyeon knows nothing about you.

“Y/N?” What he wants right now, however, is to shoot himself in the foot for sounding so unsure.

You glance up from your phone, a smile lighting up your face when you recognize him. “Haknyeon! Hey! What’s up?”

“Last minute preparations for the TBZ party tonight,” he gestures at his shopping cart with pursed lips. “You?”

“That’s so funny that you say that! My friends and I are going—“ You eye his cart with confusion. “Wait, I didn’t know you were in Tau Beta Zeta.”

“Yeah…” Haknyeon laughs awkwardly. “Surprise!”

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the frat boy type. Then again, TBZ isn’t your average frat so, I guess that kinda adds up.”

Haknyeon’s not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but since it’s coming from you, he decides that he will. The realization that you mentioned you’d be attending the party finally sets in at that same moment. “So, I’ll see you later, then?”

You nod, smile widening. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing a bottle for us to bring with. But I’ll be there. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

God, he hopes so. This is the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and learn everything he’s been dying to know about you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know… I’m a busy man. It might be a little hard.”

That cute little laugh of yours makes another appearance. “I’ll be on the lookout, don’t worry. See you tonight, Haknyeon.”

Ju Haknyeon thinks that he must’ve done something monumental in a past life, like saving a dog from a burning building or stopping a world war. How else would the universe reward him this kindly? All he can do is wave as you maneuver around an elderly couple passing by into the store.

Maybe Kevin Moon wasn’t that bad. And maybe Lee Sangyeon wasn’t as big of a tyrant as he made him out to be. He could actually kiss the ground they walked on for forcing him into alcohol duty. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have ran into you and he wouldn’t have known you were attending the party. Now he has something to look forward to that isn't getting shitfaced.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Haknyeon looks away from his mirror, Hyunjae standing in the doorway. He has a cringe on his face at the sight of his outfit. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever worn, but it was… a bit too much. A black button up and black slacks was admittedly not the best frat party fit. The only good thing he had going for him was his hair that was styled for once, parted so his bangs framed his face nicely.

“This girl I’m kinda into is coming tonight. I need to look irresistible.” The younger explains, arms flailing at his sides.

“Okay, well you won’t accomplish that in this,” Hyunjae snorts, digging through his closet. “If she’s into you too, she won’t care what you’re wearing. Just throw on something you’d normally wear. Like… this! This is nice.”

Hyunjae holds up a black t-shirt and a black-washed denim jacket. Haknyeon hums. It was simple, but also once he put it on he wouldn’t feel like a douchebag, which was the whole goal here. Paired with some khaki cargo pants, he’s found a winner. He begrudgingly thanks his senior for the assistance, shooing him out of his bedroom so he can mentally prepare for the night ahead of him.

He doesn’t even know what to bring up now that he really tosses the idea around in his head. Yeah, he wants to learn more about you and what you’re like outside of your Bio lab, but specifically what he couldn’t say. Haknyeon was starting to feel like a lost cause. He had to clutch up tonight. He had to woo you so much that you had no choice but to fall for his cute face and endearing personality. But how was he meant to do that if he couldn’t even come up with topics to talk with you about?

Maybe he was just thinking too far into things. Perhaps he should just let it all go with the flow. Moving at an au natural pace was probably his best bet in comparison to Sunwoo’s soccer ball plan. (He’s still confused how that worked in his favor.)

Before he knows it, the party is swinging into full effect. This is the first time Haknyeon’s ever been so socially aware of his surroundings. He had a habit of blurring his atmosphere at these things, more interested in getting drunk with his buddies than paying attention to the attendees. As he stands in a corner of the living room, listening to Chanhee complain about treasurer stuff, he watches each and every person who enters the house.

When you finally do walk in, he has to physically stop himself from choking on the beer in his cup, biting the rim of the plastic in a weak attempt to sedate himself. If he thought you were gorgeous before in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, he doesn’t know what to call you now. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, dolled up in a black mini skirt and a black cropped halter top while hugging a bottle of Pink Whitney to your chest. He could probably pass out right here right now.

He almost does, but then Chanhee is slapping his back aggressively. “Wipe the drool off of your chin. God, am I the only one who still has a brain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanhee, go cry about your life somewhere else.” Haknyeon dismisses his senior, downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage. Though he is, he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, so he’s not going up to you this quickly. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to get another drink, rolling his neck like he’s preparing for the biggest win of the century.

It’s as he’s pouring some jungle juice into a fresh cup that you see him. A smile similar to the one from the store graces your features. There was only one person with a back like that, and it was your cute lab partner. You keep an arm wrapped around your bottle, tapping his shoulder lightly. He spins around confusedly, but the expression morphs into pleasant surprise immediately after.

“Pink Whitney? Easy choice,” he points at the bottle in your grasp. “Are you a lightweight, Y/N?”

Your cheeks warm up at the teasing remark. Upon first meeting, Haknyeon’s been an awkward mess around you. You can only assume the confidence stems from the fact that he’s within his element. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were implying that you want me to get you drunk.” He tucks a hand into one of his jacket pockets, the other bringing his cup to his mouth. He’s unconscious of the source of this sudden bravery, but he prays it doesn’t fade off anytime soon.

“Maybe I do…” You bite your lip, undoing the seal of the Pink Whitney bottle to take a sip. It burns your throat slightly. “I’ve never hung out with a frat boy before. I kinda wanna see what the hype is all about.”

Haknyeon thinks he might pass out again, because if he wasn’t so acutely aware of your entire interaction, he would think you’re flirting with him. Friendliness was a double edged sword in this day and age. But who knows, maybe you are flirting. You showed up with your friends but they were nowhere to be found now. He needed to take advantage of the opening.

It’s around this time that Younghoon and Juyeon are bringing out the fated beer pong table, a crowd already beginning to form nearby. He feels sorry for the poor suckers who have to play Changmin and his girlfriend.

“We should play beer pong!” You suggest, watching the pair of taller guys setting up the cups over his shoulder. Haknyeon can sense the color draining from his face. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve shut the idea down insanely fast, but because it was you, he was genuinely contemplating. Those who went up against the infamous TBZ party beer pong champions were in for a rude awakening, but if you wanted to...

“Uh—“ He starts but then he’s interrupted.

“Yo! Who’s down to play Rage Cage?!”

Juyeon’s voice is somehow louder than the music, carrying into the kitchen where the two of you stand. Haknyeon wasn’t the greatest Rage Cage player, but he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than beer pong. Especially when he stood beside people who didn’t understand the concept of the game.

You chug some more Pink Whitney, batting your eyelashes up at Haknyeon. “I’ve never played Rage Cage. Is it fun?”

“If you’re next to the right people it can be, but if you aren’t, then it’s a whole lot of drinking. We haven’t played Rage Cage at a TBZ party in a while, but the last time we did Eric Sohn almost had to get his stomach pumped.” He laughs a little at the memory of his friend spending the rest of his night cuddling with a toilet seat. The mental picture overshadows how enticing you look right now.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You ask sweetly, hoping that he takes the hint. He seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t make the first move unless you forced him to, so it appeared that you had your work cut out for you.

“You wanna play?” He turns to you with wide eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to show interest in the game. You give him a small nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. The truth of the matter was that you were a fucking liar. You’ve played Rage Cage plenty of times in the past. You were actually pretty decent at it, too. You just needed an excuse to spend the night around him.

“We better head over there now. It looks like the table is filling up.” You jab your pinkie in that general direction. Haknyeon blows a raspberry and leads you that way, his hand resting on the small of your back so he won’t lose you in the pack of people surrounding the table.

“Forewarning, my rap sheet doesn’t really read World Class Rage Cage Champ,” he laughs nervously, the anxiety beginning to eat at him all over again. “But I promise, I won’t let you get stacked.”

When Haknyeon said he wasn’t the worst, but wasn’t good at Rage Cage, you took his word. Except he severely overplayed his own skill. Maybe he was just extremely on edge and it threw off his game, but the amount of times he was stacked on was a little comical. At the very least, he kept his promise. You hadn’t got stacked once, but that was also only because Haknyeon would drink for you every time you almost did.

The room is sort of spinning by the time the first game has finished. Playing a drinking game while he’s trying to get to know you better was probably at the higher portion of his ‘BAD IDEAS!!!’ list. If he wasn’t so eager to please and followed along to each of your suggestions, perhaps he’d be having a different conversation. That was not the case, though.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for the turn out. All you’d wanted was to flirt with your lab partner, possibly end the night with some making out. As it was looking, that’s not the path you were heading down, but rather towards the kitchen for some water to sober him up some. Your bottle of Pink Whitney is long lost, replaced with a bottle of H2O. You hold his chin, tilting it back slightly to pour some into his mouth.

If he hadn’t already had the fattest crush on you, he definitely did now. Pretty and nice? You were the total package. Here you were, nursing him back to sobriety when you could’ve been out and about enjoying yourself with your friends. Up this close, he gets a detailed look at you. It’s so weird for him to think about how much he’s pined after you since the start of the semester, how much he’s admired the face that’s looking at him with this unfamiliar tenderness. He never thought he stood a chance. You know, that whole ‘nice guys finish last’ pick me boy vibe.

“Y/N—” He’s cut short, Juyeon’s voluminous voice resonating throughout the house again, sans the music.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

Of course. Nobody ever calls the cops on a TBZ party but of fucking course the one time Haknyeon gets shoot his shot with you, someone narcs. He actually thinks he might die. He might keel over and die in the middle of this party while the cops are raiding the place. Lee Sangyeon is gonna be thrown in the back of a police cruiser for letting people drink underage and then send them his way because he bought all of the alcohol. This was just his luck.

Without a word, you grab his hand and drag him out through the back door. You follow the flock of other party goers escaping the wrath of the police. It’s difficult to run in a mini skirt and strappy heels, but you don’t really have room to whine about it. Haknyeon doesn’t know if there’s ever a right time to tell you that you could’ve just gone up to his room, but figures it’s too late when you're hopping the short fence that goes out to the main street of Greek Row.

One would think that he’d sobered up at this point since he was, you know, on the run from the law. Yet for some reason Ju Haknyeon himself doesn’t even know, he’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol, tripping over that stupid fucking fence and falling flat on his face. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy part just before the sidewalk, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

You don’t give him recovery time, pulling him to his feet. He holds a hand to the side of his face that received the harshest of the impact, expecting to wake up to a nasty bruise tomorrow. He’s also unsure where exactly you’re taking him, but is afraid of asking out of fear that you’ll send his ass back to the frat house and have him arrested or something. (He had a bad habit of over complicating situations and coming up with the worst possible scenarios.)

Once the commotion has died out and there’s no one else around, you slow your pace. You turn to face him with a grin, holding both of his hands in yours as you walk backwards. “Are you cool with staying the night at my place?”

Truly, Haknyeon needs to know what act of nobility he committed in his previous life. He needs to go back in time and thank himself for whatever it was. Even with fumble after fumble, he was somehow bouncing back and receiving major compensation for sticking it out. He swallows thickly, nodding dumbly when he realizes he hasn’t given you a proper response.

“Um… Yeah— I mean— yes. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.” He word-vomits, stumbling over his tongue rather than his feet. Being down bad was one of his strongest personality traits. And being clumsy was second strongest, so you don't even have to imagine how terrible a combination of both would be.

The walk to your apartment knocks any lingering inebriation out of his system. He’s entirely too hyper aware of what’s happening as you guide him in that direction. It’s cooler out, the temperature dropping in the nighttime as the end of the semester approaches. If there was another reason to be grateful for this party, it was because he no longer had to worry about not making a move before your last lab together. As much as he despised Biology, he’d take it every day if it meant getting to see you.

He actually feels like he may throw up as you reach your place, his hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket to hide the clamminess of his palms. His nerves are creeping up on him once more, a dark cloud looming over him. He shouldn’t be this jumpy at this point of the night. He should be composed, prepared to sweep you off your feet after spending so much time with you. Why the hell is he sweating bullets right now?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you curtsy. “Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe?”

“Th-That would be great,” Haknyeon forces out, waddling behind you into the kitchen like a baby duckling following its mother. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Really? Thank you!” You can’t help but giggle at his jitters and the way he keeps rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sense of déjà vu rushes over you when you pass him a cup. “Living alone has its perks, I guess. I like that I don’t have to argue with anyone about how to decorate and things like that.”

