#if no one knows I will drop it in various ask boxes

[confusedshades]

Dick heard the zeta tube activating. Without looking away from the computer screen with the case he'd been working on, he said, "Hey B. You're back early. I've almost got the Gold Dust gang transportation chain figured out. The key was figuring out the delivery trucks if you're curious."

When Dick didn't hear anything in response he looked back and froze. That wasn't Batman. That was members of the League.

Why were they there?

What did they want?

Dick stared at the three people standing near the zeta and they stared back. When the woman raised her hand to wave, Dick jerked in reaction.

He dropped from the chair, hitting the lockdown alert as he did so. He rolled out the other side of the desk and dashed off into one of the various tiny cave exits. He threw down a bunch of smoke pellets before he ran down the twisting pathway that was hard to navigate, nevermind, track people in.

He finally found the little crevice he'd been aiming for and looked at the tiny box he'd grabbed from under the desk. Clambering up he dropped some of the green crystals there before dashing away again.

He turned around when he reached the junction where 4 different pathways diverted from the one he was in before climbing up one wall, through a crevice in the ceiling, up to the tiny ledge he'd found during one of his explorations. It was impossible to see from most angles and absolutely impossible for an adult to reach, nevermind fit in.

Bruce had drilled into him from the start, "You see a meta and you hide. You hide, and wait. You only fight if you're cornered."

Dick had asked why, and Bruce's response had chilled him to the bone.

"You don't know what their powers are and if they get distracted for even a microsecond, you can end up dead or crippled for life. I can't keep you safe from that. If something like Joker gas or Tetch's tech gets involved, it'll be worse."

imagine the “Robin meets the JL while Batman is away” trope but it’s inverted. instead of being funny and interesting and extroverted all of the Robins just bolt. bolt, hide, or fight. B told them not to ever let themselves get cornered and to run if a meta sets eyes on them. so they run, they hide, and they fight back with a tiny shard of holdout Kryptonite B had embedded in their gauntlet. they dig their boots in, clench their fists, and prepare to be immovable at <100 lbs.

[skyeoak]

Is the “are you still listening?” Magnus protocol teaser canon? Asking for a friend

[halfwayhearted]

There Beneath — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which everyone but you forgot his 30th birthday.

Word Count: 875+

Disclaimer/s — Happy birthday to the nerd ever! ^_^ + sunshine!reader, fluff/comfort, and… yeah, beautiful!

A/N: Based off this request, ‘Hey pook! So spencer blurb or whatever and it’s based off the “you’re 29” “im 30” “we missed your birthday?” except reader didn’t. so back to his bday and maybe reader shows up at his apt with a thing of books she KNOWS he hasn’t read and tea and his favorite coffee and stuff. #fluff #ineedspencer #iloveu’! My layout messed up on the other one and I ended up deleting it! So.

Blank stare. “No way… we missed your birthday?”

All Spencer could do was stare right back and offer a small, awkward smile, averting his gaze. They had. They all had. Except for, well, you.

You’ve had his birthday marked on your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you didn’t go all out for your best friend’s birthday. You spent half of September secretly and subtly finding out what Spencer Reid did throughout his… rare days at home. His answer every time was that he liked to read, play chess, go out for coffee, or watch his favorite show, ‘Doctor Who’. Okay! Okay, good.

So, with that being said, you did your utmost to grab all of the wrapped presents without fail. You did it, with a grunt and muttered curses, but you did it. Slamming your car door shut, you made your way up to his apartment. The familiar brown door coming into view made your heart quicken.

Stopping right in front of his place, you knocked with the front of your foot. You heard sounds of shuffling before his door swung open. Spencer’s expression shifting from confusion to surprise as he slowly said your name, his head tilting. “Hey… how are you? What are you doing here?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “It’s your birthday. Happy birthday!” A short pause. “Please grab your presents before they fall on the floor.”

With a small laugh, the brunette quickly moves to grab them. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as the weight is lifted. Stepping back, he sets them on his table, politely inviting you inside his house.

“So, am I the first one? Or did Penelope beat me to it. Actually, wait, don’t even answer that.”

Something you can’t quite identify crosses his features, and you instantly know you’ve said something wrong. That’s when it hits you, “No.”

Spencer immediately shrugs. “It’s fine! I’m not... hurt by it or anything. They’re just busy.”

You could’ve hugged him right then, but you refrain. Instead, you slip your hand into your tote bag and pull out a ‘Birthday Boy’ pin. His expression drops, making you laugh. “Come on!”

He remains silent, simply staring at you.

“I’ll wear the birthday hat if you wear the pin.”

His shoulders slump in defeat, and he nods, his eyes widening slightly when you instantly move toward him. Your bottom lip sinks between your teeth, clipping the pin onto his sweater, making sure not to poke him in the process. “There! How’s that? Did I poke you?”

Spencer shakes his head, too flushed to speak.

Without acknowledging it, you pull out the hat, carefully sliding it over your head. With a giddy glance up at him, you ask, “Do I look silly?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What!” You stammer, “I’m being serious! Do I?”

“You look beautiful. What’s in these?” Smooth.

“Your gifts—wait! Sit down first,” you insisted, watching how he does exactly that. You clasp your hands together in clear anticipation.

Spencer purses his lips, staring at the various wrapped boxes in front of him, unsure of which one to open first. It wasn’t that hard…

Just pick one.

Grabbing the one with light blue wrapping paper, he tenderly rips it open. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of different books—all first editions.

“How did you—” he trails off, “How?”

“How did I know? I remember you talking about it one day, so, I did some digging and I finally found them. Do you like them? Let me know.”

He traces a single finger down the spine, his smile broadening. “A lot. Thank you so much. Wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter at the sight of his widening. “Hugs afterward, keep opening!”

More of your gifts are unveiled; among them are two boxes of his favorite tea, his preferred coffee, and even a bag of sugar added in. Humorous.

This had truly made his entire day. Or, to be more precise, you had made his entire day.

Once everything was opened, he stands up and slides his hands over your waist, interlocking them behind your back while yours move to wrap loosely around his neck. “You liked everything?”

“I loved them, thank you. Really. Thank you.”

You hummed softly, “Happy birthday, Spencer.”

He says nothing but nestle his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

After a couple more minutes of comfortable silence, you quietly inquired, “Movie marathon?”

“Please. I’ll make tea, you can pick the movie.”

“It’s your birthday!” You frowned, pulling away.

“My birthday or not, you’re my guest. Choose.”

Your frown doesn’t even seem to linger at that, a smile threatening to break out on your face. You let out a huff and walk into his living room. With a glance back, you notice how much happier he seems compared to when you had first arrived.

You were certain that you’d do this for him every year. After picking the movie, he sat down beside you and set both your cups of tea on the table.

If he was being honest, he’d let you. And maybe one day, you wouldn’t just be his best friend. Not with your head resting on his shoulder, like this was just another casual evening spent together.

What’s the harm in making this, you, permanent?

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri ! ౨ৎ

[dcxdpdabbles]

all of your au's are so delicious how does your brain come up with so many good ideas???

if possible, would you be able to continue Demon Summoning? demon Danny with a language barrier tickles my brain

Danny's eyes snap open. He springs upwards, shouting, "I'm alive! I live, and I shall conquer," throwing his arms into a double fist bump. A distant glow accompanies his cry, but he ignores it.

It must be his powers. They are always a bit hard to control first thing in the morning.

Usually, if he can wake before his alarm clock, he does this little ritual because when he was seven, Jazz read in a Kamra of the mental power." how being able to pump himself up without someone or something needing to wake him would control his day.

He rarely wakes before the alarm clock, but when he does, he tries to shout his self-affirmation.

He waits for the accompanying "My boy lives! Fear him!" that his dad will usually shout from down the hall. When all he hears is silence, Danny realizes something is horribly wrong.

The darkness around him, for example, didn't come from his closed blinds. He seemed to be in a naturally dark place, sitting on a bed that was only visible because of the burning candles nearby.

The most obvious thing was the stone walls covered in random symbols that looked like a cult had been told to vandalize them.

Danny slowly lowered his arms, feeling less like he was the man who could conquer his day with fortune cookie advice and more like a character who got sacrificed in horror movies.

He glances around, but a soul doesn't seem to be near him. Just four walls made of stone covered in black ink and various colored candles.

"Hello?" He calls out cautiously. "Is.....is this a prank? Jazz?"

A low glow of purple springs to life around his bed, spreading through the symbols. The light spreads across the floor in four different directions, and the moment it reaches the stone wall, it slowly goes upwards.

It's brighter the higher it goes until even the ceiling Danny had been unaware of shines brightly. It gives him a better view of the room when he realizes that one of the walls is made of bars.

He's in a prison cell.

Ancients, Danny is in a prison cell!

How did he get here? Where was here!?

The lights go out in seconds, plugging the room into the darkness, which is only affected by the very dim lighting of his candles. Danny grabs the blankets, pulling them up to his chin with a tremble, shifting his eyes back and forth.

He prays his sister will jump out with her usual cackle, claiming this entire creepy set-up was one rather time-consuming prank. It would be far better than the idea that he was kidnapped in his sleep.

