#it’s unedited don’t come at me

[dcangel]

https://media4.giphy.com/media/oUMlBq55tkfsI/giphy.gif?cid=2154d3d7tyqfy3s47rkdws1wcn3bvxc1tp2xu9t5lq5vtwsy&ep=v1_gifs_related&rid=giphy.gif&ct=g

^^^this gif with Stiles Stilinski if you don’t mind:)

omg ofc ofc!! (link)

also idk how long this ask has been in here, i’ve had my tumblr notifications off bc i was getting spammed from the percy jackson & kronos post, but im grateful for the suggestion<33

mature themes below the cut

the word ‘please’ wasn’t acquainted with stiles’ vocabulary. when he wanted something, he took it. and you willingly gave it up.

yet he found it slipping from his swollen lips like any other word.

your thighs were on either side of his jeans clad hips, your chest pressed to his. though equally clothed, you could feel his desire, his need.

his hands gripped your thighs, fingertips reaching your inner thigh. words were exchanged, but sentences were left unfinished. the air in your lungs wasn’t nearly enough to be considered substantial, the burn coating your throat only served as validation.

the thick, hot air hung heavily around the two of you, tainted with the scent of his cologne and a slight tinge of mint from the gum you had been chewing moments before he placed you on top of him.

you’re core went limp when his hand guided your hips in one swift motion over his, leaving you to chase the sensation just to get another bout of pleasure. so much for the ab strength you’d been working on in the gym while stiles worked towards lacrosse fitness goals.

at times stiles would whine for his own sake, wanting nothing more than to simply sit back and let you take the reigns, but he wanted to work for it today. he wanted to earn that feeling he got from seeing you get off from his doing, or to see the way your face scrunched and your eyebrows knit, your lip being tucked between your teeth while the moans and appreciative mumbles slipped past the small spaces.

“please, baby,” his hands groped at your ass, fingers digging into the covered flesh before releasing as if he hadn’t known his own strength, “you gotta let go. let me guide you.”

the temptation was strong, and you could nearly feel the reward brewing in your gut. but it was hard for you to let him be the one doing the care taking. you couldn’t help that it was in your nature to please others. “i can’t.” you whimpered lazily against his kiss-bitten lips.

a large hand made its way up your side, taking its time to pass over each curve like every little detail, though contained under fabric, was being committed to memory to improve earlier versions. his thumb took a swipe at the underwire of your bra, leaving the slightest tingling sensation.

the other hand sent for the spot you couldn’t keep from dragging across his confined bulge. his fingers slid beneath the fabric of your shorts, stopping once they reached the damp spot on the front of your panties that they’d been looking for. he pressed his thumb to your puffy clit, applying nothing but that small amount of pressure with the pad of his thumb. “yes you can. i know you can.”

his dragged his thumb over and around your swollen bud, drawing a small moan from you, temporarily delaying your movements.

“n…i can’t.” you protested, weakness evident. “please,” you uttered, feeling your hips betray you by grinding downward on his hand.

stiles, emboldened by the move, decided to be greedy. his middle finger snuck under the soaked cloth, finding the source for the wetness instantly. “’feels like you can.” he jeered, smirking against your lips.

the hair at his nape was targeted as a way to ground yourself; your fingers tugging at the brown locks. “stiles, please, i…” his finger gently sunk into you, making you forget your powerless argument.

he smiled and pulled his face from yours, not letting himself miss this perfect view. “that sounds more like it.” his sarcastic tone made the taunt seem snarky. condescending, even.

you felt another long, slim finger easily slid into your wetness, joining the other in stroking your welcoming walls. the energy to keep yourself up right was not found, instead going to the potential build up of something satisfying. you let your limp torso softly collide with his, leaning forward with most of your weight.

amidst the turmoil in your mind, stiles had subtly retracted his fingers, allowing space for him to sink them back in, his two fingers curling as they did so. “’need you to be a good girl and let me help you, alright?”

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Regardless of how many times Eddie has made a complete ass of himself, he’s never let himself be perceived as soft.

It was easier when he lived with his uncle — the boys would come over for game night, or to rehearse for their next gig, and they wouldn’t ask him uneasy questions.

Even after he came out about his relationship.

For them, he assumed, it was out of sight and out of mind. Eddie still had loads of free time to dedicate to his friends, so there wasn’t really much to address.

The first incident happened on the three month anniversary of when he got together with his partners, which of course happened to fall on a night he had a session of D&D to attend. His request to push the game back until the next day was denied profusely until he shrugged and through gritted teeth said, painfully, that he would just have to miss the game if they wanted to carry on with it so badly.

So the game got pushed back. And when Eddie showed up that next day, he was greeted with an intervention rather than snacks and beer.

Ever since then, after the handful of ignored calls and cancelled band practices that followed, he’s mostly been able to skirt by with his friends without issue.

Then he had to go and move in with his boyfriends like some lovesick loser, as Gareth had put it when he first found out.

Eddie’s enjoyed the freedom of having a newer, slightly larger living space. He likes not having to go home and sleep alone, or sneak into someone else’s bed just to have to sneak back out before dawn.

It makes him feel soft, which makes him feel pathetic.

Which is why his skin is crawling at the thought of hosting in the new place for the first time.

He makes sure the fridge is stocked with beer, that there’s an array of snacks to choose from on the counter, and he has a selection of rentals from Family Video lying on the coffee table.

None of that stops the air from going tense and heavy when his friends show up.

They’ve abstained from asking questions about his relationship thus far, but the temptation must grow impossible to ignore when they step into the house and see evidence that it’s real. That Eddie moved all of his shit into another place and he’s serious about it.

That it’s clearly not just hooking up or whatever like he’s been saying for forever.

It’s for real and there’s the faint beat of water against tile from somewhere at the back of the house, the only noise aside from the stagnant tension in the air.

Eddie bounces his leg restlessly, tapping the neck of his beer bottle with his index finger as he stares down at the untouched tapes on the coffee table. Anxiously waiting for the inevitable.

“Where’re your guitars?” Gareth asks, and then clears his throat. “Thought you’d have ‘em hanging up in here.”

“They’re in the bedroom.”

Gareth nods. He’s slouching on the sofa, arm draped over the back of it as he looks around.

“Who picked out the fugly carpet and matching curtains?”

Eddie purses his lips when Grant and Jeff both snicker.

“Steve, uh, likes flannel.”

“Are those your posters?” Grant asks.

“Those are Billy’s, actually.” Eddie glances over at the wall behind the tv, featuring everything from Dolly Parton to Jimi Hendrix, and he spreads a little smile. “Well, the ABBA poster is Steve’s, but we keep telling him it’s not a permanent addition.”

“Where are your posters at?” Grant asks.

Eddie looks at him, perched next to Gareth on the couch, and nods his head toward the back of the house.

“Bedroom.”

“Do you have anything of yours out here? Or is it all in the room?” Jeff asks.

The question sounds accusatory. Eddie almost winces at the word bedroom, like referring to it as the room reinforces the fact that he shares a bed.

He would give almost anything for that little bit of information to not be processed. Hell, he’d give anything for this conversation to be over and done with.

It would save him the embarrassment.

“I mean, most of my shit was out of my room at Wayne’s, so it doesn’t really fit with the rest of the—“

“Why don’t you have the guitars out here? Seems kind of impractical to have them in your bedroom,” Gareth interrupts. “Not enough room to jam.”

Eddie swipes his thumb in a circle around the rim of his beer.

“Not really enough wall space.”

Jeff blows a raspberry and chuckles. The mismatched armchair that he’s sitting in almost looks like it’s about to swallow him whole.

“There’s a fucking decorative skateboard rack on the wall, but you couldn’t put your guitars up?”

“Oh, those aren’t decorative, Billy skates. He’s actually pretty g—“

“Did they at least let you help pick out furniture or anything?”

“Yeah, this stuff doesn’t really seem like it’s your style,” Grant adds.

Quickly, the three of them are attaching their inputs and observations together like train cars, one after the other, and Eddie’s vision goes hazy as he tunes them out.

Thinly-veiled insults here, passive aggression there.

Vaguely, in the background, the water stops running. How Eddie can still pick that up, he has no idea, but he can feel his ears quirk when the blow dryer starts whirring. Then his head is turning when he hears footsteps.

The chatter stops immediately when a figure emerges from the bedroom.

Steve pads out with a towel around his waist, hair wet and slicked back, and makes a direct line for the kitchen counter. Ignores the eyes that are lingering on him as he pulls a drawer open and unearths a pack of smokes and a lighter.

When he shakes a cigarette out and hastily lights it, pulling the smoke into his lungs, his eyes flick up to meet several gazes. All but Eddie turn their heads away.

Steve huffs amusedly. Drops everything back into the drawer and shuts it, crossing the small distance into the living room.

Eddie laments the fact that the blow dryer is still audibly running — Billy and Steve obviously showered together, and it makes Eddie want to go lie down in the street. Even more so when Steve comes to stand beside the recliner and Eddie’s eyes linger on the droplets of water dripping down his chest.

“Thought you were havin’ movie night,” Steve says, cigarette pinched between his lips.

He combs his fingers loosely into Eddie’s hair, and the other brunet exhales a stiff sigh as he tilts his head back to rest against the top of the recliner.

“We are,” Eddie says. “Giving a metaphorical, verbal tour of the house.”

Steve hums. Blows smoke through his nose and smiles, and Eddie swears he can feel the warmth of it on his skin.

“Well, be careful if you take a literal tour. I don’t think I’ll be able to wrangle Bill back into clothes tonight.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth with his free hand and leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead before he pulls away. It spurs a surge of unwelcome butterflies in the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“‘Kay.”

Then Steve takes his leave, retreating back into the bedroom. Eddie’s gaze lingers on the cracked door, listening for the muffled sounds of arguing when Billy sees that his stash has been robbed. A little smile quirks at the corners of Eddie’s lips.

He almost forgets for a moment that he’s not at home with just his partners.

“What was that about?” Gareth asks.

Eddie returns his gaze to the sofa and quirks a brow.

“What was what about?”

“The way he came in here.”

A beat of silence passes. Eddie shrugs.

“I mean, we’re all guys, I didn’t think it was weird that he came out in a towel,” he says.

“No, the way he came in here to check on you. Right out of the shower, like he was jealous and couldn’t even bother to dry off first.”

Now, Eddie sputters out a laugh, but he sobers and clears his throat when all three of his friends fix him with nothing but serious expressions.

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Seemed like he was trying to signal that he didn’t want us here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Jeff adds. “Like, asking if it was movie night when he already knows? He was basically saying that if we don’t start a movie right away, we might as well leave.”

“Textbook manipulation,” Grant says.

Eddie can’t help that he laughs.

“Holy shit, is there a gas leak in here or something? What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

The three of them all exchange glances, and suddenly, he’s at that bullshit intervention again.

“First,” Gareth begins. Glances over his shoulder to ensure that no one else is listening before he turns back to Eddie, lowering his voice. “They don’t let you put any of your stuff up, and now they can’t even let you be alone with your friends for half an hour before one of them interrupts? How do you not see what they’re up to?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you need to remember your roots. We always hated people like them,” Grant says.

“Them?” Eddie huffs.

“Preps,” Jeff says. “And once a prep, always a prep. They’ll choose each other over the freak every time.”

While Eddie is stared at expectantly, he simply breathes. In and out. In and out. Listens to his blood running in the shells of his ears, like the distant sound of the ocean.

Thinks about how this is so much worse than it was last time, and he swears he can see himself in the third person, sitting in the recliner.

Each second that passes is two seconds lost.

“Did you guys, like, rehearse this before you came over?” he muses, though there’s no humor in his voice. “I mean, what the fuck are you even saying to me right now? That because the shit from my high school bedroom isn’t plastered all over the walls, and Steve gave me a kiss, that I’m in some kind of toxic environment? Do none of you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Dude, you’ve been calling whatever this is a fling and shit for the past like six months!”

Eddie shakes his head and tsks, sitting up and moving to the edge of his seat. About to say fuck it and kick them all out the front door.

“You just seem like you’re rushing in, and we don’t want you to get hurt,” Jeff says.

“Yeah,” Grant adds. “We’re telling you this because we care, man.”

Almost as if it’s by the flick of a switch, Eddie zaps back into his body, and he grits his teeth. Shoots up out of his seat and furrows his brows, veins fixing to pop if he so much as breathes too deep.

“Ever think that maybe I’ve been taking it seriously the whole time? Maybe I just didn’t talk about it in front of you guys because I didn’t want to get made fun of?” Eddie confesses. “I really… I really like my boys. I love them. I love waking up and getting to have morning cuddles with Billy while Steve makes pancakes, and I love the way our place is decorated. Maybe it says something about you guys that my fucking safe haven is with the preps, when you’re supposed to be my people.”

Eddie heaves a sigh once he’s done and sweeps a hand over his face, suddenly so drained that he isn’t sure how many counts he stares at the carpet for. Limbs shaking, heart thundering like he just ran ten miles.

When he looks up, all he sees are ghost-white faces staring back up at him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spies figures in the doorway of the bedroom.

He looks over, immediately flushing red.

Steve stands there in an ugly pair of plaid pajama pants, and Billy is behind him, shrouded in a white robe with the letter E embroidered on the collar.

Earlier, Eddie might’ve blown a fuse over the small detail, worried about how it implies that they share clothes, or worse, that they have three matching bathrobes with their initials on them. Right now, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

Not when both of them are looking at him with glassy eyes.

He stares, dumbfounded by what he just said for a long, long moment. Unsure if he’s sleeping on the couch tonight or if he’s getting the ride of his life once it’s lights out.

“Did you just say that you love us?” Steve rasps.

His chin trembles, and from behind him, Billy chuckles as he sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I did,” Eddie says.

Steve clears his throat and nods.

“I love you too,” he manages.

The tension relaxes out of Eddie’s shoulders, and he smiles as he sets his half-empty beer down on the coffee table.

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to pretend to be all stoic about it,” he says with a chuckle. “C’mere.”

Steve immediately crosses the room and moves into a hug when Eddie opens his arms around him, moisture overflowing his red-rimmed eyes. Steve is warm, and he smells fresh. Like clean laundry and sandalwood. Eddie holds him tighter and tucks his face into the bend where his shoulder meets his neck.

For a moment, it’s just the two of them. Eddie kisses his skin, and with every press, he hopes Steve hears the silent I’m sorry I waited so long that accompanies it.

Then Eddie rests his chin on his partner’s shoulder and sighs. Shifts his gaze to where Billy meanders into the room and stops behind the sofa, leaning his elbows against the back of it.

Suddenly, Eddie remembers that they aren’t alone, and the tension in the rest of the room is almost tangible outside of the little bubble he’s in.

Gareth, seated right in front of where Billy leans, is frozen in his seat. Doesn’t move, even when the blond reaches an arm down to touch the label of his vest and examine the closest pin.

Because even in the poofy white robe, with his curls fresh and fluffy, Billy breathes intimidation.

