#oh man it sucks your eyes hurt :( they are red and swollen im sorry! your allergies are indeed bad oh no!

[coldswarkids]

one of my small, petty, and evil pleasures is completely ignoring my roommate when she's just babbling for my attention. just going about my life in silence like she's not even there. it drives her mad i know it does

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

i seriously will not be able to stop thinking about your Daddy Clyde holy hell you write him so beautifully. ugh Daddy's so gritty and dirty and just the right amount of meannnn ugh i hate you and love you at the same time. that piece stressin' me tf out ugh i really n e e d more of it lmao

A/N: @ohdamnadamm AS PER YOUR REQUEST DARLIN’ I COOKED UP A FILTHY ASS FUCKIN’ NUGGET FROM THE INNER MECHANISMS OF MY MIND (AND THANKS TO @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather FOR HER DAD BOD FIC FOR THE LOVE OF PETE IM SO HARD FOR THAT AMAZING THOT, BLESS YOU ITS BEEN RUNNING THROUGH MY MIND FOR 48 HRS STRAIGHT AND IVE READ IT UPWARDS OF TWENTY TIMES) IM NOT SORRY IN THE SLIGHTEST. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, SWEET BABE! 

Warnings: Daddy kink, BJ’s, ball-sucking, choking, cumshots, cum eating, unprotected sex, dirty talk and LOTS OF IT, teasing, marking, breeding kink, hair pulling, scratching, just pure fuckin’ hot sweaty porn, no plot whatsoever, SMUT SMUT SMUT AND MORE FUCKIN’ CLYDE LOGAN SMUT. 

The hot sun beat down in the small trailer located in the boonies of West Virginia, the AC had decided to take a shit early that mornin’, sendin’ your big bear to go to the Home Depot for some tools to fix it right up for his baby doll. 

You sat, perched on the couch in nothin’ but your little pink thong, and laced up bralette, sweatin’ to high heaven as you waited for your tin foil knight to return and save the heat stroke you had been sufferin’ since damn near five in the mornin’. 

“Jesus fuck,” you exhaled, rubbin’ more sweat off your soakin’ tits, pullin’ your hair into a sticky mess of a bun as you fanned yourself over the hot August fog that settled in the small quarters. 

“I’m just fuckin’ parched as all hell,” gettin’ up from the couch, makin’ your way to the fridge to stick your head in the freezer for some relief, only to find your savin’ grace for the next twenty minutes or so, a box of red-white-n-blue rocket pops. 

“Oh fuck me!” reachin’ for them as you tore the box open like a feral cat, rippin’ the packagin’ and shovin’ that popsicle into your gapin’ mouth, a moan emittin’ throughout the room as you savored the icy cold of the frozen delicacy. 

Just then, the door shuffled open to let your hulk of a man in from the blisterin’ heat of the day, his white t-shirt stained in tit sweat, and his brimmed ball cap sweat covered too. He dropped the bag on the floor, airin’ out his shirt as he looked around for your pretty little figure. 

“Baby girl?” concerned you weren’t in his line of sight, inchin’ towards the kitchen, “where ya at?” peerin’ around the partition to see the hottest thing he’d seen all damn day. You perched on the kitchen counter, tits completely sweat covered, legs spread open like a porn star, and a bomb pop slidin’ in and out of your perfect lips, the colored juices drippin’ down your chin into the valley of your chest as you eyeballed him from the livin’ room. 

“What’s ma perty lil’ baby doin’ on the counter, huh?” movin’ over to you as he wiped his sweat covered face with his t-shirt, exposin’ his precious belly and shinin’ tits. 

“Ya know it’s dangerous ta be on the counter like that baby doll,” panderin’ as he rubbed your soft thighs, bendin’ down to kiss and suck on the skin as you thrust the popsicle in and out of your mouth, not losin’ the slightest bit of eye contact, “wouldn’t want daddy’s precious baby girl ta get herself hurt, now, would we?” ghostin’ his lips over your succulent and swollen cunt. 

“Mhmm,” whinin’ out at his touches on your sensitive skin, forcin’ the treat down your open throat even more, “‘m sorry daddy,” moanin’ as he lifted his head to smirk at your fuck me face. 

“I don’t think yer sorry in the slightest darlin’,” gigglin’ as he stood to his full height, leanin’ in to grip the empty stick from your mouth, tossin’ it on the floor, “I think ya like bein’ a lil’ brat, don’t ya baby girl?” tiltin’ your chin to meet his searin’ gaze as he pushed his lips onto yours, sighin’ as he pulled you flush to him, inhalin’ your sweet scent as the kiss deepened. 

“Ya know what kinda punishment lil’ brats get?” he pulled away, grippin’ your hair to wrench your head back up to his, suckin’ marks on your neck as he gathered you in his huge arms. 

“No, daddy, I don’t,” bitin’ your lip at the pain of his ministrations on your pulse, “p-please tell me what I get,” moanin’ as he pulled your hair tighter and tighter. 

Liftin’ his head back up, starin’ into your eyes, “get off the damn counter and assume yer position in front a the couch baby girl,” lettin’ go of your head as he watched you slide down off your perch to slink into the livin’ room, your ass red from the duration of your stay on the linoleum lined top as he watched it sway with your hips, completely entranced. 

“Like this daddy?” bendin’ down on your knees, as he slid himself in front of the lip of the couch to gaze at your pretty little face beggin’ to be fucked. Your hands behind your back, head cocked up to meet his stare, tits pushed out, nipples peaked, and your vision on him and him only. 

“Stick that lil’ tongue out baby girl,” fumblin’ with his belt and zipper as he watched you present the organ as requested, “daddy wanna see his lil’ cumbucket,” releasin’ his half hardened cock to sit on the couch like the king he was. He reached his hand to pull on the appendage, a moan emittin’ from your throat as he motioned you closer with it. 

“Yer gonna suck ma cock until yer cryin’ for air baby girl,” musin’ as you lowered your face to his large balls, nuzzlin’ your nose in the softness and musk envelopin’ them in his aura. 

“Yes, daddy,” whisperin’ as you pecked tiny kisses on them, “I wanna be a good girl fer you,” lickin’ the skin like a kitten. 

“Mhmm,” he moaned out, his balls twitchin’ at your movements on them, “yer such a good girl fer yer daddy,” praisin’ as you sucked one into your mouth, tuggin’ on the skin and rollin’ your tongue around the sac. 

“Mmm, ya taste so good daddy,” movin’ to the other testicle to mimic the motions just as good as the other, savorin’ his manly scent as you made out with his scrotum, his cock wavin’ like a flag in the sky as you tugged on the other ball. 

“G-god d-damn,” he cooed, grippin’ your head to lift you up from his sac, “that’s enough a that baby girl,” lust blown as he rubbed the sides of your temples, causing your eyes to roll back in your head as he lowered your lips to his weepin’ tip. 

“Now yer gonna take this cock baby girl,” gazin’ at the sight of you foamin’ at the mouth under his larger than life dick, “go on ‘n suck yer daddy,” shovin’ your perfect little mouth onto his achin’ dick, revelin’ in the gaggin’ sounds you made as he pushed your head completely down on him. 

“Open up fer me baby girl,” gaspin’ as your jaw went slack over his throbbin’ cock, “there ya go darlin’,” praisin’ as you sped up your sloppy gyrations on him. 

“S-such a p-perty lil’ cumbucket,” watchin’ as the spit fell in globs on his jeans, and the tears spilled from your eyes over his girth, “what a g-good baby girl daddy has,” throwin’ his head back in pleasure as you sucked your cheeks in, rollin’ your tongue on the underside of his veiny dick.

“Daddy’s gettin’ close baby girl,” he panted out as you adjusted your angle to hit your uvula just the right way, causin’ an animalistic moan to reverberate on the thin walls of the trailer. 

“I-I’m,” shovin’ your head off his cock, causin’ a huge gasp for air to leave your lips and wide eyes to meet your man as he palmed his red angry cock in his hand. 

“Open yer perty mouth baby girl!” growlin’ out as the largest stream of semen you’d ever seen squirt from his head, landin’ on your tongue, tits, and chin. 

“Motherfuck-k,” he palmed himself until the last of it landed on your skin, takin’ huge deep breaths as he let go of his limp cock, “ya alright baby girl?” watchin’ the color return to your face as you sucked up his spend from your face. 

“I’m just fine daddy,” crawlin’ on to his lap, thighs on either side of him as you nestled your covered pussy on his still throbbin’ cock. 

“Ya such a good girl fer me,” pettin’ your arms as you gripped the back of his head, leanin’ in for a steamy kiss as you gyrated your hips on him. 

“Mhmm,” he chuckled, “does ma sweet baby need somethin’ from her daddy?” watchin’ as you bat your eyelashes at him, “use yer words darlin’,” he pandered once again, bringin’ a thumb to tug at your bottom lip. 

“I need ya to fuck me, daddy,” bringin’ the digit into your mouth as you moved again on his dick, the hardness comin’ back in a wave at your friction, “please, I’ve been a good girl fer you,” suckin’ on it like a pacifier. 

“Ya right baby girl,” he cooed, “I can’t say no to yer sweet lil’ pussy anyways,” watchin’ as you lifted your hips to line his cock up with your achin’ slit, rubbin’ your built-up slick around on the head. Pushin’ your hips slowly down on his length, swallowin’ every single inch like the popsicle you’d been devourin’ minutes prior. 

“G-good god darlin’,” breath hitchin’ as he took in your tight walls clenchin’ on his cock, “ya so damn tight, no matter how many times yer daddy fucks ya,” musin’ as you started your little dance on his lap. 

Hips in a death grip by his flesh and blood hand and his metal one as you gyrated your body, tits bouncin’ in his face, sweat buildin’ up in the heat of the trailer as skin slappin’ emitted through every room in the house. 

“F-fuck big bear!” you cried out, feelin’ his head pokin’ your cervix with every thrust he was makin’ upwards, completely sendin’ you into another dimension of pleasure, “ya stretch me out so damn good daddy!” moanin’ into every knock he made on your open womb. 

“Ya gonna cum on daddy’s big cock baby girl?” watchin’ your mouth gape open as your tits fall out of the sorry excuse for a bra you’d chosen, “daddy wants ya ta cum so damn bad!” speedin’ his movements up until tears fell again from your face. 

“Daddy!” grippin’ on his shoulders, drawin’ blood as he pummeled your hole with everything he had, “d-daddy I-I’m g-gon-,” the friction from his jeans rubbin’ your clit for him as you unraveled and released your sweet sticky spend on him. 

“F-fuck!” cryin’ out in unrelentin’ waves of bliss as he rode you out to pound town. 

“Such a perty baby girl,” musin’ as he thrust his cock in and out with more fervor, “daddy’s gettin’ close baby,” he praised once again, gritting his teeth as he set an ungodly speed on your overstimulated body.  

“D-daddy’s c-close,” he grunted, thrustin’ in once more before unloadin’ his spend into your gapin’ slit, shovin’ it further a further as he kept thrustin’ into you. 

“J-Jesus f-fuckin’ C-Christ,” hips still in his grip as it tightened from his orgasm, “ya feel s-so good darlin’,” stillin’ himself as you both gazed into each other, takin’ in the heat that had built over the last hour. 

He brought you into an embrace, smellin’ your hair, as you pet his sweat covered back, kissin’ the moles on his shoulder and rubbin’ the scratches that had built up. After a few more seconds, you went to hop off him, only to be stilled back in your spot. 

“Clyde, baby!” you looked at him, irritated and sweaty, “what the hell? It’s fuckin’ hot an’ I have ta pee,” tryin’ to pry his hands off your hips still. 

“Nah baby girl,” he tsked, “yer gonna sit here with ma cum in your pussy for a minute,” musin’ and rubbin’ your lower belly, “I wanna make sure ya keep it nice n’ safe up there,” eyes dilatin’ as he watched your expression change too. 

“Oh really?” movin’ a hand to slick his mop of hair back, “ya think this is gonna do the trick ta knock my ass up like ya want me ta be big bear?” gigglin’ as his toothy smile appeared as a result of your words. 

“Well, it’s a damn start innit?” nuzzlin’ his cheek in your hand, “need ta make sure ma swimmers explore all parts a the cave darlin’,” chucklin’ as you rolled your eyes. 

“Yer lucky yer the cutest thing on the planet,” softenin’ at his precious face restin’ in your fingers, “that jus’ makes me wanna have as many babies as possible so they get yer perty lil’ features,” rubbin’ his cheek as a tear welled up in his eyes. 

“I ain’t as precious as you are baby girl,” rubbin’ more little circles on your lower tummy, “I can’t wait ta see the perfect lil’ ones we do make,” the wetness rollin’ out of his eyes as he thought about a little Logan joinin’ the trailer. 