“It sounds a lot more enjoyable than living with a bunch of men in their early twenties,” he smiles weakly as he accepts the glass of water from you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thin the walls are in that house.”

“Do they have sex often?” You ask him bluntly, head cocking to the side almost innocently. He chokes on the water he just sipped, nearly spilling it onto the floor.

“W-What?” He sputters.

“I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about,” you shrug, facing away from him so you can grab yourself something to drink, also. “We should get back at them.”

You don’t know how many more bones you can throw for him to understand what you're insinuating. Even the frat boy comment you made earlier was intentional. Haknyeon’s mouth goes dry and his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s. What the fuck?

“I’ve never brought a girl back to the house before, because I don’t want them to make fun of me or something— not that I’m saying I would take you back to the house! I mean I just would feel bad if you also got made fun of— not that I’m referring to having sex with you or anything!” The glass in his hands is on the verge of slipping from his grip. “Not that I don’t want to have sex with you— oh my god— um wow, that’s a very lovely fruit bowl you have there I—“

“Hak,” you interject his rambling, wearing a mischievous smile.

The nickname drives him fucking insane. Scratch him possibly dying. If he isn’t dead by the end of the night, he’ll be shocked. Perplexed. Perturbed. Puzzled. Any shock-adjacent synonym you can think of. That will be him. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you shut up and kiss me already?”

Honestly, you don’t have to ask him twice. His lips are on yours in seconds, fingers fisting the material of your skirt at your hips to steel himself. You moan in response to the sheer frenzy behind his actions. It’s so easy to lose yourself in the haste of it; the way you tug at his hair, the blunt edges of his nails digging into your sides, the near clashing of your teeth. He nibbles at your bottom lip, sighing when you allow his tongue to permeate your mouth. He’s content to do nothing but this, kissing you is enough to satiate the desire he’s harbored for you for months. However, with the franticness of your kiss, he knows you want more.

He inches you both backwards until your lower back hits the counter, and then he’s cupping beneath your thighs to hoist you up. His strength sends tidal waves pulsing throughout your whole being, hurriedly pushing the material of his denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a care. Your hands travel south as his lips trail along your jaw and neck, sucking and biting your supple skin wherever he feels fit. He hisses into the dip where your collarbone meets your shoulder when you palm him through his pants.

“Fuck, babe, you want me bad, don’t you?” He mutters into the column of your throat, teeth sinking into the flesh after.

“Mhmm,” you whine, craning your neck to give him more access to the surface. It’s like a switch has flipped in him and it turns you on unbearably. This is what you’ve been trying to coax out of him all night.

Haknyeon pries apart your legs, slotting himself between them so he can sneak his fingers beneath your skirt. His thumb rubs tight circles into your clothed clit, the lace of your underwear damp with your arousal. He connects your lips again, groaning into your kiss when he moves the fabric aside and slides his knuckle through your folds. You buck up your hips, whimpering when he holds them down with his forearm.

“Want more,” you gasp when he applies a bit of pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“‘More’ what? Use your words, princess,” he instructs, tracing your entrance with his ring finger.

You shake your head because you’re not even sure what it is that you want. You just know that this isn’t enough to quell the hunger burning at your chest. It’s not nearly sufficient to fan the flames in the depths of your heart or the ache in the pit of your abdomen. You need him everywhere. It’s beyond him being your cute Bio lab partner now.

He urges you onto your elbows, pecking the plane of your stomach. He pushes up your skirt and discards your panties, baring you to the cool air of your apartment. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your clit gently. Your head is light and airy and it’s like you’re on cloud nine. Haknyeon hums against you, pulling off to scold you.

“Eyes open, baby,” he nudges his nose on your pelvic bone. “Want you to watch me eat you out.”

The moan you release is strained, like it had been confined in the back of your throat for ages until this moment. He flattens his tongue and licks a line from your hole to your clit, suckling the engorged skin and repeating. Your eyelids are heavy, keeping your intense gaze on him as he all but makes out with your pussy. He focuses his mouth on your clit and slips his middle finger into you. He pumps it in and out languidly, setting a rhythm that matches each swirl of his tongue around your clit.

The whole scene still feels unreal to both of you, like you might wake up from a wet dream or something. How was it possible that Ju Haknyeon was finger fucking you on your kitchen counter? Just a couple days ago, you were sitting side by side in your Biology lab, too nervous to initiate a substantial conversation. You’d think it would be harder to slob on someone’s knob than it would be to talk to them while wearing a fuckass lab coat and goggles.

Haknyeon works his forearm up, pinning down your thighs so your cunt is fully accessible. He adds a second finger to the mix, thrusting them at a higher speed and increasing the unrelenting sucking of your bundle of nerves. He can tell you’re creeping closer towards your climax with the way your walls clench around him and your hips continue to jerk up. And considering the kind of person he was, you figured he would aid you rather than hinder you. But you figured wrong.

He slows his assault, removing his mouth from your clit and leaving the stimulation at just his two fingers. You whine, lip quivering when he looks up into your eyes.

“W-Why are you— what are you doing?” You plead, hating the tone of your voice. The tables have turned, with you sitting beside desperation. This is so unlike you— so unlike the usual domineering aura you exude during sex— your body reacting differently to the power falling through the cracks within your grasp.

“Don’t you wanna savor the moment, princess?” He sounds so cocky, a far cry from the wavering confidence you’d always seen out of him. He kisses the skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the area you need him most, all the while he continues curling and uncurling his fingers.

The precipice of your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. But Haknyeon holds it just out of reach, dangling it in your face like teasing a dog with a chew toy. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a false sense of hedonism building and building, then slowly ebbing away each time he retracts. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Just when you’ve given up hope, he adds a third finger and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. The sudden and unexpected intrusion snaps that familiar cord in half, blinding you with white hot pleasure. The groan that escapes from the base of your chest is guttural, echoing throughout the kitchen. You don’t have it in you to worry about waking your neighbors, especially not when you feel the curve of a smile against your cunt, such an uncharacteristic response from Haknyeon.

Your legs spasm as the height of your orgasm calms. You pull him down for a wanton kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He laughs at the role swap, hands flat on the counter to hold him over you. “Feel good?”

“So good, Hak,” you murmur into his lips. “Think you can fuck me like that next?”

“So impatient,” he snickers, pecking along your jaw once more. “But since you’ve been so good for me, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

You clumsily undo the button and zipper of his cargoes, pushing them down with your foot. He steps out of them and kicks them away while simultaneously removing his t-shirt. You take your top off and shimmy out of your skirt, raising an eyebrow at the narrowed look in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “But, I don’t care if you wear one. I’d rather feel you raw, anyway.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “God, you’re killing me. Okay.”

He shoves down his briefs and you have to stop yourself from gawking at his size. While he wasn’t the biggest, he was definitely bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with. He pumps himself a couple times, guiding his length to your entrance and throwing his head back when the tip presses into you. This was really happening, holy shit. Ju Haknyeon was actually having sex with you.

Your toes curl and you stab your nails into your palms to distract from the stinging stretch. He eases into you with the occasional grunt, minding your expressions for any signs of discomfort. When all he sees is your features contorted to display pleasure, he resumes. By the time he’s bottomed out completely, both of you are moaning messes. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with the weight of his cock.

“I’ve wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long,” he admits, speaking the words into your sticky skin as he drags himself out only to piston back in. The action throttles you a bit, your eyes tempted to roll to the back of your head from how fucking good it feels. You can’t conjure coherent thoughts to properly convey how many endorphins are coursing through your veins.

Haknyeon sets a pace that combines the perfect amount of speed and depth, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep in your cunt. Your brain is hazy and your vision blurs, hardly able to see anything in front of you. His mouth attaches to the pulse point on your neck, ensuring he bruises the area.

“Y-You’re— fuck— you’re s-so deep, Hak. I can feel you all over,” you wail, bringing one of his hands to tamp your lower stomach. The pressure contributes to the growing tension of your second orgasm, something you know will collide into you with even more exertion than the first.

“Yeah? You’re taking me s-so well, baby. No one else has ever fucked you this good, right?” Sweat beads on his hairline, dripping down his temples with every thrust of his hips and every drive of his cock into your sweet pussy. Even if he really did somehow manage to die tonight, he could do it with integrity. He could go out with the honor of a fallen soldier knowing that he got to experience this at least once in his life.

He hikes one of your knees up to your chest, burying his dick deeper if humanly possible. You arch your back, pushing into his chest to minimize the space between you, antsy at the promise of another release as mind blowing as the last. He brings you to the edge of the counter so you’re now hip to hip. Haknyeon snakes a hand in the middle of your bodies, using his thumb to rub circles into your clit. That stimulation coupled with the depth of his cock encourages the fluttering of your walls, in turn drawing out the state of bliss you’ve been chasing.

Your vision goes blank, stars painting the behinds of your eyelids. A second orgasm crests upon you and evokes a moan so pornographic, it sounds far away from you. It’s a dreamlike euphoria, an almost out of body experience that puts every other orgasm to shame. The surface of your skin is hot to the touch.

“Where do you want me, princess?” Haknyeon asks breathily. In the calamity of your own release, you nearly forgot about his until you register the twitching inside of you. It pauses the static in your ears, returning the volume of the world to its normality.

“Cum inside of me,” you whine, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. He doesn’t need to be told another time, grip tightening on your thigh as he spills into your cunt.

The two of you stay still for a moment, allowing clarity to flow into your brains. You wince when he finally has half the mind to pull out, his nose scrunching up at the sensitivity. He slides his underwear back on, extremely conscious of how naked he is right now. He has an inkling that you were anticipating that this would happen, because why else would you ask him to stay over tonight? But, he is the Ju Haknyeon that you’ve sat next to this entire semester in your Biology lab. So he couldn’t just march forward without a little overthinking and self deprecation.

“Do you still want me to stay?” His voice has reverted back to that small, unsure tone. You sit up quickly, alarmed by the twinge of disappointment underneath it.

“Of course, I do,” you pout, kissing his cheek and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, Hak. Sure, maybe I skipped a couple steps in between, but I have wanted this so badly— I have wanted you so badly— for you don’t even know how long.”

He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. He leaves a sweet kiss on your lips, softer and gentler than the ones from earlier that night. He’s intentional with the way he glides them in harmony, like he was following the melody of the most beautiful song. “Oh trust me, I think I have an idea.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[ultralightpoe]

Tiktok Trouble Pt 2- Jake Seresin

Authors Note: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE 

Word Count: 2253

Warnings: Allusions to smexy times

Description: You love pranking your husband, and tiktok loves it too

Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!

Enjoy!

The morning of your errands had started off salty with Jake, who content with bitching about everything, and you had gotten just as snippy with him considering you had been in such a good mood when you both left the house. But he had worn you down, now you were sitting in the car with your thighs sticking to his leather seats like crazy (he hated air conditioning and the heat was just clinging to you) while he ran in and grabbed what he needed from this store. 

Normally Jake would take you in with him, but today he made a snippy comment about not wanting to be in there forever so you rolled your eyes and turned the music up as he got out, cracking the windows like you were a dog. 

It’s here you got the idea.

You had taken a break from posting pranks on tiktok, your guys’ sink had actually busted (Jake was so happy he watched the videos) and one of his old navy brothers had lost their lives so you both had flown out for the funeral. After that everything just seemed to be too busy, and Jakes mood was ever so cranky as of late. But today seemed like a good day to try and lighten the mood. So you set up your phone and waited, once you saw him come out of the store you began fighting something in the backseat. 

Jake, as first, seems to think you are looking for something and when he gets into the car he slaps your thigh lightly. “What’d you lose?”

“NOTHING! BUT THIS BITCH HAS LOST HER MIND!” You snap and start swinging at an imaginary figure in the back. Jake stops and stares at you, leaning against his door as he tries to figure out what is going on while you act out a very angry fight. 

“What. Is. Happening?”

“Bubs, she’s running her fucking mouth to me right now- seriously? No YOUR MOM-” You are about to swing at the air again and he catches your hand, pulling you back and reaching to feel your forehead. 

“We should get you some water-”

“Mind your fucking business!” You shout to the back and your husband nods aggressively and turns to the back to snap out a ‘bitch’ before turning to you and moving to buckle you in. 