“I know about everything,” he says softly. Flicks playfully at the pin before he pulls his hand away, folding his arms and resting his chin atop them. Conversational. “If you keep it up, Corroded Coffin will be disbanded, and you’ll lose your dungeon master. Stevie advocates for Edd to hang out with you guys constantly, but I don’t fucking like you, and I don’t want you in my house if you’re gonna spew nothin’ but nonsense.”

Gareth, eyes wide, looks to Eddie. A silent plea for help, or for backup of any kind.

Eddie simply raises his eyebrows, hands smoothing over Steve’s back.

“If you don’t want me in your house… then why am I here?” Gareth asks.

“Because I ignored my gut even though I smelled bullshit, hoping to be proven wrong. Back talk me again and I’ll beat your skinny ass.” Billy chews his lip, mulling something over in silence for a moment. “Movie night’s cancelled.”

Steve sniffles and leans away from Eddie, his eyes mostly dry as he turns and fixes the blond with a tired look.

“Bill.”

When Billy simply holds up a finger, Steve rolls his eyes.

“And go ahead and give me twenty push-ups.”

“What?” Grant asks, looking to Eddie. “He’s joking, right?”

Eddie shrugs. Laces his arms around Steve’s waist from behind and leans into him, nosing fondly at his freshly-dried hair.

“I don’t personally know him to be funny.”

Billy chuckles at that.

“Drop and give me twenty or I drop you off in the middle of the woods naked, how ‘bout that?” he lilts. There’s a brief second of anticipation before Gareth decidedly slides out of his seat, and the others do the same. Billy hums in approval as they all get on all fours and assume the position. “No girl pushups, either, knees off the ground. And I’m gonna need an out-loud count.”

Gareth lowers his chest to the ground, arms already beginning to shake as he manages a strangled, “One…”

Jeff and Grant echo him. Billy pushes himself up away from the sofa and rounds the side of it, coming to stand beside the couple.

“Two…”

“I love you too, by the way,” Billy murmurs. Reaches up to brush his knuckles lightly against Eddie’s cheek before he leans in to meet him in a quick kiss. “Missed you in the shower.”

Eddie chuckles.

“Three…”

“It’s too cramped for all three of us in there.”

“Don’t care.”

Billy tilts into another kiss, his thumb tracing the cut of Eddie’s jaw all the while.

“I’m glad you like the way our place is decorated,” Steve says. “Dustin and Rob gave me so much shit when they came to help set stuff up.”

“Four…”

“I like the curtains and the rug… reminds me of sneaking into your old room,” Eddie says.

“That fucking wallpaper used to give me headaches, I’d only fuck in there if it was dark,” Billy snickers.

The three of them share a laugh. Then, Billy glances down at the floor and purses his lips when there’s silence.

“They made it to four,” Steve whispers.

“Just four? Pity.” Billy claps his hands together a few times. “Up, ladies, let’s go.”

The three boys on the floor push themselves up, faces flushed red. Gareth brings a hand up to his chest and rubs near his shoulder, walking warily toward the front door when Billy steps over to it and grabs the handle.

“Are you… are you really gonna take us to the woods naked?” he wonders.

Billy makes a face, like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and pulls the door open.

“No, man, just go home. Get naked there if you want, I don’t care.”

At the words, Gareth and the others look confused, but they file outside anyway. Then Billy shuts the door behind them and locks the deadbolt before he sighs.

“You’re so mean,” Steve murmurs.

“I like assertive better,” Billy says. Closes in behind Eddie and sandwiches him between his partners, hands moving around their waists and pulling them back against him. “Plus, I wasn’t really gonna kick any of their asses. Unless you wanted me to.”

The last part is murmured softly into Eddie’s ear, and he gets goosebumps.

“Got the job done,” Eddie sighs. “I feel like I just came out for the first time again.”

“Give it a couple weeks, they’ll wanna come back again when they’ve had time to think about the stuff you said,” Steve reassures.

Eddie snorts.

“Maybe if we put Billy down for a nap before they come over.”

“Hey, I’m so nice until you upset one of my boys. Then I turn into Queen Bitch, and I go for the throat,” Billy huffs. Sets his chin in the crook of Eddie’s neck and pouts. “Also, fuck you, I’m funny.”

The brunet hums at that and tilts their heads together.

“I was kidding.”

“And I’m not a prep. If anything, it’d be me and you against him.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie snickers.

“Hey, it’s us against the world, alright? Me and my lovers,” Eddie lilts.

He pinches softly at Steve’s sides, causing the other brunet to squirm away and pry himself free. Steve shakes his head amusedly and sits down on the sofa, grabbing one of the movies from the little stack and examining it.

Eddie leans further against Billy and smiles when big arms encase him.

“‘M sorry your movie night was a bust,” Billy murmurs.

“We can still watch something if you want,” Steve offers.

Big brown eyes gaze up at him, and Eddie chews his lip. Doesn’t push down the butterflies that start to swirl around in his tummy.

“Take your pic, princess.”

[novemberdevils]

sometimes when you’re writing an au fic you just gotta

[the-hopeless-haze]

Wanting a good grade in writing fanfiction….something that is normal to want and possible to achieve… 🫥

[somedayillfindthecourage]

Hi I've not been able to stop thinking about this so please accept my humble words

Eddie Munson has never appreciated costuming more than he does in this moment.

Seriously, the boots alone are enough to give him swagger, but the leather vest? The bandana? The fucking hat??

Eddie Munson has never looked cooler.

“You look like an asshole,” Gareth says, and Eddie can’t even find it in his heart to flip him off, he’s that jazzed about the costume.

“Yar,” he says to his own reflection, winking at himself. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He whirls around and claps his hands once. “I’m off to plunder.”

Jeff rolls his eyes and Gareth flips him off and Eddie’s gone, swaggering down the corridor. His normal confidence level is about chin level, but this, this is fucking eyebrow levels of self-confidence.

And up ahead, his white whale. Or, you know, probably that metaphor works, he read enough of Moby Dick to know with certainty that Melville was gay and then got bored of reading about whale bits and ship parts, but, it’s fine. Scoops Ahoy can be his white whale if he says it is.

Scoops Ahoy with its stupid little sailor costumes and bored teenage employees. He’s been plotting this hijink for weeks, sorting out the pirate costume and coming up with the perfect phrase. He sort of knows Buckley, so this whole thing is going to be hilarious.

He swaggers right into the store, hit with that weird waffle cone ice cream shop smell and opens his mouth to drop the line of the century:

“I’m here to plunder your treasure chest of ice cream, yarhar”

(Which is not at all dumb or childish, Gareth, it’s a work of comedic mastery and ironic wit)

Only, it’s not Buckley manning the counter with a bored expression on her face.

It’s Steve fucking Harrington.

Steve, who looks up when he walks in and smiles, all boy next door charm and golden boy glow.

Steve, who actually looks good in the stupid sailor costume, with the stupid white cap perched jauntily on his incredible hair. Nothing should ever be jaunty in real life, but that hat on Steve’s head is.

And that’s just the cherry on the sundae of Steve fucking Harrington, with his athletic thighs in those short shorts and the little curl of chest hair just barely peeking out the top of his little ascot-like tie thing.

It’s the chest hair that does him in. Eddie Munson knows better than to look Steve fucking Harrington up and down. His eyes get caught like a loose tape and static fills his brain. He never feels gayer than he does looking at Steve Harrington’s thighs and chest hair.

So instead of opening his mouth and delivering acerbic wit and pirate puns, his tongue practically falls out of his mouth and he says,

“I’m here for your pleasure chest.”

He doesn’t even wait to see the damage, just turns on his heel and speedwalks faster than that pack of moms in athletic wear he sees when he drives past fancy neighborhoods.

There’s probably a trail of smoke behind him, but Eddie doesn’t stop, not even when he careens past Gareth and Jeff standing outside the costume shop, near twin confused looks on both their faces.

No, Eddie doesn’t stop until he’s hit the fountain in the middle of the food court.

Then, he simply lifts one leg at a time until he’s in the fountain, and drops his ass right into the water.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to himself, mortification taking the place of his self-confidence.

He tries to replay the moment in his head, to prove to himself it wasn’t that bad, but it’s like his brain won’t even let him do that. It’s too embarrassing to remember. His brain is amnesiaing itself to protect him.

He didn’t even get to see the look on Harrington’s face.

Why couldn’t it have been Buckley?

Something hits his shoulder.

“Hey,” Gareth calls.

Something else hits the water near him, splashing his face.

“Dude,” Jeff says.

This time the penny hits him on the face, and he watches it plink down into the water.

“Aren’t these supposed to be quarters?” he asks morosely, because his life is over and his bandmates are throwing coins at him.

“Bitches be broke,” Gareth replies.

“Plus, quarters would probably hurt more,” Jeff adds. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Eddie groans and buries his face in his knees, the cold fountain water properly seeping into all of his clothes now, including his oh so cool pirate boots.

“I thought you were plundering?” Gareth practically shouts.

“It wasn’t Buckley,” he mumbles into his knees.

“What?”

Eddie pries his face skyward and rolls from his ass to his knees, which puts him high enough that the fountain actually knocks his hat off, soaking the bandana underneath it in seconds. His hair is a lost cause. He presses his hands to his face and lets out a mortifyingly strangled, “WHY” before just falling backwards into the fountain. It’s not deep enough to drown him, unfortunately, so after a moment he sits up again, properly soaked.

“I made an ass of myself in front of Steve Harrington,” he admits, refusing to make eye contact with Gareth or Jeff.

“Steve Harrington?” Gareth repeats, with far more emphasis than should be allowed on one person’s name. “How??”

“He works at Scoops,” Eddie sighs.

Gareth is undoubtedly smiling at Eddie’s terrible luck, but Eddie refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“Steve the hair Harrington, who you mooned over all last year, captain of whatever sports team—”

“Basketball and swim,” Jeff fills in.

“--the guy you composed an actual sonnet for in English class? That Steve Harrington?”

“It was a dirty limerick at best,” Eddie corrects.

“Holy shit,” Gareth says. Then, with more emphasis, “Holy shit. And you just walked in there, dressed as a pirate, and said—”

“I’m here for your pleasure chest,” Eddie whispers, but because Gareth has fucking sonic hearing or some shit he hears him, and immediately starts laughing so hard Eddie’s worried he’ll pee himself.

“No,” Jeff says, properly mortified on Eddie’s behalf, because he’s a good friend, unlike traitor Gareth, who is actually using the side of the fountain to support himself now, lest he fall in and drown laughing too hard at Eddie’s life-ending mistake.

“This is how he finds out who I am,” Eddie moans, dragging his sopping wet hands down his face. “I can never come here again.”

“I mean, the mall cop is gonna kick us out for sure if you don’t get out of the fountain, but—”

“Hey.”

Eddie must be having some sort of chlorine fountain related stroke, because that sounds like Steve fucking Harrington’s voice.

He can’t look. He can’t risk Steve seeing his tomato face and his wet cat hair. If Steve Harrington followed him out to the mall food court fountain, Eddie cannot look at him.

He keeps his palms pressed over his face and holds as still as he can. Like if he can’t see Steve and he doesn’t move, Steve won’t be able to see him either.

“Hey,” Jeff replies, and Eddie wishes Gareth would stop laughing long enough to actually help with something. “What’s up, man? I didn’t know you were working here.”

“Yeah,” and it is Steve fucking Harrington, oh no, casually striking up a conversation with Jeff like they aren’t total strangers. Like Steve didn’t rule the school they all attended with no idea who the gutter rats below his throne were. “Needed to do something this summer, you know?”

“I hear you,” Jeff says, because he’s respectable and does know, got himself a part time job at the costume shop, the only reason Eddie could afford this stupid get up. “I’m at the costume shop just down the way.”

“Cool,” Steve says, and it actually sounds like he means it. “Is that where he got the, uh, pirate costume?”

There’s a beat of silence when Gareth stops laughing, and Steve must have gestured to where Eddie is playing the worst game of freeze tag in the middle of the food court fountain. 

“No, that’s, uh, a new performance piece,” Gareth finally says, and it’s not at all convincing but he’s trying, and for that Eddie is willing to forgive nearly wetting his pants over Eddie’s misfortunes. “It’s a, uh, new statue they added.”

“Weeping Odysseus,” Jeff adds, as though an incorrect reference title is enough to convince Steve that the guy who just walked into his workplace and asked for his pleasure chest is actually just a statue in a fountain. 

“Right,” Steve says, like he doesn’t believe them but is willing to play along, and Eddie might be actually having some sort of breakdown, but he thinks he hears a hint of disappointment in Steve’s voice. “I was just— I was hoping to—” he stops, and Eddie wants to look at him so badly, so he shifts his fingers just enough that he can peer between them.

And Steve fucking Harrington is standing at the fountain edge, in his stupid sailor shorts and jaunty little hat, his face a stupidly cute shade of pink. He’s looking at Eddie in the fountain, and moving his fingers was a mistake, because Steve looks at him with his soft brown eyes, making actual honest-to-god eye contact. He actually blushes harder when he spots Eddie’s eye looking back at him. 

Sirens are going off in Eddie’s brain. 

“Maybe when he’s done weeping, Odysseus can come back to the shop,” Steve says, and he’s smiling, looking hopeful or something at Eddie, soaking wet in the middle of the fountain. “I’ve got plenty in my pleasure chest.”

Then Harrington spins on his heel and marches away, and it’s not fair how good his ass looks in the stupid sailor shorts. They’re stupid. Why is he so hot?

Jeff and Gareth watch him go too, but not really in an ass ogling way, more in a disbelieving kind of way. 

“Did Steve Harrington just use your own shitty line back on you?” Gareth asks. 

Eddie stands up abruptly, water spraying everywhere. He sloshes to the edge of the fountain, grabbing his floating hat along the way, and shoves it back onto his head, uncaring of the water pouring off of him all over the mall floor. 

“Excuse me, boys,” he says, unable to stop the dopey grin from spreading across his face. “I’m off to plunder a pleasure chest.”

eddie going in to scoops ahoy dressed as a pirate and saying he’s here to ‘plunder scoops’ treasure chest of ice cream yarhar’ only he gets to the counter and it’s Steve serving, not Robin. He was expecting Robin. What comes out of his mouth is ‘I’m here for your pleasure chest’. Cue eddie turning on his heel, walking out of scoops and sitting himself down in the fountain of the food court, hugging his knees while the corroded coffin boys throw pennies at him.

[silkscream]

natural devotion

ੈ✩ synopsis: gojo finds you, his ex-wife, in a sketchy dive bar. he almost doesn't recognize you.

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), previous arranged marriage, ex-husband!gojo, clanleader!gojo, rough bathroom sex, semi-public sex, drunk sex, oral, fingering + penetration, light choking, gojo is.... weird idk how to explain. he's just strange and cold and possessive and so odd

ੈ✩ wc: 3.2k

ੈ✩ a/n: literally nobody asked for this. also it's unedited. sorry

Gojo thinks he sees a ghost when he sees you.

At least, he thinks it’s you.

You don’t see him yet, so he takes the liberty to scan you over more thoroughly. You’re not wearing anything like the simple, modest attire he remembered you donning around his estate. Instead, you’re in a form-fitting crop top and the tiniest mini skirt Gojo has ever seen. He’s not sure if it even classifies as a skirt.