“Oh shit!” he jolted, scarin’ the crap out of you as you stood up, “I totally fuckin’ forgot!” he jumped up from the couch. 

“Forgot what big bear!” clutchin’ your chest as you crossed your legs to avoid the liquid from fallin’ out of your bladder and your pussy. 

“I have ta fix the fuckin’ AC!”

_____________

IN CONCLUSION, 

🖤, 

ray-nal-beads

[worldwidemochiguy]

Ours (yandere! rapline x reader)

You've always known that Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok are ‘dangerous’, but when one of your classmates decides to try and approach you, you learn just how dangerous they really are....

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR, Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, graphic sex scenes, Dom/sub dynamics, name-calling, face-fucking, comeplay (this is rly nasty y’all I'm sorry)

Word Count: 3.4K

a/n: thanks to anon who requested rapline x reader when a guy tries to approach reader! tbh that part only accounts for like the beginning and the end and the rest of it is just smut y’all im sorry idk how this happened lmao

OURS

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

The man in front of you slumps slightly, before mumbling out a desolate “Jongin,”

“Well, listen, Jongin, uh, it’s really flattering that you… think of me like that, but I’m not single, so… sorry?”

The man shuffles off without another word, disappearing into the library stacks, head bowed in embarrassment. You cringe slightly. Jongin was your partner for a group project a while ago and ever since then you’ve been able to feel his gaze trail over you sometimes during class, but you never thought he would actually make a move on you.

It’s pretty well-known at your college that you’re not available. Your boyfriends take pains to make it as clear as possible. They even have a rota, taking turns to pick you up each day after class, each time in a ridiculously ostentatious car. This morning you had been dropped off in Hoseok’s red Aston Martin, and you’re pretty sure it is Namjoon’s turn to pick you up in the Lamborghini once you’re finished studying. 

Even though your boyfriends always want to hear everything about your day with no detail omitted, you decide to not disclose the fact that one of your classmates had approached you. Jongin was a nice guy, after all, and you didn’t want to see him come in one day covered in bruises, or worse, not come in at all.

Your phone buzzes, and you start putting away your books without even having to check who it is. Only your boyfriends have your number now — they bought you a new phone because the old one mysteriously went missing. You take a quick glance anyway. 

[groupchat: You, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon]

Namjoon

I’m outside waiting for you, Princess. 

[4:02PM]

You

I’ll be out in a sec! 

[4:02PM]

Can’t wait to see you! <33333 

[4:03PM]

You tap out a few brief responses — they hate to be left on read — before swinging your bag over your shoulder and leaving the library. As you expected, Namjoon is leaning against the Lamborghini illegally parked in front of the main entrance, subject to more than a few admiring glances tossed his way, though you can’t tell whether they’re checking out the car or him. 

As soon as he sees you, his full lips tug into a smile, exposing his dimples as he reaches out to take your bag for you. You go up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek in thanks, and pretend that you don’t feel a curl of smug possessiveness flare up when you see the girl who was checking him out scowl and turn back to her friends.

He opens the door for you and helps you into the car, before walking around to place your bag in the trunk and getting in the drivers seat. Soon enough, the rolling purr of the engine starts up and the college library starts disappearing in the rear view mirror. 

The two of you sit in companionable silence, Namjoon’s hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

“I didn’t know you were so possessive, Princess.” Namjoon breaks the silence with a seemingly casual remark, though it is easy to detect the self-satisfied undercurrent in his voice. 

“Huh?”

“Oh, so you’re playing innocent? Cute.” He smirks, beginning to smooth his hand along your thigh. You try not to squirm under his attention. “That girl who was watching me, you didn’t like her, did you? You smiled when she turned away after you kissed me. Don’t you realise I notice everything you do?” 

Your cheeks burn as Namjoon deftly unravels your thoughts, embarrassed that he finds you so easy to read. You mumble something quietly under your breath, and within the blink of an eye Namjoon pulls over, takes his hand off your thigh and uses it to grip your chin, tilting your head up firmly so you are forced to meet his eye.

“What was that, Princess?” He smirks, and you know he won’t let you get away with not replying. 

Your cheeks flush deeply, and Namjoon briefly trails his thumb over the inflamed skin, before catching it on your bottom lip and tugging, a cue for you to speak before he gets impatient. 

“I said, wouldn’t you be possessive if you saw a guy checking me out?” You ask meekly, and Namjoon’s gaze darkens. 

“I’d destroy anyone who dared to even touch you. You’re mine. Ours.” His fervent response does not shock you, but just solidifies your resolution in your mind.

You hate lying to Namjoon, and Yoongi and Hoseok as well, but you know that if you tell them Jongin asked you out, it would only end in needless bloodshed. Anyway, it’s not like he was persistent or anything, it was a one off and you don’t think it’s necessary for him to be punished so harshly. 

By the time you make it back home, Namjoon’s sucked three fresh bruises into your neck to join the already-present necklace of love-bites. Having three deeply possessive boyfriends simply means having three times the hickeys a normal person might receive — not that you are complaining. You like to feel like you belong to them. 

Before Namjoon can even type in the code to unlock the door, Hoseok has swung it open and gathers you into his arms eagerly, tugging you backwards into the house.

“Princess!” He exclaims in between the kisses he peppers over your face, your hair, anything that he can reach. Behind you, Namjoon chuckles quietly. “Oh, you were gone so long! I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Hobi.” You giggle, and his eyes widen with joy.

“I wish you didn’t have to go at all. Do you really have to get a degree?” 

“She should get an education.” Namjoon asserts, and you nod at Hoseok, agreeing with your other boyfriend. Hoseok grumbles, before leading you towards the couch, tugging you on top of his lap as he sits down. 

“It’s not like you’re gonna need to get a job or anything. We’ll support you, won’t we, Namjoon?” Hoseok raises his voice so Namjoon, who’s gone to the kitchen to arrange a small meal for you, can hear. Yoongi, the resident cook, won’t be back for a while, but Hoseok and Namjoon would rather let themselves starve than let you go hungry, which could be possibility since Namjoon really is an atrocious cook. 

“Of course she won’t get a job.” Says Namjoon as he brushes into the room with a bowl of microwaved popcorn for you. Hoseok’s already started the film, some kind of horror flick, and he settles you comfortably in between himself and Namjoon, who’s just sat down. They love to make you watch horror films because you always get scared and hold onto them tightly, it makes them laugh so loud it almost drowns out the monstrous noises coming from the TV.

~~~

“Is it over yet?” You mumble, voice muffled in Namjoon’s sweater. You feel his chest rumble as he laughs, Hoseok’s high-pitched giggle joining even as he runs a comforting hand down your back.

“We’re only forty minutes in, Princess.” 

“How much is there left?”

“About an hour.”

You release a whine which induces their laughter again, until they are interrupted by the opening and shutting of the front door.

“You guys are watching Saw again?” You hear Yoongi’s dry voice ask and you point your arms in the direction from which you think it came from, fingers splayed, needy. He immediately joins you on the couch and wraps you in his arms, displacing Hoseok who lets out a dismayed noise. 

Yoongi hates horror films just as much as you do, no matter how tough he is in real life. You survive through the next hour with your face pressed into Yoongi’s chest and his hand gently stroking your hair. After the ordeal concludes, you join Yoongi in the kitchen to make dinner, sat on a stool by the kitchen island and watching, since Yoongi doesn’t want you close to any of the hot surfaces or cooking knives in case you get hurt. 

Namjoon sits and does his paperwork on the dining table, and you occasionally drift over to sit on his lap and mouth along his collarbones, trying to help with the stress that his job brings. Every so often, you go and check on Hoseok, who is practising in the studio. Seeing him so focused and sweaty from the exercise causes something to surface within you, and when you stumble back to the kitchen with mussed hair and swollen lips, Namjoon takes one glance at you and drops his pen.

“That’s not fair.” He breathes.

“What?”

“Hoseok can’t keep you all to himself like that. Especially when you look like that.” 

“Like what?” You ask with faux innocence, and he rises from the table and begins to stalk towards you slowly, a predator cornering its prey.

“Like you’ve just been ruined. Like you’ve just had a cock in you and can barely stand. Like you’re still hungry for more.” 

“And what if I am?” You whisper as he comes closer, so close your back hits the wall and his chest touches yours. 

At your question, Namjoon groans and he wastes no time before crashing his lips against yours, all tongue and teeth and fire. His hand reaches down beneath your skirt and wrenches your panties aside, shoving his fingers inside you to play with Hoseok’s cum, still warm inside you.

“Fuck,” he bites out against your lip, “Already had one cock in you and yet you’re still so fucking tight.” 

You moan breathlessly as he plunges two fingers into you, already scissoring them and twisting them mercilessly in a way that has your legs weakening so much that he has to support your weight. 

“You need my cock, don’t you Princess? You need me to fuck you loose and sloppy, huh? I can’t believe you want two cocks within the space of a minute, you little fucking slut.”

His words cause the heat building in your gut to ratchet upwards, already on edge and over-sensitive thanks to the two orgasms Hoseok strung out of you. You’re almost delirious, panting and whining and begging as Namjoon fingerfucks you. 

“Well, Princess? Do you want my cock or not?” He growls impatiently, and you moan loud enough that Hoseok can probably hear you in his studio, even over the music.

“Yes, I want- I need your cock. ‘m want you to fuck me sloppy, please, c’mon-” You whined against Namjoon, your head slumping down onto his shoulder, and he curses harshly to himself. 

Somehow, he removes your skirt and panties — though he is still fully clothed with the exception of his open fly — and thrusts into you in one long, smooth motion. There is something so degrading about being basically naked while Namjoon is completely covered, but it just turns you on even more. 

You’re so sensitive, having just been taken Hoseok up against the mirrors in the studio, his dancer’s hips fucking into you unrelentingly, and it doesn’t take much to bring you to the edge. Namjoon pounds into you, so hard that your head knocks back against the wall, and you know you’ll have bruises on your back where you’re being pressed against the wall too hard.

The pain only makes everything more overwhelming, makes it better, and you come on his cock with a wailing scream. His thrusts do not falter, and he only pushes you further up the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist and taking you in his arms so that he is bouncing your body up and down on his cock like a fucktoy. 

“Yes, Princess. You take it so well, you were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made to be used like my own little fuckdoll. My precious slut.” The new angle is hitting that perfect spot within you, the spot that makes your vision swim, and you are barely coherent, babbling nonsense and encouragement as he just keeps going. 

You lose count of the amount of times you come before he eventually slows down, spilling into you and then pumping it through you slowly, mixing in with Hoseok’s from earlier. As he pulls out, his seed trickles down your thigh and dries there. You go to wipe it off with your discarded skirt — it would ruin the skirt, but they would always just buy you a new one — but Namjoon stops you with a tight grip on your wrist.

“Leave it there.” He commands, and you nod, wide-eyed. “You look so pretty with my seed marking you. You look like you’re mine.” 

“She’s mine too, you know.” A low voice utters, and you startle when you remember that Yoongi was still in the kitchen, and could have been watching the whole time. Must have been, considering the impressive erection he’s stroking with one hand, eyes hooded as they watch you. Despite yourself, you lick your lips, and Yoongi coos. 

“Baby still wants more, huh? Even after two cocks inside her?” You nod, just like you know he wants you to, and he gives you a satisfied smile. Yoongi takes his time, moving towards you in slow, measured steps. Behind you, Namjoon forces you to your knees, holding your hands behind your back.

“Does the little slut want her dinner now?” You try to nod, and Namjoon tightens a hand into your hair, making you whimper. 

“Take her shirt off.” Yoongi says and Namjoon rips it off your body without a warning. You gasp as your skin is exposed to the cold air, a gasp which tapers into a whine and Yoongi reaches down and pinches one of your nipples hard.

“So sensitive.” He chuckles, before cupping your jaw. He moves his shoe forwards so it presses in between your legs, right up against your too-sensitive core. You mewl and wriggle away from it, but Namjoon holds you firm.

“Listen, baby.” Yoongi starts, his hand at your eye level stroking up and down his cock leisurely, “I’m going to fuck your mouth, and while I do that, you’re going to get yourself off on my shoe.” You start to whimper, shaking your head but Yoongi hushes you. “That wasn’t a question. If you don’t come before I do, you’ll be punished.” 

You shiver, but still try to protest meekly.

“Yoongi, it’s too much, please, I can’t-” But Namjoon forces your jaw open and Yoongi shoves himself into your mouth before you can finish.

You moan around his cock, the feeling of being full always mindlessly satisfying you and, after a moments hesitation, you start grinding against his shoe. The sensitivity makes it almost painful, and you sob around his cock, eyes already leaking tears as Yoongi thrusts deep into you over and over again, at one point holding your nose against his hip until you thought you were about to pass out, before pulling out and slamming back in. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Yoongi grunts, fucking your face like there’s no tomorrow. “Such a fucking slut. Look Namjoon, she’s panting on my cock, getting the come of all the men she’s fucked all over my shoe. I hope you know you’re going to be licking it clean, Princess.” 

At his last statement, all the pain and arousal and humiliation forges itself into one white-hot surge of pleasure and the orgasm rips through you almost violently. Your throat tightens against Yoongi’s cock and a few seconds later he’s yanking himself out roughly and coming all over your face and chest. 

“So beautiful.” He murmurs as you slump backwards against Namjoon’s thighs. “Covered in our essence. You’re ours, and you always will be.” 

Since Yoongi practically abandoned dinner and let it burn, the three of you order take out, and they take turns feeding you as you perch — still entirely naked and covered in their dried come — on Hoseok’s lap. After dinner, the four of you have a warm bath where Hoseok uses his magic fingers to massage all the aches and groans out of your body, all the while praising you for how well you took them, how beautiful you are, how proud you should be. It ends up with him taking you slowly against the side of the bath, water rushing around you while you stretch yourself enough to take Yoongi as well, leaning over to take Namjoon in your mouth. 

By the time you stumble into bed, you are well and truly exhausted, and you fall asleep right away, wrapped in Hoseok and Namjoon’s arms, with Yoongi sprawled on top of you, feeling safer than you’ve ever felt in your life. 