“You tell her. You tell that….bitch?” He really doesn’t seem to know what to do, so he simply buckles you and reaches for the water bottle he brought, that’s when he sees your phone. “Oh for the love of-”

You’re laughing your ass off and he’s covering his face as you turn off the video. “Really?! I was so confused!”

“I’m sorry. You were being such a sourpuss this morning and I HAD TO!” You laugh, kissing his elbow as he continues rubbing his face.  “Love you bubs.”

“I love you too. Even when I think you’re batshit crazy.”

—------------------------

COMMENTS:

“The thigh slap- PLEASE LORD I’LL BE GOOD-”

“LMAO, when he finally just gives in and helps”

“SNSJKSJJANNX X I WANT THEM BOTH! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”

“Y/n has now proven she can fight anyone that tries to take her man”

—-----------------------

“Sugar?!” Jake calls from the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot a little impatiently as he waits for your response. You, being the perfect wife who would never do anything wrong in her life ever, closed out the webpage of adoptable dogs that your husband specifically said no to and ran to the stairs. 

“Yeah bubs? What’s up?” You smile, watching his face morph into suspicion. 

“Didn’t like that one bit- but I need to run to the store and figure out what pipes match our sink. You’ll be okay here?”

“Will I be okay in the air conditioned house with my handsome husband out going to get stuff for our sink? All lonely and sad and ever so hor-”

“Okay okay, just gimme a kiss.” He laughs, waiting for you to run down the stairs and kiss him before you get an idea and run back up the stairs as he leaves. 

You snatch your phone and film a quick video of him getting into the car before screen recording yourself texting him ‘Come over he just left’ once you are sure he’s down the block.  Then you wait, until you hear a sharp screech and see his car zooming into the driveway. You set up your phone to record on his dresser and run to your shared bathroom as he books it up the stairs. 

“Y/n?” He asks when he reaches the bedroom, looking nothing less of pissed. 

“Yeah bubs? I thought you were going out?” You call from the bathroom, fixing your hair as you waited. 

“I decided that you broke the sink and should come with me.” He says sternly, crossing his arms and leaning on your dresser, the camera catching his jaw flex perfectly.  You swing the door open with wide eyes looking nothing less than excited. 

“Can we stop for pops?” You know he loves when you say pops instead of soda, and he tries not to smile. 

“As soon as you tell me what dumbass you were trying to sleep with in OUR BED.” He snaps, giving you a tight lipped smile with his arms still crossed. 

“Ohhhh yeah…. About that….” You smile, pointing to the camera and watching his face relax instantly. “Say hi to your fans bubs-”

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs, pulling you in to kiss you before standing up and walking to the door. “Grab your phone and purse. You’re still coming with me.”

—--------------------

COMMENTS:

“Girl, he’s MILITARY. Are you trying to get hit?”

– “STFU, that man does not hit woman unless they ask. Watch their other vids”

“The way his arms flex when he crosses them. I see now why she likes pissing him off.”

“They f***ed in the car. FOR SURE”

—--------------------

Before Jake got home from work you had hot glued the olive jar while taping it, then started cooking dinner while you waited. When you heard the sound of his keys in the door you started filming, leaving your phone on the table as you moved back to the stove. 

“Evenin’ Sugar.” He smiles, moving to you and kissing your shoulder as you move a cheek to him so he can kiss that as well. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Your in a good mood, that southern drawl comes out when you are.” You smile, watching him set his keys on the counter and reach across you to steal a green bean.

“Watched Rooster do 100 pushups.” He laughs before wrapping his arms around you. “What time do your parents get here?”

“About an hour- can you open that jar for me?” You ask sweetly pointing to the jar of olives you had glued. 

“What do I get out of it?” He teases, already snatching the jar. He tugs on it once, twice, then he gets frustrated and puts all his strength into it, face pinching up as he grunts out. “You’re kidding me..”

“Can’t get it?” You ask, moving closer as he tries again, grunting and turning red. “How about you go get changed and try again when you come back?”

He nods, setting it down with a face of disbelief and allowing you to kiss his cheek before running off to change. You snatch the jar and take it to the fridge, replacing it with the jar you hadn’t glued, setting it up. When you know he is within eyepoint you grab the fresh jar and pop it open with ease. 

“WOAH BABY!” He laughs, picking you up and spinning you around. “I married she hulk.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now you’re just hurtin my feeling- HEY GOTCHA!” He spots the camera, keeping you lifted in one arm while he points at it. “You tried messing with me and I busted ya-”

“Okay okay- put me down.” You laugh, gripping his shoulder to not fall. “Bubs-”

“Nope!” He laughs, reaching for the sink hose and dousing you with it making you squeal. 

—--------------

COMMENTS:

“I think he is finally catching on”

“Making us all wet- oop”

—---------------

The next prank a whole two weeks, both of you getting busy with work and not having much time together besides sleeping, but you finally had a day off….which meant torturing your husband obviously.

You had woken up before him and gotten ready, doing your hair and makeup just the way he liked whilst picking an outfit you knew he loved before walking downstairs and putting a little heart over the date on the calendar just to fool him a little more. 

He trudged downstairs while you were on the phone with your parents, taking a second to lean on the counter and admire you while drinking the coffee you already prepared for him, wiggling his eyebrows when you turned to him while talking. 

What he didn’t know was that you were talking on a fake phone whilst yours was hidden on a shelf filming him. “Yes! I’m very excited for tonight, I think Jake is gonna try to surprise me.”

His eyebrows stop wiggling and pinch together in confusion as he pulls the cup away from his lips, mouthing a ‘what’ as you point to the calendar and then leave the room to keep ‘talking to your parents’.

Your husband looks at the calendar and sees the heart, head snapping to the side as he tries to think about what today was supposed to be. “Crap crap crap-”

The only problem came when your phone actually started ringing, drawing his attention to where it was hidden to film. “AHA!”

You laugh from the other room, knowing you were busted and the prank had failed, walking in to watch him flip the camera off and turn it off. “You haven’t been on your a game , lovely wife. I expect better.”

“Bring it on then.” You smile, enjoying the cocky smile that fills his face. 

—------------

So you upped your game, you bought a couple cameras to hide around and you thought of some great ideas. Jake Seresin was gonna regret marrying you. 

The first day he was gone on a mission you decided that instead of worrying about your husbands safety you would rather learn the WAP dance to piss him off when he gets back. The day after his return he is laying on the couch with his eyes closed (you made him tired after a long night in his defense) and you decide that you want to show him a tiktok dance.

“Okay I’m gonna set up the phone here,” You explain, leaning it against your tv before taking a couple steps back for dancing room. 

“Oh so I know where the camera is this time?” He teases, you snort and try not to look where the mini camera is hidden by his game console. 

“Just watch-” You laugh, playing the song. His eyes widen when it starts playing and then you start dancing and he is shooting up. By the time the song got to the actual WAP part he is dashing to snatch you up of the floor. 

“No ma’am.” He laughs, hanging you in the air like a dog that just got busted.

“WAIT! THERE IS MORE!” You laugh as he goes to turn the phone off. 

“Sorry Sugar but I really don’t need the squad seeing my gorgeous wife dancin’ like a stripper all over the internet. Save it for the bedroom.” He sets you down and smacks your ass harshly while laughing before he leaves the room thinking you hadn’t gotten any of that on film….sucker.

—---------------

COMMENTS:

“THE LAUGH AFTER HE SPANKED HER! STFU FNJENFJDBSB”

“LET HER FINISH THE DANCE! NOOOOO-”

—----------------

“JAKE SERESIN!” You shout, winking to the camera that was hidden in the kitchen and wait. The second you shouted with an angry tone you heard his phone drop and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs to rush to you. Once you were sure he could see you, you pretend to be angry. 

You have your arms crossed and a harsh glare as he comes into the kitchen looking like a little puppy. 

“Yes Sugar?”

“You got something you wanna tell me?” You ask, taking a step back when he takes a step for you. His eyes flash hurt and for a second you wanna tell him it’s a prank, but you double down and wait. 

“I….I uhm- well…..I forgot our anniversary?” He guesses, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “No! Wait! I missed your families monthly dinner- no w-”

“Final answer?”

“Wait, Y/n baby, just tell me what I did. No gimme a hint.” He rushes, falling to his knees. THE MAN ACTUALLY FELL TO HIS KNEES, and grabbed at your thighs. You break then, laughing and grabbing his jaw softly. 

“Just a prank babe.” You smile, kissing his temple and he whips back to glare. 

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m gonna make a tiktik and start pranking you!” He seethes and you crack up, but he shakes his head. “You’re laughing now, but you just started a war sugar.”

“Bring it on Bubs.”

“Oh I will.” He flips off your phone which makes you laugh harder already knowing that the phone wasn’t recording and he kisses your cheek before walking off. 

“See you soon…..”

—--------------

COMMENTS:

H_ngman: You have been warned!

Mrs.Bagman: Bring it on!!!

Authors Plea: Hey guys! I love likes and reblogs and I thank you all so so much. BUT I LIVE FOR COMMENTS! I really enjoy when you guys tell me what you like and dislike and what you want to see more of, so I beg for more comments. LOVE YOU ALL!

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

ian ♥ mickey - farmers market drabble

Mickey blamed it all on the good weather.

If it wasn’t so nice out, his husband wouldn’t be forgoing sleep shirts, and Mickey wouldn’t be so suggestible in the mornings. He had been half asleep and easily swayed by a warm, bare chest against his back and a hand skimming the top of his waistband. 

Which was how he wound up in the park near their apartment, trying not to step on any of the little dogs these yuppie bitches were dragging around the farmers market.

“You know, people risk their lives by the thousands escaping communist countries so they don’t have to wait in ridiculous bread lines” Mickey commented, eyeing the line of flannel-clad millennials ahead of them. “I’m just saying, it’s a little disrespectful to spend our Saturday mornings like this when there’s a perfectly good all-American Jewel down the street with a whole isle of bread.”

“You’re not allowed to bitch until you try it” Ian said, scolding him with a smile and a hand on his arm, which Mickey shrugged off.

The air was crisp, but warmed by the bright sunlight shining through the trees. It was nice, but Mickey wasn’t going to give his husband the satisfaction of admitting it. 

“It’s fucking bright out” Mickey complained, brows furrowed. 

He nearly regretted it, since he was trying not to be such a bitch about all the gay shit Ian liked. Something about supporting and uplifting each other, even though it never seemed to matter when Mickey wanted to kneecap someone. But Ian just gave him a triumphant look and pulled a navy baseball cap out of his back pocket. 

“Gotta’ take care of those sensitive baby blues” Ian teased, gloating. 

Mickey shoved the cap on, stepping forward with the rest of the line. He had to admit, without the sun in his eyes and with his face partially hidden, it was a pretty gorgeous day.  And when Ian finally got their overpriced bread and ripped a chunk out, still steaming and held out hopefully to Mickey, he had to admit it was almost worth the wait. 

Especially when he saw his husband’s eyes travel over to the next stall, stocked with farm grown lettuce and tomato, and realized that if he played his cards right, he could get his husband to make him a BLT for lunch.

He was running out of steam when Ian got roped in by some weird looking guy who’s farm only grew different kind of mushrooms, and who was eager to explain the difference between each of them.

Mickey’s eyes wandered to the next stall over, where different colored tulips were sprouting out of buckets and an older lady was bunching them together and wrapping them I white paper carefully with shaking hands.  There was a cardboard sign hanging on one of the tent posts that read 1$ = 1 flower.

Without a second thought, Mickey was standing in front of her table, eyeing the different colors critically. They had some blues, similar to the lilies Mickey had picked for the wedding, but Mickey was inexplicably drawn to the budding pink flowers. 

He looked over at his husband, listening intently to the mushroom man. He eyed the slight part of lips, the blushing pink on his nose, from the seasonal allergies he insisted he didn’t get and made a decision. 

“Good morning,” the florist said kindly. He fished a 5 dollar bill out of his pocket and put it down on the table. 

“I’ll take five of the pink ones” Mickey said gruffly, trying to sound like he was buying cigarettes at the corner store and not buying gay ass flowers for his gay ass husband. 

By the time Ian finished, with a bag with two different types of mushrooms Mickey hoped against all odds would get them high, Mickey was standing uncomfortably on his own, a small bouquet of tulips grasped in his hands.

A small grin fought its way onto Ian’s face, but he was able to casually ask “whaha’ got there?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow as if to say if you make fun of me right now this will never happen again, and held the flowers out to his husband. 