Interesting.

He takes a breath as he sits down next to you, interrupting your conversation with the bartender to offer his card. You turn to look at him and you laugh.

“Put hers on my tab,” Gojo says.

“Always the gentleman.”

“You know I’ll always take care of you. Even if we aren’t married anymore.”

You could scoff at that, but you decide to be polite. He’s as candid as he’s always been. It used to humiliate you, but you aren’t the same docile little wife you used to be. You also realize his gesture could be interpreted as tender, which isn’t something you were ever used to in your marriage.

He was a cold man and it was a marriage of convenience.

Or perhaps he was only cold to you. You would watch how he would interact at social gatherings and clan parties, his charisma infecting entire rooms. Toothy grins that shone as brightly as his hair. Always loud, animated, and magnetic.

To you, he was mostly indifferent.

He was never outwardly mean, but he was constantly occupied with missions. It almost felt as if you weren’t married at all. You enjoyed speaking to him when he was around, though. There were moments when you could almost picture yourself being his friend, but then he would be away and come back cold. 

When you asked for a divorce, he complied without a blink. Even after you were free from becoming an incubator for the Gojo clan’s next heir, something in your chest ached at how easily Gojo signed the papers.

And now, he’s tipsy in a bar with you and more tuned into your presence than ever. When he looks at you, there’s a lingering that you convince yourself you’re hallucinating.

Small talk with him is odd. He’s much more complicated than that, but here you are, discussing trivial things right now. If he’s remarried yet (he hasn’t). If you honed in on your cursed technique (you have).

It’s terribly odd. Like talking to a stranger that you’ve only met in a dream.

“I thought you’d have better taste in bars,” he drawls, sipping a Cosmo. It was annoyingly endearing, the way he wasn’t the kind of man to have a glass of whiskey despite acting like it.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a regular. This place is full of perverts.”

“Does that include you?”

Gojo grins. “Not like some of these guys. You would’ve gotten roofied if I didn’t sit down. And your outfit certainly isn’t helping.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” you scoff.

“It is one. You’re a sight to behold. Never saw you in anything like this when we were married.”

“Your clan would have my head. I assume you would, too,” you mutter. 

His eyes are taking you in, flickering between your face and your body. It would make you uncomfortable if you weren’t already three beers in. 

“I wouldn’t be angry. I just don’t promise that I would’ve kept my hands to myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“I think this is the most forward you’ve ever been to me.”

“You were so timid back then,” he smirks. He places a hand on your knee, his thumb tracing the skin. “Such a nervous little girl. There were times I assumed you were cheating on me, the way you were so rigid with me.”

You remember being obedient and quiet. Perhaps rigid, but you had only followed his lead, pushing yourself away from him just because he was doing it to you first. You know you shouldn’t apologize or feel guilty for your lack of intimacy with him, but the way he teases you makes your face heat up.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” you frown.

“Good,” he smiles. It almost seems genuine. “I wouldn’t have let anyone have you, anyway.”

Your eyes widen in slight surprise.

Why did you let me divorce you, then?

His fingers are tracing circles into the skin of your thigh absentmindedly. The flutter in your chest threatens to pull on your lungs when you notice.

“You’re so different now,” he notes.

“Not really.”

“I don’t just mean the way you look, by the way. Your eyes are sharper. Posture better. Not a meek little thing anymore, huh?”

You could flush at how he belittles you, but the praise gets to your head. 

“Huh. You’re the opposite. You look and act the same as when I last saw you.”

He laughs. “I always liked when you talked back, you know. Anyone ever told you can be a bit of a brat?”

You raise a brow. “Yes.”

His breath smells sweet. Tongue like a candy apple from the sugared liquor in his glass, you were sure. You don’t wince when he gets closer to you.

“Yeah? And how do they deal with it?”

You bite the inside of your cheek before entertaining him.

“Everyone’s a little different,” you mumble.

You miss the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. You’re too distracted by the shape of his mouth.

“What do you think I’d do?” Gojo tilts his head as if he’s taunting you.

“I don’t– what?” you stammer. 

“You’re a smart girl. Use your imagination.”

He grins again. Everything about him is sickeningly sweet. It’s not a side of him you’ve ever seen directed at you. There’s almost a fondness there. You would only see it before in rare moments, usually when Gojo was a little drunk. You suppose he could be drunk now and you’re almost grateful despite yourself. He would always get a little handsy, especially if you were dressed up for his clan events. He’d have his hand only on your leg, crawling up the skirt of your dress. During times like those, he felt like a real husband.

They were always such fleeting moments. Even years after the divorce, certain memories could still make you dizzy. 

Your mouth goes dry. You compose yourself. 

“Sorry. I, uh, have to use the bathroom.”

“Gonna use your imagination in there?” Gojo jokes.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, if only to humor him.

You don’t realize the hole you’ve put yourself in once you utter the words. The invitation you’ve given him. Unfortunately, you’re also still reeling from the conversation, so you forget to lock the door of the handicapped bathroom. 

To be fair, Gojo did try to convince himself not to follow you for the entire three minutes you were gone. But he’s never been that good of a man. It was your fault for being so damn tempting in the first place. But he had tried to be good even in the very beginning – he was polite, kept his hands to himself. Bought you anything you wanted. 

He even let you leave him. After seeing you tonight, he now knows it was a grave mistake.

“Satoru.”

“Hey.” 

He closes the door gently and locks it. Leans against the door with his arms crossed as if waiting for you to do a magic trick from the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Why are you–”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to follow you,” he tuts. 

Okay. Fine. He had a point.

“This must be exciting for you, yeah? Seeing me lose it over you?”

You can’t form words. Despite the fire in your belly, you aren’t completely sure what his angle is here. He steps forward and backs you into the wall. He could pin you to it, easily.

His hands rest on your thighs, riding up the length of the pathetic excuse you call a skirt. 

“You’re trying to kill me with this,” he huffs. “Just making everything so… difficult.”

He almost sounds disappointed in you. There is a rush of desperation flooding your brain like a knee-jerk reaction. You can feel your heart about to burst.

“Sorry,” you mumble. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.

“I was really trying to behave, too,” Gojo sighs. “Wouldn’t want to scare my ex-wife away with how much I missed her. Christ.”

“You– what?”

“Yeah, baby. How could I not miss this face?” He strokes your cheek. You’re convinced he’s been possessed by someone else, maybe. Mistaken you for a different stranger.

Your knees are already going weak. He leans in to whisper in your ear. The hand stroking your cheek holds your chin, squishing your face slightly.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“I… I did,” you whisper.

“Good,” he smiles softly. “I like knowing you still think about me.”

The proximity is driving him insane, but he’s always liked to play with you. Sometimes he would be a little mean on purpose, but never enough to be considered bullying. He just enjoyed watching you squirm back then — it was adorable how dedicated you were to playing the part of a doting wife. He wanted to see you crack, maybe beg for his attention, but you were always too stubborn.

His cock throbs knowing that you’re putty in his hands now. Melting against him, soft and willing like a blooming flower. God, he needs a taste. He nibbles on your earlobe and grins when he feels your breath hitch.

“I kind of wanted to just take you right there on the bar. Let all those creeps see how good I’d fuck you.”

Your eyes flutter rapidly at his words. He has pinned you to the wall now. You’re close enough to feel him press against you, bullet-hard. A little more teasing and he’d pull the trigger. 

He kisses down your neck, mapping it out with his teeth. He’s barely touched you and you feel like an elastic band about to snap.

“S-Satoru–”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You pant lightly. You’re preening into his touch. Lightning makes roots down the center of your spine. You forget what you wanted to say.

“What is it? You want me to take care of you?” He pulls back this time to look you directly in the eyes. His expression softens just a second at the lovestruck look in your eyes. Tender and glistening.

You nod slowly.

“I need your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” your voice shakes. “I want you to take care of me.”

He hums, pleased. The desire in his face is so new to you despite having been his wife. He’d only fucked you once before, on your anniversary. You were too tempting and he, admittedly, was tired of punishing himself by not allowing himself the pleasure of having you.

He could see you now, sprawled on the tatami mat, how you smelled like cherry blossoms. Flashes of images reeling in his mind, every little sound you made. He’d fucked his fist to the memory of it all too often after you left him. 

He felt honored to have the real thing in his hands right now.

He kisses you like he needs you to breathe. You feel blood rush to your ears, the music from the bar muffled. All you could hear were the sound of his grunts, the slickness of his tongue in between your lips. 

He spins you around abruptly, bending you over the sink. Hand on your throat, teeth in the tendon of your shoulder.

“Look at how pretty you are,” he rasps. 

You whimper, feeling his hard cock rut against the curve of your ass. He laughs when he swipes his hand underneath your skirt, the fabric of your underwear already wet. 

You gasp sharply when he eases a finger in without any resistance. He swallows the sounds you make, craning your neck towards his face with his hand while the other works another finger in. Your stomach flips, all boiling heat when he curves his fingers in just the right spot. As if he’d done it a dozen times.

“Dirty girl,” Gojo mumbles. “Getting off to her ex-husband's fingers all the way up in her cunt. In a fucking dive bar bathroom, too.”

When you whine, he only scissors into you harder and laughs. It kills you how much it turns you on, even while knowing he’s being cruel. You would fantasize about it all the time back then. Needed him to make you a real wife so you could forget yourself. You close your eyes, groaning.

“S-Satoru, I–”

“You’re not gonna cum just from that, are you?” You hear a grin in his voice.

“Fuck, please —”

His fingers leave you, making you whine in protest. The sopping mess of your arousal trickles down your inner thighs. 

“Not yet, baby. Want you to cum in my mouth.”

Gojo drops to his knees and flips up your skirt, pulling your soiled underwear down your legs at the same time. You cover your mouth to keep from moaning when you feel his tongue prodding at your cunt. 

“I always regret not tasting you on our anniversary,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re sweeter than I imagined.”

“Imagined?” you squeak out.

“You thought I stopped wanting you just because I signed a piece of paper?”

“I didn’t – oh, fuck —”

You’re distracted by the plunge of his tongue into cunt. He sucks at the hood of your clit and you feel yourself jerk involuntarily. He’s fond of your sensitivity. He used to want to take advantage of it.

You let a particular loud whine and he hums, lapping up every drop of your arousal. He sucks at your clit in earnest while he brings his fingers back to you, immediately reaching for the spot he knows will make you see stars. 

You cum so hard that you nearly bang your head against the sink faucet. Your head is spinning from the impact of it, dizzied on the high that came from a clan head in your cunt. The alcohol wasn’t helping.

He’s quick to get to his feet and kiss you so you can taste yourself. He tugs your hair and you arch for him like a taut bowstring.

“Feel how much I want you, baby?” You can feel his dick against you, something like shame flooding your system at how much of a mess you were. Getting his nice slacks all damp with your slick.

“Please,” you beg. 

He doesn’t think twice once he hears your plea. He unbuckles his belt quickly and slides down his pants. He collects your wetness in between your folds to stroke his dick. 

It feels like he’s gouging your stomach when he fucks into you. Bigger than any man you’ve had, still. Gojo likes that he was your first and he’s decided now that he will be your last.

“Tight,” Gojo mutters. You know it’s a compliment but your face heats up nonetheless. His hand around your throat is only more confirmation of his want. 

He smacks your ass with his other hand, looking down to admire the reddish mark he left. Brute. He grins when you squeeze him tighter after it. He notices your eyes struggling to stay open and gives a particularly hard thrust just to see your jaw go slack. Eyes in half-moons, boiled by the heat of your thumping heart. Blood pumping to every soft spot in your body, your brain.

“Satoru,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

“F-Feels so…”

You inhale sharply, eyes widening when his hand snakes down to pinch your clit. Your hair’s wrapped his knuckles now. A ribbon around a wedding gift. He liked when you used to wear ribbons around your neck. Liked imagining you all wrapped up for him. 

Satoru was so beautiful when he did anything, but he was angelic when he was fucking you. Cheeks all carmine, mouth wide open. It was something you wanted to get used to.

“You keep clenching, Jesus,” he grunts. Teeth at your nape, at your shoulder. Blue eyes staring at you in the mirror.

“Satoru, I’m close,” you whine.

“Hold it.”

“I– I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. You’re a good girl, even if you are dressed like a little slut.”

You whimper at that, your cunt pulsating at his words. Muscles strung out like a wet rag. You nearly cry when he pulls out of you, manhandling you to turn. He picks you up to set you down on the cold sink counter, the porcelain soothing the bruising on your ass.

He groans as he pumps himself slowly, admiring the way his tip catches on your entrance. You squirm a little, impatient, and he kisses you. It feels invasive, almost, from how rough he plays with you, sucks on your tongue. He takes the opportunity to ram into you, enjoying the way the pitched whine rolling out of your mouth gets tasted by him.

“Missed my cock, didn’t you?” he smirks. “Still the best you’ve ever had, right?”

“Y-Yes,” you sob.

His gut fucking melts.

Your mascara was getting smudged, not smudgy like he’d see in porn, but blending in the rim of your wet eyes. Dew-drop lashes.

“Feels best like this. Wanna see your face when you cum for me,” he pants. 

Your hands are on his shoulders, clinging onto him. He’s so much bigger than you, especially like this — your legs spread, his big hands gripping your thigh hard enough to hurt a little. You moan. Your voice sounds girlier than usual, wounded. You don’t recognize yourself. 

“Oh, it’s too deep—”

“No such thing,” Satoru snickers. “You’re – hah – so good at this. Good girl.”

“S-Satoru, it’s too–”

“You love it. Tell me.”

“F-fuck — I,” – you struggle mindlessly, voice strained – “I love it…”

“I know, baby,” he coos. Kisses your forehead, which is hilariously domestic and gentle considering the mean pace of his hips. 

He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You’re so fucked out. He’d ask you to take a picture if he wasn’t so focused on making you cum.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Please, please, please—”

“Okay, honey,” he chuckles. “You can cum now.”

Your moan is louder than expected as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight. You can feel all the warmth rush out of you. You really are a sight to behold, which is why Satoru cums immediately after you. You feel like you might pass out. 

He kisses you all over your face, mumbling praise as you come back to your body. It’s all most nonsensical, but you swear you hear I love you. Your half-lidded eyes close as he envelops you with his arms, mascara streaking his shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by a succession of loud knocks.

“Other people need to piss!”

Satoru scoffs, pulling away from you to slide his pants back up and buckle them. He mouths something to you that you don’t understand and leans down to grab your underwear to give to you.

“Just a second!” Satoru yells. “My wife is sick, had a bit too much to drink. Almost done.”

“Wife?” you whisper, bewildered.

Satoru eyes soften in amusement. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[caamboys]

FUTURE SPOUSE PAC

the dynamic between you both

long time no see guys <333

love reading for 2025 ! 🦪 I pray the reading resonates for anyone who engages.

( unedited )

this is focused solely on your personalities / energy within your relationship, not outside or in general.