"Jazz, this isn't funny. I'm not laughing. Also, Mom and Dad are going to kill you for getting me arrested, just so you know." He shutters, pulling his protective barrier (the blanket) closer to his chin.

The purple returned and vanished just as fast. Danny blinks, lowering the soft material slightly as he says, "Hello?"

Once again, the light returns.

"Is this voice-activated?" He asks the air, watching more purple. He pauses briefly before blurting out the chorus to one of his Humpty Dumpty songs. The symbols go in and out like a rave light as Danny starts to get into it. He drops his covers to pool around his waist, shaking his shoulders up and down and shimming in place.

Eventually, he switches to beatboxing, one hand covering his mouth and the other pumping a fist up and down as the symbols suddenly become cool and switch between various colors in the color circle.

Danny springs up from his bed, boxing and dancing in place as if no one can see him. An idea forms after he nearly chokes on his spit- he's never been the best beatboxer. He fished his phone out of his pocket, clicking through his downloaded ringtones to find the one EMD song he had.

He turned his music as loud as possible and watched the pretty colors flash around him to the beat. He laughed manically and danced around the room to his own personal rave.

He is about to start attempting to break dance when the cell door suddenly groans. Freezing in place, with one foot in the air mid-boggie, Danny can only stare wide-eyed at the thing swinging open to a man in a bat costume who watches him disapprovingly.

"Oh, I forgot about the prison cell." Danny hisses under his breath.

The man opens his mouth, and the sounds that fall out are sounds that might have been a language. He just doesn't know what any of it means but-

Wait. He recognizes those sounds. It was what the cult people were speaking in

Danny gasps, "I forgot about the cult!"

The man narrows his eyes behind the strange mask before stepping back and slamming the door shut. Danny watches him walk backward into the darkness until the man vanishes.

Slowly, Danny lowers his foot to the ground. "I don't feel safe."

Not even the company light show can make him feel better.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Well?" Bruce asks once he's back in the central part of the cave. His family, Raven, and John Constantine surround the Batcomputer, which displays the cameras set up in the demons' containment unit.

He would have preferred more secure holding, but the magic users assured him that natural stone walls with protective wards would be far better for a demon than any man-made prison.

"I'm not sure what he's saying." John fiddles with his pocket lighter, but his eyes never leave the screen. "But that is definitely a high demon."

"He's more powerful than my father," Raven confirms with a grim frown. The curve of her jaw is tense, which only appears when speaking of her parentage. Damian places an arm around her shoulder, offering his girlfriend some support. "It only took him a few seconds to push the wards to their limits after waking up. Then he went around doing a ceremonial dance that was about to shatter the wards, all of them, had Batman not intervene."

"I thought those were your strongest wards?" Dicks asks

"They are," John answers gravely, and the room falls into a troubled silence.

"What's he doing now?" Bruce asks, walking up behind the group but still feeling unsettled. When that- thing- turned to him, the bright glowing green of its eyes felt like the Lazurus Pit waters trying to drown him. He had to retreat quickly, or the screaming voices that appeared when he locked eyes with the demon would have driven him mad.

"He's rattling the bars of the cell," Tim reports, the only one sitting at the controls. "It looks like he is attempting to summon some of his powers as if those twin rings were meant to do anything besides go over his body. Now he's falling to the ground. He's taking the fetal position....he's crying."

They all watched as the demon rocked himself in fetal position with tears streaming down his face. He had a very human face, were it not for the flowing green eyes.

"Well, now I just feel bad," Jason grunts.

"Mate, demons pull this trick all the time. The moment you feel bad for them is the moment they know they won." John sighs. "It's an act. Higher demons are known for doing that. Look. He already broke through the first three levels."

The bottom and wall symbols on the screen shattered in a lovely shimmering boom. The demon screamed, rolling on the ground before it leaped up and broke through the bars in a mad dash.

Everyone gasps as the demon twists around to look right at the cameras. He points towards it while saying something in his strange, chilling language, and the image is lost as the camera fails.

They all twist on their heels, rushing to the containment room only to find that the demon is long gone. On the ground is a disregarded old phone that none of them has seen in years.

It looked like one of the earliest cell phones, with a buttoned keyboard and a tiny screen. Bruce lets his team search for clues as he turns the phone over and feels his heart fall to his knees.

On the screen is an image of Jack Roux.

The boy that they had rescued from being sacrificed only a few days ago. Was the demon not willing to let him go? Was it hunting him down!?

"We have to move." He says, feeling more than seeing his children fall behind him as he runs to the batmobile. "A young life is in horrible danger!"

[rene-spade]

my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

--

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

-

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

-

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

-

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

-

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

-

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

-

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

-

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

--

masterpost

[marvelfilth]

A Demonstration (18+)

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader

Warnings: smut, pet names

Summary: you've been pining over Ellie for years, what happens when you walk into her in a very... compromising place

Masterlist

Your whole body trembles by the time you finally find the courage to open the door, the provocative sign making you blush furiously. You're thankful no one greets you when you step inside, the silence allowing your nerves to calm a bit. You look around the shop, sensual lighting enhancing the mood, showcasing various rows of toys.

You clear your throat and take a hesitant step further, looking around wildly in search of something inconspicuous and small. There's a stand full of dick shaped lollipops that makes you bite back an amused smile, and right next to it is a stand dedicated to vaginas. You look to the other side and pass the shelves full of flavored lube, eyes zeroed in on small bullet vibrators. 

The sizes vary, but you're not sure you'll be able to take something bigger than two of your fingers, so you take one in the closest size, turn around and bump into someone's chest, dropping the small box. Strong hands clasp around your shoulders, steadying you, captivating smell of tobacco and dark chocolate invading your senses. You mutter an apology, hurrying to bend and pick up the box before the woman notices, but she has the same thing in mind, her hand grazing yours as she grabs it before you could. You straighten, gnawing on your lower lip and looking away, too embarrassed to face the stranger. 

"Y/n?" A familiar voice speaks. Your eyes widen comically, falling on the woman you haven't thought about in years. "Ellie?"

You've spent half of your teenage years pinning over the girl, desperately wishing she'd look at you, dreaming about her touch. Spending a fair share of time in close proximity to her (perks of being Jessi's friend) made you crave her presence at all times, which made the pain even worse when she decided to flee the city right after a nasty fight with her adoptive father. You've never told anyone about your feelings for her, keeping them buried deep in your heart. 

You can't ignore them now, even after years of suppression. 

“Hi,” she breathes out, a dorky smile on her lips, and offers you the box. “I was hoping I'd bump into you somewhere, and here you are.” 

You blush under her watchful eyes, shifting from foot to foot, and take the box. “I didn't know you were back.” 

She looks you up and down, her eyes lingering on the toy in your hands. “I didn't tell anyone.” 

“Even Dina?” You can't help, but ask.

She huffs a quiet laugh. “Especially Dina. She can't keep shit to herself. Where do you think all the gossip comes from?” 

You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “So no one knows you're in town?” 

“No one, except for you and the people who've helped me put this whole thing up.” She spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the shop around her. Your jaw grows slack, your fingers clutching around the box tightly. She smirks, and your blush deepens, your heart almost bursting out of your chest. 

“It’s- it's a nice shop,” you stummer.

She hums. “Are you going to be a regular?” she teases good-naturally, but there's a glint in her eyes that tells you she's actually curious about the answer. 

“I don't think so? I mean, I've never actually been- um… I don't usually…” you trail off, closing your eyes. She grasps your wrist, her thumb drawing half circles over your pulse point, and the gesture makes you relax slightly. “Is it your first time buying a sex toy?” she asks, her voice raspy and deep. You nod jerkily, looking away from her prying eyes. “It's okay, I got it.” She whispers, before quickly walking to the front of the shop and turning the lock. 

You shudder involuntarily, stepping closer to the register. She stops you midway and grasps your wrist, leading you towards the back. “C’mon, I think I have something you'll like.” 

You gulp, wishing you never left your apartment, but follow her nonetheless. You enter a small storage room full of nondescript boxes, and she nudges you towards the only table in the room. You lean against it, watching as she rummages around in search of god knows what, your eyes landing on her lean legs before trailing up to her perky butt. You look away, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

“What do you think?” She asks, and you're forced to look at her again. 

She's holding some kind of a sex toy in her hands, one you're not familiar with at all. “I… I don't know what that is.” 

Her lips stretch in a lazy smile as she walks up to you. She holds your chin between her fingers, tilting your head up. “Would you like to find out?” 

You suck in a breath, looking back at the toy, and nod shakily. She chuckles and opens the box. The toy is small and elongated, with a few buttons on one side.

“That little guy can make you come in two minutes,” she starts, caressing the toy with her thumb, “you put it on your clit, and it'll suck it like there's no tomorrow.” She chuckles, seeing the look on your face. “Wanna try?” 

“N-no,” you stummer, blushing furiously. “I think I'll just stick to this for now.” You hold up the box in your hand.

Ellie hums and makes her way to you, throwing the toy in her hand on the table. “Do you know how to use it?” 

You freeze, not expecting the question. 

“I- I guess?"

She chuckles, and takes it from you. “I'll give you a demonstration then.” 