~~~

Next week, you are getting a coffee during a break between classes — normally your boyfriends would come and visit you in this time but Yoongi was being held up at work, as was Namjoon, and Hoseok was trying to nail down a new routine — when Jongin approaches you again. 

He looks nervous, and you surprise a sigh.

“Look, Jongin, I’m flattered, but-”

“I know you’re dating those men, but honestly, Y/n, they are not who you think they are.”

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, anger flaring within you at the criticism of your boyfriends.

“Listen, I’ve looked into their backgrounds a little and they’re dangerous, Y/n, you don’t want to associate with them.” 

“I think I can decide what I want for myself, thanks.” You reply frostily. “I know you have a crush on me, and I was willing to let that slide, but this really is pathetic. Maybe you should think for a second; if they’re so dangerous, then what do you think is going to happen when you try to take what’s theirs?” 

His eyes widen in fear, and for a second you feel smug that you managed to cow him into such a level of fear, and then you feel an arm wrap securely around your shoulders.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Princess.” Namjoon says, giving a now-trembling Jongin a death glare. 

“Telling lies to our girlfriend is certainly a dangerous thing to do.” Hoseok purrs, flanking Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“And telling her you have feelings for her is even worse.” Yoongi smirks, moving in between you and Jongin. 

“Honestly, if I were you, I would start running.”

Jongin turns tail and flees out of the coffee shop, followed by many curious glances. Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi exchange a smug smile before they start leading you to the car — a modest Rolls Royce today.

“I- I thought you couldn’t come today?” You ask, confused, and Namjoon huffs a laugh.

“We wanted to surprise you.”

“Of course, we should have realised we’d have to scare off one of your admirers.” Hoseok laughs, though his eyes are tight. 

“I didn’t realise he would go that far. I just felt kind of bad for him, but if you hadn’t arrived today I would definitely have told you the second I got home.”

“You should always tell us everything, Princess.” Yoongi growls, before pushing you into the back of the car. 

Hoseok slips into the drivers seat whilst Namjoon and Yoongi flank your sides in the back seats. 

“From now on, you tell us everything, ok? No secrets.” Namjoon says sternly, and you nod. 

“What about Jongin? Are you going to catch him?”

“Don’t think about that filth.” Hoseok instructs from the front, “We’ll take care of him. You don’t have to worry about any of it. We’ll call the college and say you’re sick for the rest of the week so you can have time to recover.” 

“Ok.” You reply quietly, burrowing into the car leather.

“You really don’t have to worry, Princess.” Yoongi reassures you, taking your quiet behaviour for fear. 

“We won’t let anyone take you from us. Ever. You’re ours. We’ll kill anyone who tries to lay a single finger on you, sweetheart. And if anyone tries to take you away? I’ll make sure they suffer so much they’ll be begging for death. That’s how much I love you, baby. We love you, so much.” 

[taylorsage22]

Little brat--Eobard Thawne x reader

Warning-smut,kinky, spanking.

Sitting on the couch you and Eobard watched TV together, or rather you watched TV and he did work on his laptop. Noticing a shadow when his arm moved you just watched him for a moment, his muscles under his shirt twitching as he typed, his chest rising and falling with each breathe. It made you ache for him. Oh that soft uncomfortable ache, the one that goes straight to the pit of your belly when you're around your gorgeous man. This couch wasn't being used the way you wish it was.The two of you sat silently together, until now.

Eobard?" You nudge into him putting your chin on his shoulder leaning on him the way you know annoys him.

"hhmm?" He hums back at you raising an eyebrow but not breaking eye contact with his work.

"When are you gonna be done?" You try to push your breasts together hoping he'll take notice, but he doesn’t. He knows what you want though. You can tell he’s just being difficult by the grin creeping onto his lips.

"Not for a while beautiful, what do you want?"

"You." You state flatly.

"You know I’ve gotta finish this work before I can play with you."

"Hhmmmppf" You pout crossing your arms and sitting back down next to him facing the TV.

He chuckles a bit at you but keeps to his work.

After another moment you face him and spread your legs revealing your little white lace panties. You begin touching yourself and slowly you look at him.

"Im achey Eo, I need you."

He reaches over and grabs your hand pulling it away. He looks you dead in the eyes with a "Don't push it." look on his face and lightly spanks you between your legs causing you to jump.

Did I say you could touch?" He was gripping your wrist harder now waiting for a response.

"No, but-"

"‘No but nothing little girl." He put his paperwork down and pulled you over his knee.

"Count, and you better not miss one or I’m going to start over."

Struggling you try to talk your way out of it. This isn’t going to make the ache go away it’s going to make it worse.

“I’m sorry, I’ll wait patiently, please-"

SMACK!

"Ah! No! I’m sorry!"

"That didn’t sound like 'one' to me darling." He was smiling ear to ear now.

SMACK!

"Two."

"Uh uh, that’s still one.” He sighs. “You never listen."

SMACK! SMACK!

"One! Two!"

"That’s better."

He continued like this for a while, getting great pleasure out of taking some frustration out on you.

"twenty nine."

SMACK!

"Thirty! Eobard! Please I’ll be good I promise!" you sobbed.

He rubs your beet red cheeks softly and slides his hand over your panties between your legs.

"So wet, always a mess."

After a moment of calming the ache with his soft touches he pulled away. Grabbing you by the hair he lifts your face to his and sits you straddling his lap with his legs open so your cum doesn’t ruin his work pants. He pulls off your shirt and bra and starts to ever so softly suck on your breasts. Flipping his tongue against your sensitive nipples you can’t help but cry out and grab his hair.

"Fuck! You’re making it worse!"

He stops short.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing!" You look up avoiding his eyes.

He grabs you by the jaw pursing your lips and forces you to look at him.

"Did you just swear at me?"

"No! No it wasn’t at you. I’m sorry!"

He pulls you up over his shoulder and over the back of the couch so your ass is lifted up and lands a couple more good ones down on your scarlet cheeks.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"please Eo! No more! I’m sorry!"

"Hmmm how to teach your naughty mouth a lesson?"

You've soaked through your panties now, little strings of cum are connected to your thighs. Eobard grins to himself and wipes some of your slick off your thighs and licks his finger.

"Get on your knees."

"Yes sir."

You sit between his knees and he grabs your hair while pulling himself free from his pants and sliding them down to his ankles. The minute his cock is in front of you your mouth waters and you start to lick his length slowly while maintaining eye contact like he likes. He’s thick and you haven’t been able to swallow all of him yet, but you try. He hums as you bob up and down on him drooling and licking as you go "Ok doll face." He pulls your mouth off of his member by your hair and you open your mouth sticking out your tongue for him. He jerks himself off onto your face and cums in your mouth slapping your tongue with his shaft a couple times. You swallow all that was in your mouth and lick your lips. Not letting you clean off your face he immediately pulls you back up onto the couch next to him. "Spread your legs." You do so and he just goes back to his computer and starts reading again leaving you cummed on and dripping just waiting next to him. "EOBARD!" You shout. How dare him! Your pussy is swollen with need and he’s just teasing you. The ache has become a burn and it’s so bad even the slight friction from your wet panties is too good. "I told you to wait." He again doesn’t even look at you, but the smile on his face says it all. "You’re a jerk." It comes out before you can stop it. This was not a time to let your inner monologue spill out but it just happened. Without a word you were over the back of the couch again. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! You scream this time because the slaps were so hard against the already abused skin. "I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!" "Didn’t mean it?" He laughs. "I guess you didn’t learn your lesson." Still holding you over the back of the couch he pulls your panties down and starts to tease your already twitching pussy, running his fingers slowly and gently over your wetness. He slides his fingers easily into you, fingering you slowly and rubbing your clit. He reaches over the couch and pinches your nipple not too hard but hard enough to make you whimper. He’s not going to give you what you want until you’re a drooling mess. He knows it, you know it, and that’s why you need him. He stops everything. His leg moves between yours as he gets behind you. He pushes it to your wetness "Ride it" He says bluntly. Sliding over his leg slowly, you’re finally able to relieve some of the ache and get lost in it until you’re about to cum. He senses you’re getting close and pulls his leg away. You’re about to protest when he stuffs his cock into you. He steadied himself with one hand on the back of the couch. "Now little girl," He says grabbing your throat with his other hand from behind and whispering in your ear. "Fuck my cock until I say stop." It was amazing, the way it filled you and pushed you apart. How it unraveled you and sent you speeding towards release. You were so needy and desperate in your movements that he'd started to pant and you loved hearing the noises he made. It made you feel like you had some kind control in the situation. "Eobard?" "Yes baby?" He said with his eyes shut enjoying the way you felt squeezing around him. "Can I please cum?" He opened his eyes and smiled. "No." You moaned and tried to ride him faster knowing he’d stop you. "I said no!" He pulled out of you and held you by your hair. The cum on your face had dried but you could still smell him as he yanked your head back to kissed you hard. You broke the kiss a moment later. "Please, it hurts. I wanna cum on your fat cock, please!" That was it; those were apparently the magic words. He couldn’t resist you anymore. He stuffed it back inside you and started to fuck you into the back of the couch putting emphasis on hitting that deep spot you loved. "Cum for me you greeedy lil slut." He groaned gritting his teeth in your ear. Within seconds you were screaming his name thanking him a thousand times. He pulled out of you and spilled his second load all over your ass. "Thank you!" You smiled and kissed him on the cheek and hopped up to go the bathroom. He sat back down completely drained and wiped the sweat from his forehead. " My Little brat" He mumbled grinning as he settled back to his work.

[billhaderlovebot]

of heartbreak and raviolis - aaron conners

summary: you're sick and tired of everyone taking advantage of your best friend, aka aaron conners, aka the most wonderful man in the world, aka the man you love. not so subtle amy bashing fic.

tags: @whoseblogsthis @mpmarypoppins @a-second-hand-sorrow

aaron conners had always had shitty taste in women. you'd mainly thought so because none of the women he'd ever picked happened to be you.

aaron was too soft. too soft for this world and the men and women in it. they would break him. they would ball up the effervescent, unconditional kindness and love he had for people and shove it right back down.

amy was going to break him, too.

you knew she would.

and, oh, how you hated her. you hated her and how unreliable she was and the infuriating vapidness within her and her terrifying lack of respect for the man you had loved since you were seventeen. your best friend.

watching him kiss her was hell. watching him fall for her, knowing he was gone and there was nothing you could do about it, was worse.

but he was so happy, and he looked at her like she'd hung the moon.

it fucking hurt.

because you were tired of sitting by while everyone took advantage of how fucking nice he always was.

because you knew what was coming. and you didn't have the heart to say "i told you so".

"hey, hey, slow down, honey, i can't understand you."

aaron was crying. his voice came broken and shuddering down the line, trying desperately to get something out that wasn't cut with a sob burning from his chest. but you already knew what he was going to say. you knew, and you were pulling on a sweater and grabbing your keys before he could explain.

"she... she said-" and he couldn't get it out. the sound of his heartbreak made your own heart shatter.

"im coming over." you breathed, slamming the door and heading out into the night to comfort the man you had always wanted but could never have.