PILE ONE

core energy within the dynamic : first love, situationship turned relationship, love coming when you least expect it

Reader within the relationship dynamic

channeled song- “ pretty girls walk this “

“ foreign, private, designer, stylist “

“ I’ll throw a tantrum, now a b*tch’ll get childish “

You’re turning over a new leaf within this relationship, embracing change. You could’ve been single for a while or this is your first relationship, either way you’re inexperienced. You’ll be exploring this relationship and all the aspects of it, embracing the new physical and emotional connection. You move quickly within this dynamic, a very spontaneous energy. You might have a key to their house and pop up randomly on them. You might want to move in quickly.

I see despite you being inexperienced you’re navigating dating them freely and bravely. They make you feel confident enough to date them without being plagued by feelings of paranoia or caution. You’re going into everything headfirst within this dynamic.

Future spouse within the relationship dyanamic

channeled song - “ poison “

“ I’m not above love to cash in “

“ Anyway you want me baby, that’s the way you got me baby, I’ll be yours “

-

This will sound cliche but they’ll be the ideal romantic partner. This is a lover boy / lover girl, a simp if you will. I think prior to your guys' connection they struggled with cold and detached partners, people who never could truly handle their emotional depth and yearning. This will dampen their spirit towards love in general until they meet you. The nonchalant facade will fade, and you renew their passion for love. Your genuineness towards dating and even the naivety you have towards love is shocking to them. You’re a breath of fresh air because you have nothing but good intentions, no ulterior motives in dating. Their ability to give to you is like a bottomless pit. They feel useless if you don’t ask them for anything. Want your hair or nails done? They got it. Want to go somewhere? They’ll take you. Don’t have something you need? They’ll handle it. This is definitely Mr/Mrs. Make it Happen. Gift giving is their ultimate love language to you. It’s funny because they’ll surprise you with something you didn’t even know you wanted. This person will be in a constant internal battle on whether or not they’re doing too much. Some of them want to show you the true depths of their love and just how deeply they can love you but another part of them doesn’t want to scare you off with their intensity. Their solution to this internal struggle would be “ gift giving “, a token of their affection for you that isn’t necessarily showing it in verbal / emotional way and making them feel vulnerable.

Another thing I channeled is the way they gaze at you. Even their stare has another level of intensity and yearning.

PILE TWO

core energies: expansion, extending the lineage, exploration

Reader within the relationship dynamic

( tw : mention of childhood trauma & abuse )

( promise it’s not a sad read just a small section addressed it )

channeled song- “ I wanna be your girlfriend “

“ I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips “

“ I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath”

Pile two you’re never paying for anything in this relationship. It’s giving, show up and look cute and you’ve fulfilled your payment. You don’t pay attention to anything when you’re with this person in public, you’re in your own little world, content and protected. I see you in a very youthful and reckless energy within the dynamic. You may be in college/school right now and living with either roommates or parents during the initial stages of this relationship. This relationship will address and heal a lot of childhood trauma. The main thing I channeled was parental wounds. Perhaps one or both of your parents may have been emotionally absent or abusive, or something happened with a trusted guardian or teacher that formed some sort of trauma at a young age. The one thing I’m getting from this is you’ve carried a lot of burdens that forced you to think / act a lot older than you were. You may have developed a hyper independence from this. This person is going to help you release control to someone else and allow them the opportunity to help you take care of yourself.

One thing about you in this dynamic I’m fond of is your standards. You know what you want, how you wish to be treated and you won’t hesitate to leave. You have very strong boundaries and this comes from a strong self worth. You will advocate for yourself within this relationship, you will voice any opinions you have regardless if they’re positive or negative. If your needs aren’t being met you have no problem communicating it. You’re not aiming to be a people pleaser within this relationship but instead your most authentic self.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ Alone tonight “

“ I don’t wanna be alone tonight, can you keep me company? “

“ My names known worldwide, still need someone in my life “

They’re older than you or they have more life experience or knowledge than you. They will play many roles within your relationship including your partner, protector and teacher. This is a very intellectually charged person. They’re already established within their long term career or pursuing it. They’re the more disciplined and structured individuals in the relationship. When it comes to making plans, scheduling trips or dates they’ll handle it. Look up airport couple on TikTok and you’ll get a glance into your relationship, you’ll turn off your brain in public and they’ll be the vigilant and focused ones. Another scenario I’m channeling for you is them taking you camping. I can imagine them guiding you to build the tent, teaching you how to start and maintain a fire, etc..

They will be the clean freak within the relationship. If you’re more disheveled or messy they’ll be stern about it lol. They will move quickly within the relationship. To you, they plan spontaneous dates but for them, it was already calculated and thought of days ahead of them communicating it. This person has a strong paternal/maternal instinct and it reflects itself in the relationship. They know exactly how to read you emotionally, soothe you, or show up for you way you need. It also shows in their protectiveness. They want to have your location and know your work schedule. This person's protectiveness to you is also because you represent a legacy to them, a new lineage, the chance to build their own family.

The overall energy of this dynamic that I’m channeling is

“ I can do it myself “

“ I know; but I want to do it for you “

PILE THREE

core energies: best-friends, lots of banter and bickering, US VS THE WORLD

Reader within the future relationship dynamic

( yall, I channeled these songs AFTER I did the reading and wrote everything down. CHANNELING THIS SONG WAS SO FUNNYYY TO ME 🤭🤭 the “playfighting “ I mentioned several times below was definitely confirmed lmaooo in no way am I condoning violence but im giggling )

channeled song - “ bust your kneecaps “

“ honey believe me, I have your heart on a platter”

“ they’ll bust your kneecaps, probably some other stuff too “

You try to overpower them. You’re constantly challenging them mentally or physically. You enjoy invoking a reaction from them, getting them super hype during debates or red in the face from play fighting. Prior to the relationship you didn’t like this person, they may have come across as egotistical or arrogant and it irritated you. The kind of person everyone likes and you’re just like “ yeeah okay whatever “. Somehow you two enter a partnership but I think you still have the energy of wanting to take them down a peg, not in a toxic way, moreso the way bestfriends bicker and check each other. That aside, you're very grounded within the relationship. You seem very down to earth, perhaps a humanist or an animal lover. You might have a cat lol. Your energy alone within the dynamic is a constant source of growth for you both. You balance out the love and tension well, dishing it out at the perfect moments. You get cuteness aggression with this person a lot, I think it’s the source for a lot of the banter between you both.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ super shy “

“ I wanna go out with you, where you wanna go? “

“ You don’t even know my name do you? “

They are similar to you, but can be even more immature. They are childish and allow themselves to be free and youthful around you. Within the relationship they might be the reckless one, never scared to cause commotion or be a daredevil. They may have a lot of scars or get hurt easily from this lol. They’re super active, whether in sports or working out but they’ll want to include you in it. You might go on hikes or walks or nature trails with this person, be careful though because they’ll be the type to get you lost lol. They get off on the tension / debating within your relationship. Physical touch is their love language with you, and play fighting with them will be like the ultimate foreplay. They have a big family, friend group, or a lot of external energy around them. I say this because people are naturally drawn and charmed easily by your significant other. I think prior to the relationship you’ll be the one to see past all sweet and nice exterior and into their underlying mischievous side. They may seem like an angel in front of others but you can sense the deception within it, and in turn you don’t treat them like everyone else. This will catch their interest first about you, your seemingly detachment or dislike of them. They will pursue you and seek you out first because of your obvious dislike or disinterest in them and then realize how well you connect mentally.

Communication will flow naturally and honestly I'm getting a sort of telepathic bond between you both. Not literally, moreso you can read each other’s expressions and know what the other is thinking. They can look into your eyes and have an entire conversation with you. They’ll definitely encourage this “telepathic bond”, wanting you both to be in a bubble apart from everyone else.

They’ll honestly recognize you as themselves in another body, you two may think so similarly that you both see each other as extensions of the other if that makes sense. An example I’m channeling is

“ you’re the boy version of me”

“ no, you’re the girl version of me”

PILE FOUR

core energy: breaking barriers and social norms, establishing wealth, breaking generational curses

Reader within the relationship dynamic

channeled song- “ take me to church “

“ knows everybody’s disapproval, I should’ve worshipped her sooner “

“ my lovers got humor, she’s the giggle of the funeral”

You’re in a very successful energy within this relationship. Career wise you are independent and very productive, I channeled booked and busy to be exact. You have very ambitious energy within the relationship towards finances and establishing wealth, part of this is through a stable and healthy partnership. In the past you’ve lowered yourself to meet others levels, within this relationship you stand securely within your power. You wish to combine finances and wealth and build a sustainable legacy for your future generations to come. That aside, you seem to be the more extroverted one in this Dynamic. Even if you’re introverted, people are very fond of you. This will irritate your future spouse because they feel like people are constantly “ orbiting“ around you. You may have a lot of friends or social connections, or just a well known person. You may have a large social media following. People might even think you’re out of your future spouse's league in terms of appearances or finances but you understand that shallow and superficial standards won’t secure a healthy and flourishing life. I’m not getting your future spouse is unattractive, but something about them compared to you is different. They could be nerdier than you, alternative, super spiritual, etc, goth. You may have to defend this person and explain to others you’re not dating this individual for social norms, instead you’re securing a healthy partnership. You will recognize just how well you collaborate and vibe together on an emotional, spiritual and intellectual level. You’re not dating them for them to be your trophy wife/husband, but moreso a soulmate connection that exceeds society's standards. This may also be a same sex connection you’re in.

Future spouse within the relationship dynamic

channeled song - “ money trees “

“ love one of you bucket headed h*es? no way “

“ money trees is the perfect place for shade “

They’re very fulfilled within your relationship. They daydream about starting a family with you. They feel like no one knows you better than them, and it’s something that makes them feel special especially compared to other people around you. In the beginning stages of your relationship I’m seeing your future spouse in a competitive energy with your friends or maybe even family about who is closer to you. This may cause strife within your dynamic, jealous of the attention you give to others and scared of the attention you receive, sometimes making them question whether or not they’re good enough for you. You will realize this very early on in the relationship, recognizing that they put you on a pedestal. Unlike with other people, it may particularly bother you when your future spouse does, you don’t want them to romanticize you like others. You will share with them all the repulsive sides, flaws and shortcomings you have and you will be reborn again in their eyes. This will only make this person love you that much more. “ seeing what no one else gets to see “ is what I’m channeling from them. Your vulnerability will soothe any feelings of abandonment. They will know how special they are to you after you’ve let them see past your surface level and into the depths of who you truly are. This will make them arrogant within your dynamic about their spot in your life, no longer insecure. A random example I channeled is someone offering you a certain snack / food and your future spouse answering for you and telling them “ no, they’re allergic to so and so”. They’re like a walking encyclopedia of you . They know everyone’s connection with you doesn’t nearly go as deep as theirs. They’re a bit obsessive over you, strong Scorpio energy here. You will have a very watchful and observant partner, even when you think they’re not watching, trust me they are. I think prior to this relationship they knew you and liked you, but you didn’t know this. They give me the energy of someone getting into a relationship with their crush. They have tunnel vision when it comes to you, I don’t think anyone could ever tempt your future spouse.

—

[jjkbambi]

boy next door luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! (((smut)))) your roommate luigi wants to help you get over your breakup.

warnings: long fic so we’re starting off with fluff, smutty and rough, blowjob, head pushing and hair-pulling and choking on it bc y/n is #real, p in this v fr, Tie, jealous-ish?, (is in the kitchen public?), he’s very talkative, daddy and his good girl <333

^^ unedited and im a procrastinator

you still haven’t gotten luigi the secret santa gift. with the end of december closing in, all the other $25-and-under gifts sit neatly wrapped beside the tabletop tree. by friendsmas standards, you’re embarrassingly late.

but it was hard!!! he spent most of his time tucked away in his room, the door always cracked just enough to remind you he wasn’t entirely gone. you’d catch glimpses of him hunched over his desk, surrounded by books and papers scrawled with notes you couldn’t begin to understand. he never started conversations, only speaking up to correct you or drop some fact that left you feeling both impressed and annoyed.

it was so desperate you tried the campus bookstore, staring helplessly at the rows of penn merch to no avail. he already seemed to own everything—hoodies, mugs, even a pennant on his door. a gift card felt impersonal, but anything else felt like a gamble.

“good morning,” you hum, stepping into his room. luigi’s snaps his head up, standing shirtless by his closet, scrambling to pull on a sweater. for someone who barely left the house, the sight of his six-pack catches you completely off guard.

“what do you want?” he asks, voice gruff.

you lean against his wall. “do you prefer american or chinese food?”

he huffs out a laugh before leaning onto his blackwood desk. “what, are you taking me out on a date?”

“no, no, no, your secret santa asked me to ask you.” you lie. “they also asked if you wear a size medium or large.”

“don’t worry, i can’t make it to movie night,” he says casually. your lips immediately drop into a frown. it was the annual tradition in the house—a night where all five roommates came together to watch a terrible holiday movie and exchange department store gifts. he couldn’t miss it. “i’ve got a mandatory frat event,” he adds with a shrug. “apparently, it’s not optional this time. i’m surprised your boyfriend didn’t tell you about it.”

you feel yourself dull at the mention of him. “we’re on a break.”

luigi raises an eyebrow. “a break, huh? didn’t see that one coming.” his tone is neutral, but there’s a flicker of something underneath. “what made it happen?”

you shrug, avoiding the conversation.

luigi’s expression softens, his gaze shifting to something a little more concerned. he takes a small step closer, his voice quieter now. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you weren’t, and it was overtly obvious. luigi stands over you, his tall frame leaning closer, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. “i thought i heard you say you were done with all that fraternity nonsense,” you say, remembering the times he complained to your roommates about the tumultuous nights and endless responsibilities waiting for him at the phi kappa psi house. it’s strange to picture your boyfriend in that world now.

“you’re nosy,” he says.

“you specifically told my boyfriend it was a huge waste of money.”

“ex-boyfriend.”

“we’re on a break!” you emphasize, eyes narrowing. “plus, it sounds like you’re just trying to get out of secret santa.”

luigi leans in slightly, his voice lowering, teasing. “and it sounds like you’re getting me a gift card.”

you can’t help but laugh, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something that felt just a little too comfortable. “alright fine,” you say, accepting defeat. “secret’s out. what is it you want?”

he pauses, studying you for a moment, the faintest smirk curling at his lips. “what do i want?” he murmurs, his voice low, as if weighing the question. hesteps a bit closer, just enough to make the space between you feel charged. “i don’t know, what are you willing to give me?”

you flush under his gaze, unsure of what to make of this moment. you have a boyfriend—yet you’re ninety percent sure luigi is flirting with you, and about a hundred percent sure you’re liking it.

the warmth in your chest is both unsettling and familiar, a confusing mix of guilt and something else you can’t quite place. you try to shake it off, but the way he looks at you lingers in your thoughts, pulling at you in ways you didn’t expect.

he seems entertained by your befuddlement, his eyes lingering on yours in a way that makes you second-guess yourself. he looks away, breaking the moment with a soft chuckle, then turns to leave.