Ian’s mouth formed a soft ‘O’ as he stared down at the bouquet in his hand, wide eyes shining beautifully. It was exactly the reaction Mickey was hoping for, even when Ian foolishly stuck his nose against the flowers, immediately and predictably causing him to sneeze. 

Ian pulled him in and pressed a lightning quick kiss to the side of his face, right under the line of the hat. Soon, Mickey was being corralled thought the crowd with an arm around his shoulders and his husband’s voice in his ear, whispering that they should go home and finish what he started that morning.

It wasn’t the absolute worst way to spend a morning, Mickey decided, looking up at his husbands brilliant grin. 

I finally woke up early enough to go to the farmers market near me (please please, i know its impressive that a 20 something woke up before 11am on a saturday, but hold your applause) and got the idea to write this drabble, please enjoy this photo of the tulips that inspired it

[gortashs-skidmark]

something nasty bc there’s not enough gorty content.

Gort’s Big Jork

Enver Gortash x Tav (GN) NSFW!! MNDI! 18+ Content!

Description: Gort jorks it to Tav. Using a Scrying Eye spying system seen in the game.

Spoilers for Act 2 and a little 3

Content Warning: Jorkin’ it idk, masturbating (male), tried to make it smutty, spying on tav, he’s an ass man.

!! Gender Neutral Anatomy. No Male or Female parts explicitly mentioned, bc you bitches always make it afab, it’s much hotter and inclusive when it’s GN descriptions !!

Gort needs to fuck. I’ve never ever written fanfiction before but in desperate need of him. If there are errors comment below and I’ll fix them if I know how. Also Gort is kinda gross in this bc if he can’t tie his own shirt or brush his yellow teeth, he’s not gonna care in this.

𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅

This monitorial invention of his, mounted on the wall in front of him, glowed filling the room with a striking blue hue. Flickering as his living cameras moved on the other side. Everything he could see of his plans in-action filled his view. A few, showed a black screens, in turn reflecting his raw image. The Goblin Camp had been struck to its knees and his few scrying eyes along with it.

He stood with his arms crossed, the rest of his body portrayed in a confident relaxed position. He stood behind a cushiony chair. Gortash could sit, but he didn’t have a lot of time to throw away, staring at the blue-ish shade thrown over Moonrise’s walls. Watching his acolytes pick their noses when they thought no one was watching.

He hadn’t expected Tav to make it into Moonrise, much less with the same company as before. Through Duegar guarding the elevator, and hostile Githyanki ripping through anyone who may have the artefact he sought after, who would have guessed? This may prove a problem if they can slash through just anyone.

Gortash took a deep breath, in through his mouth, out through his nose, tipping his head down without his eyes leaving the screen. He studied Tav through his scrying eye monitors, up and down the eye thoughtlessly followed the miscreant.

He couldn’t help but admire them, truly, and foolishly. They had put themselves through the thick of it, and still landed where it hurt Gortash’s plans the most. They made it to the Shadowlands, blessed by Selûne, and dusted by pixies. How utterly lucky. Unravaged by the Shadowfell, and their brains still have enough holes in it to step into Ketheric’s territory.

He felt his breath quicken and his upper lip curl in disgust. Sheer luck on their side. Never on his. His thoughts were upsetting. By Jergal’s Blessing it shouldn’t be this easy. He had to be a genius and a cunt to make it to his place in the world.

His chest rose up and down unsteadily. His loosely folded arms, now gripped the top of the cushioned chair mercilessly. He hadn’t worn his gold threaded attire, instead in a soft set of navy blue pantaloons and a threaded black blouse. Still his forearm held the stone upon a Gauntlet, he never took it off. It was night-time across Wyrm’s Crossing, his home. He didn’t sleep when the sun went down and the stars came up. He couldn’t sleep now, knowing this hero slipped through his fingers like sand.

Gortash would feel no failure. Bane would see no failure. It was his flawed compatriots with ambitious gods who would fall fast. faster. And he would suffer the consequences of their own failure. This hero, broad backed, snatched waist, adorned in dented armor, a raw frazzled state they were in from the journey there. Blood crusted on the side on their face, on their boots, on their back, on their chest, in the hair of their brow. Maddening. Almost carnal lust took over.

No. No no no no no. No.

Gortash was panting now, a bitch in heat he was. His black shirt clung to his back, sweat started to run down his under arms. It was hot in the room. His pantaloons felt three sizes too small. The fabric was irritating and raw. It was dizzying.

He shakily, slowly, defeatedly, sat himself down, his eyes hadn’t left the screen once since Tav arrived. The scrying eye lowly followed them still, the reflection on the screen gave Enver a whopping view of their ass. Their thighs, large enough to crush his head between them. Their gait, clearly guarded, but their ass still bulging back and forth, left leg, right leg, through their pants as they walked.

Enver needed relief, from the heat, the stress, the dizziness, the itching worry in the back of his mind, possibly even from Bane’s trust. He didn’t want to see how his body betrayed him, he didn’t let Tav leave his sights still as his hands moved downwards to the strings of his navy pants hurriedly. His fingers nearly getting caught every time he loosened one side of the strings. He lifted his hips, thumbs tucking into the sides of his hips and pushing down his pants, to above his knees. He didn’t wear underwear, he didn’t need to. Not when he only could catch moments like these to have to himself.

He sat his tush on the seat again, breathing through his mouth. He couldn’t get enough oxygen, uneven breaths. His tongue was starting to feel dry as he pushed the tip of it against the roof of his mouth in concentration. His right hand, slightly obscured by his gold gauntlet and pointed fingers, gripped his half-hard on that was peaking through his foreskin. He held it, just holding it at the base as his mind emptied any thoughts of his next steps in his plans. He only saw Tav.

The veins decorating the underside of his cock pulsed under his fingers. He was getting harder the longer he stared at Tav’s ass. His jaw shifted tensely from side to side. What he wouldn’t do to tie, bend, and break them in his presence at this moment--Their ass shook, they were laughing. At something he didn’t care to bother figuring out. Any limpness in his cock was gone as it erected up right and curved towards his stomach slightly. It was painfully red, contrasting the darker base.

He could imagine their lower back tensing as they laughed. He gave his base a squeeze. A low airy sound pushed out of him. Pre-cum oozed out of his ever-reddening tip. He started to stroke, slow and controlled. From the base, to just before the tip. His breathing slowed, he felt like he had control again but lost it all at the same time. Only in this moment did Tav and his needy cock matter.

Enver slightly lifted his hips, thrusting- rutting into his hold on his member. Curving his hips up by inches and down by inches. Over and over in a slow aching pace. Tav could be attainable. Under the tadpole’s control, he could figure out a way to make them his- his thing.

He stopped his movements, lifted his hand to his mouth, gathered as much spit in his dried mouth as he could muster. A pathetic amount stringing onto his middle and fore finger. He set his hand back down, rubbing it on his cock greedily. He picked his pace again, up and down with his hand, reaching the tip this time.

He released a short huffed sigh, his back twitched- removing his lazy posture from the back of the chair. He was hunched over now, neck angled up to keep his eyes on their body. His eyebrows sewn together, giving a very needy expression towards the screen. Hand picking up the pace, the spit had done a shitty job and dried up too quickly. A tacky feeling left behind in his hand. He once more took as much spit as he could gather in his mouth, he tried, he really did. He removed his eyes from the screen, only a flicker, to spit on his cock. The noise he made from aiming and spitting was pathetic. As fast as he flickered his eyes down, they were back on the screen. The image of his red, bulging veins, irritated dick, precum still headed at the top with unbroken surface tension was burned into his mind to regret later. Or possibly day dream.

His hand didn’t stop pumping. He hummed in desperation, a bit broken. He was getting close and he picked up the pace. He didn’t have the energy to stand up but he didn’t want to cum sitting down, it wasn’t as pleasurable. He stood up and kneeled slowly on the seat, his knees adjusting his pose as he sought most pleasurable. One knee ended up on the chairs base, the other on the arm rest with his hips lifted up right. His dick directed at the screens. One hand gripped the unoccupied arm rest to keep his balance. The chair would leave red indents on his knees after, creaky and sore too.

Wrist tired, eyes widened and daunting the one screen he focused on. His hand focused on his mid to tip area of his cock. Hoping to milk the blood to the tip. Hand thrusting at unattainable speeds were it a real person he fucked into. He whimpered a bit, his eyebrow creasing even more as he let out breathy moans. His whole body quivered with his forearm’s grip and fast movement. His hips jutted forward sensitively as he neared his peak. He tried to keep upright but he lost his balance in the pleasure. He let out gasps and tight moans as he keeled forward. Eyes shut and using his imagination to guide him now.

He was so desperate to release, all that build up. He lifted his eyes once more to his favorite monitor and saw through his purple scrying spy; Tav, who had hunched shoulders and hips positioned forward, pretty veiny hands adorning those hips too. Thumbs dipping into their lower back, and fingers gripping the peak of their hips. Their pelvic bone was prominent, or something to his imagination. They seemed relaxed. They were speaking to some bugbear with trades. A smile on their lightly painted lips, their eyes creating crows feet as they giggled a bit. What he wouldn’t do to see their eyes scrunch up at him and their mouth opening and lips curving from something he did to them.

He couldn’t chase his release any farther. He had chased it to the precipice. His body jerked and his hands kept at it. His cum shot out onto the floor and leaked between his pointer and thumb. His cum was warm, very warm. White flashes and hot cold chills ran through his shoulders and arms as he neared the very end of his orgasm. He nn’ed and mm’ed in a whiny pitch. This was the first time that night he had felt anything close to cold. His pace was slower but still brutal as he milked every white drop he could from the puffy tip. He only ran his fingers to his mid base and tip, the most sensitive area he had. Red and irritated. He could relate to his cock in this moment.

His hips jerked unexpectedly again as he stopped cautiously, slightly overstimulating himself.

He steadied and huffed evenly. Catching his breath, he released a large sigh. His hair draped over his eyes and his side burns clung to his face slightly with sweat. His mouth shut and his lips touched. Breathing through his nose. His hand was sticky, his glove was a mess. Cum seeped between the gold metal and his warm fingers. His drooping member was a mess. He slowly, very slowly, unglued his hand from his dick.

He blinked at the stone floors a couple of times, sighing again. He lifted his head up, looking around him. His neck was stiff and terribly tense from his previous position. He got into the chair, like a normal person. Ass bare against the velvet lined cushion. Looking around for anything he could use to clean up his fingers, at the least.

He stilled as he reached down to pick up a tossed set of destitute clothes from previous prisoners, sitting in a crate beside the wall in front of him. He looked up at the blue lit rectangle where Tav taunted him. Tav was now talking to a devout gnome bent on controlling gnolls through the Absolute, the back of Tav’s thighs and ass still took up much of the screen. It was a relief in some places of his mind that the scrying eye was a one way mirror for him.

Tav is as Tav does.

He just jerked it to some stranger. He was sickened a bit. Though, an important stranger. Ketheric, no matter how immortal, wouldn’t last their stubborn goodwill. Gortash would have a chance to meet them, he was sure of it. Maybe their next meeting shouldn’t be on his mind while he twisted and wrang his fingers from his cum.

This wouldn’t be the last time he saw Tav. He knew it. This wouldn’t be the last time he sought relief in them either.

[trensu]

So this was originally a little ficlet i added to @gyroshrike's EXCELLENT angel dust fanart. You should check it out IMMEDIATELY. Anyway, I ended up writing it out into a proper fic so I could post it to ao3 here. and i thought i might as well make it its own tumblr post as well since the fic is done already. Enjoy!

“What do you mean no?” Cherri asks, annoyed. “This is the fifth fucking outfit you’ve shot down.”

Angel doesn’t know why he thought Cherri would be helpful on this shopping trip. He forgot that Cherri’s idea of fashion involves singed tops and torn up bottoms. He snatches the clothes from Cherri’s hands and throws them back on the rack.

“Ya keep pickin’ slutty clothes!” Angel replies, also annoyed. 

“That’s because you are a slut, bitch.”

Angel gives her a two fingered salute because he’s fucking cultured. Cherri cackles and flips him off in return. Angel marches to the other end of the store to the rack full of boring colors like navy, gray, and black. They don’t go with his coloring at all. It’s the only rack left he hasn’t looked through in the entire store, though. Cherri follows behind him, purposely shoving racks and mannequins to make a mess as they go.