You choke on your spit. “What?” 

She pats your cheek playfully, her thumb lingering on your lower lip, and you struggle to keep your tongue from darting out. “Hop up, babe.” 

Your body moves on its own, and a second later you're sitting on the table, your back against the wall, holding the hem of your dress in your clenched fists.

She takes out a bottle of lube from the drawer, followed by a fleshlight. You gulp, noting how close to the real thing the toy is. Ellie looks at you for a moment, before squeezing some lube on her fingers and spreading it over the toy, her eyes returning to you. She slides her thumb over the fake clit of the toy, spreading lube, you can almost feel the ghost of her touch on your folds, your clit twitching. She looks at you like she knows exactly what's going through your head and places her hand on your leg. Your breath hitches and you clump your thighs shut, trapping her hand between your legs. She raises an eyebrow, and pushes her thumb inside, her dark eyes on you. You swallow, wishing she was pushing inside you instead. 

"You have to listen to your body, if something doesn't feel good, don't do it." Her hand leaves your leg and you whimper at the loss, cheeks burning when Ellie merely chuckles. She takes the vibrator and slowly pushes it inside, her thumb painting circles over the toy's clit. "You think that'll feel good for you?" 

You nod rapidly, not trusting your voice. She hums, thrusting it slowly and you exhale shakily, your pussy clenching around nothing. She continues, her chocolate eyes pinned to your face, catching the way your lips open, the way your eyes grow misty with lust. 

"I think so too, angel, I think you'll take it like a good girl," she whispers, her hand returns to your thigh sliding higher, almost there. 

You jump off the table, looking down at the floor as you stutter some made-up excuse. Your cheeks burn in shame, your thighs clenched. You try to walk past her, but she stops you, one hand on your waist, the other under your jaw, tilting your face up.

"Where do you think you're going, bunny? I don't think you've learned just yet." She guides you back on the table, toys forgotten as she chooses to stand between your parted thighs. She looks you up and down appreciatively, eyes lingering on your exposed cleavage, hands hot on your hips. "Why don't you show me how you do it? I need to know what I'm working with." She licks her lips, thumbs tracing circles over your thin dress.

Your cheeks heat up and you almost shake your head no, ready to bolt out the door and forget any of this ever happened.

"Hey, look at me." She tilts your head up, her lips inches away from yours. "I'm going to make you feel good, baby. But I want to see you first, okay? Show me how pretty your pussy looks," she husks, pupils blown with want.

You nod, ready to give it all to her. Her lips come crashing down on your own, pulling you in a bruising kiss. You gasp, your lips parting just enough to allow her tongue entrance, the wet muscle exploring your mouth before she bites on your lower lip, slowly pulling away. Your legs hook over her waist, trapping her in place. She takes your hand, her palm over yours, and you can't help but notice the difference in size. Her long, slender fingers wrap around your hand completely, leaving you to wonder how good they'll feel inside you. 

"Do it or I'll have to punish you." 

You blink, breath hitching. "P-punish me?" 

She smiles. "See that?" She nods at one of the boxes on the counter. You gulp and look back at her, eyes wide. "Don't make me use that on you, baby. Do as I say." 

You nod, and hitch up your dress, your legs parting. Ellie pulls away as far as your legs allow, her hands on your waist. You take a steadying breath, before exhaling and looking up to her gorgeous green eyes, full of hunger and need. You tug on your panties, slowly dragging them down, and Ellie takes them from your hand and shoves them into her back pocket, smiling at the way you gulp loudly. "You won't need them," she whispers, putting her hands back on your thighs, tracing circles over your heated skin. You nod, biting on your lower lip, unconsciously spreading your legs wider. 

"That's right, spread em wide open for me," she whispers, hunching up your dress to reveal your glistening core. 

She sucks in a breath, her eyes growing darker, and wets her lips. Your chest burns, and you're sure it's the same color as your cheeks, embarrassingly red. Still, her words ring in your head, making your cup your pussy. You stifle a moan, feeling just how wet you are, your folds drenched in your arousal. 

“Good girl,” she hums, “go on, baby, push them inside.” 

You do as she says without a second thought, your fingers sinking in your warmth. She bites on her lip, her eyes pinned to your slick folds, and places her hands over your bra, kneading your covered breasts. You moan, steadily pumping your fingers inside your clenching pussy, arching into her muscled form. 

“You're not doing it right, baby.” She stops you, her fingers around your wrist. "You can't even take care of your pretty cunt without my help.” 

You whine, hips buckling. “Don't worry, I'll help you out." 

She tugs your closer, your heat snug against her lower stomach, and reaches for the toy she was using, pulling it out of the flashlight and pushing it down your folds, lube and slick coating the toy. You whine, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your nails digging into her waist. “Please, Ellie.”

She chuckles, circling your clit with the tip of the toy. “Please what?” 

“Put it inside, please,” you whimper, chasing the toy with your hips. 

She hums, her palm sliding up your chest to wrap around your neck with a barest hint of pressure. "Do you think you can take it, pretty girl?"

You suck in a breath, wiggling your hips to get friction, and close your eyes. “Yes.” 

“Yeah?” She chuckles, nudging the tip of the toy against your entrance, before slowly easing it inside. She leans in close, her hot breath caressing your ear. “Good girl.” She presses the button, making the toy vibrate, and pushes it fully inside. 

“Ellie…” You cry out, back arching into her lean body, your entire being on fire. You roughly pull on her hair when she starts moving the toy, bringing her face to your neck. She sucks on the tender flesh, fucking you slowly.

“I bet you taste fucking amazing,” she purrs, kissing the underside of your jaw before pulling you in a heated kiss.

You whimper, grinding against her messily, her front covered in your arousal. She moves the toy faster, pushing it deeper and deeper, the vibrations spreading pleasure over your body. She slides her thumb over your clit and you scream, eyes clenched tightly as you come.

“There's my good girl,” she praises, slowing down, her lips hot on your skin, tongue catching beads of sweat in the valley between your breasts. 

You catch your breath, whining in protest as she pulls out the toy and grind against her front, but she stops you with a firm grip. “You made a big mess, bunny. It's time you clean it all up.” She tugs you off the table and pushes you down to your knees, undoing her belt buckle. 

You nod eagerly, mouth watering at the sight. “Yes, Ellie.”

[lysenfeu]

141 + Buying/owning sex toys

MDNI 18+ Explicit Content

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gaz: An absolute collector, Kyle loves experimenting and trying new things. Over time he’s built a veritable arsenal of options. He's a tad embarrassed to show you his collection when you bring up using toys, but watching your excited response when you dig through his toy box for the first time melts that away quickly. Different shapes and sizes, a dozen vibration settings, even a toy that’s WiFi enabled for long distance. You don't even know where to begin. “Which one should I pick?” Kyle just grins at you. “How about we start simple and work our way up, hm? It's going to be a long night for you sweetheart.”

Ghost: Simon went dead silent the first time you asked him about toys and you weren't sure if he was OK or not. You dropped it until he returned the next week with a formatted list like he was submitting a requisition to the quartermaster. You're stunned but secretly thrilled by his choices. Various restraints (rope, metal cuffs and padded leather), ball gag, riding crop, black studded collar. “For me or for you?” you ask him. He can't look you in the eye when he answers. “Both.”

Soap: He has some odds and ends laying around (cock rings, nipple clamps, a vibrating bullet) but never really thought about getting more until you bring it up. He gets SO excited when you ask to pick out something new together. Acting like a kid in a candy store, sending you links and pictures at random times during the day. Opening your messages becomes a ticking time bomb of getting caught by coworkers with a large neon pink vibrator on your screen, Johnny asking perfunct but filthy questions. “How much can ye handle, hen? Think that'll fit?”

Price: John sticks to the classics. Jute rope, a Hitachi wand, a basic silicone dildo. He'll happily go grab anything you request if needed, but he has his routine down pat and tends to keep it that way. He likes using what he's comfortable and familiar with and can use his toys with wicked precision as a result. He knows the exact angles and pressure needed, the perfect ties that keep you trussed up but comfortable, turning you into a complete mess with only one or two simple accessories needed. “What d'ya think, love? This enough for ya?”

[wrioluvr]

coming out to + confessing to belobog men. ⋆⋅♡⋅⋆

note: wanted to try my hand at writing more cute stuff <3 also there are like ZERO posts in the luka x male reader tag my baby deserves more. happy pride my beloved readers!!! i wrote this like 6 months ago and coincidentally just picked it back up in time for june! i don't even play hsr anymore... crying emoji content: male reader, fluff. luka, sampo, gepard

sampo (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

would 100% know before you even told him

"hey, [name]! heard you got something to tell me, don't worry, your good pal sampo's all ears."

"sampo... uh.....i like... guys...."

"oh, is that it? i thought it was obvious..."

"HUH????"

"i meant- thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. your secret's safe with me, hehe." placing his hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture, he promises sincerely. despite his initial reaction, he really is touched. not many people trust him, so your willingness to share something so personal made him feel special.

"oh, and one more thing....."

"what is it? you got a secret boyfriend you didn't tell me about?" he asks teasingly, not expecting the bomb you're about to drop on him.