“i’ll see you,” he says, but it’s not casual. it’s something else, something that makes you wonder if he’s looking forward to seeing you again as much as you are him.

you bring yourself back to reality, forcing your mind to settle. you can’t flirt with him. it would upset the house dynamic, intrude on your peaceful living space—you cannot let that happen. you shouldn’t. you were on a break from your boyfriend, a small pause in something that still felt important. and soon enough, you’d be back together, just like you always were.

as much as his presence lingers in your thoughts, you remind yourself of the needed boundaries, the reasons why things can’t get blurred.

still, as you continue baking cookies, dodging glitter explosions, and downing soju bottles, his absence nags at you, a quiet reminder that you’re trying not to want something that might never be.

“you’re still awake.” luigi’s voice cuts through the quiet kitchen, startling you so much that you nearly drop the piece of ribbon you’re holding. you whirl around, clutching your chest, only to find him much closer than you’d expected—close enough that you have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he says as you try to shake off the way your pulse seems to have kicked off into overdrive. “you’re not tired?”

“not yet.” you shake your head. “the party didn’t exhaust you?”

“it did.” he says, exhaling. “figured i’d check if i’m eating american or chinese tomorrow before i hit the hay.”

you pretend like you’re offended. “i’d never get you something so thoughtless.”

you grab a gray glittery gift bag and toss it his way. his teasing falters for a second, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “a tie?”

“yeah, you’re always dressed fancy, going fancy places…” you say, brushing the glitter off your hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious. was it the wrong choice? did fancypants mcgee only wear silk imported from asia? “you don’t like it?”

“no,” he says quickly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “it’s sweet.”

you glance at him, unsure what to say, and his smirk softens into something else, something warmer. he steps closer, the space between you narrowing just enough to make your breath catch.

“guess i’ll have to step up my game,” he says, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “didn’t realize you were paying attention.”

you blink, caught off guard, scrambling to come up with something, but before you can, he leans back, breaking the tension with a chuckle. “looks like you could use some help.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i want to,” he replies, tossing the ribbon into the trash before grabbing the broom from the corner. “besides, i can’t have you using this tie to guilt-trip me later.”

“it’s weird having you be so nice to me,” you blurt out the words before you can realize the reprussions. his dark brown eyes glance up at you, eyebrows pinched together.

the regret is immediate. “i just mean we’ve never really talked before.”

luigi looks at you, his expression shifting slightly. “was that my choice or yours?”

you blink, caught off guard. you’d always assumed it was mutual. “well, that’s not really the point,” you say, trying to brush it off. “we’re friends now, right?”

his dark eyes shift away from yours for a moment, but only to return with even more intensity, holding you in place, freezing you in the moment. your heart stutters in your chest. “i was never interested in being your friend.”

“oh.” the word feels hollow as it leaves your mouth, and you instantly feel your face go pale. you scramble for something to say, anything to make the moment feel less heavy, but the silence hangs between you, thick and unrelenting.

“that’s not what i meant—“

“it’s fine of course, you don’t have to—”

“no.”

he shakes his head and runs up to you, closing the moment of confusion with an abrupt force—his mouth is on yours, tongue slipping past your lips and sliding into you.

whether it was the warmth of the kiss, his big hands groping your body, or the fact that this was just all so irredeemably wrong—you didn’t know—but the rush you got from being with him left you dizzy and dazed and desperate.

luigi laughs into your kiss. “you’re so fuckin’ eager.”

you should be reasonable. you shouldn’t be doing this, this is a mistake. “sorry, i—”

“no, don’t be sorry,” he says, smiling into another sloppy kiss. it felt so tender, so loving, when he takes you into your arms. reason flies out the window. “i want you, too.”

“luigi,” you whimper into his lips, not recognizing the desperation in your voice.

“i’ll give it to you baby, don’t worry,” he hums.

your fingers rush to unbutton your top, half-way done before luigi realizes what you’re doing and he grabs you. “keep your clothes on. i don’t need you naked to make you cum.”

he’s so strong and forward and unlike anything you’ve ever had before. in one swift motion, he turns you over, pressed against the kitchen counter as he slides his warm hand down your silk shorts and cradles your tit with the other.

“you put these on for me, didn’t you?” he tugs your lace panties, pressing them against your hot cunt. your back arches at the sensation and you feel his cock hard underneath his jeans.

“luigi.” you whimper, barely breathing.

“admit it,” he says, in between licking and kissing and biting the nape of your neck, sure to leave marks. “you wore these for me, didn’t you? wanted me to take your mind off that fuckin’ asshole, hm? wanted me to take care of you?”

you swell underneath him, shaking. he grinds his straining cock against your plump ass as he works your pussy, groaning into your neck.

“oh, baby, is that too much for you already?” luigi’s breath is hot against your neck, hands busy rubbing your clit and pinching your delicate nipple.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. the expression on luigi’s face is smug. “you haven’t even had my cock yet, look at you.”

he brings his wet fingers up to your lips, then shoves them into your mouth without permission. you can’t help but shudder underneath his wicked touch. “yeah.” he laughs. “squirm like that, slut.”

“lu,” you pant. “i want it.”

“no, not yet,” he says, rubbing his hard big cock against your clothed ass. “see how hard i am for you? see how worked up you got me?”

“yes,” you whimper, fingers still in your mouth.

“get on your knees,” luigi grunts. “show me how much you need it.”

you needed it more than anything. dropping down to your knees, you notice a spot on his jeans wet with precum. he’s straining for you. you try to get as much of your mouth on him as you can as soon as his bottoms are off, desperate to show him how good you are.

“you’re so pretty like this,” luigi murmurs as you try to fill your mouth with his entirety. seeing that you’re struggling, he puts his hand on the back of your head and guides you down onto it. “such a good girl.”

he rocks hip forward deep into your warmth, using your face. “choke on it.” he orders. and you do. your eyes tear up at the feeling of his length touching the back of your throat. “god, you’re so fuckin’ filthy.”

before you can breathe, luigi pulls himself out of your mouth and barks out another order, “put your hands up against the wall.”

you do as you’re told. your core aches like it misses his touch. pulling your shorts down, he groans at the sight of your wetness, driving his big cock inside of you.

“slipped in so easy with your spit all over me,” he whispers in your ear. god, he’s driving you fucking crazy. the pleasure is almost overwhelming as he leans down, forces your chin back to bring your lips together, a sloppy, loving kiss.

“i knew you were gonna be like this,” he purrs into you, sucking and biting.

“like what?”

“like a fuckin’ slut.” luigi grumbles. he grabs something off the counter, and you don’t know what’s happening until you feel the silk material fasten around your wrists. the tie.

“luigi.” you gasp.

“i’ve been waiting to get my fuckin’ hands on you.”

you shiver at the confession. “really?”

he groans as he watches your ass ripple against his hips—at how easy and soft and weak you were at his mercy. he melts at the sight of you, using your binded wrists to buck deeper into you. you moan and whimper and scream on the force—he’s so harsh, so mean, so good—you’ve never even dreamt of a pleasure like this.

“listen to you.” he buries himself so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass. “you’re fuckin’ loud when you’re getting treated right, aren’t you?”

“please, daddy,” you whine, completely out of your mind.

luigi groans, pushing your head into the kitchen counter. “god, i didn’t think you were gonna call me that,” he rumbles, rocking his cock hard into your frothing core, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body.

he pulls your hair back again, causing you to shriek. “didn’t call him that, did you?” he says it like a statement, leaving no room for correction. “god, i used to jerk myself off listening to you moan. wondering if you were riding him or bent over your fuckin’ mattress.“

“luigi.” you cry.

“always knew i could treat you better,” he growls. “always wanted to bend you over in front of everyone and make you beg for it.”

“i would’ve let you,” you mewl out, helpless.

“yeah?”

“you’re s’good.”

his thrusts come faster, more frantic. “better than him?”

“yes!”

you’re so close and so needy. your mind glows white as he fucks into you. squirming underneath him, the friction of your frantic movements growing hotter as the both of you chase your high. “good girl,” he praises, kissing all over your neck and back. “cream all over daddy’s cock, baby.”

“luigi,” you moan as your orgasm gushes beneath him, shivering as you feel his cock quiver, his load shooting deep into your cunt. he grunts with his final thrust, whimpering your name.

he kisses your shoulder as he pulls out of you. “so good,” he pants, just as helpless and shaken as you were. he unties the present you’d given him and pulls you in for another kiss.

“luigi,” you sigh against his lips.

“pretty girl,” he whispers back, running his hot wet kisses across your lips, your cheeks, your neck. “let me take you out tomorrow, yeah? a proper date. i’ll wear my tie ‘nd everything.”

you laugh—a mix of disbelief and something else—something lighter. before you can say anything, he’s leaning in again, kissing you softly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“it was a good gift, right?” you hum.

“yeah,” he agrees, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “versatile.”

MASTERLIST send requests and leave feedback :3

[hongjoongscafe]

Angry F*$!

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut.

Summary: maybe getting angry sometimes isn’t too bad.

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: orgasm denial, pussy slapping, spanking, creampie, spitting kink, face slapping, hair pulling, name-calling, smoking, oral, fingering, panty sniffing (he stuffs his boxers in her mouth, too), unprotected (wrap it up, people, wrap it up or else Namjoon will spank you), cum eating, degradation, daddy kink, doggy style, cuffs, anal, breath play(?), choking, biting, squirting, aftercare ('cause I love it).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist. Unedited.

Masterpost.

“Do you even know how dumb you make me look?” your husband, Jungkook, screams at you. “Fifteen fucking years together and this one bitch comes and you trust that cunt over me?”

“Am I wrong?” you scream back. “A hot, sexy assistant is what you got to know and why wouldn’t you wanna have a taste of her?!”

Jungkook’s new assistant is, to say the least, known for wrecking homes. And somehow that bitch wrapped your naive heart in her fingers and filled you with rumours regarding him and herself accidentally as she didn’t know you were his wife as if you two haven’t been together out on the events and face of every possible magazine at least once.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he stood up and walked towards you with a feral look in his eyes. “Taste of her?” he growled.

“Yes, taste of her. Isn’t that right? Wouldn't you want to fuck her; someone sexy, hot, desirable?” you push his chest.

“Why would I?” he yells.

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Fucking-,” he cut himself off and hold you by the roots of your hair and pull you with him to the mirror. “Because I wanna fuck you and love you forever!” he makes you look in the mirror, nowhere being gentle.

“I don’t believe you!” you turn around in his hold and slap him across the face. Your jealousy hitting the skyline.

Jungkook’s face turned dark. Your only warning before he threw you on the bed was “Then let me make you believe.”

You bounced as you landed on the bed. He roughly pulled your legs up, yanked your shorts down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. “Mrs doesn’t believe,” he scoffs. “Now you fucking will and never forget.”

You gasped as he pulled you up by your hair and draped you across his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He harshly pulled up your thongs, making you inhale sharply as the flimsy cloth rubbed against your clit. He rubbed your ass gently before landing a tight slap across your perfect ass cheek, “fuck,” you groaned.

He dipped his fingers under your g-string and pinched your clit making you moan pathetically. “Be a good bitch and count,” he pinched it harder when you didnt start counting.

“One!” you gasped.

He hummed and landed another smack, worse than before. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

“Look at your fucking pussy already leaking through his sorry piece of panty,” he pulled and snapped back. “Might as well get rid of this shit,” he growled as he tore it apart and brought the big wet patch to his nose and sniffed it deeply. “Oh,” he moans. “Keep the counting going.”

Like you weigh nothing, Jungkook picked you up and threw you back on the bed. You looked up at him as he removed his pants and white button-up. His hot abs are now on full display. His muscles flexed as he climbed over to you and ripped your tank top off you. Your boobs jiggle free and your nipples tighten with the utter, shameless need for this sinful man in front of you. You looked down at his huge bulge as your mouth watered.

“You want me to agree with you as you claim to cheat allegations on me?” he muttered, darkly. “You want me to agree with you that I will leave my fucking sexy wife and fuck some fucking assistance who is nowhere near as beautiful as you?”

Your heart rammed against your ribcage. As much as your insecurity flared in front of that sexy bimbo, you felt filthily gorgeous as he was looking at you like an animal. Deep down you knew she was getting into your head but your doubt on yourself was too much to argue with her.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Hm?” he snarls. He spreads your legs wide open as he lowers himself between them. He buried his nose between your wet folds and sniffed as he groaned. Look into your eyes.

“Jungkook!” a surprised scream left your lips as he slapped your wet pussy, hard. His palm inflated on your pussy as rubbed it painfully slowly.

“And leave my delicious cunt for someone else,” he bit your inner thigh, leaving his mark there.

You were gasping for air from his harsh treatment. He had never been this hard on you. And now when he is being hard, you crave it more.

Jungkook could feel your clit throbbing against his palm, hotly. “You like that, huh?” he bites again. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Such a fucking whore,” he spits on your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it in his mouth, his tongue flat against your nub, playing with it.

Your back arches and fingers fist his hair and push him flush against your pussy. He works down and thrusts his tongue in your hot cunt, his big nose rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. “Please,” you don’t know what you are demanding.

“Shut up!” he snaps and slaps your clit, making your whole body shudder. You look at him wide-eyed. Jungkook has spanked your ass plenty of times but your pussy? Your eyes roll back as he lands another one, harder than the previous one. “Count.”

“Three… four,” you whine as he shoves his two thick fingers into your hole.

“Look at that,” he kissed your thigh as he watches his fingers in your cunt. “Your fucking cunt is swallowing my finger like the greedy cunt that it is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he groped your tit. He crawled up, his fingers still inside you, and sucks your other nipple. His soft hair brushes your chin. Your breath hitches and let out another moan as he slaps your dripping cunt again. “Five,” you whisper in his ear.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as he thrust them back. Knowing you were cumming, he removed himself from your trembling body.

“No!” you cry out loud at the loss of his touch. You were so close to coming undone but he ripped it apart.

His chest was pumping up and down with his laboured breath. You looked so fucking fuckable as you lay there covered in sweat and that needy fucking look in your sexy eyes.

He removed his boxer briefs and bunched them in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he orders. But you just gape at him like a damn fish. Already running low on patience, he squeezed your cheeks and stuffed them in your mouth.

Your fingers fisted the sheets. Everything was turning you on more and more. It felt like your body was on fire. And he was just fueling it more and more.

He pulled out your favourite pink fluffy cuffs. Pulling you in a seated position, he cuffed your hands behind you and pushed you back all while you shamelessly eyed his long, fat cock swinging with each and every move he made. A pearly bead of precum was shining on top. All you wanted to do was to lick and choke yourself on his length.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking forget that I will only fuck my slutty cunt,” he rubs hot length against your slit, making it wet and ready with your slick. He thrust his thick, angry pink head in your pussy and mercilessly fucks you.

Your bed bangs against the walls and makes a creaky noise. His cock hits deep inside you, fucking your spongy spot, making your toes curl and eyes water.

“Fucking, whore,” he growls. His thumb rubs tight circles of swollen clit and his other hand wraps around your neck. He chokes you just enough to make you lightheaded.