“Well, I ain’t tryin’ ta look slutty this time,” Angel says as he aggressively inspects the rack of clothing.

“Good luck getting that cat in bed after your date,” Cherri snorts.

“It’s a first date! Husk ain’t like that,” Angel says, feeling a bit offended on Husk’s behalf. “He’s a gentleman.”

“Yeah, the drunk arsehole is a total gentleman,” Cherri rolls her eye. 

“He is about this kinda thing. He’s a classy guy, okay? So I’m givin’ classy a try,” Angel insists. He reaches the end of the rack with nothing to show for it. He growls. “Fuck this place, it ain’t got shit. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yes! About fucking time,” Cherri cheers.

After blowing off steam with Cherri, Angel sneaks back into the hotel. Not that he’d done anything wrong; he just doesn’t want to bump into Husker at the bar after the spectacular failure of a shopping trip. He’s stressed because he was running out of time to get an outfit together. He knows he gets catty under pressure. (Ha. Catty.) He doesn’t want to risk getting catty with Husker.

Once inside, Angel wanders the upper levels for a bit until he is absolutely sure that Charlie was nowhere around. He knows Charlie would be overjoyed to help but she's about as subtle as machine gunfire when she's happy. Angel wants his future upscale look to be a surprise for Husk.

Since Charlie can’t be considered, Angel is left with one last option. With extreme reluctance, he makes his way to Charlie’s room. He makes sure not to show anything but confidence and charm when he knocks on the door.

Vaggie opens it with a scowl.

“Angel. What do you want?” Vaggie asks in that flat yet annoyed tone she was so good at doing.

“Heyyy, Vaggie. Ya know that redemption thing Charlie always yaps about?” Angel starts. Vaggie’s scowl deepens, so Angel continues before she could say anything. “I was thinkin’ I should change up my look, so I ain’t so sexy and tempting. Looking like a prude is a virtue, ain’t it? You’re the biggest prude I know! Wanna help a fella out? For redemption and sh–uh, stuff?”

Angel bats his eyes at Vaggie, channeling his ‘I’m a sweet, naive virgin, please take advantage of me’ character. It’s a very popular character in his line of work. He is much better at that than at looking innocent but he figures it’s basically the same thing. Vaggie glares at him. Okay, slight miscalculation on Angel’s part, then.

“No,” she says, and tries to close the door. Angel catches it with two hands before it shuts completely.

“Wait!”

“I’m not helping you with whatever porno you’re doing,” Vaggie says. 

“It ain’t for porn!” Angel says. He’s not exactly insulted that Vaggie assumed it was a porn thing, but he’s not not insulted either. He’s got a life outside of porn, sometimes!

Vaggie stares at him. It’s an expectant stare. It’s a stare that clearly says Angel has to give her a reason to not harpoon him with that spear she carries everywhere. (It’s also super judgemental but that doesn��t offend Angel since Vaggie looks at everyone except Charlie judgmentally).

A small jolt of embarrassment hits him. He wishes it was a porn thing now. 

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, this tiny frail chance Husk gave him by asking him out. If he says it out loud, Vaggie will scoff. She’d roll her eyes and ask him why he’s even bothering to try. Does he really think anyone would seriously want to date a cokehead pornstar? This is a pipe dream and Husker will get fed up with him so fast.

(Vaggie wouldn’t say any of that, a part of Angel knows. Those were Valentino’s words, but he’s so sure that Vaggie must have thought it at least once. Everybody must think that about him at least once).

The longer he stays quiet the more Vaggie’s glare softens until she starts to look genuinely concerned. And, fuck, Angel can’t have that. He’d die (again) if Vaggie felt sorry enough to be nice to him. He pastes on his smile and keeps his tone girlfriend-ly.

“I got a hot date, Vaggie, that’s all,” Angel says. “Wanna try somethin’ a little different for it.”

Vaggie is not convinced by his nonchalance which makes Angel wonder if he’s losing his touch. His acting skills are second to none! She should be eating out of the palm of his hand with this performance! Instead, she marches out of the room and waves him along.

“Follow me,” Vaggie says in her drill sergeant voice that makes everyone who hears it straighten their spine and find themselves already halfway to a salute.

Angel learns that Vaggie approaches clothes shopping with the same tactical focus and determination she approaches any mission, which is weird but whatever. She stealthily leads him to the nicer side of town into a more upscale shop than Angel is used to. She marches through the shop without bothering to ask Angel for his input on anything. Still she manages to pick out a few outfits that went well with his coloring and in his size. Angel has never appreciated her observational skills more.

“Try these on and show me,” she demands, piling her pickings into both sets of Angel’s arms and shoving him into a dressing room.

Angel complies without protest. He sashays out of the dressing room like a supermodel four times before Vaggie nods in satisfaction on the last option. She actually smiles at him.

“This one. You’ll impress your date with this one,” Vaggie says without a hint of irony.

Angel smiles back and thanks her enthusiastically. He ignores how he hadn’t recognized himself in the mirror in any of the outfits. He ignores how uncomfortable the clothes feel on his body. The clothes are classy, just like Husker prefers. That’s what matters.

–

When Husker shows up at his door for their date, he does a double take.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Husk asks, confused.

Angel starts to lean flirtatiously into his space, a salacious come on right on the tip of his tongue. He catches himself halfway and quickly straightens himself with an awkward laugh.

“Just somethin’ I found in the back of the closet,” he lies through his teeth.

He’d devoted time to doing his makeup just right and making sure the clothes were crisp and clean. He still feels uncomfortable in them but all things considered, Angel thinks the final product came out pretty good. The way Husker looks at him now makes him wonder if he overestimated his looks for once.

Husk’s eyes narrow as he studies Angel. His gaze trails Angel top to bottom. It doesn’t feel very sexy but Angel supposes the point is to not look like a whore so this means he succeeded, right? 

“Sure,” Husk says, notes of confusion still in his tone. “You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course!” Angel stutters like a moron.

“Alright,” Husker says after a beat.

Husk gives Angel another suspicious look, shoulders tense and wings pulled close. Something shifts in his expression that Angel can’t read. He’s afraid it might be disappointment. Husker shakes out his wings and offers Angel his arm, which Angel accepts with relief.

“So, where ya takin’ me, Huskie?”

Husker tells him about a little place with good food, better drinks, and a live jazz band. As they walk out of the hotel, Angel almost cozies up against Husk, so tempted to rub his cheek against Husker’s furry ear. He catches himself again and over-corrects by pulling away from Husk until their linked arms are the only point of contact. Husk stumbles a bit with the weight shift. He shoots him another indecipherable look. Husker opens his mouth to say something but appears to change his mind and snaps it shut.

That’s okay, though, right? Husker wasn’t much of a talker anyway! Angel fills the silence between them with nervous babble. Angel is normally very good at conversation but tonight he keeps having to stop and restart mid-sentence when his stories get crass. Being crass is not good first date behavior. Husker grunts every now and then but it’s clear he’s only listening with half an ear. It doesn’t help Angel’s nerves at all.

The date goes downhill from there.

Husker finds them a booth when they arrive at their destination and helps Angel order their food and drinks. He points out several he thinks Angel will like.

Usually, he and Husker can pound back alcohol like nobody’s business. They sometimes make a game of it and those nights are some of the best Angel has because he gets to see Husker soften and relax in his company. However, Angel is an affectionate drunk and Husk has had to nudge Angel away more than once those nights. Husker is always sweet about it now, with gentle hands and amusement in his eyes. Husker always helps him back to his room afterwards like a perfect gentlemanly escort. Despite that, Angel can’t help feeling a bit stung at the rejection each time.

Tonight, he only orders one drink. He knows he can’t be getting too handsy with Husk on their date. He’s sure it would annoy him. He doesn’t want Husker to regret asking him out. With his focus strictly on keeping up his good behavior and watching his alcohol intake, Angel barely touches the food Husker recommended to him. 

Husker keeps shooting him these looks that make Angel anxious. With each glance, Husker slinks deeper into his taciturn demeanor. Of course, Angel overcompensates with his babbling. At one point, Husk has to shush him during the jazz show. Angel clacks his jaws shut in shame, because he knows how much Husker likes jazz and here he is ruining the experience for him. At least Husk is nice enough to hold Angel’s hands throughout the rest of the show, though he probably only does it to keep Angel from fidgeting too much.

When they leave the joint, Husker doesn’t offer his arm again. He doesn’t even walk very close to him. Angel's stomach churns so much, he’s afraid if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll puke the two bites of food he ate earlier.

They’re halfway back to the hotel when Husk clears his throat. His hands are in his pockets as he trudges on, keeping his eyes on the crumbling sidewalk.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Husk says, not even glancing at Angel or faltering in his steps as he speaks. Angel, on the other hand, halts in confusion.

“What?” Angel asks, not sure what Husker was talking about but the tone of voice made his stomach drop. Husk sighs, stopping in his tracks to finally look up at Angel. His face was closed off in his standard apathetic frown.

“When I asked you out,” Husker says, his tone going to his usual bored gruffness. He hasn’t used that tone towards Angel in a long time. Hints of panic start crawling up Angel’s veins. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“What?” Angel asks again like a fucking idiot. He hopes he doesn’t sound as shaky and pathetic as he feels.

Husker’s voice goes flatter though his tail has started to twitch uneasily.

“You should’ve said no if you didn’t want to…be with me. We woulda been fine.”

“Huskie–”

And at last some of that soft, hidden sincerity crept back into Husker’s voice. Only a little bit, but it’s there.

“I’d still be your friend, Legs,” Husker says, gazing into Angel’s eyes and sounding painfully honest. “I wouldn’t abandon you over that.”

“No! I-I–”

Husker looks away with a bitter grin. Angel’s heart cracked at the sight.

“I’d need a day or two to lick my wounds, but I knew it was a long shot anyway. I woulda come back,” Husker shrugs when he finishes going for nonchalance, but his wings are once again curled protective and close, making his usual slouch look less like carelessness and more like defeat. Husker doesn’t wait for Angel’s response, instead choosing to continue walking back to the hotel.

Angel stands in place, floored by how badly he fucked up. He notices his breathing becoming erratic. He does his best to do the calming breathing thing Charlie taught them all. It works well enough to get him running to Husker again though Angel still feels unsteady and insecure. Most of him is screaming to fucking book it in the other direction because fuck, fuck, Angel hates feelings. But Husker also hates feelings and he basically threw up his guts at Angel despite it. The least Angel can do is return the gesture, right? He owes Husker that much.

“Husker, wait!” he shouts. 

Husker’s posture becomes more guarded but he doesn’t acknowledge Angel’s call. Angel catches up quickly (Husk can’t go too far too fast with those short legs, Angel thinks, helplessly fond despite the anxiety). Dodging around Husker’s wings that quiver with tension, Angel grabs the crook of his arm to bring him to a stop and place himself in Husk’s way. He lets go quickly at Husk’s glare but somehow manages to stand his ground.

“I did want! Husk, I wanted ta say yes, I wanted ta go on this date so much,” Angel says desperately, feeling a telltale burning around his eyes and hating himself for it.

The tension in Husker’s body breaks free as his patience caves to his temper. His wings flare open and his tail whips side to side aggressively.

“Then why are you acting so fucking fake? With the clothes and you treating me like I got the fucking plague! I thought we were done with that bullshit,” Husker snaps furiously.

“Cuz I wanted ta…I wanted ta be good for ya, Husk,” Angel chokes out, shoulders slumped in defeat. “You like classy. I wanted ta be a good, classy sorta guy for ya. I-I fucked up. I always fuck this shit up. I don’t mean ta do it.”

Angel stares at the poor excuse of a sidewalk they’re on, blinking back tears. Husker doesn’t say anything for a long time. Angel nearly loses his nerve and turns tail when Husker speaks again.

“You fucking dumbass,” Husk says. 

His voice is deep and warm and fond, the way it is on their drinking nights together. Angel’s head snaps to Husk at his words. That cocky little smirk– the one Angel first saw after Husk had pulled him out of his self-destructive spiral at the club and realized that if he wasn't careful he'd lose his heart to the guy–has replaced the angry slant of Husk’s mouth.

“Hey!” Angel protests with a cautious smile. Husk rolls his eyes.