"...i like you."

his eyes go wide. "now that's a surprise."

even though he'd scam people without a second thought, some calling him cruel, he can't bring himself to be indifferent to you. here you were, pouring your heart out, with such a nervous expression on your face, how could he maintain his usual sly demeanour? in all seriousness, he knows he's a bit scummy, so he would be a bit hesitant about getting into a relationship for your sake. he's always running about, chased by the authorities, he doesn't want you to be involved into all that. but if you're willing to accept him and his slippery ways, he'll be sure to put an equal amount of effort. he hates owing favours, after all.

"oh, how could i refuse such a an enticing offer? of course i'll be your boyfriend, [name]." he can't help the grin that appears on his face at your expression, simultaneously shocked and overjoyed. "seriously, you're too precious.... c'mon, let's go on a date!" throwing an arm around you, he squeezes your shoulder excitedly.

"wha- like right now?? and you accepted my confession just like that???" you're at loss of words as he drags you along to who knows where.

"what are you waiting for? let's go, pal! wait- should i call you pal now that we're dating? how about buddy? hmm... still too friendly. how do you feel about sweetheart?"

જ⁀➴

every time he appears at your door, giving you a sheepish grin as he explains how he needs to lay low for a bit, it always comes with a kiss, or several, along with a heart-shaped box of your favourite chocolates. he might go missing for a few days at a time on "business" (probably some illegal trading), but he always makes sure to update you on his whereabouts so you don't worry, sending a bunch of heart pom-pom stickers to let you know he misses you. if anyone were to ever make some snide comments about your sexuality, his first instinct would be to drop every job he's doing and comfort you, followed by using his various contacts to deal with that person swiftly. natasha and seele can't believe he actually got someone to like him, much less get into a serious relationship, but nevertheless, they make sure to look out for you to ensure he doesn't break your heart. he vows not to ever hurt you though, it's the last thing he'd ever want. his promises are often fickle with his clients, but with you, they're always sincere.

luka (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

would definitely being overenthusiastic about being an ally

"[name], hey! you wanted to tell me something? i hope it's about training with me...."

"sorry, luka, it's not about that.... i.... i just wanted to let you know that i'm gay."

"oh! like seele and bronya!"

"i mean- i guess....?" your nervousness was immediately replaced by a comical surprise at his response, you had to suppress your laughter. he was so genuine, it was endearing.

"don't worry! if any thugs give you shit for it, just tell me. i'll deal with them right away... i've been itching for a fight anyway." he immediately gets into a fighting stance, throwing a few punches in the air to get his point across. he ended his little show with a wink, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. you decided to tell him then and there.

"and uh, luka. i like you."

"aw, thanks! i like you too. you're a great friend, [name]."

"like, in the romantic way..."

"that works too! that way, i can protect you easier." without missing a beat, he flashes you a grin and a thumbs up, seemingly unfazed by your sudden confession. but the slight dust of red on his cheeks let you know your words did have an effect.

"wait... you know this means we'll be boyfriends?" your head's reeling at how easily he accepted your feelings. did this man really not think about anything but training and beating up thugs??? not that you were complaining, his drive was one of his charming points, but still.

"yeah, i don't mind. with someone like you by my side, i'm sure i could take on any enemy. thank you for giving me this opportunity."

જ⁀➴

even though he puts on a strong front, secretly, he's deathly afraid of becoming a burden, especially to you. one of his favourite pastimes is training and working out with you, or he'd be content for you to just watch him train and cheer for him as well. as long as he has the reassurance that you know he's getting stronger, allowing him to shield you from the dangers of the underworld. if he ever gets injured, a simple persuasion won't work, you'll have to physically hold him in place so that you can treat his cuts and bruises - no matter how much he protests and insists he's fine, he does appreciate it. a lot. he enjoys the little things, the way you run your fingers along the cool metal of his arm as you ramble about your day, or the enthusiastic whoop you give every time he knocks an opponent out at the fight club, or the scent of the freshly cleaned towel you bring him to dry his sweat. you help him realise that there's time to relax, his self-imposed training schedule being so intense and demanding. getting him to not be so hard on himself would be a treat. if you ever get derogatory comments about your sexuality... trust, he'll personally teach them a lesson, and ask natasha not to treat them once he's done. after all, you give him another reason to continue training to be the strongest. he has to be there for you.

gepard ( •̀ - •́ )

dense cutie... wouldn't get your hints until you told him explicitly

"my apologies for being late, [name]... you had something you wanted to tell me?"

"no problem, gepard... i just wanted to tell you that-" taking a deep breath, you prepare youself for his reaction. "-i like guys."

"oh? me too, i'm quite fond of the guards under my care."

"i mean that i'm gay..."

"oh, that's what you meant. are you telling me this because you've faced some form of discrimination lately? don't worry, belobog has strict laws in place to prevent-"

"no, gepard- i'm telling this because i like you..."

"oh."

જ⁀➴

congratulations, you've courted the sweetest man in all of belobog! initially, he was slightly worried that your newfound relationship would interfere with his duties as protector of the people, but much to his surprise, making time for you is easy. or more so, it's because you always make the effort to stop by whenever he's out patrolling, so you end up spending a lot of time together anyway. his face might get red when you blow him a kiss behind the rest of the silvermane guards' backs, but he always makes sure to let you know how much he appreciates your guidance. he's a little self-conscious about his lack of romantic experience, so be gentle with him! don't tease him too much. while he is fully devoted to his duty, he's not above slipping away for a few minutes when you text him to meet in a back alley, to gift him some flowers you may or may not have stolen from belobog's florist. the next day, he would return the favour by holding out a bunch of your favourite flowers, home grown (an attempt was made) in his very own garden. hey, even if they're slightly wilted, it's the thought that counts, right? don't look at him with that affectionate gaze! he's embarrassed. it would be quite funny if you had criminal tendencies, gepard would be absolutely torn between lecturing you and turning a blind eye simply because his lovely boyfriend had made lunch for him earlier in the day. especially if you're friends with sampo, the little shit would threaten to snitch to you everytime gepard almost catches him. or.... perhaps.... he let you off the hook because of that one time you pinned him against some alley wall (when he was supposed to be patrolling! blasphemous.) and kissed him so hard his legs gave out. you've become one of his weaknesses, but he doesn't mind it. at all.

pic credits to dailysampo, dailygepard and dailylukaa on twt!

[inhonoredglory]

Defining Ineffable Love (or, Aziracrow Learn the Rules of Romance)

(In response to this ask about ineffables and asexuality)

One of the major threads this season was Aziraphale and Crowley asking themselves what exactly is their relationship. Not what it is in terms of how much they love each other. (That's a given.) But what it is in terms of the human implications of their love.

Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms. –David Tennant (source)

For 6000 years, they’ve never put a name on their relationship. They didn’t, because they’re inhuman, genderless, sexless beings and they didn’t grow up (as it were) with labels. And even when they did learn them, they couldn’t say it was love, because admitting that was a death sentence.

All of Aziraphale’s heart eyes and pining could live comfortably in his mind if he never admitted what that said about him as an angel (trauma compartmentalization). Crowley tries desperately to be cruel and nasty to add white noise around the blatant reality of his constant loyalty to Aziraphale. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real and they can’t punish you.

After the Not-pocalypse, for all rights and purposes, Aziraphale and Crowley chose humanity as their identity. We see Aziraphale “playing house” in various human roles (as a landlord, a private eye, a magician).

We even see Crowley intentionally taking on human behavior to handle emotional issues: “Just breathe, that’s what humans do.” They’re slowly and intentionally enculturating themselves into the world they want to belong––earth.

Yet it’s setting up Maggie and Nina that makes Aziraphale and Crowley start thinking about their relationship as a human construct.

Because fundamentally, Aziraphale and Crowley are not human. Like Neil Gaiman tells us constantly, they can’t be defined in human terms when it comes to gender and sexuality. They can shift and move through each and any of those markers at will, purely for the pleasure of the thing: “angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.”

IMO that makes them originally asexual, in the sense they were created without the need for sex. And it makes them fundamentally transgender and genderfluid, because while on earth, their sexless, eldritch spiritual bodies take on human, gendered forms and clothing. What gender (and sexuality) they identify with while on earth varies through the eras. Crowley definitely has a fluid gender identity, while Aziraphale appears to have settled on gay man (aka THE southern pansy) for his internal typology (although all of these identities are subject to change).

In the midst of all this fluidity, it’s no wonder Aziraphale and Crowley haven’t thought of their relationship in human terms before. There’s just so much different in them and their bodies than what they see in humanity. And there are no books and songs that show the kind of love they have, in the malleable, sexless bodies they have, with the background they have; it’s all ineffable.

Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t start out thinking they were in a romantic relationship. Whatever feelings they had were long repressed, redefined, and shuttled away. But they did love each other, without question. And it was that love which scared them, because it was bigger than anything they saw among humans, a love that was beautiful and blasphemous and unfathomable.

Kinda like what David Duchovny said about Mulder and Scully in The X-Files, “I don’t know if they’re in love. In a way, their relationship is deeper than that, because they cannot live without each other.”