You moan loudly against his boxers as he fucks you into the mattress. You were already going half-dumb under his sinful spell.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “All whiny and dumb for me.”

His fingers were digging in your neck. You could feel all of his angry thrusts in you. He was hitting the spot with each of them. His breath was coming as wretched as yours. The sweat was beading down his hard chest and abs.

Jungkook removed his hand from your clit and neck, still inside you, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. As he took a deep drag, he removed his boxers from your mouth and blew it in your mouth. He smirked as he felt your walls trembling around his length.

“Jung-,” your breath hitched and turned into a moan as he thrust back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. Your loud moans and his groans filled the room. “Fuck!”

He bent and squeezed your mouth open, “gimme your fucking tongue,” he rasped. You barely followed his order and he spat on your tongue. “Swallow.” Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed. Surprised by his lewd acts, you clenched around his length as you came all over his cock.

You gasp when he lands a slap across your face. It was not painful but just hot enough to make your cunt clench painfully around him. “Did I ask you to fucking cum?”

“N-no,” you whined.

Jungkook pulled out and manhandled you on your belly, pulling your hips up. His large hand pushed your face into the mattress, gripping by your hair.

“Then how dare you fucking come,” he moaned as he plunged back. “Fuck, your cunt is always ready to take my cock,” he rasp, spitting on his cock as he pushes back in.

His other hand holds the cuffs around your wrists, cigarette clutched between his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you moan and bite the sheets.

“Such a fucking slut, my whore,” he pulls your head back and spits on your face, smearing it and pushing his fingers down your throat as you choke on them.

His hand left the cuffs and brought the cigarette to his mouth and clutched it between his teeth and wrapped that hand around your neck, keeping you in place.

The drool was running down your chin to your breasts. He has never been this rough with you but fuck, you would poke him every day if he turned into this demon.

You turned your head to the side to look at his face. His hair was sticking to his face, his lips wrapped around the cigarette. He took a drag and blew it in your face. He was hot.

Your tongue licked his fingers and moved as if giving a blow job. A smirk pulled on his pretty face. He plastered your back to his hard front, removing his fingers, he tossed you back on your back.

“Open your mouth,” he said as he climbed on top of you and slapped your face with his heavy cock. He ran his pink head around your lips. You wrapped your lips around his swollen head and sucked it with hollow cheeks. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his cock. He pushed it all into your throat, making you gag around him. He was all the way down your throat. He pinched your nose and fucked your mouth. You could taste his salty precum in your mouth.

With every second, his thrusts got sloppier. Your lungs burned with the lack of air. You thrashed under him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as the thick spurts of his cum started to hit the back of your throat. He pulled his cock out and pained your face with the rest of his cum.

He sat next to you and smeared his cum all over your face. You were so fucked, and coughing as you were finally able to breathe again. “Would I let myself cover that bitch in my cum? Fuck no.”

He brings the same hand down to your cunt and fingers your hole “or this?” he said and stumped the burning butt on the ashtray.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“What?” still fingering your quivering pussy. “You thought this was over?” he scoffed and stood up.

From the drawer, he pulled out the lube and unclasped it. Pulling you by your legs, he brought you to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your legs apart, he bent you in half. Your knees were touching your chin. You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body jerked when he poured cold lube on your tight rim.

“Wha-” you began.

“Take whatever I give you,” he rubbed your rim with his fingers and slowly pushed them in. “So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you so good, y/n, gonna fuck that shitty thought out of your fucking brain,” he scissors your tight hole. “Look at your cunt, I knew you were a fucking whore for me. You are dripping everywhere,” he runs his fingers across your sensitive cunt and bends down to suck your clit in his mouth as he helps you get used to his fingers in your ass.

When relaxed enough, he replaced his fingers with his cock. His blunt head pushed past your back hole. “Daddy!” you screamed at the intrusion.

“Yes, baby. Scream for Daddy. Beg me to fuck your hole full of my cum,” he sank more and more of his cock into you until his pelvis was touching your thighs, growlung. He pulled your legs around his shoulder and leaned down to capture your pointed nipple in his mouth, letting your hole ease around his length. “So fucking tight. Remind me to fuck you more here.”

“Fuck me!” you whimper, letting him know you were ready. Your loins were on fire.

Jungkook found it hard to keep his breath equal. He was just as ruined as you were. He finally pulled his aching cock slightly out then plunged it back inside with a forceful thrust. Slowly, he started to fuck you harder and harder.

Your mouth fell open, hot noises came out of your mouth. Your tits juggled with each sharp thrust. You had no thought left in your brain. If someone asked you your name, you wouldn't remember.

Jungkook looked at your juicy pussy and pushed his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Your back arched painfully and you let out a silent scream, clenching around his cock tightly, you came all over him.

His eyes were wide open as he looked at your cunt squirting over yourself and him. He slapped it, making you tremble with shocks running down your body.

His cock twitched in your hole, finally bursting and filling your asshole with his hot cum. He slowed his thrusts and slumped over your shivering body.

He had never come so much before. His own body was trembling with how hard he came into your hole. Your heartbeat was running wild against his ear, matching his own.

Your sight was to behold. Your face was covered with his cum and spit. Your makeup was running down your face. So fucked and beautiful. Your pussy and asshole was throbbing with how sensitive they were. Your cheeks, both face and ass, were red from the slapping and spanking.

Jungkook pulled his phone and took a picture of you so that he could show you just how fucked and gorgeous you looked when you were not dazed.

“Did you see what you just did?” he asked you, looking at your dazed, cum and spit-coated face. “Baby?” his eyes widened when he saw you breaking down.”

You surprised Jungkook and yourself by squirting. Now once in your whole life, you ever squirted. “Mmm,” too tired to speak. You just wanted to hug him close and cry, not because you were hurt but because you were overwhelmed with strong orgasms he pulled out of you. “Hands,” you whispered.

Jungkook quickly pulled out, making both of you hiss in sensitivity. He took the key and unlocked the cuffs from your back. Your wrists were red and bruised. The sheet underneath was torn by how hard you were clutching them. Jungkook pulled you into his lap and kissed your wrists.

You wrapped your arms around him and silently cried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry,” kept repeating.

You pulled slightly and took his face between your hands. “I loved it,” you muttered around his lips. “I’m just overwhelmed and overstimulated, that's all.”

Chuckling, he kissed your lips. Your tongue tangled with his as he rubbed your back with a soothing hand. He then picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. “I would run you a bath but I can't wait to cuddle you, baby.”

He helped you under the warm shower and clean yourself. His gentle hands washed every part of your body. You flinched when he cleaned your pussy.

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sitting on the sofa chair in your room as Jungkook changed the sheets.

You both ruined the previous one completely. “Maybe we should keep them in memory of our first filthy fuck,” He joked but you knew he would indeed wash them and keep them in his closet.

Jungkook brought you to the bed and helped you under the blanket. He rubbed the ointment on your wrists, too, and gave you water and a little snack.

Cuddling you close to his chest, he lit another cigarette, kissed your shoulder and then your head. You both shared the cigarette back and forth while talking.

“Baby, never doubt my loyalty for you,” he muttered. “Why would I cheat on you? You are my part. My love. My heart. My soulmate. My freaky partner. My everything.”

You shifted in his hold, “I just— I don't know, she is so much better.”

Jungkook frowned, “the fuck not. She is not. You are! You are my woman, my wife. The most gorgeous, beautiful, magnificent, immaculate, majestic, marvellous woman ever.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. Your body was still recovering from all the lewd things he did to you. “Promise me you will fuck me like this more often?”

Your husband laughed and tickled your sides. “Aren't you a dirty girl?”

“Only for you,” you kissed his chest.

“If I had known, I would have fucked you like today way before… and made you squirt…” he peppers your skin with kisses. Then he looked into your eyes with seriousness. “Tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to fire her, yeah? I don't want that bitch to work under my name. I won’t accept such behaviour. And she made you cry and doubt my love so she must suffer.”

You would ask otherwise but this one time, you won't mind. You don't want her to work for him either. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby…” he cuddled you even closer and dropped an innocent kiss on your lips as you slowly drifted away, letting the sleep overtake you.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@jjkkkk15

Have a nice day/night💓

[ahqkas]

“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: ONLY IF YOU SAY YES (please say yes)

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst.

word count: estimated 15k words. (currently 8k)

teaser wc: 748 words!

synopsis: having your enemy in your friend group was tiring enough, but having him shift into your apartment at the same time all your roomie friends had their club’s exchange program? that was your final straw.

warning: the fic will contain 18+ content, minors dni.

a/n: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but the fic is getting longer than intended! so i’ll just leave a little teaser as something to compensate while i finish writing. also, the given teaser is unedited, changes might be included in the fic <3

taglist is open! comment/send an ask to be added <3 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl)

With tiredness still evident in your eyes, you worked the stove on, grabbing a pot to heat up water, standing still as you took the support of the marble countertop, your palms lay flat on it as you stared at the packet of mint chocolate that was in the shelf in front of you, something that Sunoo possibly had forgotten to take with him.

“Not sleepy?” A husky voice made you gasp and turn around, caging you right in between the counter and Heeseung.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you gasped at his shirtless figure, “why the fuck are you awake and why are you not clothed?” You asked, distressed.

“I heard noises from the kitchen so I obviously had to come over and check,” he said, tilting his head innocently right after, “I have to make sure the princess is safe, right?”

“I can very well take care of myself, thanks,” you huffed, waiting for him to move, which did not happen.

“Okay, then try pushing me away,” Heeseung said, a slight close-lipped smirk present on his face.

You simply made use of the little space to pour the hot water into the cup noodles, covering it with its lid.

“You love these games too much, don’t you?” You said, finally looking up to see his body right in front of your face.

With thick yet lean muscles, he stood tall, his clavicles visible in an attractive fashion as the dim lights of the room only enhanced the slight traces of his abs, making it evident that Heeseung included working out in his daily routines.

You gulped unknowingly, closing your eyes for a second before meeting him, only for his eyes to fall on your lips for a slight enough, just enough for you to miss it.

“Not gonna push me?” He asked, still playful, but with a gentle rasp in his voice.

“You’re not appropriately clothed for me to touch you, Heeseung,” you said, trying to muster a bored, unimpressed expression, as if your ears weren’t burning warm.

“Why? Does skin to skin contact scare you now?” He challenged, “one touch is all it takes, babe.”

“Oh lord,” you groaned, stretching your neck back, only to find Heeseung’s gaze more intense than ever, “fine, move.”

You placed your cold hand on his warm torso, right above his heart, and you could have sworn it was beating a tad bit faster than how a normal heart should be beating.

Pushing him was practically impossible, especially when he bit his lip and chuckled, not moving an inch despite your efforts. The room felt warm as you scoffed and retrieved your hand.

“Can’t move?” He teased.

“I’m just tired, move.”

“Or, you’re just weak.”

“That’s all you can do Heeseung, challenge a tired girl who’s trying to eat.” You pushed him again.

“I’m strong, princess. Don’t you see?” He pointed at his body, and you closed your eyes yet again, trying to convert your feelings into anger.

“Your body might be strong but your fucking ego is weak.” You said finally shoving him enough for you to move.

“Now, now. That’s wrong, princess.” He said, grabbing your cup noodles and testing your patience yet again.

Messing with you was one thing.

Messing with you while you were sleepy was another thing.

But messing with you while you were sleepy and hungry, that was war.

“Give me the noodles back you small dicked asshole!” You chased after him.

He stopped you easily with a hand, twirling you around and pulling you back, his bare chest pressed against your back.

“Small dick, hm?” He mumbled, keeping the noodles on the counter beside you, dragging his warm fingers across your bare tummy, stopping right on your belly button, “it would go up to here, yeah,” he caressed the area before letting go of you.

You stood there, breathing hard as your cheeks burned with the implication of his cock in your cunt.

“How do you even get women, all talk and no action?” You asked, walking back to your room with the noodles in your hands, avoiding the fact that you were completely flustered.

“Oh I’ll show you all the action you need to see, princess,” he winked as you turned to look at him, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants, “g’night, darling,” he smirked, walking away as you spent the night punching your pillow, eating your now soggy noodles.

Lee Heeseung was going to be the end of you.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[angelfic]

— IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU BABY

pairing: mattheo riddle x nott!reader

summary: you weren't quite used to the attention of other boys, and it seems your brother's best friend isn't too fond of it either

warnings: brother's best friend trope!! swearing, kissing, not much else, very much unedited

author’s note: i don't tend to stray outside of the marauders era characters buuuut i've been a bit obsessed with mattheo and theo recently so this was for my own selfish needs lol as always let me know what you think!!

He had barely looked away from you all evening.

You knew the only reason Mattheo’s eyes had been fixed on you for the entirety of dinner was because of a certain type of attention you had unconsciously garnered on your first day back at school. Particularly male attention. It wasn’t any less disconcerting, however, knowing that your brother’s best friend was prepared to fist fight any potential romantic advances towards you because he was just as protective as your actual older sibling.

Your brother Theodore is no better, a displeased frown appearing every five minutes when he looks over to where you sit at the Gryffindor table.

“Merlin, boys are pathetic,” Ginny mutters, spearing a potato with her fork. “You go away for one summer and come back slightly prettier and they flock to you like bees to honey!” You’re about to weakly protest that she’s exaggerating, but at that exact moment you’re interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

You slowly turn on the bench, reluctantly lowering your goblet of pumpkin juice to face Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw boy who you’d only ever spoken to when he was going out with Ginny.

“Hi, Michael,” you sigh, offering him a bland smile.

“Hello, Nott,” Michael replies, with what he probably thinks is a winning smile. “Had a good summer? I was just going to ask if you wanted to go on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term with me.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Er- well, as… nice as that sounds,” you say slowly, not meaning a word. You glance at Ginny as pointedly as you can manage and raise an eyebrow. “I don’t quite relish the idea of going out with my best friend’s ex.”

“Oh! I, erm, I didn’t actually see you there, Ginny,” he stammers, laughing sheepishly. “My mistake.”

“Quite,” Ginny says drily, turning back to her plate of food.

“Well, er, see you later then,” Michael mumbles, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes back to the Ravenclaw table.

You bite your lip to stifle your giggles but it’s not long before you catch Ginny’s eye and the both of you erupt into fits of laughter.

“I can’t believe I ever went out with him,” Ginny groans, wiping her eyes.

“Was he always such a tosser or is that new?” you ask, snorting at the way Ginny scrunches up her face in embarrassment.

You’re still laughing when your eyes happen to pass over the Slytherin table just to focus on Mattheo.

You notice with a jolt that he’s looking at you again. This time, his eyes flick over to the Ravenclaw table for a second where Michael has settled back onto, then back to you and he quirks a brow quizzically.

Frowning, you mouth at him to stop in hopes that he ceases his scrutiny, just for him to roll his eyes and return to whatever one-sided conversation Blaise Zabini was attempting to engage him in. You hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel after realising Mattheo has just witnessed such an embarrassing encounter, but you’ve found over the years that you’re not the best at hiding the effects he has on you. Theo has never mentioned it in front of Mattheo as far as you’re aware, but he definitely hasn’t shied away from teasing you about the childhood crush you have on your brother’s closest friend. Not that you’ve ever admitted it to him anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it since nothing could ever come of it.