“Don’t expect compliments if you’re gonna act stupid,” Husk says and offers his arm to Angel. “You’re already classy enough for me, Legs.”

Angel takes his arm and looks down at him slyly.

“But not good, huh?” Angel tries to tease but Husker doesn’t take it.

Instead, Husk looks at him intensely and says firmly, “If this redemption shit the princess keeps talking about ain’t total bullshit, you’d be the one to make it.”

“Oh,” Angel says, stunned, then adds to cover how hard it made his heart beat, “Husker, ya big ol’ flirt. I betcha say that ta all the pretty boys.”

“Fuck you,” Husk grins at him. Angel bats his eyes and lets his voice go all breathy.

“Oh, yes! Please, daddy,” Angel simpers. He adds a loud moan for good measure. Husker throws his head back with a rough, loud laugh. Angel knows immediately he wants to hear it again forever.

By the time Husk drops Angel off at the door of his room, the pair of them have relaxed significantly. Angel opens the door slightly to peek in on Fat Nuggets. After he makes sure his Nugs is sleeping soundly, Angel catches Husk’s sleeve before he could make a sneaky escape.

“Hey, Husk, can we get a do-over? A new first date? I want ta do it right next time.” Angel asks shyly. The corner of Husk’s mouth quirks up, making his golden eyes crinkle in a way that makes Angel’s heart melt.

“Depends,” Husker says with that charming smirk. “You gonna wear that stupid outfit next time?”

“Oh baby,” Angel says, plastering himself against the door frame in one of his sexiest poses. “I’m gonna wear my sluttiest dress for my handsome kitty. Everyone’s gonna wish they were you when they see us togetha.”

Husk snorts.

“When you put it like that…”

“You can put it wherever ya want, daddy,” Angel flirts. He’s only half-joking but he keeps his hands to himself to keep things light. Husker rolls his eyes in good humor.

“A do-over sounds good.”

Angel drops the pose instantly, beaming at Husk.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Angel’s heart flutters at the small smile that accompanies Husk’s assurance.

“Next week?”

Husker nods in agreement.

“Great!” Angel said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

Before Angel canlose his nerve, he dips down and presses a light, meek kiss on Husker’s cheek. When he pulls back, Husker’s eyes are as wide as saucers and his wings have puffed up in a way Angel hadn’t seen before. If Angel didn’t know any better, he’d say Husker was downright flustered. And oh god, Angel wanted to make him blush all over. Husker would be so cute in bed.

“G‘night, Huskie!” Angel says quickly and slams the door closed behind him.

After nearly tearing himself out of the uncomfortable clothes, Angel crawls into bed wearing only his boxer briefs. Next time, he thinks to himself in joy and disbelief. I get a next time.

He knows it will be perfect because next time he’ll be himself. Angel. Because that’s all Husker wanted. Just Angel.

He curls up around Fat Nuggets and allows himself one quiet, happy squeal.

[maverickbabes]

You're Mine

You're Mine

Aged!Up!Lo'ak Sully x female!navi!reader!

Lo'ak is 21 and Reader is 19

Warnings: Angry!Lo'ak, oral fem receiving, rough sex, biting, some swearing, spanking(like once), light choking, mating, claiming/owning kink, This gonna make your heart race oheheheooehehe

Summary: You've been annoying Lo'ak pushing his buttons the whole day, So he decides to teach you a lesson while you go out into the forest, him following.

Lo'ak lets out a growl of annoyance as he follows you into the forest, feeling his anger and annoyance bubble even more inside him. "Y/n" Lo'ak said firmly while you climb up a tree getting yourself situated on one of the thick branches.

"What" You said, attitude in your voice while you raise your arms in annoyance. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks attempting to climb up the tree but you release the branch that you were holding, knocking him on his ass. "Where does it look like I'm going dumb ass" You retort at him, amber eyes glaring down at him.

"Oops did I do that?" You say sarcastically as you let out a giggle while you mindlessly run your hand on the moss. You've been annoying Lo'ak all day and it was quite entertaining for you. First at one of the huts where you both were shaping arrowheads, you were humming a tune that drove him crazy.

Then, you would mess up what he was doing by accidentally bumping into it. You also pushed his buttons by giving him attitude and being a bitch to him because sometimes he's a reckless ass and a dick. Lastly, was this moment right here; in the forest and you were going to push him to his limit.

You didn't want to admit it but, you had a crush on Lo'ak. Hell, you wanted to mate with him and start a family but you didn't know if he felt the same way. "What the fuck y/n!" Lo'ak curses as he glares at you while you gracefully hop down the tree.

"Oh relax it's not as if I hurt your pretty face" You tell him before bumping your shoulder against his while you continue your walk. He grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks as he turns you around so you can look at him.

"Enough of the fucking games y/n. I'm pissed off and at my fucking limit so don't. push. it" He seethes gritting his teeth. This was your chance to push him. You remove your arm from his grasp as you shove him by the chest. "Fuck you" You hiss before turning to walk away.

You froze in your place as he let out a dark chuckle, did you take it too far this time? "You're such a bitch" He grabs you by your shoulder and shoves you forward, almost tripping over your own feet. "Oh hell no" You charged at him and pushed him onto the ground, eyes wide with anger.

You guys stared at each other, both fuming with anger as you stood there. You feel your heart flutter from the way he was staring at you and from how intimidating he looked but still stood your ground to show he won't win. Within seconds his lips were on yours, both wet and hot as he takes your lips and absolutely devours you.

Both of you were still angry at each other but the desire and lust for each other was slowly winning. One hand rests on your hip while the other slides down to your ass, a hard smack hitting your skin as you let out a moan. Lo'ak takes this moment to shove his tongue into your mouth, biting your lips in the process.

You pull away from the kiss, wiping your lips on your arm pretending to be disgusted with the kiss but in all honesty, you were so turned on that it was almost unbearable.

"Did you just wipe my kiss off your lips??" He hisses as he watches you wipe your hand across your lips just to piss him off.

"Yea and I'll do it again. What the fuck are you going to do about it" You taunt him as you squint your eyes at him.

"Oh I'll show you what I'm gonna do about it" He growls and next thing you know, you're pinned on the forest floor with him above you and you let out a small moan.

Lo'ak smirks as his eyes darken with lust. "Aw does the little slut like it when she gets pinned down?" He asks, not missing how your legs quiver before closing on their own. You feel your pussy pulsing as he grabs your knees and forces your legs open. There was a small wet spot on your loincloth and he looks up at you chuckling deeply.

"Look who's so turned on just from my words" He taunts you as he gets in between your legs, practically ripping off your loincloth in the process. "Fuck you asshole" You hiss at him, earning a cocky grin. "What do you think I'm gonna do to you" He retorts back at you while he takes his loincloth off and tosses it to the side with yours.

"I can't wait to hear you scream my name while I fuck you over and over again" He says as he leans down and nudges his nose with your neck. "Fuck you, I'm not goi- Ahh!" You start to say but instantly cut it off with a moan as you feel his tongue against your heat.

Pleasure courses through your body as you feel his mouth on your heat, his tongue kitty licking your folds as he nips at your bud causing you to arch your back. You can feel your climax building up in your tummy but Lo'ak takes his mouth off of you, instantly making you whine and mewl.

"I'm gonna mark you all over so that way everyone knows you're mine" He whispers huskily which makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. Lo'ak begins to leave hot wet kisses down your neck and to your cleavage, stopping at your breast while he locked eyes with you before taking your nipple in his mouth.

You feel yourself shudder as he bites your nipple then goes to the other one to give it the same treatment. He leans up, resting on his knees as he admires your body covered in his marks. Feeling nervous, you try to cover your body but Lo'ak tsks at you. "Uh-uh. Don't cover yourself. You are beautiful baby" He whispers as he tucks some loose hair behind your ear.

"I'm not yours or your baby" You scoff at him before turning your head away and he wraps his hand around your neck and forces you to look at him. "You're not mine huh? I'll make sure we change that" He hums as he thrusts himself into you hard and fast. "Fuck!" You moaned as your mouth opened slightly while you wrapped your legs around him.

"You wanna change your answer pretty girl" He asks as he presses his body against yours, lifting your hips and thrusting himself even deeper inside you. "Lo'ak" You whine and mewled as you squeezed yourself around him, causing his hips to stutter while he hits the right spot in you.

Lo'ak groans as he goes rougher, a layer of sweat covering you both. "Fuck you feel so fuc-, do that again" He praises as he bites your neck, causing you to let out a cry of pleasure. You feel his hand wrap around your throat, squeezing it as he leans up to look at you. "Who do you belong to?" Lo'ak asks you, his voice becoming deeper at the last part.

"YOU! I belong to you!" You cry out as your orgasm begins to bubble inside you once more, this time with more intensity. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me aren't you" He praises as he feels himself getting close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and fast. "I'm gonna cum" You whined out, feeling Lo'ak kiss your forehead.

"I am too. Cum with me baby let it go" He huffs out as he feels himself come undone inside you, letting out a noise between a moan and a whine as he shoves his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. You come seconds after him, a hoarse moan leaving your lips while you lay there under him trying to catch your breath.

Silence fell between you two as you both laid there, soaking in the moment of pure bliss before realization hit you both like a semi-truck. "We had sex. Lo'ak we just fucked and now-" You started to ramble but Lo'ak quickly shushes you with a soft kiss on the lips.

"Yes. We've had sex. You are mine and I am yours" He says as his amber eyes look deeply into yours. You suddenly feel like crying so you push him away and get up from the floor but you feel a hand grab your wrist gently. "Where are you going" He questions, confusion painted all over his gentle face.

You feel your lips tremble as you sink down to your knees and look at him."Do you really want me?" It was all you could mumble out as you both stared at one another, not knowing what to say. Lo'ak grabs your hands and gives them a gentle squeeze.

"Yes I want you. do you want me?" He asks and you nod your head fast as you wrap your arms around him.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

[taitavva]

yaldabaoth couldn't help but make his whole team overpowered huh ... how are the phantom thieves supposed to survive ?? "oh noo akechi ur so hot haha .. please don't kill me" brilliant strategy pego (entire ask under cut)

[ACTUALLY UR PUTFITS WERE SO ON POINT. I HAVE 2 OUTFIT IDEAS 4 HIFUMI & SHIHO (MINUS MASKS) & 1 mask idea for yuuki but idk what else. i was thinking for the leaders it would def be chaotic but goro has most metaverse experience so hes the leader. ken kinda acts like mona in giving useful tips abt personas etc and hifumi takes on the role of makoto where she gives out different strategies (her, ken, & goro debate over these tips & strategies but usually end up doing them anyway). I have an urge to show u these outfits omg. i can ramble abt these outfits & their personas for forever .. i chose jormungandr for yuuki, skadi for shiho hela for hifumi, and persephone for eiko. ik its not very in the literacy scene for them to all have deities as personas but... goro breaks it with loki anyway, so ..

explainations:: hela & jormungandr are 2/6 of loki's kids in norse mythology, aiding him in the ragnarok/end of the world, and hela is sentenced down to the underworld to be the goddess of that realm since she was born half alive half dead, and she's sentenced to it by odin (basically. kinda the zeus of norse mythology, like the "king" of all of them) because she's the daughter of loki & all this other stuff .. chose her for hifumi because hifumi's mom basically forces her to be a shoji star after hifumi's dad and yeah. jormungandr i chose because hes kinda just a sleepy little guy: in norse mythology he's known as "the World Serpent" and he wraps around the entire ocean with his tail in his mouth kind of in a constant sleep until the ragnarok (all of loki's kids --aside from 2, one being dead & the other being a gift to odin-- including loki himself, are kinda trapped somewhere before the ragnarok happens) and he's not talked about a lot but he aids in so much and he's important (like how yuuki is kind of ignored by the pts, the dialogue options being horrid, despite him aiding in them. also yuuki is the bm's navi in the au & he runs a "revenge site" like how Strega/takaya sakaki, jin shirato, & chidori yoshino do in p3-- strega also does death calling cards , mainly shown in the novels which is p cool.. first ppl to use mental shutdowns despite not beinf called that then either. i love strega sorry. they all agreed to it because shiho wanted to deal with more people like kamoshida, goro wanted to deal with more people like shido, hifumi wanted to deal w more people like her mom, etc).. i chose persephone for eiko because in greek mythology, persephone is (most commonly accepted form of the myth) kidnapped by hades and forced into marriage with him by eating a pomegranate out of the underworld .. point blank, persephone reminds me of eiko being trapped and persephone's shown to overcome it , ( honestly eventually making the underworld & hades her Bitch. she kills the goddess/nymph of mints and creates the mint plant because she got too handsy with hades).. also hifumi and eiko are a little gay for eachother so why not have their personas be, too? anyway. SHIHO!! i chose skadi for her because skadi , in norse mythology , is both jotunn (giant) and a god like how loki is, but she's an accepted form of it because she was given over to the gods as a peace treaty, and thats pretty important to norse mythology i'd say (like how rooftop scene is important to kamoshida arc), and skadi claws up the aesir (council of gods) thru both her marriage (ann? ann. hehe.) and her own sheer will (shiho's recovery and goro's ..... questionable aid.) and skadi just fits. the goddess of mountains and winter? sign me the FUCK UP.