Now take this profound, ineffable love and drop it into the little boxes and labels human culture has created for itself.

Full disclosure: I’m an asexual demiromantic person in a queerplatonic relationship, so I’ve done a fair bit of research on what romance is and how the rituals of romance are, in many ways, social inventions that vary from culture to culture. There’s love and then there’s romance, and they don’t always overlap. So my interpretation of Aziraphale and Crowley comes through this lens and the fact that Neil Gaiman has affirmed the validity of an ace-spec reading on our ineffables.

Which brings me back to my thesis: That only now are Aziraphale and Crowley thinking of themselves as a romantic couple, precisely because they are interfacing with humans and taking on their social rules.

I like this one asexual person’s description of their experience, which feels very much like our ineffables (from a very good article, I def recommend):

If there is a border between friendship and romance, then in my internal landscape, it goes right through a misty forest where no one has ever bothered to place signs.... Neither of us had intended to start anything even vaguely romantic, but the activities we did and the intense kind of immediate connection we had was coded as romantic in our culture.

That’s what Crowley realizes when Nina confronts him about his relationship to Aziraphale.

“It looks like that from here.” What Crowley and Aziraphale share is beyond definition, but Nina cannot imagine the anything beyond the human labels she was taught. The tragedy of an everlasting love is that it can only be conveyed properly to other humans if it is cast in such small human words––partner, boyfriend, husband.

Because when Crowley denied those human roles for Aziraphale, Nina slid down the path of thinking Aziraphale was just his “bit on the side,” because there were no labels left she could imagine for them. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real.

That’s the purpose of labels, to culturally validate a person's identity. Labels, of course, DO NOT create reality; people's experiences are always real, in all their varied ineffability. But labels allow a space for culture (ie other humans and political and legal society) to recognize formally your lived reality.

So Crowley started really thinking about him and Aziraphale, about the ineffable love between them and realized that in human terms, those would be the things he’d call Aziraphale, because those were the words that gave Aziraphale that place of importance in his life.

But with that realization comes all the human trappings and behavioral patterns around those words (the candlelit dinners, dramatic rescues, drinks at the Ritz, etc.) which Crowley had never thought of before, and yet… maybe romance is what he and Aziraphale have been doing all along.

That’s why this season centered so much around Aziraphale and Crowley using cultural artifacts (film and literature) to understand romance, because romance is so deeply socially-defined.

Aziraphale himself has been leaning hard into the romantic social cues (he’s more well-read in the cultural trappings of romance than Crowley is), especially post-Blitz. But when he watches Maggie and Nina dancing, he works up the courage to do something with Crowley that’s even more explicitly loaded as “traditionally romantic” than anything he’s done up to that point.

Because while risking their lives for each other and defying everything for each other is love in its purest form, dancing (specifically in Jane Austen’s world) is a public performance coded for potential marriage partners. It's an intimate ritual of the entire body. (And in British slang, dancing has been used as a euphemism for sex.)

Crowley's "We don't dance" is really telling, because it shows Crowley’s awareness of the unknowable devotion between them vs the human roles Aziraphale is asking him to fill, specifically its physical aspects. Aziraphale is asking to make their relationship more public, more physically explicit, more coded as romantic in a setting specifically intended to couple individuals.

While Maggie and Nina inspired Aziraphale to progress their relationship into a publicly physical direction, Maggie and Nina inspired Crowley to think of the emotional implications of their human roles: the commitment, security, and monogamy of a husband, a partner, an us.

That’s what he decides after Maggie and Nina confront him in the end. “You never say what you’re really thinking.” He wants to codify his relationship so they each become responsible to one another. Aziraphale has always been his soulmate, the one he could always rely on. But he wants to place a word and a role to their love that will bring with it Aziraphale’s commitment and dedication to him.

And that's another reason why Crowley kisses Aziraphale, because he knows Aziraphale was willing to make their relationship physical, and he wants that, too. To consummate this bond in the way humans do.

But Crowley doesn’t really know how to kiss; he’s not as worldly as he makes out to be. (It’s Aziraphale who owns the gun, and Crowley who’s never fired one.) He uses the kiss as a tool to get across to Aziraphale what he wants for them, in the physical language Aziraphale has been using, because "one fabulous kiss and we're good," right?

But it doesn’t work, because real life and real emotions don’t work like that; life and love don’t follow a script, despite the novels and plays and songs.

Aziraphale and Crowley spent this entire season trying to figure out what their relationship is and what they wanted out of it, trying to make sense of the unfathomable thing they share and the human implications of it, and not quite landing on the same page.

Part 2 of this Analysis, covering a correction in Crowley’s statement (“You don’t dance”) and the further implications of dancing/sex.

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

The realization is almost startling. Kara hasn’t called her by her name in what seems to be a long time. They’ve seen each other nearly every day in the months following Alex and Kelly’s wedding, and yet Kara had said her given name only a handful of times, and only out in public.

Once Lena recognizes this curious phenomenon, she decides, as a scientist, that she needs empirical evidence to prove she hasn’t deluded herself into believing a fantasy. Over a two week period, Lena record dates, times, events, situations, and surrounding bystanders, and how each correlates to a different pet names from Kara.

By the end of the fortnite, the brunette has amassed a relatively large amount of data. Lena found that Kara called her:

Baby- 27 times

Babe- 15 times

Sweetheart- 10 times

Honey- 4 times

Lena is astounded to realize that:

1. She and Kara spend A LOT of time together; and

2. Kara has only called her by her name three times (two at The Foundation during a press conference, and one at CatCo when Lena dropped by to bring her favorite new Editor in Chief lunch.

Armed with proof, Lena plans to confront Kara when they meet tonight before game night. Unsurprisingly, Kara has already begun setting up snacks and games when Lena unlocks the door to what has become her shared apartment with Kara. Surprisingly, Lena didn’t have to find any sort of awkward segue to begin the conversation.

“Baby, what last game do you think we should set out for tonight? We played clue last week, but the last time we played monopoly it kind of got out of hand.”

“I wouldn’t say, ‘out of hand,’ Kara.”

“Babe, you bankrupted everyone and refused to end the game until Alex admitted you were the queen of monopoly. We do not need to have a repeat performance of that now that Esme will be coming.”

“Fine, let’s just play Candyland. Esme will enjoy it and she won’t have to struggle to keep up with the adults for this one.”

“Perfect idea, honey. Thanks for helping me pick,” Kara says as she finishes setting up and turns back around to face Lena.

Knowing there is no better opportunity than now, Lena asks if they can talk. If Kara swallows after she agrees, no one has to know. Lena leads Kara to the couch; they sit close enough to grasp hands if necessary but far enough to move their arms or legs without brushing against one another.

“Kara, why have you been calling me all these nicknames?”

“What do you mean? I’ve just been calling you by your name.”

It seems Lena didn’t factor in the possibility that Kara herself hadn’t realized she amassed such a large repertoire of pet names for Lena. A pink tinge crawls slowly up pale cheeks.

“Kar, you haven’t addressed me by my name outside of our jobs in months.”

“Okay, but we see each other every day. What have a been calling you?”

It seems Lena will have to shove her embarrassment in a little box so she can admit her findings to Kara.

“Well, you’ve… you’ve been calling me various terms of endearment.”

Kara chuckles at Lena’s overly formal response.

“Lee, just tell me what I’ve been calling you. It can’t be offensive, or you’d have brought this up ages ago.”

“You’ve been calling me ‘baby,’ and… and ‘babe,’ and ‘sweetheart,’ and—”

“Oh. Okay, did it bother you?”

“Well, no. I just—“

“Because if it has, I can totally stop. I’d hate to cross any boundaries.”

Boundaries. Since what Nia dubbed the “Friendship Breakup of the Century,” boundaries have been blurrier than ever. Even before Lex revealed Kara as Supergirl, boundaries between them were murky, tiptoeing back and forth over the line of friendship and something more. Lena has managed to keep her feelings stuffed into neat little boxes. She has never been certain if Kara felt what she did, never wanted to rock the boat of their relationship by calling to attention just how…intimate some aspects of their relationship are.

“What boundaries are there really left to cross, Kara?”

“What do you mean?”

It seems Lena will have to buck up and spell it out.

“We sleep in the same bed, for gods sake!”

Kara tilts her head, looking a bit like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked it!”

“I—I do!” Lena runs a hand through her wavy locks, growing increasingly frustrated by Kara’s inability to understand how odd their friendship is.

“So what’s the problem?!”

Lena jumps up, pacing back and forth in the space between the coffee table and the couch. She taps her fingers rhythmically against her crossed arms, trying to calm herself down.

“Friends don’t do this! The nicknames, sharing beds, and lunch dates, and movies nights cuddled up on the couch. Don’t you see how, how romantic this all is?!”

Kara jumps up, standing in Lena’s way, gently grabbing Lena’s shoulders. The blonde slowly uncrossed Lena’s arms, trailing her hands down until she is grasping Lena’s trembling hands. In the most soothing voice she can muster, Kara says,

“I mean, I guess. But we’ve never had a typical friendship, Lee. We’ve always been so much more, it doesn’t seem right to not do any of that. If you aren’t uncomfortable, and you don’t want me to stop, maybe…maybe all we have to do is stop being friends, and start being girlfriends.”