“Your brother and Riddle have been looking like they’re ready to halve the male population of Hogwarts since we got on the bloody train,” Ginny says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, cutting into your carrot a little more viciously than needed. “They keep looking over at our table. I feel like I’m on one of those Muggle reality television programmes Hermione was telling your dad about the other week.”

Arthur Weasley was absolutely transfixed when he was learning about reality television from Hermione during breakfast the week you both stayed at The Burrow, and although you zoned out after his sixteenth question about a singular programme, you feel as though you caught the gist of it.

“Hm,” Ginny agrees, grimacing at the memory. She had nodded off at the table during that conversation and fallen asleep on her slice of toast. “In fairness, that’s not really a new thing.”

“What, being watched by my two guard dogs?” you ask in a mock-serious voice.

“Yeah, but…” Ginny chews thoughtfully for a second before answering. “I’m not just talking about today, or even recently. Your brother mostly minds his own business. I’m talking about Riddle. He’s always looking at you, I noticed it last year. Wherever we are, kind of like he’s checking up on you,” she says like it’s common knowledge, shrugging. “It’s sweet, I guess.”

You blink at her, a little speechless.

“What?” Ginny frowns after a few seconds of your silence. You look at her with raised eyebrows, not really taking her seriously. In your first few years at Hogwarts, you had confided in Ginny regarding your silly, little girl feelings for Mattheo and she would read into every action he took towards you in an attempt to prove he liked you too. Obviously, he saw you as nothing but a younger sister figure and once you grew up a bit, Ginny had let it go too.

Ginny reads your dubious expression now and sets down her knife and fork to cross her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m serious! I’m not just saying it because you were helplessly in love with him until you were, like, fourteen.”

“Shush!” you hiss, thwacking her arm. “Why don’t you just get up on stage with Dumbledore and ask him to include that titbit of information for the entire school to hear in his speech!”

“Good idea,” she says, nodding seriously and starting to get up. You know she’s just teasing, but you start spluttering and frantically grab at her sleeve to sit her back down, causing her to topple onto you slightly. This sets you both off laughing again and you find it hard to stop for the rest of dinner and desert, thankfully staying far away from the topic of Mattheo. You also pointedly avoid looking at him again.

Once dinner is over, you head to the Gryffindor common room with the rest of your house and catch up with everyone for a while. After a couple hours of socialising and fifteen minutes of helping Neville Longbottom search for his pet toad, you head up to your dorm with Ginny and Lena, one of your other dormmates, to unpack.

As soon as you open your luggage, you search for your pyjamas and immediately change out of your robes and into a t-shirt and baggy shorts for comfort. You’re in the middle of unpacking some textbooks when you hear Lena whistle from behind you.

“I do not remember those pyjamas looking like that,” Lena comments, grinning at you. Rolling your eyes, you comply with her request to do a little spin and you can’t help feeling pleased when Lena and Ginny start whooping and hollering. “You’ve always been gorgeous, but you really grew up this summer, huh? Look at those legs!”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny pipes in, flopping down on her bed and abandoning her unpacked suitcase. “She came to stay for a week and Mum looked like she was going to cry every time she saw us. Something about ‘blossoming into young ladies’ or whatever bollocks.”

“You ‘blossomed’ last year,” you point out, and Lena hums in agreement. “I haven’t forgotten how Zacharias Smith fell off his broom trying to wave at you during Quidditch practice.”

Ginny groans and starts ranting about teenage boys again. Lena joins in and starts teasing her about how Harry Potter is the only boy she hasn’t complained about and you’re about to set down your belongings to help Lena dodge the pillows Ginny is throwing at her when a flash of green and silver in your suitcase catches your eye.

“Shite, I have Theo’s uniform,” you huff, grabbing the clothes out of your suitcase and sliding your slippers on. “That means he has mine and I am not dealing with this at seven in the morning. I’m gonna go drop this off, be back in a minute.”

Ginny says goodbye before resuming her pillow attack on Lena as you make your way out of the room and down into the common room. It’s nearly empty, with most people having gone to their rooms to pack and a quick glance at the clock tells you its past curfew. You decide to take the risk since you have a reasonable excuse, but you hope that if you do get caught, it isn’t by Filch or Snape.

By the time you’ve reached the dungeons, you thank Merlin that Theo had the sense to tell you the password for the Slytherin common room before dinner in case of emergency.

“Pureblood,” you mutter, fighting the urge to scoff when the door swings open. You enter the common room and brighten up when you see that the only students still hanging around are Theo and his friends. Your brother seems to have already started unpacking since he’s standing and holding your uniform, presumably about to come and find you. His friends all mumble polite ‘hello’s and he walks up to you with a smile.

“Oh, hey, I was just-” Theo cuts himself off when he properly looks at you and frowns. “Wha- Why are you wearing pyjamas out and about?”

“You’re wearing pyjamas too!” you exclaim, slightly embarrassed that your brother is doing this in front of your friends. They all turn to look at you again, hearing the indignation in Theo’s voice and you notice Mattheo suddenly sits up straighter. Suddenly aware of your bare legs, you tug down the material of your shorts, despite the fact they aren’t even very short to begin with.

“Oi. Stop looking at my sister!”” Theo snaps, glaring at Blaise, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. You know the only reason they glanced at you in the first place is out of curiosity regarding Theo’s question, but Theo and Mattheo scowl at them all the same and they all start sputtering, Draco in particular when Pansy narrows her eyes at him. Theo sighs at you, quickly exchanging your uniforms. “Just- at least take something to cover up back to your room.”

“I’ll walk her back,” Mattheo says, out of nowhere. He stands up and makes his way over to you, face carefully blank. Theo nods, agreeing quickly before he ruffles your hair goodbye to go and finish packing. You’re too surprised by Mattheo’s offer to protest until you’re already out of the Slytherin common room.

“I don’t need someone to walk me back, you know,” you mumble after a minute of charged silence.

“It was either me or Theo,” he shrugs, completely unapologetic when his mouth quirks up in a smug smile. “And I know you prefer me.”

“You’re both equally annoying,” you say, rolling your eyes, happy that he’s talking to you like normal again. You hated it whenever Mattheo was serious – it was rarely ever towards you and you much preferred when his whole face lit up with a smile. He begins to tease you about your bunny rabbit slippers and you’re in the middle of pretending to be irked when you both run into Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff prefect doing patrol duties.

“Hey,” Ernie offers you a friendly smile and gives Mattheo a brief, slightly nervous glance. While you prefer not to get into trouble for breaking curfew, Mattheo clearly couldn’t care less and his relaxed, yet intimidating stance must be off-putting to Ernie. Thankfully, you’re on friendly terms with the Hufflepuff and you give him an even brighter smile to make up for it, to which he beams at. “How was your summer?”

“Good, yeah! Erm, listen Ernie. We didn’t mean to be out at this time, it’s just that I accidentally had my brother’s uniform and needed to-”

“Oh, forget it. Don’t worry, I won’t dock you any points,” Ernie reassures you, waving off your excuses and you instantly relax. Ernie gives Mattheo another unsure glance before leaning in the tiniest bit closer to you. You try not to pay attention to how Ernie has been glancing at your legs and how Mattheo tenses up when Ernie starts speaking again. “I was actually wondering if you were available next weekend…?”

Ernie trails off when you don’t show any indication of replying straight away and you snap out of your surprise to say something, but Mattheo beats you to it.

“She’s busy then,” he says coldly, working his jaw. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late. Kindly get lost.”

“Wha- Matt!” you hiss, smacking his chest to which he barely flinches, nor does he look at all apologetic. “Ernie, I-”

“Never mind,” he says quickly, seemingly eager to just leave. “I’ll, er, see you later.”

You stand frozen in shock while Ernie rushes down the corridor and turns the corner, leaving you and Mattheo alone. Turning slowly, you look at him with barely contained anger.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you demand, voice sharp as nails. If it weren’t past curfew and you weren’t in the middle of a school corridor, you would most definitely be yelling. Mattheo stands with his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw and his silence makes you even angrier. You accepted long ago that you’d never have a chance with him, but now he was getting in the way of you having a chance with anyone. It was completely unfair. “What if I actually wanted to go out with him?!”

Mattheo scowls at this, but his impossibly dark brown eyes flash with a hint of uncertainty. “Did you?”

“What?” you ask, impatient.

“Did you want to go out with him?” he says, voice low and dangerous. He walks forward, towering over you and you refuse to be intimidated so you start walking backward until your back is against the wall. Despite having cornered you, he maintains a fair amount of distance between you, leaving plenty of space if you want to move away. You don’t.

“That’s none of your business,” you say stubbornly, raising your chin and trying your best to keep your voice steady. Mattheo narrows his eyes and reduces the distance between you ever so slightly with another small step. You nervously keep talking. “I can go out with whoever I want.” Another step. “And you can’t just-” One more step. “Matt.” His shoes are flush with your slippers.

“What?” he whispers, tilting his head and looking at you calmly, while you feeling anything but calm. “I can’t just… what?”

The previously respectable distance has gone out the window and instead you barely have space to breathe with the way Mattheo is leaning in, head dipped toward you but never touching, hands resting on the wall either side of you. He leans in, eyes dropping to your lips and your heart leaps in your chest with anticipation, but he ghosts his lips over your jaw instead and the barely-there contact has you breathing unevenly.

“You can’t…” you exhale, trying to finish your sentence with some dignity and failing miserably. “You can’t just scare people off like an overprotective older brother.”

Mattheo stills, lifting his head enough to meet your eyes, but making no move to distance himself any further. He scoffs quietly. “Brother,” he says the word with a mildly disgusted scowl. “Is that what you think I want to be?”

“I- I don’t…”

“You don’t know,” Mattheo finishes for you, the corners of his mouth turning up, yet his expression is devoid of humour. “No, you don’t know how badly I wanted to hex Macmillan just now. How badly I wanted to try out some new, experimental spells on that fucking Ravenclaw earlier. But none of that had anything to do with brotherly feelings.”

“They were just being nice,” you say stupidly, with not a clue in the world as to why you’re defending them right now. If anything, you’re just confused.

Mattheo quirks a brow, tongue pressing against his cheek as he considers your words. “That Ravenclaw from earlier was talking about you on the train. He said he was going to ask you out at dinner because you’d ‘gotten hot’ over summer,” Mattheo sneers, like he’s suddenly regretting not hexing Michael Corner in the Great Hall. “They weren’t being nice.”

All of a sudden, you feel irritated because you have no idea why Mattheo is telling you any of this. “What’s wrong with a boy finding me attractive? Is that such a crazy idea?” you demand, part of you not wanting him to answer.

“Merlin, do I seriously have to say it?” he groans, sighing when you glare at him. Mattheo takes a breath, meeting your eyes and you marvel at the sincerity you see when he speaks. “You didn’t ‘get hot’ over the summer. You’ve always been beautiful and they’re idiots for not paying attention then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, whether it’s from emotion or from the close proximity with Mattheo, you aren’t sure. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Mattheo nods, leaning back in to brush his nose against your own, his breath mingling with yours. “Always have.”

You take this as a cue to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in and the next thing you know, his mouth is firm against yours, and his hands are finally touching you, grabbing you by the waist and sliding up your back to hold you closer. You’ve thought about kissing Mattheo before, but the thoughts feel utterly stupid compared to the real thing. Mattheo kisses you fiercely, mouth sliding hot and wet against your own making you come alive and weakening you at the same time. He nips at your bottom lip and you gasp, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands are sliding up his chest to snake around his neck when a thought suddenly occurs to you and you pull away abruptly.

“Oh my God, Theodore,” you hiss, covering your mouth with your hand. Mattheo furrows his brows, looking a little dazed and confused. “What are we going to tell him?”

 “He knows I’ve loved you since we were kids,” Mattheo says flippantly, waving you off and impatiently starting to lean in again, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “What?”

“You’ve loved me since we were kids?” The words hardly register, but before you can feel any sort of elation, you mostly feel pissed off that your brother has clearly had his fun with the situation for years. “And Theo knows?”

“Yes,” Mattheo says slowly, as if he were talking to a child. He brushes the hair out of your face and his gaze turns a little uncertain when he speaks. “Er, this is hopefully the part where you say you feel the same way.”

“Well, of course I feel the same way,” you huff, still thoroughly annoyed at Theo. “He knew I was crazily in love with you too and the bastard was so irritating about it!”

You’re about three quarters of the way down a list of ways you want to get back at your brother when Mattheo gently turns your face by the chin to look at him. “As much as I’d love for you to plot against your brother right now, it’s kind of a mood killer thinking about him when I’m kissing you.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue with the kissing.”

“How romantic,” he says drily. His smirk turns smug, however, when he processes your previous statement. “So… you were in love with me too. What was the word you used, again? Crazily? Crazily in love…”

“Don’t make me take it back, ‘cause I swear I will.”

© angelfic 2023.

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

MEDICAL LEAVE

𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[satoruan]

HOLE IN THE WALL — JUJUTSU KAISEN

( TW ) f!reader. sex work. unprotected sex. praise. dedegration. unprotected sex. creampies. spanking. (Not a gangbang btw, just back to back sex!)

FEATURING. Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento.

authors note. I thought it would be fun to leave the identities a mystery,,,can you guess the order of who is who 🤭 ? I fear this is unedited bc I’m still suffering in bed and hate rereading 😔

. . . 9:30 PM 

You lay comfortably on the bench underneath you. Well as comfortably as you could. Your boss refused to buy new benches, instead leaving you and your coworkers with these .5-inch foam benches. You’ve gotten used to it, so it doesn’t bother you much these days.  

“Gettin’ your first customer y/n! It’s businessman!” The new girl yelled through the door your lower body was in. You don’t bother yelling back. She’d be long gone by now. You scoot your ass further into the private room. You know ‘businessman’ likes watching your ass recoil against his hips. You perk up when you hear the door open and shut.  

“Hey sweetheart,” Businessman says is a tired raspy voice. “Hi!” You say back, he’s been here so much that you know he fucks better when he’s able humanize the ass hanging out the wall for him. 

You feel his rough hands fondle with your ass. You shake a little, earning a small laugh and pinch. “So perfect.” He groans and within a few seconds you feel the rubber covered tip of his cock head at the entrance. He pushes in slowly, and your grateful your last I lent used a bit too much lube, leaving you wet enough to take businessman’s cock without much struggle.  

“Fuck yes, waited all day for this pussy.” He grunts, hands gripping your hips. He pushes in and out at a slow pace, he likes savoring the feeling of your tight pussy. You moan softly at the feeling of his cock sliding against your walls at the gentle pace but that gentle pace soon turns into the rough fucking you’re used to. The type of fucking only a stressed man who wastes his money and sex shop could give you. You moan louder, his cock hitting all your soft spots.