Anyway . this was long I apologise]

[muniimyg]

SAUDADE // JJK

once found, now lost; it’s a love that lingers and struggles to find closure

+ 

jungkook and oc attempt to be friends after a break-up

navi | m. list | ask me ! |

pairing: (somewhat) badboy jk + oc 

au/genre:

post-break up au 

one shot

angst, smut, vibes...

warnings:

mentions of blood, drinking, smoking, and drunk driving

smut ! creampie ! 

self loathing / bad habits 

miscommunication 

note: dedicated to @joonsjuice because she flew to meet me & all we did was laugh abt my fics 😭 my biggest fan frfr … i promised her i’d write so… surprise !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @heem145 @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

Tonight was no different from the other nights Jungkook would waste away. 

At least, it began like a regular Friday night party. It was the usual routine of getting high as he made his way to the party, some beer pong, and downing some shots of hard liquor, before stepping out to take a cigarette break. Soon, the night would be a blur and a pain in the ass of a headache to deal with the following morning. 

Except, tonight, the people Jungkook usually ignores were extra irritating. So irritating that one guy came up to him mid-puff and asked; “are you still fucking ___? Heard she dumped you and shit, so she’s up for grabs right? She’s here tonight and I heard that she was a virgin before she met you… My guy, did you fuck her out or is her pussy the type to be just as tight as it was when you first fucked her?”

It’s no surprise what happens next. 

A little cussing, a little shoving, and a little punch here and there… Suddenly turned into a full-blown fight with other people intervening and pulling Jungkook’s body off the imbecile. 

That brings him here. 

Jungkook struggles to fit his keys into his apartment locks and stumbles his way to his bathroom. There, runs a shower and steps in. He cleans himself, scrubbing the smell of his vices away. Blankly, he watches as the blood from his hands drips down and goes down the drain. When he finishes, he turns the water off and dries himself. Yet, his knuckles continue to bleed and for a split second, he sees how deep the cut is. His knuckles are absolutely busted. He wipes his foggy mirror and sighs at the sight of his face. 

His lip is also busted. His eyebrow piercing is messed up and his eye will probably bruise up by morning. Honestly, he didn’t lose the fight.. But, it sure came with a cost. 

Perhaps his adrenaline begins to wear off because his injuries begin to hurt like a bitch. He rummages through his cabinets and hisses, “fucking shit.”

He had no bandaids. 

He barely has any ointments to tend to his wounds. 

Jungkook winces at the pain as he runs water over his bloody knuckles. He’s been in fights before and even injured his hand a few months ago, but for some reason, this pain hits differently. It aches, it throbs, it feels like it’ll probably scar.

This stresses him out.

If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, suddenly a million and one thoughts were flooding in and his heartbeat instantly begins to race. He could feel all his emotions come up and it made him nauseous. His head was spinning and before he knew it; his heart was beginning to ache. 

He was truly hurting. 

He had been thinking of you nonstop these days. It’s not like he ever got over the break-up—how could he? It’s only been three months since you. You two had been together for almost two years at that. How could he suddenly just be okay after three months of no you? If anything, he was only beginning to process the absence of you. 

It’s not like he cared if you were at this party or not. If anything, he was happy to know you were around him. Even if you’d probably ignore him or offer him a generic greeting; he’d take it. It didn’t bother him that you were here… What bothered him was the mere idea of you taking one step closer, one fingertip brushing against his as you two bump into each other in the crowd; one moment. One mere second where you’d look at him a little longer than you should. One mere second where you’d smile at him the same way as you used to and then it’d be over. 

He’d fall down to his knees and do it. 

He’d beg for you.

He’d make promises, fully knowing he’d probably break them within the week. He’d cry and then he’d loathe himself for the rest of his life. 

And loathe himself he does the minute he hears a knock on his door. 

Quickly, he puts on his grey sweats and makes his way to answer. Without much thought, he swings the door open and it reveals a barefoot you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t have any bandaids,” you hold out a plastic bag filled with First Aid materials. “We threw them out, remember? Because you promised me you wouldn’t get into fights and get hurt.”

“Where are your shoes?”

“M-my shoes? Oh. I had heels on. I think I left them at the pharmacy. I ran here.”

Jungkook sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. He hangs his head low and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

“I knew you were a bad boyfriend,” you choke, trying your best to keep it together. “But you didn’t need to break your promise.”

He looks up and is instantly wrapping his arms around you as you bury yourself in his chest. In between light sobs, you curl your fists and hit him. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I hate you so much,” you utter with as much annoyance as you can. “I really hate you, Jungkook.”

“I know, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“I—okay. Whatever you want.”

You take a deep breath and lift your head. You sniff as let him wipe your tears with his thumb. Swiftly, you take hold of his wrist and analyze his hands.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook promises. “It’s not that bad. Might need stitches but I’ll just go tomorrow morning. It’s kinda late.”

You roll your eyes at him. It’s just like him to neglect his health and well-being. “Hospitals are 24/7, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.” 

A beat. 

“So what?”

“You brought me bandaids.”

It feels weird being in Jungkook’s bathroom again. 

All you can think about are all the times you two stood side by side, brushing your teeth. How you’d flush the toilet while he was showering or how he’d barge in while you were taking yours. The slow morning back-hugs and the irritating haste of running late to plans.. It’s all in here. It all happened here as silly as it sounds.

Though it’s only been three months, it’s a bit painful to be sitting on the floor with him and patching him up as if the bandaids were going to fix anything. His cuts ran deep and the bandaids only covered the damage. Yet, you two sit there in silence and pretend like this is a solution. Like sticking bandaids on a wound that clearly needs stitches wasn’t an excuse to just be with him again. 

“This isn’t the you I know,” you comment, half-heartedly trying to pick a fight.

“It’s the me I’ve always been. I mean, isn’t this why you broke up with me?”

“No,” you shake your head in disagreement with his vile words.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheeks. “I’m sorry for bringing so much shit in your life.”

“You didn’t,” you reassure him. “You don’t.”

You don’t say anything further. Could you even? The situation is already as horrible as it can be. Now, it has this awkward yet intimate pull on you. It just burns. If anything, you want to say it. You want to spit it all out and tell him everything. 

Tell him that you broke up with him because you would’ve stayed through it all. You would’ve bailed him out of every charge pressed against him. You would’ve forgiven him every time he forgot a important date. You would’ve gotten into the car even if you knew he had been drinking. You would’ve skipped every morning class to sleep in with him. You would’ve loved him more than your own life and that horrified you. 

Nonetheless, he was always good to you. You just wish he was good to himself. Though you believe him when he told you he loved you; you couldn’t wait for him to change. As much as you love him as he was—the essence of youth, anticipation, and longing he carried soon turned into a mess of anger and fuck ups. 

But how could you ever think that as he sits in front of you, hurting, and still completely in love with you?

Jungkook breaks the silence. “Thank you… For this.”

“Don’t thank me,” you say sternly. Peeling another bandaid and eyeing it to perfectly cover his wound, you encourage him; “just do better.”

“I’m trying,” he says softly. 

Your heart sinks. 

“I know,” you take out an ointment and squeeze a bit on a q tip. Tilting his face, you reach up and apply the medicine to the cuts on his face. “I believe you.”

It’s the truth. 

You do.

Jungkook can’t help himself. 

He wraps his hands on your wrist, causing you to pause. There’s a look in his eyes—the kind that makes your heart feel utter heartbreak and relief at the same time. It’s devastating… To love someone and want them so bad that it hurts. 

“J-Jungkook… Don’t,” you croak, trying your best to keep it together. “Don’t ruin this.”

“Ruin what?”

You push away. “This. I’m trying to be a friend, Jungkook. Don’t make it any more than it is. We broke up—”

“You dumped me,” he corrects you. “When did I ever say I didn’t want to be with you?”

“Jungkook—”

“Please, ___, I’m sorry. Believe me when I say that, okay?” He begs, bringing your hands to cup his face. “I can’t do this anymore. I hate not being with you.”

Your eyes tear up and your walls come crashing down. You hate the way he sounds right now. His voice sounds so desperate and honest. You’ve never heard it sound like this before.. Even when you dumped him, he was silent. This… This is new. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit. “Why are you sorry? How did it get this way?” It’s the most painful thing you’ve managed to say to him tonight. Your heart continues to break as his breath hitches. 

“I’m no good for heartache, baby.”

Your mind spins. 

Your stomach feels like it’s just been hit with a gust of wind so strong that you’ve lost all the words and thoughts you gathered before coming over. It’s like every reason you made up on your way here is just being tossed out the window. 

“You’re the only thing that ever made sense to me.”

Then, it hits. 

You remember exactly why you stayed for so long. Regardless of how much the break-up needed to be done, the truth remains; you and Jungkook have always understood each other. In any language and in any universe, that’s the most romantic feeling to ever encounter. To have the privilege of loving someone and understanding them runs deeper than any cut. 

You two stay silent for a moment, trying to process and convince yourselves to take your words back. Anything. Take anything back. 

But your attempt fails. 

Self-betrayal takes place as you lean in and close your eyes. Jungkook dips his head low and kisses you. Little drops of water fall down the side of your face because of Jungkook’s wet hair. Honestly, if someone had told you it was your tears; you’d believe them. At this point, did it really matter? 

For the first time in three months, Jungkook feels at ease.

His sheets still smell the same. They feel the same too. Soft, clean, and just so him. 

At first, Jungkook attempts to take charge. Just like before, he had you lie down to take care of you. Unfortunately for him, because of his condition, he wasn’t able to do much. Instead, he hovered on top and took his time kissing you. His hands wandered around your body, ultimately settling for the spot in between your neck and cheeks. 

Your hands traveled down inside his pants. 

“Calvin Klein boxers are still by far the hottest look on you,” you claim in between kisses. He smiles into the kiss and mumbles; “yeah, yeah.”

You laugh as he attempts to slip his fingers down your panties. He hisses in pain and groans. “I fucking hate this.”

“Oh? I can go—”

“Shut up.”

“Meanie.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I’m literally trying to get you off and you’re insisting on leaving. Do you resent me that much?”

Shaking your head, you digress. “I don’t resent you.”

He kisses you in response. As he sinks into it, you put your hands on his waist and catch him off guard. You shift your weight and bring yourself on top of him. Making yourself comfortable, you roll your hips on top of his bulge and lift your arms. He sits up halfway and helps you take off your shirt. Without hesitating, he unclasps your bra and wraps his arms around you. He brings you down and kisses you so deeply. Slipping his tongue in and even biting your bottom lip as he breaks away for air. With as much strength as he can, he feels around your breast. 

God, this was the worst fucking time to have busted hands. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you take his hands off your breasts. “Let me take care of you.”

Jungkook gulps but nods and agrees with you. In all honesty, he was tired. He wants you so bad and this was helping him feel relieved. However, it was just too painful and inconvenient to part-take the same way as he used to. He’s glad you understand and are comfortable enough to take over. He’s glad he feels safe and that his ego wasn’t being jeopardized. 

He was no less of a man for letting you love him the way you do. If anything, it made him feel another level of security with you. 

You lift yourself a little and take his length out. On top, you continue to grind on his velvet skin. It feels so good even with the fabric of your panties. Jungkook moans, beginning to feel the tingly feeling arise. He hooks his thumb on one side of your panties and pushes the fabric aside. He pushes it just enough for your folds to come in contact with his cock. 

Oh, it felt so fucking good. 

You gasp a little before giggling. “Feels so good.”