Girlfriends. Girlfriends? Lena can barely believe her ears.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, baby, be my girlfriend.” Kara gives Lena a beaming smile, watching as the brunette flounders to give her an answer.

“Girlfriends, like romantically, or…” Kara chuckles at Lena’s disbelieving tone.

“Yes, romantically! Like you said, there aren’t any boundaries left to cross but this one,” Kara moves her arms to Lena’s waist, leaning down slowly, giving the former CEO time to decline if she wants. Lena stares up at Kara, kryptonite green eyes roving between her lips and crystal blue eyes. With barely centimeters left between their lips, Lena surges forward onto her tiptoes, arms winding around Kara’s neck to pull her downward.

Seconds, minutes, even hours could have gone by before Kara breaks the kiss.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Lena happily says, moving to hug Kara tightly.

“FINALLY!” A voice exclaims.

Kara looks up, having not noticed her sister peaking her head around the now open apartment door. Lena burrows her head into the crook of Kara’s neck, unwilling to part.

“You owe me $50, Nal!”

“Ugh. You guys couldn’t wait one more week? You just cost me big time,” Nia grumbles, fishing through her purse for Alex’s winnings as the Superfriends pile into the apartment for game night.

Lena finally pulls back from Kara’s neck, moving to welcome their friends, but isn’t able to stray far when the reporter wraps both arms around her waist, pulling the brunettes back flush to her chest.

“Kara!” Lena squeals, a pretty red blush blossoming up her neck and onto her cheeks.

“What, you just agreed to be my girlfriend, I’m never letting you go again,” Kara tells her as she leans down to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Later, when they leave, we can test out all our new boundaries,” Kara whispers quietly, placing a final kiss to the shell of her girlfriends ear before dragging Lena to the couch.

“Let’s play!”

*************

If Lena makes a point to win every game as quickly as possible, nearly shoving their family out the door at the end of the night, it’s no ones business but her own.

[hedonists-den]

I stroll through the grocery store, cart loaded with assorted junk food. And not one of those half carts either. A full-sized cart full of fresh baked pastries, boxes of snack cakes, frozen pizzas, massive sub sandwiches, bags of chips and candy, various pints of ice cream, cases of full-sugar soda, just an obscene amount of unhealthy garbage.

By now, the employees know me by name with how often I'm there to indulge your cravings. I bring my haul over to a checkout aisle and start unloading, but I figure one more candy bar wouldn't hurt, and I add it to the pile. The checker begins the extensive process of scanning all the items, and I can see the look on their face.

None of them are really shocked anymore. When they see me, they know they'll be scanning pounds and pounds of junk food. And judging by the size difference between you and me when they last saw you, I think they know where it's going. You're not with me this time, of course. You've gotten too lazy and too heavy to be waddling around the grocery store anymore, especially when you can trust me to fetch everything your greedy heart desires.

Getting it all inside is a full task in and of itself. I practically get a full arm workout hauling all the bags from my car, through the door, and to the kitchen. You know I'm not one for taking multiple trips, but with the amount you go through, I'll have to go back at least once.

When I walk in, you're right where I left you: feet up on the ottoman, laid back on the couch that is undoubtedly straining to hold your weight. The groceries are heavy, but I just can't help but pause and marvel at what a sight you are. Rolls covering your body from top to bottom, legs forced apart from the sheer girth of your thighs, your blubbery mound of a belly spilling onto your lap from under a t-shirt turned tank top, fattened tits resting on top of your gut, pillowy arms and pudgy hands tilting a fast food milkshake cup back to get every single drop. A living definition of unrestrained hedonism.

You glance over at me, continuing to suck down the entirety of your indulgent treat. I have to wonder if you're putting on this little show just for me, or if you really have become that gluttonous. Probably both, if we're being fair.

"Looks like you didn't wait for me to get back," I say, walking to the kitchen to set your goodies down. "How much did you struggle to get to the front door and back for that delivery, hm?"

I hear a soft groan from you and the echo of an empty cup set on the side table. "I moved myself just fine!" Your heavy panting suggests otherwise, but I let it slide. After all, it could just be that you didn't stop to breathe until you consumed the entire shake. "You get everything?"

"Everything and more. I doubled up on some things, knowing how you've been lately."

"Oh my godddd, I need one of those sandwiches. I'm starving..." There was a time when you would rush into the kitchen to look through everything I brought back, but the last few times- "Could you bring it to me...?" you ask. Right on cue.

"My pleasure, princess," I say with a grin. I pull out one of the footlong subs and unwrap it for you, taking the liberty of slathering on some extra mayo for good measure. The moment I step into the living room, I can see your excitement as you lift your arms and lean forward ever so slightly, a wide grin on your face.

"Thank you thank you!"

I turn to leave, but I watch you take that first bite out of the corner of my eye. And then that little moan of delight that sparks the urgency in your feasting. I can hear you stuffing your face as I head back towards the garage and gather the rest of the groceries. You'll almost assuredly be at least halfway done by the time I get back inside and set everything down.

And you never disappoint. I step back in and see you pushing the last bite of a sandwich half through your lips before licking your fingers. The way you've been gorging yourself is nothing short of breathtaking. It really is no wonder that you've managed to gain hundreds of pounds.

"Your shirt is looking a little small," I call from the kitchen.

"You like how it fits?" You respond with a full mouth. "I just can't pull it past my upper belly anymore..."

"To be fair, not much does fit you anymore. I can't even tell if you're wearing underwear most days," I chuckle.

"Think I'm wearing any right now?"

I can practically hear the sultry smile on your face as you ask. "I think you want to see me struggle with all your rolls to check. But I don't think you've eaten enough to earn it."

"Well, you better bring those cookies and make a proper hog out of me, then."

With an invitation like that, the rest of the groceries can wait. I dig through the bags for all 4 boxes of soft, chewy cookies, bringing them in and setting them beside you.

"A proper hog? Like I haven't done that to you already..." I tease, taking your belly flab in in one hand and squeezing it gently. "Look at all this. All this heavy, moldable fat..."

I lift your gut and drop it on your thighs, a dense slap resonating through your whole body. The sound, the ripples that shake every inch of you, it's mesmerizing. I continue handling your corpulence with increasing roughness, gripping all your rolls and jiggling them, slapping your love handles, and sinking my hands into your hips.

"I've gotten so huge...I can't help that it feels so good..." You moan, laying your head back.

I pop open the first container of cookies and situate myself in front of you. Your belly makes such a nice table to hold the container while I lean into it. "Open up. Let me make you even bigger."

You part your lips, letting me push nearly half the cookie in. I get more aggressive with each bite you take, encouraging you to take more and more, over, and over, and over.

"Come on, piggy. Keep it up. You want to be a good pet, don't you? Eat..."

One by one, the cookies disappear, and I get to hear that beautiful, overfed panting of yours again. You huff and puff, finally able to catch your breath from the relentless feeding. Everything about your current state just encourages me, igniting a need to see you helplessly engorged.

I slowly but firmly caress your poor, sweets-stuffed tummy. "Well now look at you. All stuffed with sweets. You know we're going to need to offset that with something savory and greasy. Settle in."

"Okay..." you say, your chest heaving up and down as you place your hands on the sides of your belly.

I start scrolling through DoorDash, tending to you while I look for your next meal. It's only early afternoon, after all. And gluttonous house pets like you need to keep fed all day long.

[aphrogeneias]

ease your weary mind — one-shot

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

summary: not a first date, but some firsts of many for this unlikely couple.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: fluff, mild angst (reader overthinks, but eddie reassures her), brief smut (+18).

author's note: this is based on a request by an anon who wanted to know more about their first time and how it went down. i lost the original ask due to a glitch, but i hope they see this <3 thank you for reading.

He'd started kissing you when you'd turned the corner, and didn't stop until you'd reached the hotel lobby.

It was a full house that night, the entire ground floor filled with fans of another band that was also passing through the city that same weekend, loitering around the reception and lounge areas. It was the perfect disguise for you and Eddie as you were returning from your date, the guitarist pulling you by the hand through the crowd and into the elevator.

Not before stopping every few steps to steal a peck from your lips along the way.

Eddie had been smiling the whole evening, his dimples in full display while he listening to you talk about your job, your life, and complained about the bullshit Rick was always putting you through.

You didn't let yourself linger on the thought that it was you making him smile like that — was it, really? Or was it just the fact that he finally had a night off in weeks?

It was the kind of conundrum your mind put itself in since you first started seeing Eddie.

That wasn't your first date, there had been others ever since you'd finally given into his pleas. Sharing room service dinners, sneaking out to go sightseeing in whatever city you found yourselves at, late night talks on rooftops. You tried to keep him at arm’s length, but Eddie Munson had a way of slithering into your life like no other man ever had.

You'd be lying if you said it wasn't his charm, but it was more than that. Eddie was patient, gentle — much unlike the stage persona he had cultivated. Despite being loud, and proudly so, he never pushed you too far.

Not even you'd taken this long to let him fully kiss you.