“Want you to come with me alright?” He brings his hands around to your clit. He rubs harsh circles into your clit and after being used and denied orgasm for so long you're coming in his big cock as he fills the condom. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so good to me, so good.” He rambles and you respond with small thanks You's

. . . 9:45 PM 

Several minutes after businessman gently shut to door you hear the door open. Men back-to-back which you’d usually be pissed at but after that orgasm your relaxed enough and it’s not like you have a choice.  

“Ha! So, this is where he goes after work?” A man says in a deep voice, albeit childish tone. “And I thought he was innocent! Hello? Is this real?” The man pushes a finger into your ass as if he was expecting to feel silicone. There goes your good mood.  

“Hi, yes I’m real and that kinda hurt!” You say loud enough to pass the drywall that covers your upper body. The man laughs and you can feel his breath on your ass, it feels like he’s close enough to look through the curtain your ass hangs out. “Uhm—you aren’t allowed to look through that sir!” You stutter, ready to yell for the faux security to come get a rowdy man out. 

“Sorry! Just wanted a sneak peek!” He laughs, standing back up and silently admiring the view of your shiny ass. He brings his long hands down and starts rubbing all over your ass. You roll your eyes; his dick better be decent. 

“Does the man that came in before me come here a lot?”  

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Do I have to call security?” You grumble.  

“Sorry pretty, can a man not talk anymore? Where the lube—oh there we go, now let me—” The man does something you can’t see before suddenly shoving his too-long dick into you. You scream into the bench. 

“Oh fuck, so fucking tight.” He grits out as your pussy clenches hard around him. “Should’ve paid extra for no protection.” He whispers to himself before pulling out of you. He pushes back in before his mushroom head could leave your warm pussy.  

You moan louder than you have all day as he continues to fuck you with his long cock. He’s fucking you so good, tip hitting your cervix that you feel your pussy start to pulse around him. You’re about to cum again. 

“Fuck, pretty, come on my cock.” He slams into you, hand going down to claw your hips. You open your mouth in a silent scream as you come on the cocky man’s cock.  

. . . 10:37 PM 

You settle back onto the bench, bladder empty and stomach full of the lunch box you packed for yourself. To wake yourself up, you had to splash your face with water a few times. The back-to-back orgasms those men had given you were enough to lose all the energy you had before coming to work. As you settled back in you mentally prepared yourself for the full night you had ahead of yourself. Back-to-back orgasms were unheard of here, you were lucky, and doubted it would ever happen again. The door slams shut, for cling you to stop thinking about those men. You lie on the bench and look at the concrete wall to the side.  

“Missed me girl?” The older man grunted, and your heart skipped a beat. It was him. Your favorite client. He hadn’t been here in so long you thought he might’ve been killed or sent to jail. You knew he wasn’t the sanest man out there.  

“S-sir?” You hesitantly ask, calling your favorite client by the nickname he loved.

“Mhm.” He answers, heavy hands coming to rub and fondle your pussy. You feel your face heat. “This pussy miss me? Miss actually having orgasms in this hell hold?”  

You answer him with a lie, he didn’t have to know you were still coming down from two orgasms with cocks that could rival his.  

“Knew you did girl, but I', back. Gonna give this sweet pussy the orgasm it’s been craving.” The man pulls out his cock, thankful he was able to scrap enough change to pay for unprotected sex with you. He just had to not come inside, or else he was banned from every location in the city. He runs the tips all over your ass and pussy, before shoving his cock into you. You dig your nails into the sides of the bench as his fat cock stretches you. Not even the other cocks before were this girthy.  

“F-fuck sir!” You scream when he slaps your ass. You clench around his cock, not wanting him to pull out.  

“All these damn cocks and this pussy is still this tight, fuckin’ A.” He grunts, slapping your ass as he thrust in and out of you. The sheer force of him has you coming so hard that your vision goes black for a second before returning when he hits a particular spot.  

“That was fuckin’ fast girl. Gonna make me come.” He grunts and brings his hand down fast and hard. The sound of his smack echoes in the empty room. “Wish I could come in this pussy.” He grumbles before pulling out. He first his fat cock before getting an idea. He brings the tip to your entrance, not pushing it in, and empties his load. You gasp and the feeling of his come spurting all over your pussy. You should be screaming right now, if any of his come had gotten into you, you could be pregnant. But inside your pussy thrums at the thought of this older mystery man leaving you with nothing but his child. You wish you weren’t on birth control. 

. . . 11:01 PM 

The man didn’t bother cleaning his come off you. Instead, he said he was leaving it as a parting gift because he didn’t know the next time he would see you. You were too fucked out to clean yourself off, so you left his cum just as he left it. Smeared and dripping off your pussy.  

When the next man came in you didn’t even care that he was about you fuck another man's come into you, you found it hot. He didn’t though. 

“Can’t believe my best friend sent me here to look at a used pussy.” He spit out and you tensed. 

“Huh—” 

“You heard me, matter of fact I was just told that you weren’t allowed creampies? Going against company rules now? Fuckin’ slutty bitch.” He snarls and brings a hand down to pinch at your swollen clit that peaked out your lips. You whine. 

“Think I might go out and tell, I don’t wanna use some stretched cunt.” His twists and pulls at your clit. 

“W-wait please don’t do that, please.” You cry, you were going to get in trouble with your boss if this mean man said those lies. Your boss always believed the words of so random men and he would take some of your check out. “I’ll do anything, please, don’t.”  

“Nah m’gonna tell. After I’m done with this pussy though. Already paid for you, might as well get a feel,” he tells you, as he unzips his pants. “Now be quiet, holes don’t talk.” The man degrades you as he shoves his cock into you. You cry at the burn. The only thing helping is the other leftover cum he shoved in you. 

“Fuck he was right; this pussy is too tight.” He grunts hands bruising your hips with how tight he’s gripping. You cry into the bench as he fu is you like he hates you. “Isn’t that crazy? This pussy gets used all damn day and yet it’s still this tight. What all the cocks you take too small or something’?” He slaps your ass. 

“Oh fuck, m’gonna come in the sweet pussy. Gonna give you that creampie you aren’t allowed. Gonna fuck my come so deep into this pussy it’ll be dripping out of you for days.” His grip on your hips tightens, and you scream into the bench as he comes deep inside you. “Fuckin’ hell that was good, might have to come back tomorrow. Say, you let me come inside you tomorrow too I won’t tell your boss?” 

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | jjk

☆summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: masturbation. that's it, that's the whole thing. Cumshot on his hand tattoos. Jungkook is hella horny for reader and jerks off thinking about her - fantasies of oral sex (male and female receiving), of unprotected sex, of rough sex, of hickeys and marking (scratches on the back), of shower sex, of spanking, of choking, of creampies, of clit play, of fingering and squirting. Multiple orgasms, lowkey pain kink and praise kink (let me know if I forgot something)

☆word count: 1.8k (I think it's the shortest thing I've ever written on here lmao)

☆a/n: pure unedited sins bc mr jeon jungkook makes me horny despite being in the army. hope this doesn't disappoint lmaooo thank you to @wintaerbaer for her help with the banner (it would have been a horrible mess without your guidance) and for encouraging me to write this!! love you Ari <3333

☆☆☆☆☆

You’re driving him insane.

You. Are. Driving. Him. Insane.

Insane.

Every time Jungkook sees you at the gym, he goes insane. Completely, utterly, insane. He thinks there has to be a better word in the dictionary to describe what you do to him but, alas, he can’t find it.

So insane it is, and he tries to live up to the name.

He’s been home for five minutes, and he’s already in his bed, dick so hard he thinks it’ll explode. Because of course you had to be doing squats today, in those way too tight biker shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Your thick ass, stretching the fabric so much he thinks he spied a thong underneath…

Jungkook grunts, hiding his eyes behind his arm, trying to erase the picture from his mind. But he can’t. You’re everywhere – behind his closed eyelids, or a ghost in his room when he opens his eyes again.

It’s been that way since the very first day he saw you at the gym. Jungkook caught sight of you and immediately had a boner, which hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake, yet the sight of you turns him on far more than anything ever has.

You’re just… perfect. Too hot, your body perfectly sculpted by the hours you spend at the gym every week. Jungkook dreams of dragging his hands, his tongue, on every inch of your body. Of caressing your hard-earned muscles, of gripping the meat of your ass…

Of grinding into you and hearing the little breathy moans he’s sure that you make in the thralls of passion.

Fuck.

If he’s honest, he would have fucked you that first time. Would have approached you and charmed you, seduced you until he’d have you writhing under his body. But one look – one damn look – at your keychain, and he knew you were off limits.

The bright pink Kooky plushie hanging from the keychain was a firm reminder that he cannot approach you, ever. Indeed, he doesn’t mix pleasure with work, which is starting to prove increasingly hard as he gets more famous, and as his fans grow way too numerous.

As his fans, as you pretend that you don’t recognize him when you go to the gym, even though he catches you looking at him all the time. Yet he can’t approach you, won’t approach you, ever. But nothing stops him from exploring his dirty little fantasies, whenever he wraps his hand around his cock…

Jungkook grunts, and he decides to take manners into his own hands, literally. He wishes it’d be your hand, gripping his cock once he’s pushed his shorts and underwear down. Wishes you’d hold him tight as you’d jerk him off slowly, eyes never leaving his.

He imagines you taking him in your mouth. Your plump lips, wrapping around the tip of his cock, sucking once as he’d fist your hair, restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth. Or maybe you’d give him the go to fuck your mouth, to unleash himself on you…

Jungkook moans, and he jerks himself off, slowly. Eyes closed as he imagines everything he wants you to do to him, everything he wants to do to you. His hand is not nearly enough to pleasure him, not when he’s been craving you the way that he has…

But it’ll make do.

Spitting in his other hand, Jungkook holds his dick up to rub the natural lube on the head of his cock. He winces – he’s already so damn sensitive… Probably because he’s sported a semi since he saw you at the gym.

Who gave you the right to go to the gym in those shorts, with only a sports bra to pair with them? You looked devilish, downright sinful, and you’ve dragged him to hell.

Once his dick is lubed up, glistening in the dim light from the hallway because he sure as hell didn’t have time to turn the lights on in his room, Jungkook strokes himself, slowly. Tattooed fingers firmly wrapped around his cock, just the way he likes it – right under the tip, hard enough to hurt just a little bit.

Hard enough to make him wish he was fucking your tight pussy instead. He imagines the drag of your walls on his dick, on his veins and on the ridge of his tip. He imagines your breasts bouncing up and down as you’d ride him, and then your face, contorted in pleasure, as he’d jackhammer into you.

He’s had noise complaints from his neighbours once, because of the loud singing he does once in a while, when he goes live for his fans. Right now, he wishes he’d get a noise complaint because they’d hear him fucking you good, fucking you until you’d crumble into ecstasy.

He picks up the pace on his dick, free hand grabbing at the white sheet of his bed. Would you be the type to moan unabashedly loud? To say his name when you come, when your walls flutter on his dick?

The thought makes his dick twitch in his hand, and Jungkook grunts again, curses underneath his breath. He doesn’t even know your name, but he sure as hell knows he’d come with your name a litany on his lips, a sinful melody he’d sing just for you to hear.

Would you drag your nails on his back, marking him so that the world knows you’re his? Would you suck on his neck, leave hickeys behind that he’d have to hide under foundation? Would you beg for him, or would you be a brat?

He wants you to be a brat. He wants to have to put you back into your place, to spank your ass and choke you until all you know is his name. He’d be feral with you – he’s feral just thinking about you. And maybe one day he’ll betray his number one rule, maybe one day he’ll fuck you into the night, hear you cry with pleasure as he’d pump his load inside of you…

His imagination is running wild, and his pace on his dick is relentless, unforgiving. His bicep burns already, even though he’s barely started. Or maybe he’s just too lost in his fantasies, losing track of time. But he doesn’t care – he’d lose track of time fucking you, too.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes closed tightly, eyebrows bunched together as if in pain. But he’s not hurting – he feels way too good, the pleasure running through his blood a symphony every cell inside of him is addicted to.

You’re just too beautiful to him. He’d fucking crawl on his knees for you, or maybe he’d make you crawl. He’d force you to crawl, to beg for him, to…

Jungkook grunts loudly, his orgasm hitting so hard it feels like a trainwreck. He doesn’t slow down his pace on his dick right away, letting his cum spurt out and drip on his fingers, on the back of his hand. He doesn’t even care if he makes a mess – he’s lost to his pleasure, and he doesn’t want to come back to sanity. He wants to stay insane, and so he drags his orgasm out, milks it out of himself.

And he comes a lot, painting his whole fucking hand white. He’d think it to be disgusting, but when he looks down at his hand, fuzzy from his blissed-out pupils, he sees that he’s covered his tattoos with cum. His army tattoo – the closest he’ll get to come on you. He curses at the sight, hates that it’s turning him on again and that his dick twitches, begging for more. But all he does is watch the cum – it covers the three first letters, but it’s slowly dripping towards the y, and soon the whole tattoo will be covered, like he fucking wishes your pussy would be covered with his cum, dripping with it. He’d finger you with it.

Fucking hell.

Jungkook gives in to the unrelenting desire once he’s in the shower, trying to clean himself. A single thought of your thick ass and the stretched fabric of your biker shorts sends him back to square one, and he jerks himself off again, fast and hard, his free hand leaning on the wall. He’s quick to shift and put his forearm against the wall instead, hiding his face in his arm. And then he imagines fucking you in this shower, taking you from behind as your ass cheeks shake from his ministrations. He imagines you trying to find purchase on the wall, your hands slipping until he pulls you back into his chest. He’d hold you tight, wrap a hand around your neck, and he’d find your clit with his other hand.

He’d make you come so fucking hard. All night long. He doesn’t think he’d let you even fucking walk out of his apartment. He’d fuck you seven days a week, wouldn’t even leave his bed.

This time, his release hits differently, not as strong. It still fills his blood with ecstasy, and his head swims as he watches his cum go down the drain. His hand, his tattoos, are mostly clean this time around, and he imagines them covered in your cum instead. In your sleek juices as he’d finger you, making you squirt everywhere…

He curses loudly, turning the shower to cold, immediately wincing as the water hits his back. But it’s the only way he thinks he’ll manage to chase his arousal away. Hell, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his fucking evening masturbating. Though it’d be worth it, and he’s fully aware that he’d be able to. He’d just need to think of you, and he’d be ready to go again.

But when he steps out of the shower, he decides otherwise. He decides to go live – are you watching him, from wherever it is that you live in this city? Do you know that you make him insane, so, so insane that he just came twice to the thought of you?

He smirks, watching the comments coming in even though he hasn’t said anything yet. They fly too fast for him to be able to read anything, but he knows.

He knows that you’re there, on the other side of the screen, watching him as he watches you. Where else would you be?

And he knows damn well that next time he’ll see you, he’ll talk to you. Fuck the rules, fuck the fact that you’re his fan. He needs to fuck you, to know what your pussy taste like and how you sound when you come.

So next time he sees you, instead of jerking himself off alone, Jungkook knows he’ll ask you to give a helping hand.

Next

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Welcome to the land of sinning lmao hope you enjoyed this short ride! Let me know what you thought - it always motivates me to write more stuff like this ;)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.