Jungkook sharply inhales. “Baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking fast if you don’t start riding me.”

You laugh, but listen to him. You lift yourself up once again and this time, you sink into his throbbing cock. 

The precum from grinding on him makes it a little easier for you, but it still burns a bit. You stay still, trying to process the feeling and Jungkook takes a minute to calm his mind. He would literally bust a nut if you moved. 

“Okay,” you huff. “I’m good to go. Do you still need a minute?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook breathes. 

“That’s a yes,” you tease. “I need to move or I’ll start to feel icky. You have ten more seconds.”

Jungkook glares at you. “Generous timing. Thank you, baby.”

“Aren’t I just the best?” you laugh, moving closer to him. You squish his cheeks together and place a kiss on his pouty lips. “Times up. Gonna ride you now.”

He takes a deep breath before placing his hands on your hips. You take that as the signal to begin. Also, you can’t help but love this view. 

His bare chest and tattoos are displayed so perfectly for you. His damp hair adds to his needy look. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Instead—and God bless—you’re here. On top of him, ready to ride the shit out of him. 

Easily, you begin to ride him. Every time you sink into his cock, you shift your body. You feel him inside you get harder and harder and love the way you can feel him hit your walls from various angles. It just feels so good to be with him again. 

As you ride him, you two fall into the perfect pace. The high kicks in and suddenly the view of your breast bouncing, you throwing your head back, and the way your wet pussy eats him up—he creams inside you. 

Satisfied, Jungkook lets out a breathy moan and watches his cum leak out of your pussy. You continue to ride him, but your hips move slower and you lift yourself up higher. Jungkook lifts his hips at one point and thrusts as you bounce. You gasp, unable to fathom just how fucking euphoric this feels. 

“Ohhh my god!”

You hit climax and cum.

After all that, your body practically trembles and falls on top of Jungkook. He holds you, runs his fingers through your hair, and tells you how much of a good job you did. As you catch your breath, your breathing stabilizes but also welcomes the sleepiest relief. 

As your eyes flutter close and your body fully collapses on Jungkook, he kisses the top of your head and murmurs; “you’re still the one, baby.”

When the sunlight seeps in, Jungkook slowly wakes up. 

Immediately, he feels a sharp pain in his hand. He looks over and sees that you’re holding it. His hand is kept close to your chest and quickly recalls the night. 

Though he feels a bit embarrassed that he had been that desperate for you; he’s glad it got him here. Yet, a feeling of sadness lingers because he was no idiot. 

Though you wake up next to him in the morning, bare and tangled in his embrace, Jungkook knows that deep down; even here—at the very end of you and him—you are you and he remains him.

The sad truth is that Jungkook understood it. He understood you. Which is why, he’ll never tell you why he got into a fight that night and also why he’ll continue to fight for you until the end.

“Even if it’s the end for us.”

[burninbriight]

after reading the sun and the star my semi-dormant pjo obsession has risen and is infesting my brain side by side with bsd. so.

bsd percy jackson au: a series of self indulgent hcs

skk is the percabeth of the situation. iconic duo. unstoppable. EVERYBODY has heard about them. literal legends among the demigods baby

dazai is a child of athena, chuuya a child of ares

dazai's team beat chuuya's during capture the flag once and chuuya went aight bet. and kicked dazai's ass during the next capture the flag. his team still lost but at least he got an excuse to fight that annoying know-it-all bandaged and beautiful son of athena

the rest is history

the akutagawa sibilings are children of hades. goth mfs

now imagine them having the same storyline as the di angelo sibilings... now in this au you can see why akutagawa talks like he belongs to another age

gin would consider joining the hunters of artemis, but in the end they end up refusing to not leave their brother alone. plus, being immortal would mean seeing him and all of their loved ones die, and gin has had enough of her loved ones dying

if skk is percabeth, shinskk is solangelo

does atsushi fit the standards for a child of apollo? idk but i can't think of another godly parent for him so be it!

unlike will solace, healing is not atsushi's strongest task but he still spends a lot of time helping in the infirmary

and that's where he meets ryūnosuke

unlike solangelo the initial hostility is NOT one sided. ryū behaves like a bitch? atsushi gets bitchy right back.

cue to atsushi looking extremely pissed while bandaging ryū's arm and them muttering insults at each other

ryūnosuke swears he hates that fucking failed doctor and atsushi would almost believe him if it wasn't for the amount of times ryūnosuke has tried sacrificing himself to save him during their quests

also in this au rashomon is a hellhound like mrs. o'learly. she's a sweet doggo that devours space and souls

or she's one of ryū's cocoa puffs? (does this count as a tsats spoiler taken out of context?)

you know that one scene in tsats where nico kisses the back of will's neck and says "i'm proud of you"? now picture that as atsushi to ryūnosuke. yeah.

also atsushi has plague powers bc i say so

yosano is the real will here: overworked healers who feel extremely guilty for every patient that died under their watch to the point of considering themselves murderers

she runs that infirmary like it's the navy

she's also a hell of a fighter, both with bows and arrows and with her own fists

bff with ranpo, who's the oracle!

they gossip abt apollo (boyfail) and complain abt their respective fundamental but hella hard roles at chb

also besties w/ chuuya

also hear me out on kousano in this au... yosano falls helplessly in love with hunter of artemis!kouyou. kouyou tries to convince herself that she's not falling for that bossy and selfless and brave doctor because she has an oath to keep and she couldn't let love knock at her door again. so everytime the hunters come to chb kouyou keeps yosano company and it's all longing looks and painful yearning. yosano wishes she could convince the redhead to break the oath and stay.

but she won't. i <3 kousano angst

moving onto happier lesbians. gin loves wandering by themselves in the forest or by the lake. people know them as the demigod who just fucks off to take a stroll in the woods and disappear there for an indefinite amount of time

and that's how she meets an awkward, stubborn but lovely dryad: you guessed it, it's higuchi!

gin was having a bad day and kicked a tree because they were just so angry— anger turned to guilt when the tree fucking yelped

gin immediately apologized and higuchi asked them what was bothering them. gin never loved to talk, so they were very surprised by themselves when they started rambling about their problems to a dryad they just accidentally hurt

from that day gin began spending even more time in the forest

sometimes they bring higuchi to camp

it isn't unusual for dryads to wander around camp, but higuchi usually kept on her own before meeting gin

higuchi helps gin to open up about their emotions and lower their walls, gin helps higuchi to make friends and to value and love herself

chuuya's fatal flaw is loyalty, dazai's is pride, ryūnosuke's is holding grudges, atushi's is holding too tight onto the past, gin's is also loyalty, yosano's is guilt

tachihara is a child of hermes. parallels between two regretful traitors el oh el

except that luke fucking sucks while tachihara has my heart

OKAY NOW OPEN YOUR EARS. STORMBRINGER ENJOYERS RISE. RIMLAINE AS SILENA AND CLARISSE..... CAN YOU SEE WHAT IS SEE........

lucy is deffff a child of aphrodite but she's so lovely she doesn't even need to use charmspeak to get what she wants. whatever you say beloved princess

idk why but i can picture her throwing an hairbrush at an ancient titant like rachel... her and rachel are acc pretty similiar imo but i will not elaborate

poe is an athena kid! the biggest loser in cabin 6!

lucy and yosano tease him on his crush on ranpo

ranpo is there like damn. is this guy gonna confess or do i have to tell him we are going to date via prophecy

poe is a surprisingly good archer, the apollo kids are almost jealous

nikolai is an hecate kid. a little trickster. a silly magician. he will steal your nose but like in the literal sense and he might not give it back

his best friend is sigma from the aphrodite cabin. sigma cannot fucking stand him

nikolai is actually the reason why sigma has split colored hair. it used to be fully white but one day nikolai went heyyy girlie look at this new hair trick my sibiling taught me :] and sigma ended up actually loving the look? so they kept it

the dryads love sigma and he spends a lot of time with them. they braid flowers in each other's hair and chill

nikolai on the other hand somehow befriended the arpies

fyodor is a child of nemesis. edgelord

jouno is a child of hermes, the eldest in the cabin

half of the camp wants him, the other half wants him gone

teruko is a child of hebe, the goddess of youth!!!!

she's ones of the oldest campers along with jouno, but she prefers to keep her child form for unknown reasons

also i can see her joining the hunters tbh

that's it for now folks i hope someone appreciates my brainrot xoxo

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Baby Trap Chapter 5

Yandere! Recom Miles Quaritch x Female Human Reader

You huffed in annoyance as you walked down the cold frigid halls of the head base of Bridgehead City.

 You averted your eyes from the other staff walking around. You knew you were rather popular.

 The wife of the Colonel, the first woman who gave birth to half breed Navis. Half Humans who looked like full Navi children with no traces of physical human traits. 

(The Sully kids had a quarter of human blood and human traits in their physical forms. Since Jake mated with Neytiri when he was in his Avatar Na'vi body.)

But, most of all, the worst reason. The most beautiful lady ever existed sucked a Na'vi's penis in front of multiple men. 

You gently knocked on the door of General Ardmore and you heard a mumbled affirmation to step in. You breathed in. Let's get this over with. 

Back in Hell's Gate Base, you remembered with painful memories of going to the Human Quaritch's office. The first time was to "ask" him to convince Selfridge to not cancel the Avatar Research Program. 

Then after that, having sex in his office whenever he called for you. As if you were on speed dial. And you bitterly remembered when someone almost walked in on you two years ago. 

The damn General was typing on her hologram computer. She looked to see you and she sneered before beckoning to sit you on the seat in front of you. 

You sat and she stared at you for a while before opening that vile mouth of hers. By her cold blue eyes. She obviously hated you. She reminded you a lot of Maria Walker. 

Luckily, Walker died again by Neytiri. From what you heard. You hid your glee from the Colonel. You didn't want to see her ugly face ever again. As a human at the old base, she would mock and jeer whenever the Colonel was not looking. 

Not to mention, you hated Walker even more despite being dead for almost a year. Why? Jealousy. 

Remember how your husband said he wished he was married to Walker, Zdinarsik or this bitch Ardmore because of your 'wrong' views?

Ditto. Your life would have been easy if you were married to a scientist who respected Navis. Hell, maybe even Lyle. Lyle might change sides for you. Like how Jake did for Neytiri. 

The unattractive masculine deep voice distracted you from your thoughts. "It's a shame we never spoke before. Despite you living here for almost a year." The General's smile was mocking you. 

You smiled. "I have been so busy lately."

General Ardmore nodded. "Yes, raising four kids (remember Spider is with Jake now.) and a husband must be time consuming…." Her cold blue eyes stared at your flat stomach. "And another on the way."

You gasped. How did she know? Besides, just hearing an extra heart beat is not enough to be sure you were pregnant. 

"I am not."

The General scoffed. She leaned in on her desk. "I am not stupid. The cameras showed me the pregnancy tests you bought and threw away in the trash."

Shit. 

"Did you tell your husband yet?"

You shook your head no. She raised a brow. "I also heard some yelling the other night. Lovers' quarrels?" She chuckled. 

If you weren't weaker than her, you would have slapped her ugly face. She found your annoyed expression amusing. Sadistic bitch. 

"And the Colonel's new squad. You gave them quite a show at the gym. I heard some men were jealous and wished they saw it too."

You felt your face turn red. This hag was pushing your limits. You stood up in defiance and she glared. You left and ignored her orders to stay. 

That's it. You had it! Fuck this diplomacy shit. You will run away. Or die trying. You don't care if you get caught again and get fucked in public by your husband. 

No. To hell with him. You will divorce him. Just because he is handsome and charming is not enough. You may love his qualities but you refuse to ruin your kids' life. Especially your daughter. If she stays here, she might be forced to be in a relationship with other men like you were due to her beauty when she grows up.

As usual, caught people staring at you with desire. Luck for you, they knew you belonged to the damn Colonel, they left you alone. 

Sadly, Isabella Maria was sadly noticed by the staff, soldiers, contractors and others. You had a feeling, if you or your husband weren't careful. Someone might commit pedophilia.

There was a space shuttle coming to Pandora again to pick up the Pro Navi helpers. Like you. They were sponsored by the United Nations. They would come a few times a year.

You have to find Miles/ Spider and send him a long with other two human kids back to Earth. You felt like a shitty mother. It was mistake coming to Pandora for vacation. This was the least you can do for them.