---

amy had cheated. actually, amy had been cheating for quite some time. she had never stopped, in fact.

you'd been tangled together on aaron's couch, a mass of crying and limbs and throw blankets, for hours now.

"i thought she loved me." aaron scoffed, staring blankly out of the window to where the sun was just beginning to rise over new york.

his head was in your lap and the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity was your hand threading through his hair. "she said she loved me."

he let out a mirthless laugh, and you were suddenly furious.

"i'm so fucking angry." you whispered, eyes intent on aaron's face, angled towards the sunrise, the remnants of heartbreak in shining tracks down his cheeks.

"why?" he inquired, turning over to look up at you.

"because... because this shouldn't happen, aaron. not to you."

---

light snores filled the quiet apartment as aaron drifted off in your arms. he had moved so that his face rested in the crook of your shoulder, his hand draped over your waist. you couldn't help but feel that this was a little bit not fair. it wasn't the first time something like this had happened to him, and it wasn't the first time you'd had to hold him and comfort him and pretend you hadn't been painfully in love with him since high school. so here you were, again, the doting, supportive best friend. again. fuck.

in sleep, he looked younger. in sleep, he looked content, save for the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, the remainder of the day's emotional strain. it disappeared with the gentle press of your lips against the soft skin, and aaron unconsciously held onto you a little tighter. your heart ached as it did when you were a teenager.

when, at seventeen, you lay eyes on him at a house party, shrouded in smoke and coloured lights and the thumping bass of some nondescript vaporwave track, your heart skipped, like, twelve beats or something.

and, when, blue eyed and floppy haired, he looked back at you, raising his red plastic cup, your heart fell out of your ass. upon trying to talk to the guy who had so quickly stolen your heart, you spilled your vodka soda all over him. he tipped his own drink over your head. you stared at each other for several solid seconds of short lived fury, and then cracked up, immediately going to find more alcohol. you were best friends from that day on.

you were the one who supported him through medical school, helping him study and walking to campus every morning to give him coffee and whatever baked good you deemed acceptable. bidding him goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and the promise of a movie marathon.

you endured aaron's many vapid, fake-nice, passive-aggressive girlfriends who would loathe you and shoot you looks that, should they kill, would have you six feet fucking under.

you pushed how deeply in love with him you were right down below the surface, because his happiness was more important to you.

you thought, now, almost a decade later, as he had cried in your arms for hours about a woman that didn't feel the same, that it might be time for you to get your feelings in order and fucking tell him that all you wanted was for him to take you in his arms and kiss you fucking senseless.

and then they got back together.

"aaron, you fuck- you what?" you were absolutely livid, like, struggling-to-hold-the-phone-without-smashing-it-into-someone's-face livid.

"um, i, i just really want to make it work with her, and she was really sorry, and-"

"aaron, she broke your fucking heart."

"yeah, i know, i-

"and i was the one to let you cry your fucking eyes out on me for hours, even though it hurt. i've stood by for years, watching people hurt you and knowing there was nothing i could do about it."

"i'm not your responsibility, honey." he said. "this is my own life and i... you don't have to be involved."

"how can you fucking say that, aaron? of course i do. i won't let her do this to you again. i'm your best fucking friend, is that not enough for you?"

"...i guess not."

you'd never wanted to beat aaron to death before, but if he continued being so fucking stupid, you'd advise him not to put it past you. there was a deafening silence on the phone after that, because there was nothing you could say to change his mind, and nothing he could say that would make you not want to murder amy townsend. or him.

"i won't do this anymore." you finally said, a lump in your throat.

"what?"

"pretend that... that i'm not in love with you so that i can be okay with the manipulative assholes you pick as girlfriends."

"wh-?"

"goodbye, aaron."

---

the month that followed was probably the worst month of your entire life. you didn't speak to aaron once. no calls, no emails, no 2am visits to listen to billy joel and eat junk and talk about how you both carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. you'd always shared that weight, and, now, it was like someone had torn you in half and left you bleeding.

you were halfway through the last episode of season ten of friends, and your second box of cold pop tarts, crying your eyes out, when the doorbell rang. you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of one of aaron's old college sweaters and dragged yourself up from the couch. your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the disheveled, very attractive man hyperventilating in front of you when the front door swung open.

"aaron?" you stumbled over your thrift store welcome mat you bought because of the blue cat on it, holding yourself up on the door frame and staring up at him in sleepy disbelief.

"hi, yes, hi." aaron was breathing hard, the aftermath of running the whole two miles to your apartment in the middle of the night. "i've been thinking a lot about... about what you said, and i just, i've missed you, yknow? and, i, um, not that that makes everything okay, because i didn't listen to you, and it sucked, and-"

"what do you want?" you asked, trying not to punch him. "i'm tired, aaron. and not just physically. i'm tired of waiting around for you to love me."

"oh, well that's, um, that's good." he nodded, peeling off his jacket. "sorry, um, im sweaty-"

"that's good?" you blinked. aaron was clueless at the best of times, but this was insane.

"yes, yeah, because i realised something, um, just now, at home, with amy."

"i really don't want to hear about amy right now-"

"no, i know, i just, um, i realised that she's not who i want." he shrugged.

"it's about fucking time, aaron, i swear to god-"

"you're my best friend, and... i meant what i said, yknow, about that not being enough for me."

aaron ducked under the doorframe, bending down to capture your lips with his own. your eyes widened, and you froze up, your arms at your sides. the fact that aaron conners was kissing you just wouldn't compute.

and then it did, and you were kissing him back, your arms flying around his neck and your fingers twisting into his hair.

the kiss was searing, and your skin burned where his hands trailed across your cheeks, cupping your jaw, and up the back of your shirt, ghosting across your hip bones.

even when you stumbled back into your apartment, falling backwards over the couch, aaron was relentless, attaching his lips to your neck as if nothing was amiss.

what stood out to you was how easy this was. how you were able to fall into place so quickly as if you'd been doing this for years. as if you hadn't been pining for him for half your life.

"hey," you broke the kiss, gazing up at him in all his blue eyed, flustered, swollen-lipped glory. "hey, we have some, ah, things to talk about, i think."

aaron nodded, swallowing. "yeah, um, yeah."

you pecked his lips, closing your eyes. you just wanted to be someone who had kissed aaron conners, no complications, for a few seconds longer.

"raviolis?" he asked quietly, still hovering above you with that signature, heart-melting grin.

"it's 1am, aaron."

"i know a guy."

[maknae-on-ice]

Oblivious {2}

Tom Holland X Fem Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Words: +1.2K

Warnings: Language, little bit of anxiety and bad grammar 

Summary: Y/n is an actress with big dreams and ambition, and she somehow ends up meeting and working with Tom Holland her idol and past celebrity crush. They will build a strong friendship with each other, but will they stay oblivious towards their feeling for each other forever?

Pt.1 // Masterlist! 

Today is the day I kiss Tom Holland

 Wait- no, today is the day I kiss my coworker for a movie

 Yeah that sounds better?

 You mutter reassuring words to yourself as the makeup artist dances around you, getting you ready for your scene with Tom.

 “Nervous?” asks the makeup artist causing you to lose your train of thought and look up from the ground, “Oh uh- maybe a little” you mumble fiddling with your hands. The makeup artist gives you a smile, “Don’t worry hun, you’ll do great” you hum, smiling slightly about to go back to panicking internally before a figure outside of the door catches your eye

 Tom quickly walking down the hall before doing a double take and walking back over if front of your dressing room door, leaning on the door frame. “Hey Y/n” he smiles at you, eyes quickly flickering up and down your body.

 “Hi Holland, can I help you? This is kind of my dressing room and I’m in the middle of something” you motion over to the makeup artist and raise an eyebrow at Tom

 He chuckles, crossing his arms and tilting his head up, grinning at you. “Well you didn’t answer my text yesterday, I assumed you were dead. So just checking up on you” you shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Well, I’m not dead”

 “You were just being annoying” he gasped pretending to be offended. “That hurt Y/l/n” you shrugged, chuckling lightly.

 “Alright, that’s enough flirting you two” Chloe rolled her eyes, walking into the room with a clipboard. “We weren't flirting” you scoff, both you and Tom laughing from Chloe’s ‘ridiculous remark’

 “Yeah okay, whatever” Chloe looks over at the makeup artist, who gave her a look and nodded. Almost saying ‘Yeah they were’ while you and Tom still laughed

 “Alright Thomas, get to set” Tom rolled his eyes at Chloe before walking down the hall, “You too Y/n” you nodded standing from the chair and following Chloe onto set.

 The set decorated as a small town in Europe, lights and cameras all over the set as people rushed to their positions. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you looked around the set

 You weren't supposed to be nervous, you’ve been on a ton of sets, and you’ve acted on camera many times

What was different about it this time that made you nervous??

Chloe bumped your shoulder, smiling at you. “Don’t be nervous, it'll be fine. Now get to set” you rolled your eyes, nodding before making your way towards the set. “And don’t like the kiss too much” she winked before sprinting over to her director’s chair

 Your eyes widened, a faint pink spreading across your face. “Bitch” you mumbled sending Chloe a glare who just smiled at you innocently

 “You ready?”

 You jumped slightly, turning around to see Tom standing in front of you startled. “Yeah, sorry. You just scared me” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry”

 “Oi! Holland! Go get on your damn set marker!”

 Tom eyes widened, looking over at Chloe who rolled her eyes before quickly sprinted to his set marker causing you to laugh quietly before covering your mouth

 Clearing your throat, you stood on your marker getting into character

 “Action!”

 Tom eyed you carefully, eyes trailing up and down your body before looking back into your eyes as he walked towards you. “W-what are you doing?” you stepped back, back hitting the wall, whimpering quietly you looked behind you before looking back at him.

 He placed his arms on either side of you, being only inches away from your face, he wet his lip smirking at you. “I was planning on kissing you” he raises an eyebrow, “Is that okay?”

 You shrug, “You’re already here, so” you nodded and saw a grin spread across his face. He kissed you deeply, running his tongue over your bottom lip, and hands going up your sides and cupped your cheek

 Um, this wasn’t part of the script??? Wtf

 He brought his hands down to your hips, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you closer to him and gently sucked on your bottom lip. You melted at his touch, wrapping your arms around him and moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, looking at you with wide eyes and swollen red lips

 And that’s when you internally died, right on the stop

 “Cut!” everyone went back to rushing around set like nothing even happened (cause they don’t care) but Tom still stood looking at you with wide eyes

 Fucking shit

 You felt like crying and dying on the spot

 “Im- y-you, good kiss. Ya know acting and stuff” you furrow your eyebrows shaking your head at yourself

 What the fuck?

 He stayed silent, eyes still wide as he bit his lip and looked away

 “I-Im just gonna go” you tried your best not to break down on the spot in front of Tom Holland himself, and quickly ran towards your dressing room. Chloe giving you a concerned look as you ran away, before looking at Tom and giving him a death glare.

 You ran into your dressing room, locking the door and looked at your teary face in the mirror. “What the fuck is wrong with me??” you wiped your face deciding to take a quick shower to calm yourself down.

 Quickly taking a shower, you wrap a towel around yourself already feeling better

 Still freaked out, and anxious but better

 You were here to be an actress in a movie, this is your career. This is all stupid, you shouldn’t be acting like this. And nothing is going to stop you from making your dreams come true

 You hear a knock on the door, quickly walking over holding the towel tightly, you swing the door open. “Chlo I-oh”

 Tom looks up from the ground, seeing you in a towel his eyes go wide (again) as he feels his face heat up. He brings his hand up using it as a barricade so he couldn't see you

 “I’m so sorry! I thought you were Chloe”

 And I'm dead inside again

 I’m such a fucking idiot

 “It’s fine” his voice cracks, he clears his throat looking down at the ground. “Just wanted to talk to you”

 “Yeah, of course. Um-let me just get dressed, just a minute” you hold up a finger chuckling nervously as you close the door.

 What the fuck Y/n!?

 You shake your head, letting out a breath and quickly getting dressed

 You open the door this time with clothes on. Tom looks at you, giving you a small smile his cheeks still slightly pink. “Again, I’m so sorry” you chuckle, running a hand through your hair. He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it, I actually wanted to apologize myself for what happened before I-”

 “Yeah, it was good improv. I’m sorry, you just kind of startled me. It was a good kiss, good improv.” you cut him off quickly giving him a tight smile, he looks up at you nodding.

 “Right, you startled me too. You’re really good, you’re a good actress I was right” you chuckle rolling your eyes. “Friends?” he grins chuckling, you laugh sticking your pinky out.

 “You’re kidding me? What are we five?”