A few dates, months of mutual flirting, weeks of sneaking around. It was only that night, outside the small Italian restaurant not far from the hotel you were staying at, you’d let him kiss you properly for the first time.

Not the small kiss he'd given you backstage when you agreed to go on your first date. Not the various, small kisses he'd stolen when you were distracted, and not the cheek and forehead kisses that made you melt each time they caught you off your guard.

Now, he couldn't stop.

The elevator was almost full when you squeezed yourselves in, and you would be lying if you said you weren't tense. Scared of being recognized, of what would happen when you arrived upstairs, of what would change between you.

From behind you, Eddie rested his head on your taut shoulder, arms enveloping your waist. He whispered under the chatter of the tight space you're in, sensual voice sending a chill down your spine, “Can't wait to get you alone.”

And as he lavished the side of your neck with tiny kisses, you felt like you should feel as giddy as he was, but you felt like there was something about to drop in your stomach, like something was about to go wrong.

When the elevator dinged as it landed on your floor, you were the one who pulled Eddie forward, away from the cramped box you were in. You thought that would make you breathe easier, but it didn't.

Eddie's kisses were a welcome distraction, pulling your body closer, walking you backwards until you hit the nearest wall. His hand came behind your head to cushion the blow, but his mouth never left yours, hungry lips never satisfied.

You couldn't seem to get enough either, even as your mind reeler with second thoughts, your body responded to his, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His thigh came between your parted ones as his mouth travelled down your jaw, down to your neck, making you whimper into the air.

“Eddie…” you whispered, “I don't think you should be doing this.”

It was a mere trembled thought that had escaped your lips, when your mind got too loud to contain itself.

Slowly, he untangled himself from you, and you already missed him. One of his hands came to the side of your face, the other rested on the wall behind you. He looked worried, and you mentally chastised yourself for making him doubt. “You mean we shouldn't be doing this here or we shouldn't be doing this at all?”

“Both, I think.” You flinched, but not away from his touch. He flinched too, and his brows furrowed, making his eyes appear bigger. “I'm just scared, I think.”

“Scared of what, baby?” Still, Eddie's thumb ran over your cheek, and you felt yourself melt into his hand upon hearing that pet name, “Scared of me?”

“No! Oh, no. Not of you.” You shook your head, and frowned at yourself. 

You were being truthful, it wasn't Eddie you were afraid of. Not gentle, talented, caring Eddie. Not the man who trailblazed through life but treated you like a doll, no — but deep down, ever since he started making eyes at you from across the room, there was one thing you'd been scared of.

Of being used. Of it all being a ploy to get you into his bed, a challenge. That once he'd gotten you, you'd be a story for him to tell his friends, a footnote on his biography, an anecdote he'd love to recall some years from now.

The pretty assistant who played hard to get, but ultimately couldn't resist the Munson charm.

A shaky exhale left your parted lips, but you willed yourself to speak anyway. “Just sacred of this being a one time thing,” your voice was small, and you hates that, “that once you get what you want, you won't even look my way again.”

“Oh. Oh, honey…” Eddie pushed himself impossibly closer, grounding you with his warm body, “You don't have to worry about that.”

“No?”

He chuckled, despite himself. “No. Because once I have you, I'm not letting you go.”

Sighing, you didn't answer right away, but he continued. “You don't have to believe me right now, but I wanna take care of you.” Eddie kissed the corner of your mouth, breathing you in, “Let me take care of you.”

When he kissed you again, you let him — and when he guided you to his room, right opposite yours, you let yourself be carried into his bed, opening your legs to let him rest between the cradle of them, lips worshipping every inch of you.

The sincerity you didn't let yourself see poured through him, through the hands that undressed you reverently, that squeezed and pulled on your curves, that used his fingers to make you grab the sheets under you, losing control of your moans.

Losing track of time when he was inside of you, manhandling you into different positions. Pillows falling to the floor, joining your clothes on the carpet, covered in each other's sweat. Gripping tightly and not letting go.

Not anytime soon.

[corroded-hellfire]

I love the AYW universe, whenever I get bored I come and choose a random part to read again anyways the newest update was really good, especially the NKOTB mention cause I'm a big fan of them too ❤️

Anyways a thought I had is what if reader shows Eliza NKOTB music at some point just like my mom did with me. I feel like Eddie would pick on reader for being a new kids fan but once Eliza is on the dark side he knows he'll have to put up with it

This reminded me of the home movie of my big sister doing this dance and now I want to find it lol. Also a big thank you to the lovely @lokis-army-77 for helping me when my brain forgot what words were 💕

Words: 1.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The end of May means that Eliza’s dance classes have paused for the summer, but her brothers are still in school, leaving her bored. Dance also helped burn off the three-year-old’s extra energy, which is now dropped in your lap.

After a week of no dance classes, an idea strikes you when Eliza stumbles upon a box from your childhood while playing hide and seek. 

“Hmm…” you hum as you walk into your room. “Where, oh, where is my little girl?”

The sound of a box shifting in your closet catches your attention. You smile to yourself and tip toe towards the closet. The shuffling continues as you reach for the doorknob.

Quickly, you yank the door open.

“Gotcha!”

Eliza is sitting in a cardboard box, various CDs and cassettes tumbling out and a couple clutched in her tiny hand. Your daughter grins up at you, her dimples heightening her already high level of cuteness. 

“What’s these, Mama?” she asks.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you say, sitting down on the floor in front of the box. “Oh, okay. This is music I listened to when I was a kid.”

“Like me?” Eliza asks.

“Mm, more around Luke’s age.”

“Can I hear?”

“Sure, baby,” you say. 

You pick up a small stack and start to go through them before one in particular catches your attention. 

“Hey, Liza. Want me to teach you a dance?”

Her large brown eyes widen, and she nods so quickly that it looks like her head is about to fly off.

“Yes!”

“Ugh, thank God I’m home,” Eddie sighs as he steps through the front door. 

He kicks off his boots and stretches out the muscles in his lower back. 

“Hey, you.” You smile at your husband as you stroll in the room to greet him. He smiles in return when you slip your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his lips. “How was work?”

“Not bad,” Eddie says. “Not as good as this.”

“Dinner is almost ready,” you tell him. “But we have a special performance first.”

“Oh?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Luke want to read some Shakespeare for us?”

You laugh and drop your head to Eddie’s jumpsuit-clad shoulder.

“No, he’s doing his homework. Assured me he didn’t want to be here for this performance.”

“That scares me,” Eddie admits. “What about Ry?”

“He’s out with friends,” you say. “This is just for you. So, go get changed and meet me on the couch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eddie yawns as he steps into the living room, scratching his stubbled jaw. He plops down on the couch in one of his old Hellfire shirts from high school and a pair of black sweats that are looking more faded and grayer these days. His mane of hair has been pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck and all traces of oil or dirt from the day in the garage are gone. 

“Thought I was supposed to be entertained,” Eddie says loudly, smiling to himself.

“In a minute!” Eliza shouts back from her bedroom down the hall.

Eddie laughs and stretches his arms out, resting them on the back of the couch. 

A few moments later, you come down the hallway and swipe up the remote that controls the stereo. The spot on the couch next to Eddie looks like it’s been waiting for you, so you grab it and cuddle up to his side. Your husband wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“You smell good,” you murmur to him. 

“Used some of your soap,” he replies.

You take another sniff and realize it’s your body wash from Bath and Body Works. A store where Eddie refuses to buy anything, yet always uses what you get. 

“Thief,” you tease before sticking your tongue out at him.

“A-hem-hem!”

Eliza is peeking around the corner from the hall and you’re quick to remember your role and nod at her.

“So,” you say, looking back at Eddie. “Have you heard that Eliza will be starting preschool in the fall?”

Eddie’s brow furrows and raises at the same time. It’s a look that says of course I have and where in the hell are you going with this?

“Yes…”

“Well, you know what that will make her?” You aim the remote towards the stereo and press the play button. “A New Kid on the Block.”

Bum-bum bum-bum buh

Bum-bum-bum buh

“Oh God,” Eddie whispers. 

A grin splits your face from ear to ear as you snuggle into your husband’s side and watch your daughter emerge into the spotlight of the living room. 

You wanted her to look as authentic as possible for the late 80s, but with Eliza’s wardrobe, that mostly meant finding the right hues of pink to put together. It works for her, but even if it didn’t, Eliza would make it work. 

First time was a great time

Second time was a blast

Third time I fell in love

Now I hope it lasts

“What did you do to our girl?” Eddie grits out quietly through his teeth as Eliza starts to dance. 

“She wanted to listen to some of her mommy’s music,” you say sweetly, laying your head down on your husband’s shoulder. “And she misses her dance class.”

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Eliza puts her hands on the waistband of her neon pink leggings and begins to shuffle her legs from side to side while hopping like the iconic moves from the music video. 

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

The right stuff

Now, Eliza steps with her left foot and pumps her left hand up towards her right shoulder twice. Then, she switches and goes to the left with her right hand and foot.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

The right stuff

Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie grin. It makes you pick your head up so you can get a full view of his smile as Eliza bounces along to the beat. 

“She gives Joey McIntyre a run for his money,” you whisper.