 “Hey! You act like you’re five!” you glare a him still holding your pinky out, he scoffs rolling his eyes. “And I never have and never will break a pinky promise, it's very serious!”

 “Alright! Alright!” he laughs, leaning closer to you and wrapping his pinky around yours. “Friends?” you ask raising an eyebrow

 He grins shaking his head, “Friends” he agreed, both of you wrap your pinky around the others tightly and nodd, sealing the deal

------

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[chaossmagic]

Somebody walking in on them, maybe future Seb or future other kid or Liv now

~do not disturb~

it’s a very slow day at the office. aaron and robert find an unorthodox way of keeping themselves occupied. mildly smutty, hopefully funny.

warnings: office blowjobs ;) 

“I don’t think I have ever had a work day that’s been this slow,” Aaron groaned, his forehead coming to rest on his desk with a dull thunk. “Where is everyone?”

Opposite him, having been flicking bits of paper across the portacabin with a rubber band for the last twenty minutes, Robert shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe there’s been a nationwide throw a sickie day that we don’t know about.”

Aaron groaned again, straightening up and scrubbing a hand across his face. “This is doing my ‘ead in, Rob. We can’t just sit here staring into space for,” he glanced up at the clock on the wall, the one that currently read ten past one, “three and a half more hours. The phone hasn’t gone once since nine. I told Ellis to sack it off at eleven since there was no point in ‘im bumming around here with nothing to do.” 

“I could make us another brew?” Robert suggested, already half-way out of his chair to the small kettle they kept in the corner of the cabin. “I think Jimmy left some chocolate biscuits in here too, we could get stuck into those and blame it on mice if he says anything.”

“Nah, ta,” Aaron refused. “If I ‘ave another cuppa I’ll be swimmin’ in it, and then I’ll keep ya up all night.”

“Suit yourself,” Robert replied, his hand already in the biscuit tin. He reached for a bourbon cream and popped it in his mouth, chewing with satisfaction. There was a bit of chocolate left on his upper lip, and Aaron felt the urge to lick his thumb and rub it off, or kiss it away, reaching up onto his toes to close the height differential between them before putting his lips to his husband’s, a slow steady kiss that would taste like chocolate and the bitter aftertaste of the espresso he’d downed that morning, half-asleep and needing the extra boost of energy.

Fat lot of good that did, though. The place was dead, the silence broken by the ticking of the clock and the occasional hum of the little fridge and the twang of elastic as Robert slingshotted various items across the room. 

“Ya know,” Aaron started slowly, “there is something we could do to pass the time in ‘ere.” He stretched himself out in his chair, feeling the muscles in his back and shoulders groan as he lifted his hips, spreading his thighs - and leaving nothing to the imagination as he watched Robert’s eyebrows rise, his mouth drop open slightly, and his eyes alight from across the small space.

“We’re all alone in here,” he continued. “The place is like a graveyard. No-one’s gonna come in here now,” he breathed, licking his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving his husband’s, who had now gone pink around the ears and high on his cheekbones. “’cept you, if you play your cards right.”

Robert muttered an expletive under his breath - and then he was across the room, his large hands coming to rest firmly on the armrests of Aaron’s chair as he fastened his mouth on his in a hungry, open kiss, hot and wet and eager like a man starving. Aaron responded in kind, correct in his assumption that his husband would taste like chocolate and espresso, his cologne filling his nose where the top two buttons of Robert’s shirt were undone, showing a small expanse of smooth, light gold skin. He wanted to put his mouth there, to lick it and taste the sweat and fresh scent of grapefruit shower gel, the one he’d used that very morning before coming in to work. 

He pulled away, nosing at Robert’s open collar with deep, panting breaths, inhaling the smell of him. Above him, Robert moaned, no doubt feeling the sharp scrape of Aaron’s stubble against his skin and loving it; in return, Robert moved his lips to Aaron’s throat, nibbling at the sensitive patch of skin just below his ear, then biting down hard enough to make him jump and fist his hands in Robert’s shirt, pulling the material till it stretched. Another button popped open, revealing more of his husband’s skin; but his jacket was in the way, and Aaron kissed him deeply again as he moved to shove it from his shoulders, Robert helping with the last few tugs before chucking it onto the floor somewhere behind him. 

“You,” Aaron panted, kissing him roughly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw lightly, “you, on your knees, now.”

He was almost at full hardness, had been getting there ever since the initial thought had crossed his mind; now he wanted Robert, in front of him, between his legs, buried in the crease between his thigh and hip. He wanted to feel his breath on his sensitive skin and his fingers cutting bruises into his thighs from holding on so tight it hurt, but in the best way possible.

“So demanding, Mr Sugden,” Robert muttered, a smirk on his lips, but did as Aaron had told him regardless, his hand already unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper on his jeans. 

“Oi,” Aaron replied, as Robert’s hand found the outline of him in his underwear, hot and heavy in his husband’s palm, and he hissed through his teeth as he pouted, “That’s Sugden-Dingle to ya.” 

Robert looked up at him through his eyelashes, a cheeky grin on his face. His lips were red as roses from kissing, his eyes dark with want. “Sorry,” he said slowly, “my mistake.”

And then, before he’d even registered it, he’d pulled down his underwear in one swift motion and sank his mouth over him, swallowing him whole and making Aaron shout out in sudden, intense pleasure. 

Every time was like the first time, he thought, cupping a palm over his eyes and letting his teeth sink into his bottom lip as Robert sucked and licked with the kind of eagerness he’d never tire of receiving. His breath came out in short, sharp blows, tiny whimpers escaping his throat and echoing in the ghostly empty cabin. 

The hand that wasn’t covering his eyes reached down to fist in his husband’s hair, the fine blond strands soft as silk between his fingers, and the dull ache in his scalp only seemed to spur Robert on. He pulled back till only the very tip of him rested against Robert’s lips, giving tiny kitten licks all around the swollen head, enough to make Aaron moan, really moan, his head rolling back and his eyes going up to the ceiling.

“Oi! Why aren’t you two answering your - oh, sweet Jesus!”

The door of the cabin banged open just as Aaron’s back arched off the chair, his eyes flying open in horror as he saw Liv, his little sister, Liv, standing there mortified with her eyes screwed up and her mouth in a line of pure disgust. 

Aaron sat up so violently that it sent Robert careening to the floor, hastily trying to fix his shirt and wipe his mouth as Aaron gathered the open flaps of his trousers and tried to make himself look decent.

In front of his little sister. Who had just seen him with his underwear around his ankles being given a blowjob by his husband.

Oh, please let a car come through here and kill me right now.

“Liv!” he sputtered, hands fumbling to re-fasten his jeans. “Liv, what the h-why are you here?”

“And why didn’t you knock?” Robert squeaked from his crouched position on the floor. He seemed too frozen with horror to do anything, and Aaron didn’t blame him. 

“I tried, idiots, your phones were switched off!” she exclaimed, still refusing to open her eyes. “And now I had to see - see this! You’re supposed to be working! And ya give me grief for slacking off on my physics homework.”

“Well, it was a really slow day,” Robert offered by way of an explanation, which was a rather pathetic one, Aaron reckoned. 

Liv glowered. “I am going to need so much therapy. And you’re paying for all of it.”

And with that she banged out the door again, slamming it on its hinges as she stomped off, shaking her head over and over again, like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

[purplerosesbloodythorns]

I Would Never Ask You To

A/N:

This is a story that I half wrote about 8 months ago, and despite having the whole story in my head I never finished it. So this is just a warning that read knowing this likely won’t ever be completed. Also, it’s not good but it’s what I got in this head of mine soooooo...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry followed the Slytherin as he had been doing for quite some time. He kept the Invisibility Cloak that once belonged to his father wrapped tightly around him, his steps quiet. Malfoy’s back was stiff as he walked, his body tense and thin. He ducked into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and Harry rushed in before the door closed so he wouldn’t be detected. He watched as Malfoy splashed his face with water, his sleeves pulled up. Malfoy looked like shit, and it ate at Harry’s insides. Draco was pale, more so than usual. His cheeks were hollow and the dark circles under his eyes contrasted with the almost white hair that had been knocked loose and was falling on his forehead. Harry glanced down at Draco’s rolled sleeves and inched closer, hoping he was wrong. He wanted to be wrong so badly. His eyes shot to Malfoy’s left arm, and he felt like lead had dropped in his stomach.

The mark was stark against the cream skin, and it looked like the snake curled around the skull was slithering beneath Draco’s flesh. Draco watched the snake move with disgust, a sob shook his body as he breathed heavily. Draco scratched at it until it was red and swollen, as if the Mark was an itch that couldn’t quite be scratched. Harry figured it probably wasn’t comfortable, and the look on Draco’s face confirmed what Harry already suspected. Draco had never wanted it. Finally, out of frustration, Draco dug a clean nail straight through it, blood pouring from the thin cur he left. He let out a pained sound as the skin automatically healed itself, the mark preserved perfectly. He immediately went to do it again, and Harry forgot everything he was meant to be doing. He reached out and gripped Malfoy’s hand, stopping it from torturing the marked skin any longer. Malfoy gasped, jerking his arm away and pulling his wand, pointing it in Harry’s general direction. Harry muttered a curse at his own stupidity, and dropped the cloak from his shoulders.

The silence was deafening, and Draco quickly pulled down his sleeves. Harry watched the mark go and breathed deeply. Draco never dropped his wand, and Harry never pulled his.

“They wouldn’t believe me,” Harry murmured, staring at Draco’s sleeve right where the mark was ingrained, “all said I was crazy, that you weren’t a Death Eater.”

Draco breathed heavily, anxiously waiting for Harry’s attack. Dreading the moment he had to attack back. Harry tore his eyes from the sleeve of Malfoy’s robes, and looked up into the tired face of his rival.

“I wanted them to be right,” Harry whispered like it was his greatest confession, and Draco squirmed under his gaze, feeling like a scolded child. He wanted to protest, argue that he wasn’t one of them. That he didn’t want this, but the mark was a dull pain underneath his skin, constantly reminding him of what he was.

“Sorry to disappoint you, oh Chosen One.” Malfoy snapped as haughtily as he could, not meeting Potter’s eyes. Because he was sorry, so sorry.

“It doesn’t have to define you, you know.” Harry whispered, his body wired tight like a string. “You don’t have to, Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed, “Have to do what, exactly, Potter?” And Draco’s skin crawled, because Potter couldn’t know what he had been tasked. There was no way. He flushed with shame just thinking about it, but the fear of the Dark Lord quickly overcame that shame, leaving him with determination.

Harry shrugged awkwardly, “Whatever you’ve been sneaking around planning, I reckon, or anything you don’t want to, really. You never have to do anything you don’t want to.”

And Draco could almost believe it, the way Harry said it. Determined and steadfast, and Draco knew then exactly why people would follow Harry Potter into battle. He believed in you, and it made you believe in yourself. But Draco was anything but a fool, and Potter could believe whatever he wanted. Draco was going to make it out of this war alive, and if taking the Dark Mark and killing Albus Dumbledore was what it took, then so be it. He wouldn’t allow his mother to bury her only son, and he would not let his father down. When he looked at Harry’s green eyes, open and earnest, a part of him wished he wasn’t a coward. But he was, and what do cowards do? They run. They run, and they lie, and they crush every ounce of hope to be had.

Draco laughed coldly, “If you knew what I wanted, Potter, you would be nowhere near me right now. You’d be hidden behind the old man that holds you so dear, Because I want to See you dead. You and all your little friends, and frankly if I can do anything in assisting the Dark Lord In getting your head put on a stake then I will.”

He glanced at Potter one last time, taking in the stricken look before he turned on his heels and strode into the wide foyer, steps leading him back to the dungeons. His face crumbled with each step, remembering the hurt on Potters face as he left.

“Malfoy!” Potter called, quick footsteps approaching as Draco walked on. Draco resolutely ignored him, not granting him attention. “Malfoy stop!”

Potter’s footsteps came to an abrupt stop, and Draco could hear his labored breathing. Draco kept walking, but he heard one last plea that made him stop in his tracks, the breath knocked out of him with two words.

“Draco, please.” It was said with such solidarity, and Harry wasn’t following him anymore. He was asking, allowing Draco to make the choice on whether or not he acknowledged him. Draco couldn’t remember the last time someone let him have a choice in anything.

Draco didn’t turn to face him, but he did stop. He dropped his head, and listened to Harry’s breathing down the corridor. After a moment, once Harry realized he had no intention of running, Steps echoed on the cobble floors. Potter stopped a few feet away from him, as if he was a dog that would bite.

“I don’t believe you,” Harry whispered, “I don’t believe you want me dead.”

Draco huffed out a breath, almost a dull chuckle, “And what does that change, Potter? What I want or don’t want?”

“Not much when it comes to my death, but a lot when it comes to my life.” Draco’s head tilted in interest,

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Potter took a deep breath, “I’m probably going to die,” He said it monotonously, as if it was a fact. Draco shuddered, even though he knew it to be true, hearing it from the Golden Boy himself shot an icicle through his heart, “I’ve accepted it, you know? Im not as scared of it as I used to be. I’m kind of reckless, really.” Draco snorted, because boy was that an understatement, and he could feel the glare Potter shot him.

Draco felt a hand on his shoulder and Harry turned Draco’s body to look at him,

“And I’ve always went after what I want. I’ve thrown myself into dangerous situations to get what I want. And I’ve fought for everything that I want. Except you. I’ve never fought for you. I don’t think I realized exactly what I’d be fighting for.”

Draco sucked in a breath, looking at Potter’s determined expression, his jaw set as he looked over Draco’s face. His green eyes were open and raw, and absolutely terrifying. Draco took a moment to collect himself, “What in hell are you going on about Potter?”

He went to take a step back, but bony fingers on his shoulder kept him in place. “I should have fought for you a long time ago, before you had that mark on your arm, and before I was a walking target. But I didn’t, and you are a Death Eater, and I’m destined to die. And that should really make a difference to me. I’m cut and dry. What’s good is good and bad is bad and that’s the way I see things. The way I see everything. Except you. It should be black and white, and you’re the evil and I’m the good because that’s how it’s always been. Its how I’ve kept myself sane.”

Potter sucked in a breath after that long rant, and Draco’s pulse sped with every moment of silence.

“But... I’m going to die. And all I can think about is how I don’t want to die without knowing what your lips taste like.”

He felt a calloused hand touch his cheek, rough where scars marred the skin. Draco closed his eyes, his breath shallow, “It’s up to you, Draco.” Harry whispered, and he sounded so earnest. Draco couldn’t miss the plead in his voice though, Potter wanted him. Potter just wasn’t capable of acting that well, Draco knew for a fact.

A needy sound escaped his own lips, half a sob, because Potter was doing it again. Letting Draco decide. “Why?” He finally asked, his voice broken.

Potter pushed Draco’s hair out of his face, “Maybe because you’re the one thing I can never have?” He said it like a question, like he wasn’t sure himself. “Or maybe I just don’t believe you’re what you pretend to be. Maybe I believe you’re more, much more.”

Draco laughed wetly, “You are so full of shit Potter, and you are so so wrong.”

Harry shrugged, but stepped directly in front of Draco, chest to chest, “Maybe so, but either way, It’s up to you.”

Draco let out a choked sound, and he jerked Harry forward before he could change his mind. Their lips collided roughly, and the sound Harry let out was desperate. Draco was on fire and not just from the passion of the kiss. As their lips moved, the mark on his arm felt like it was burning from the inside out. Like Potter set it on edge. Draco couldn’t bring himself to care, even as the pain seared through his nerve endings. He bit at Potter’s lips, and enjoyed the slide of Harry’s tongue again his own. Harry’s hands slid back into the blonde hair that was still gelled back, tugging at the knots it made. Draco clung to Harry’s back, his fists gripping at the robes. Harry pulled at his hair and latched his mouth to the underside of Draco’s jaw, holding Draco’s arms against the stone, his hand landed directly on top of the mark. Draco let out a pained cry as the skin burned so hot it was impossible to ignore and he jumped away from Harry like he’d been shot. He jerked his sleeve up, and the mark was red, irritated, and swollen.

Harry looked terrified and ashamed, a blush on his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t, I didn’t know it would.. “ Draco held up a hand, silencing Harry. He watched expectedly, expecting the mark to heal itself, but it didn’t. The pain lingered, and the whelps stayed. The snake had opened its mouth and arched into a striking pose, angry. The mark appeared to be trying to get as far away from Draco’s skin as possible, away from Harry.

Draco glanced up at the flushed boy in front of him, a rare fondness in his chest when he saw the distressed and worried look on Harry’s face.

He leaned and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, pulling him back in. He bit and sucked at Harry’s lips roughly, and the brunette moaned heatedly. Draco pulled back before things went too far, well farther than they already have. He honestly was unsure what continuing to touch Harry would do the mark, and how long the effects would last. If he were to return home with the mark truly defaced, he would have hell to pay.

Harry looked down at the mark, ran his finger over it causing Draco to hiss in pain as the snake reared its head and strikes at Harry’s finger. He glanced back up at the steel grey eyes watching him curiously, “I’m going to win this, Malfoy.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked down at the angry red Mark on his skin, and for a moment he believed it. If Harry Potter could damage the Dark Mark with nothing but a touch, a warm welcoming touch, Draco could only imagine the damage he could do when he wanted to. But then Draco thought of red irises, and slit nostrils, and terror poured through his veins. For once, the terror wasn’t for himself but for the boy in front of him.

“I believe you’ll try,” Draco whispered, and it was all he could offer. “And if it’s worth anything, I hope you do. I hope you win.”

Harry smiled softly, “Have something to fight for now, don’t I?” He quickly turned on his heels, heading in the direction of the staircase that would lead him to the Gryffindor tower, slipping the invisibility cloak back over his shoulders.

“Oh and Potter,” Draco called, and he could hear Harry’s footsteps stop to listen, “Don’t expect me to put my neck on the line for you.”

Harry continued walking, a smile on his face, “Would never ask you to, Malfoy.”

———————————————————

As Harry watched Dumbledore fall from the Astronomy Tower, a deep anguish filled his chest. As he glanced at Snape, anger filled his head. As he stared at Draco Malfoy, relief filled his heart.

He watched Draco’s face crumble, a distraught cry escaping his lips as the headmasters lifeless body fell. Harry could feel guilt boiling in his core. How could he feel relief after someone who he loved, and loved him in return, had just been murdered before his very eyes? He knew the answer.

He was relieved because It had not been Draco’s wand that cast the killing curse. Harry wasn’t sure if Draco would have been able to complete the task given to him, and the task, no matter how horrible, was the key to Draco’s survival. The task was completed, and although the youngest Malfoy had played a giant part, it was not at his own hand that Albus Dumbledore died. That didn’t make Draco innocent, but it didn’t damn him either. At the end of this war, Draco could still redeem himself. For that, Harry was thankful.

Tears poured from his own eyes as he thought of the headmaster that had done so much for the wizarding world, and he watched as Snape put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to be the one to comfort Draco, for Draco to comfort him in return.

He couldn’t make himself be angry with Malfoy, although he knew he should be. Draco had played with fire, and as usual it was Harry that got burned. Despite that, the only resentment Harry could find was toward Snape. Even through the anger and resentment, Harry couldn’t place the blame on Snape either. He was a good for nothing parasite, a spy, but as Harry thought about what he had overheard about Snape taking the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco, he had a realization that terrified him to the core. He would have never needed the Vow to kill Albus Dumbledore if it meant keeping Draco Malfoy alive.

He stared at Draco’s face, watching as the blonde tried to pull himself together, listening closely to whatever Snape was whispering in his ear. In that moment, he knew his thought to be true.

If it had came between Dumbledore and Malfoy, there would have been no question as to who would be at the wrong end of Harry’s wand. He loved Dumbledore, but a world without Draco Malfoy was one Harry couldn’t fathom.

He would do anything to protect Malfoy, and that was a dangerous, dangerous loyalty. As he watched the group of Death Eaters flee, Draco along with them, Harry realized he was in far too deep.

———————————————————

Over the course of his 7th year, as Hogwarts became a mere shadow of what it once was, Draco Malfoy found himself in his dorm with a radio in his lap listening to the rantings of Lee Jordan and the Potterwatch team. He always made sure no one would disturb him on those nights, as having the Dark Mark on his arm could be a strong persuasion to be obeyed. The fact that Draco hated being feared for the mark was trivial when it got him what he wanted. Listening to Potterwatch was still dangerous, Draco knew. He took extra precaution by casting a Silencing Charm.

He learned a lot from Potterwatch, although very little about what he actually wanted to know. All of the information that was spouted through the radio was important for the Dark Lord’s resisters side, but held very little meaning to Draco in his position. Still, he acknowledged that under no circumstance could any of the Dark Lord’s followers find out about the radio show, or all would be lost for the Order. Frankly, Draco didn’t care much about the Order or the people involved, but they mattered to Potter, and Potter couldn’t make it out alive without them. It wasn’t likely he could survive even with them.

After all, Harry bloody Potter was the only reason Draco was listening to this god awful show to begin with. It was pointless it seemed, because even those in the inner circle of the Order didn’t know where Potter was. There was speculations, of course, but it was everyone’s best guess. Some of the Death Eaters, and The Dark Lord himself, were believing that Potter had went into hiding, that he was a coward. Draco didn’t believe that for a moment, of all the things Draco knew about Harry Potter (and he knew a lot, mind you), it was that he was always up to something. Draco knew this disappearance was no different. Knowing this didn’t calm his worried mind. His only comfort was knowing that if Harry was dead The Dark Lord would know. He would know, and he wouldn’t shut up about it. So Harry wasn’t dead, and Draco figured that would have to be enough to settle his mind.

Draco wasn’t sure why he even cared at this point, by now everyone knew that Draco had played a part in Dumbledores death, and he knew that Harry hated him. He wanted to pretend that the thought of Harry knowing that His original belief in Draco being more than a lowly Death Eater was wrong didn’t break him, but it did. Potter hating him, true hatred, not just a petty rivalry was a consequence of being a good for nothing coward, Draco knew. I’m didn’t make it hurt any less.

Despite knowing that Harry probably though of him as scum beneath his shoe, it didn’t stop Draco from praying to the gods that Harry was okay. He needed Harry to be okay. As he sat week after week listening to the static filled radio, Draco’s desperation was strangling him slowly. He just needed a sign.

———————————————————

The sign he so desperately asked for came during Easter break, but not in the form he wanted. No, he never wanted this. It came in the form of prisoners, and a mutilated, puffy faced teenager in the drawing room.

“They say they’ve got Potter,” he heard his mother say, and his heart dropped to his stomach. A mantra of ‘no,no, no please no’ echoed in his head, dread rising in his chest the same way bile was rising in his throat. “Draco, come here.”

Draco felt like a puppet on a string, no real control over his body as it rose from the chair he was in, and he fought to keep his face completely neutral as his eyes immediately found the bloated red face of Harry Potter. Draco didn’t even need to look at the other prisoners to know it would be the remainders of the Golden Trio. He approached prisoner, panic rising in his chest as he desperately scanned Harry’s body, looking for any signs of harm other than the obvious distortion. And it was terrible, making Draco’s stomach twist and turn because the boy was almost unrecognizable. It had to be painful. Harry met his eyes, fear in the little he could see of the slitted orbs.

“Is it? Is it Harry Potter?” His father asked, barely concealed excitement in his voice. Gods that was a stupid question, because of course it was. Draco’s heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, and not just out of fear. He could see the shocking green of Potter’s irises even through the jinxed features, and he would know that color anywhere. He would know Harry anywhere. And here he was, being forced to choose. Turning them in would be an immediate death sentence, and the greatest betrayal. But, not turning them in was the betrayal of his family. He was torn, but looking in Harry’s eyes decided it for him.

- [ ] It was clear Harry didn’t expect anything of him. Harry was scared, terrified, but as he looked at Draco he had already accepted his fate. His eyes were soft, even adoring to a point, as he tried to relay to Draco that it was okay. Harry should hate him, but it was clear he didn’t. All Draco could think of was that night in the foyer, when Draco told him he wouldn’t put his neck on the line for him. “I would never ask you to,” Harry had said, and here he was letting Draco know that he still wasn’t asking him to. He wouldn’t ask him to put his life on the line to save him. That this was Harry’s fight, not Draco’s. And that tore Draco apart, because Harry was letting Draco choose again, and he felt that Draco would choose to let him die. If there was anything Draco was sure of, it was that he would not be the reason Harry Potter didn’t live through this war.

[privatehellwithroses]

Mommy is at home (Loki x Reader Smut)

Summary: Loki decides to tease you under the table while you were having dinner with his parents. But he would not be content with so little.

Words: 3.499

Warning: Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Oral (giving and receiving (Female Reader receiving)), Rough Sex, Dom!Loki? (im sorry idk what do here im new at this thing y’all have pity on me plEASE)

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“Loki!”, You hit hard on the arm of the tall dark-haired man sitting next to you, seeing that he would really take the idea of ​​exposing his life and sexual mores with you to Frigga seriously, even if only indirectly. This guy can be annoyingly brazen whenever he wants.