“I’m going to assume that’s one of the members,” he murmurs back. 

You roll your eyes and silently vow to give this whole family a boy band education. 

The last chorus is about to start, and Eliza runs up and grabs your hand.

“Come on, Mama!”

With a chuckle, you stand up and join her at the front of the living room. Both of you position your hands at the top of your pants and begin to hop on one foot, bring them back together, then hop on the other. 

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

The right stuff

Eliza giggles wildly as the two of you do this together. She looks up at you as you dance, her curls bouncing and cheeks pink from the small exertion of energy. 

A sort of lightness fills your body, your mind transported back to when you were hardly a preteen and learning this dance for the first time all alone in your room. The fact that you’re now doing it with your daughter in front of your husband makes you nothing short of giddy. 

Now, the two of you go on to the next move. Step with foot, pump hand, step, pump, switch. Step, pump, step, pump.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

The right stuff

The song finishes and Eliza bows. Eddie cheers and you clap your hands until Eliza straightens and tries to tug you down in a bow with her. Instead, you give a deep curtsy and bow your head in Eddie’s direction.

“That’s my girls!” Eddie whoops as he claps. 

Eliza giggles and runs over to her father, launching herself in his lap. He catches her and lets out an oof.

You take back your previous position at Eddie’s side and Eliza flops down to lay across both of your laps. 

“I like that song!” Eliza states. 

“Me too.” You poke her belly, and she lets out an airy laugh. 

“You like it, Daddy?” Eliza asks.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at your husband. Eddie can practically read your mind: Go ahead, babe. You’ve made fun of me a thousand times for liking New Kids on the Block, now tell that to your daughter. 

Eddie looks down at Eliza before responding.

“I loved your and Mommy’s dance. You’re both very good.”

The dodged question doesn’t even register to the little girl; she’s just happy that her dad enjoyed the dance she learned today. 

“Maybe next time we teach Daddy a dance too, huh?” you say.

Eddie whips his head in your direction and narrows his eyes, making you giggle.

“Yes!” Eliza cheers, sitting up. “We’ll find a Daddy dance!”

“We’ll find a really good one,” you add. 

“Mama, don’t let me forget tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assure her. “I won’t.”

Eddie lets out a low growl and leans in to nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You squeal and pull away from him.

“Daddy, no biting!” Eliza chastises. 

“What if Mommy likes it?” Eddie responds. 

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” Eliza shakes her head. “Biting is bad.”

“But what if I’ve got…” Eddie pauses and leans so far over you that you’re forced to lay back on the couch cushion with a chuckle. “The right stuff?”

He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, despite being tickled by the dad joke. 

Eliza sighs and lays down on top of you, her head resting just above your heart.

“Isn’t Daddy so silly?” she asks you.

You grin up at Eddie as he winks at you.

“The silliest!”

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

It’s scented… right?

Summary: The boys help shop for all you feminine products while you are away

Word count: 0.6k

A/n: I really just needed to write, so, please injoy :)

༺═────────────═༻

The buggy’s front wheel spun in quick circles, the squeaking irritating Dean the deeper into the store he went. Sam had two hands on the handle bar, leading them down various isles as he grabbed what was on the grocery list. 

“Did you get the milk?” He asked, glancing at his brother as he placed a bag of chips into the buggy. 

“No.”

“Why not? We were just at the dairy isle.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders eyes glazing across the chips. “I thought you grabbed it.”

A huff left Sam’s lips. “Yes, because I’d grab the milk after I told you to do it.”

“I’ll get it later, ok.” Dean told him, snatching the grocery list from his brothers hands. “What do we need to grab next?”

“Tampons and a couple pads.” Sam answered, having memorized the list already. 

“Tampons and pads? I thought she had that.”

“No, Dean.” Sam muttered leading him and his brother to the feminine isle. “If she had it we wouldn’t need to get more.”

Cas made his way towards the brothers a case of beer in hand as he placed it into the cart. “All they had was light beer, so I hope that’s alright.” He told them, trailing next to the buggy. 

“That’s fine, Cas.” Sam told the angel. 

“Yeah, for you.” Dean mumbled, shooting a small glare at the alcohol. 

Taking another turn, the three wandered down the isle stacked full of female products. Each stoping beside one another as they took in all of the many items that filled the shelves. 

You’d asked Sam specifically to grab your feminine items, seeing as he’s the only one who’d lived with a woman before. It would have been a whole lot easier than asking Dean or Cas to do it. 

“So,” Dean began arms crossing over one another as he stood before the various pads and tampons. “What does she need? Yellow? Green? Purple?”

Sam glanced up from the list to look at his brother. “What are you talking about? Why are you naming colors?”

He nodded towards a tampon box. “They all have different colors, Sam, kinda like fruits.”

Cas wondered over to Deans side, his eyebrows furrowing. “These things have taste?” He asked, picking up a box to look at it more closely. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

Sam shot a glare at his older brother. “What?” Dean asked.

“Why would it be flavored?” He asked trying to reason with the man. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, taking the box back from Cas and placing it back in the shelf. “Some guys like that kind of stuff, Sam.”

Sam scrunched his nose in disgust. “That’s disgusting.”

“But it’s not flavored, Cas,” Dean began, turning towards the angel. “Because it’s scented.”

“Scented?” 

“Dear god.” Sam mumbled to himself, running a hand across his face. 

Dean nodded, gesturing to the rows of boxes. “Of course they’re scented. Because blood has smell, and so girls have to cover it up with a better smell.” He snapped his fingers, an example coming to mind. “Like perfume.”

Cas let out a small hum, his attention returning back to the products. Dean glanced over at his brother, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “It’s scented… right?”

Sam shook his head. 

A small ‘oh’ fell from the older man’s lips, face ever so slightly heating up on how wrong he truly was. Facing the shelves one last time Dean had begun to pluck and pull a good many boxes from their previous spots. “We’ll just get one of everything,” he told the others, placing the items into the cart. “Better safe than sorry.”

A sigh fell from Sam’s lips as he watched both Dean and Cas place multiple box’s into the buggy, before wandering away to the desserts isle. Leaving the poor man with the over loaded cart full of felmine products. 

“I’ll handle it, y/n,” he mumbled to himself, trailing after his brother and angelic friend. “I know what to get you, trust me.” Sam leaned his upper body against the handle bar, glancing over all the items that they’d gathered. “We won’t need to get more for another year or so now.”

[himegureisu]

The Howler

Summary: Your husband, Severus, receives a Howler from you.

A/N: This prompt randomly passed through my brain. I thought it would be nice. It did take a day or two to write but here it is! I hope you like it, this is the first time I'm writing for Severus x Reader.

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In the Great Hall, the breakfast banquet was served. Their students eagerly chattered among friends over good food and drink before classes. On the other hand at the High Table, small talk and occasional personal questions were exchanged.

That’s until the owls, in turn, the mail, came for the day.

Their tiny but sturdy claws carried various packages from letters, gifts, newspapers, and journal subscriptions. Among them, one particular barn owl was heading straight toward the High Table holding a distinct red letter.

From afar, Severus could see the owl, ignoring the House Tables, and coming straight for him. It wasn’t his owl. No, it was your owl. If it was your owl then…

“Oh dear,” Severus said,

By his side, Minerva, who was perusing her copy of the Wizarding World News stopped, to glance at him as the owl dropped the angry red letter above his plate.

“Severus,” she asked, the attention of other professors turned to him, “Is that a Howler?”

“Who would send our dear Severus a Howler?” Filius asked after,

You. His wife. Would send a Howler. You, who were undeniably cross after being forgotten.

Your owl chirped, Severus presented to her a treat, which she happily accepted before flying off. He stared at the Howler mentally preparing for the reprimand about to happen when Dumbledore said.

“Well go on, Severus, open it,” he urged, “I heard it is unwise to leave Howlers unanswered,”

So, he did.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” your voice echoed throughout the Hall, the student's attention on him, “You forgot about the move! I reminded you a thousand times when it was, and you still didn’t come.”

This time the Great Hall was quiet. Their attention focused on the tirade given to their most hated professor.

Let’s just say he wanted to die then and there.

“I know you hate handing your classes off to someone else, but I at least thought you’d make an exception for me!” you shouted at him in mind, “I moved across the continent for god sake! Do you know how much stuff I had? No! Do you know hard it was to transport all my boxes into the Manor? No! It was hard and that was with magic already. The only good thing you did was leaving the portkey because if you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the damned Manor and would be standing outside of it looking like a fool!”

The Howler paused.

“I love you but if you don’t come home tonight to help me unpack, you’re going to find yourself locked out of your own house.”

The Howler combusted thereafter.

His colleagues were in shock at the message conveyed. His students stared in a mix of horror, amusement, and curiosity. On the other hand, he was so screwed. His composure slowly faltered upon deliberating what to do and quickly decided on the appropriate course of action.

To go home to you.

“If you’d excuse me for the day, Professor,” Severus addressed Dumbledore, standing up from his seat, “I need to make it up to someone,”

“You can take the rest of the week off, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in wonder, “It seems you have some groveling to do,”

“That I do, Professor,” he answered, walking away then sighing, “That I do,”

Part 2 is up 💖