   Your life since coming to Argasd has been quite comfortable, you do not have a huge house, but you could afford to go to the castle every day and practically live there, thanks to Loki.

 You were inexplicably brought here, one day was on earth and the other was already here. You might think you died, or something, but Thor, who brought you here, gave you a rather simple and injurious explanation: you had a mission here. That was never something that really convinced you until you met Loki, Thor’s brother and apparently the black sheep of the family.

 Loki was not the kind of guy that made a girl fall in love on the first day with him, quite the contrary, he was a mess at first sight. You found him in the dungeon of the castle when he was released after a long time in jail. He had a look, dark, cold, and was really broken inside, he said at his first meeting with you that Thor was doing this for him to love someone and stop acting like he used to, so he said that he didn’t believe in love and that this was a farce.

 It took time for Loki to open up for you and surrender. But you were here now.

 He was the god of lies, but he was incapable of lying to you of his love, and you knew it.

 You were like the famous couple who are all full and hate to see or deal. You spent a lot of time together, and he made a point of including you in the real events of Argasd, which irritated the other girls of the kingdom a lot, considering that you were just a human in the Real environment. And, well, as much as he could get the picture of a more polite and kind man to the rest of his people, you knew that between the four walls of his room it was not quite like that.

 And after all, there was you, at dinner with the whole royal family of Asgard. Comic, if not tragic.

  “What?” He looked at you with a cynical look and always mocking smile, you rolled your eyes.

 “You guys are so cute,” Frigga said, looking at you with a smile. “But, YN, I’d like to hear a little more about your story, you seem to be a very strong woman.”

 “Oh, well, I’m from Dallas, well, was. My family has always been humble, so I could never have access to things like that. I used to live in the field, I had to cross the grass, it was never easy, but I did it for my parents. I started to sell cakes on the streets and- "Loki’s hand rested on your uncovered thighs, you glared at him. Damn day to wear dress. "And so I was able to pay my college-.” You jumped in your chair when you felt your boyfriend’s hand slip into your panties “my college and form me right” - his eyes widened as he felt Loki’s fingers penetrating you beneath him dining table.

 “Y / N dear, are you feeling well?” Frigga asked worriedly. You looked at Thor, who was divided in disbelief and laugh; he had already realized what was happening.

 “Y-yes, queen, I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling so good”, you yelled as Loki found your G-spot. You looked at him, a miserable smile on his lips, he was amused by your despair. Your core was already starting to hurt and your orgasm approaching. Everyone at the table was scared except Loki and Thor, and what a great way to behave in a formal dinner with your boyfriend’s family.

 "Maybe you should go take some medicine, Y / N”, the king of Argasd exclaimed, Loki gave him a hard look, disagreeing.

 “Father, don’t be unpleasant”, Loki took his fingers out from within you, you collapsed in the chair instantly, now breathing “Y / N needs to rest. I’m sure it was pretty tiring for her last night”, he smiled at you, reminding you how much you really had reason to be tired the night before.

   Loki pulled you into the bedroom quickly and threw you in the door, analyzing you up and down with the gold dress he had given you, a smile formed on his face to see how well that fine fabric fell on your body. He brought his mouth to your neck, giving you a long, wet kiss. He reached down for the lock of the door and locked it, turning his attention back to your neck again.

  "Loki …”, you moaned over his mouth as you felt his hard cock brush against your thigh. He indicated silence with his index finger on your lip and smiled clearly excited by your nervousness to have him so close to you, and the fact that you are so sensitive to his touch, no matter how miserable.

 He quickly attacked your mouth as wildly and needlessly as he could, squeezing you even harder on the icy wood. He used his free hand to squeeze your waist violently, probably with the intention of leaving marks later. He loved it. He loved to prove somehow that you were his alone.

   He threw you into bed brutally, quickly getting over you, kissing you with the purest lust he could feel. You groaned as you felt his hard cock brush against its core again and he soon mimicked slow lunge movements over your panties, amused to see you so entertained with so little.

    "Loki ...", you groaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, sticking your body even further, you nailed your nails to the nape of his neck, shivering him, you gave a long smile to discover a new weakness of him.

   Loki pulled your dress up to your waist, leaving him there and he set out to mistreat his favorite part of your body, your breasts. He kissed and nibbled lightly on your nipples, always varying between sucking one and massaging the other. You pulled his hair as he brought his hand to the hem of your panties, then starting circular movements on your clit still over the thin fabric. You felt a knot forming in your stomach as you felt your boyfriend reach down into your panties and stick a long finger in you.

   He began to penetrate you with slow and torturous movements, but he was increasing his speed more and more, according to your groans and his sadistic need to always be in complete control of the situation, including your orgasm. 

 It was not long before Loki put a second finger in, you closed your eyes tightly at the slight embarrassment of having his huge fingers inside you. You were already used to it, but it took some time for you to get used to it again and again whenever you had sex.

  "Faster ...", you moaned still with your eyes closed, but was ignored by the man, who still insisted on torturing you with every second that happened with only long and slow motives. You opened your eyes to look at him with your most needy gaze that could and held him by the wrist "Please, Loki. I want more ... ", you spoke in your most cunning voice. You knew he couldn’t resist it. 

 He gave you a devilish smile and quickened his movements, you were already rolling your eyes with such pleasure. He brought his lips to your neck again, taking a loud moan from you. You scratched his back firmly over your leather suit, and Loki moaned low in your ear, which only turned you on even more. You flickered on his fingers in order to get it even deeper inside of you.

  "Ah ... Loki", you started to roll faster. He kissed you to stifle your moans, which were too high and could even reach Odin's ears.

"L-Loki ..." you groaned weakly on his lips, which made him groan too, and you kissed him back, shutting him out. When you were very close to reaching paradise, you were surprised by him who suddenly took his fingers off you. You gave him a furious look. "Why did you stop, you stupid asshole?" A malevolent smile formed on his lips as soon as he heard you say that. You looked at him without understanding anything.

  "You're not going to cum until I let you cum, darling”, he smiled, sitting up on the bed and pulling his body against you again.

   He took off the rest of the dress you still had on your body and glowered at your intimacy soaked thanks to him. Then he took off your panties gently, enchanted by what he saw and very proud of him and only he had caused that. He licked his lips before plunging his face into your thighs. You closed your legs a little embarrassed by his gaze, but he smiled and opened them carefully again. You closed your eyes expecting any action from the man, but was surprised by his hot wet tongue licking all over your vaginal extension.

 You squeezed the white sheets tightly as you felt his tongue drift to your clit and brush it all over, kissing, licking, sucking, and nibbling all over that already sensitive area. You were already killing yourself without being able to moan to prevent his family from discovering the true remedy you needed to take.

   "Loki ... L-Loki", you bit your lips hard, leaving that part extremely red and even bleeding. "OH LOKI", you let out a loud moan as he licked your weak spot, he laughed.

   "My mother is at home, have you forgotten my love?", You nodded, holding your hands in your mouth in an attempt not to moan "You will have to hold on from now on", he smiled and entered a finger, you bit strongly your hands, to keep your cries from awakening the rest of the kingdom.

 Then he entered the second finger again and moved it slowly inside you, torturing you. He licked again your already swollen clit, having the help of his fingers that now penetrated you much faster and brute than before. That was your limit. You groaned as loudly as you can with the reproach of the man above you, who now held your mouth trying to stop you from moaning.

   "Oh Loki ... This ...", you pulled his black hair, commanding the movements of his tongue and rolling in his mouth "It’s so good ..." you moaned low, with your hand still holding your mouth.

    "Like this, huh?" He kissed your clit slowly, as if kissing it as he slowed and accelerated his fingertips constantly "Look how much my little girl is dirty, riding my mouth so well… I wish everyone would see you like this, so they knew I am the cause of this beautiful mess."

 "I can’t wait for you to ride like that on my face", an evil smile formed on his lips.

   You again tugged his hair a little harder, indicating that you would cum and he took your fingers off you, slowly masturbating you. Your legs quickly weakened and you felt the orgasm come, tightening your legs and closing your eyes tightly. You tried to moan, but it was interrupted by Loki's lips, which kept you from screaming right there. His dark eyes looking at you with pure lust under that condition.

  He took his fingers from you and rubbed in the entrance of your intimacy, soiling them with all your natural liquid. He took them to his mouth and sucked them, enjoying every drop. He smirked a little smile as he finished sipping your juices altogether.

   "Look how much you taste good, darling", Loki kissed you again, making you feel your own taste. You got out of bed with some difficulty because of the surge of pleasure that invaded your body seconds ago. You stared at him, grinning, and got a sneaky look back, he already knew what you were going to do. He sat on the bed, paying attention to your actions.

   "My turn, baby", Loki flashed an unspeakable smile at once. You knelt on the chilly floor of the room and lowered his pants quickly, without breaking eye contact with him. You massaged his cock softly over his underwear, he gasped and you smiled, happy with the reaction.

     "Y / N, don't torture me", he said with a needy look, hopeful that you would be convinced. He knew you would get revenge for what he did before. "If you torture me now, I'll not be nice to you later," he spat, trying to frighten you.

   "Forgive me the language, my king, but I think you should shut up," you stood up and kissed him, simulating masturbation movements over his leather clothes. He moaned low on your lips.

    "Just do it", he snarled angrily, you laughed and answered his desperate request by pulling his erect dick from the black cloth that covered him and slowly starting to masturbate him.

       "Ah Y/N... fuck", he said hoarsely in your ear. You have further increased the movement of your hands "You are playing dirty with me", you passed the tip of your finger on his already wet head of pre-jouissance and made circular strokes there. He tried not to moan, kissing your neck, trying to hold back his moans, which insisted on getting loose in his throat.

 And here was the dominant Loki, crumbling beneath your touch.

   You knelt on the floor again and continued the movements with your hands, slower and slower. It made him agonized for wanting more and for not being able to ask not to moan, and you loved it, watching him hold his moans. It turned you to absurd levels.

   Loki was crazy, he tried to hold back his moans and some time or other he let out some very soft, which encouraged you to continue. You were doing it calmly, but as you heard his moans, or their lack, you accelerated the movements. After a few minutes, you felt his cock pulsate in your hand and then your mouth filled with his warm, sweet liquid, you swallowed without disgust and Loki gasped, almost falling on the bed. He was satisfied, but you were not.

     You smiled and when he was unprepared, you put his whole cock in your mouth, that's when he didn’t hold it and moaned loud and clear for the first time. You sucked his cock slowly and what you couldn’t suck you masturbated with your unoccupied hand. You licked his head and kissed her, which made him moan even more. You kissed the area with all the willpower of the world, as if kissing him; he knew he couldn't stand it. 

 He tied your hair into a clumsy ponytail and dictated the movements, being fully in control again. He forced your mouth against his cock, making you feel him touch the back of your throat. A sudden urge to vomit arose and you held on, until he untied your hair from his fingers and you took the opportunity to suck his head off his cock deeply. His weak point.

 Loki hung his head back and groaned without sound, just with his mouth parted. You felt his veins thicken in your mouth and was filled with his jet of liquid again. He grunted as he saw his own cum down your lips and you wipe that mess with your tongue.

 Loki threw himself into bed quickly and pulled you, making you sit on his lap. You adjusted your body better in his and he bit his lip trying not to moan when he felt you rub lightly on his cock, even if accidentally.

  "Oh Loki... Why do you still insists on holding, mm?" You gave him a mischievous smile, slowly rubbing your swollen clit on the head of his dick. He closed his eyes tightly, not letting out any sound, "So I guess you don’t like it, right?" You moaned in his ear, swaying slowly and having fun watching his determination in not to moan. "My king, always so proud..."

  "Oh fuck, Y/N", he moaned slyly, sinking his head into the mattress. "Please do not stop. I like it... I like it so bad", Loki closed his eyes and placed his hand on your thighs, now dictating the speed at which you rubbed into it. You smiled victoriously as you heard him moaning so sly practically begging for you.

  You stopped moving and positioned his member at the entrance of your intimacy, sliding completely into it. You closed your eyes because of the initial nuisance of having him inside you. You started to move slowly, trying to get used to his size. After a few minutes all the pain vanished and turned into pure pleasure.

 Loki was not pleased with your torturous speed and he rested his hands on your waist, now dictating his speed. You ranged between swift and slow rolls to feel him deep inside you, which made him completely crazy. He took you from his lap and turned quickly, now standing over you. You scratched his back as you felt his cock prick hard on the cervix.

 He stocked you slowly, suddenly altering his movements to fast and deep. He moaned muffled in your neck and distributed several hickeys all over your skin, making you slow down the movements, just to tease you.

  "Loki... please" you asked in a husky voice and he focused his gaze directly in your eyes, waiting for what you were going to say "F-faster" his smile opened automatically and he accelerated the movements, stocking you now with all the strength he had.

   "Ah Y/N, fuck ...", he moaned softly in your ear as he felt you roll over him in order to have him even more inside you "Do you have any notion of how much that little dress drives me crazy? All I wanted was to come into this room and beat that pretty ass so hard it would make you feel my hands for weeks since you came in that damn fucking room", you could not say anything other than groaning, his words making you squirm under him with so much pleasure. "You like me fucking you while my parents are at home, mmm? Do you like that I fuck you hard while everyone in this damn castle can hear you Y/N? I bet you touch yourself every day thinking about it. You're such a dirty girl", he whispered in your ear, penetrating even deeper, reaching your G-spot, smirking and beating his hips at yours with even more strength.

 Loki was out of control at that moment, but he could never hurt you. You went through a lot of these situations and he always asked for your permission to speed up every time you guys had sex. But now, there was trust, and he knew deep inside that you loved to feel pain.

    "Loki... A-ah..." a loud moan escaped your lips and he kissed you intensely pointing to the door, you nodded and pulled his hair tight, indicating him your orgasm nearby and he took one last thrust , covering his mouth to stop you from screaming.

  It took only a few strokes for you to undo yourself. You collapsed beside him, his breathing completely deregulated. You watched him, all sweaty, with the wet black threads shining on his forehead and moaning unable to stop, it was a complete paradise for you. A silly grin escaped from your lips.

  "Hey... I'm sorry if I lost control today, I do not even like the idea of ​​hurting you, princess." You smiled 'you did not hurt me,' he kissed your hand lovingly, picking you up and taking your clothes off the floor. "My mother will definitely think you're dead, or that I killed you", he said breathlessly, helping you put the dress back on.

 "I bet she did not even notice it," you shrugged. Turning to him and resting your elbows on his shoulders.

 "Oh, my dear, you did not stop moaning for a second and still moaned so loudly that all Argard must have heard you. Surely she noticed.” Loki laughed and looked at you with mockery, you rolled your eyes, laughing at how cocky he could be "but honestly, I don’t give a shit", he kissed you by sliding your hands down your body and gave you a delicate kiss on the forehead; you smiled, looking into his eyes.

  "You're divine, thank you for being mine."

[imagination-of-a-melted-bitch]

One Call Away {Im Jaebum}

Prompt: Angsty Smut, Jinyoung has a crush on the reader and Jaebum knows about it but they’ve (the reader and Jaebum) have been sneaking around behind Jinyoung’s back and in the middle of one of their meet-ups Jinyoung calls.

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Word Count: 2.912k

Warning: I fucking suck at angsty smut but here you go,

Written for Admin Kat by Admin Tay, 

"Hi Noona," Jinyoung's bows to you were always the deepest, and when you insisted that he didn't have to use such honorifics his reply was always the same, a woman of such beauty deserved the utmost respect. Jinyoung's crush on you was so obvious, the only person who thought he was subtle about it was himself. He sometimes treated you like a fragile princess, he would hold the door open for you, and pull your chair out, showcasing his puppy love for you to an extreme. It was so adorable in a way. Adorable, Jinyoung was adorable, and each time you thought about him your heart fluttered and you couldn't help but smile as widely as possible.

"Hi, Jinyoungie," You gave him a half hug, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he took you fully into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. It was such an untraditional greeting in Korea but Jinyoung loved when you came over, you always gave him hugs and they were warm and made his heart flutter. He smiled, even as you pulled away from the hug. "I missed you," You smile at him, not aware of how hard you were tugging at his heartstrings. "How has everyone been?" You use this to look around the living room area, frowning when you don't see Jaebum. "Where's Jae?" You try not to sound too worried or eager to see him but everyone but Jinyoung can see through it. As obvious as Jinyoung was with his crush on you, you were with your crush on Jaebum.

"I'm here," He walked into the living room, it was obvious he had just woken up. His hair was messy, but it was as if every hair had been placed in its position. You could see red markings on the right side of his face and you smiled, remembering how he would sleep on his right side, cuddled into you. He wore a black tee-shirt and gray sweatpants and you couldn't deny he looked irresistible. You looked away, kicking your shoes off by the door. You were heated and upset you had to hide your relationship or whatever it was from the group. The secrecy resulted in nothing but having to sneak into his room at wild hours of the morning, or him having to sneak at the dorm at wild hours of the morning, it was a mess, and you were tired of having to hide it. You never asked, assuming he had good reason for wanting to hide it. "How have you been, Y/N?" He took a deep breath, turning and giving him a bright smile. He doesn't stick around, waiting for a response, instead, he walks back into the kitchen, going to make himself a bowl of cereal.

"He's so rude," Jinyoung mutters, shaking his head, truly disappointed by the actions of his hyung. "I'm sorry for that Noona," You shake your head dismissively, telling him it was fine under your breath.

"You know how he is, no worries," You give the rest of the guys a quick smile as they all watch with sympathetic eyes.

"It must hurt to get shot down by your crush like that," BamBam whispered and Mark hit him in the back of his head, quickly snapping his head in your direction to give you a warm smile. "What was that for?" Mark doesn't answer and instead hits the younger boy upside the head again. You laugh at this,

"Guys, really it's fine," You reassure them before you walk into the kitchen, chasing after Jaebum. You find him, leaning against a counter, a bowl of cereal in his left hand, spoon at his lips. He smiles at you, a beautifully warm and genuine smile. "You little asshole," You pout and walk toward him, hands slipping into your back pockets. You stop in front of Jaebum and he digs his spoon back into his bowl, holding it out to you. You gingerly take it, batting your lashes up at him as you chew.

"Would you stop finding little ways to be a tease and eat your damn cereal?" He growls defensively, watching with a soft smile as you roll your eyes and continue to eat. "What are you doing here so early? Couldn't wait to see me?" He asks and lifts the bowl to his lips, slurping down the cereal milk.

"As if," You scoff, and he smirks seeing right through your antics. "You do remember I am friends with the others, correct?" He furrows his brows, "I was invited by Jackson for bowling night, and heads up...you're going down." Your eyes fall to his swollen lips, and you smile, bringing your thumb up to wipe the leftover milk from his bottom lip.

"Oh, I plan on it," He chuckles and you wink before spinning on your heel and leaving the kitchen. You walk back into the living room with a frown on your face, and you sniffling a little.

"Your friend is such an asswipe." Jaebum kinked a brow at your choice of words and stepped back in the living room area, giving everyone a tight-lipped smile. You roll your eyes when he shoulder bumps you. "Anyway..." You clap your hands, "Who's excited for tonight?"

~

"An asswipe, huh?" Jaebum asked as you closed and locked the door of your apartment behind him. "By the way, congrats on winning tonight...but let's be honest it's only because you had the maknae on your team." Jaebum slips off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, taking a minute before his eyes land on your body and he's able to fully drink you in. Tonight you had decided to dress up for him, wearing a dandelion babydoll gown to compliment the collar of your skin and nothing else beneath it. "I don't think you know how much I wanted to pull you onto my lap and hold you in my arms all night. How much I wanted to kiss you and run my fingers through your hair," Jaebum grabbed your wrist, pulling you against his hard chest. "Jinyoung doesn't know what he's missing," There it was, something you never wanted to think too much about when you were with Jaebum. Jinyoung's crush on you.

"Don't," You warn him. One of your hands moves over his shoulder and up his neck, cupping the back of his head. "I don't want to think about it," The truth was the both of you should feel terrible, both of you were equally aware of Jinyoung's crush on you and yet you still continued this. But, the both of you were grown and if Jinyoung were ever to found out, he was grown too and could handle it.

"I forgot how soft you actually were for Jinyoung, I bet the thought of fucking one of his closest friends while knowing he likes you, hurts your little heart." Jaebum was taunting you now, but it was only for fun. You see, the reason Jaebum didn't want to tell the others about the thing you and he had going on was to protect his younger friend from heartbreak, it'd come out one day but he wanted to avoid it for as long as he could. You wrap your fingers in his hair and pull his head back. His neck was so beautiful and you wished you could cover it, inch for inch with purple and blue bruises. You place a wet kiss at the base of his neck and dart your tongue out, carefully dragging it to the area under his ear.

"I said, don't!" You growl and tug on his lobe, smirking when he whimpers at the sudden and unexpected pain. You pull away from him and drop your hands to your side. "Now...on to why you're here," You poke his pec, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a moan at how defined they were. Jaebum smiles, that infamous cocky ass smile when he notices you restraining yourself. "You're such a fine ass man," You shake your head and push him back a little, he stumbles back, giving way to your puny pushes. "I could devour every fucking inch of you," You whispered, pushing him down onto the couch. You lift your babydoll up and straddle his waist, lowering your bare core onto his clothed bulge.

"Do it baby, devour every inch of me," He bares his teeth and brings his hands up to cup your ass. He drags you along his bulge, he looked up at you through his lashes, giving you a wicked smirk. You whimper at the feeling of your clit rubbing against the fabric of his jeans.

"Fuck!" You throw your head back and Jaebum takes this opportunity to attach his lips to the base of your neck. You let out a groan of his name at the feeling of his lips against your skin, hips grinding harder against his bulge. Just then, in the midst of pleasure, your ringtone begins to blare through your living room. Groaning you reach behind you and pick it. "Who the hell?" You furrow your brows and frown when you notice Jinyoung was calling.

"Who is it?" Jaebum asked, never stilling your hips. He pushed you harder against him, taking the phone from your hand when you throw your head back with a yelp of his name. "Why is Jinyoung calling at two in the morning?" Jaebum goes to throw the phone to the side when a lightbulb appears over his head. "Call him back," Your eyes widen and you don't know if it's the lust or the look in Jaebum's eyes as he suggests you speak on the phone with his dongsaeng whilst he fucks you. "Call him and talk to him on the phone while you ride me." Jaebum lifted you off of him and had no time to admire the wet spot you left behind as his freed his hard cock from its restraints. You kinked a brow, mindlessly lifting yourself and hovering over his cock. Jaebum placed himself at your entrance. He unlocks your phone and presses the phone icon.

"Jae," You whine and he shakes his head, pressing Jinyoung's contact as it appeared in the 'recents' list. He puts the phone to your ear and waits until he hears Jinyoung's voice through the speakers. He holds his finger to his lips and grabs your hope with his other hand. "H-hi Jinyoung," Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip as Jaebum pushes up into you, his hands coming down to grope your ass once again. It's hard to focus on Jinyoung's voice as Jaebum fills every inch of you, his cock pulsating against your walls. Jaebum's nails dig into your ass, and he grinds you against him. He smirks when your breath hitches in your throat. "Jinyoung are you drunk?" Jinyoung's words are jumbled and slurred, his accent heavier than usual. Your eyes squeeze shut at his response. "What the hell are you doing drinking at two in the morning?" Jaebum knows the answer to your question and lifts you off of him as you wait to hear it from Jinyoung.

"I..." He starts, "I really, really like you," His words make your heart sink but the feeling of guilt is quickly replaced by pleasure and a sharp gasp. Jinyoung's head is too wrapped around his own words to notice. You look at Jaebum who just batted his lashes at you, his hips carefully lifting to meet your ass. You whimper as his cock fills you, again and again, your juices coating the hard shaft. You worry Jinyoung can hear the sounds of Jaebum pushing into your soaked cunt through the phone but if he had, he hadn't spoken on it yet. "I just...fuck!" You hear a thud followed by a string of curses.

"Jinyoung...are you okay?" You breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth, hoping you didn't sound out of the usual on the phone. "Did you fall?" He answers you with another grunt and you hear him getting onto his bed. "Don't move Jinyoung, text Youngjae and ask him to bring you some water." Your voice is so soft and nurturing as you talk with Jinyoung, despite Jaebum fucking himself up into you.

"You're such a good friend," Jaebum mouthed, slamming his hips against your ass. The noise echoes through the room and you cover the speaker of the phone on instinct, slapping Jaebum's chest with wide eyes.

"Stop it you little shit!" You growl and focus back on Jinyoung.

"Noona who are you talking to? Are you talking to me? Oh no, what'd I do?" You can hear it in his voice that he was about to cry, "I don't want to disappoint you noona, I love you so much," He mumbles and sniffles and you can't see him but you know he's wiping away tears.

"Jinyoung, don't cry," You wave for Jaebum to stop, ready to get dressed and go to cuddle Jinyoung until he felt good again.

"I'm sorry, I'm good, I'm good...the more I drink the more emotional I get." Jaebum's hips still and he asks if Jinyoung was okay.

"Jinyoung, please have one of the maknaes bring you a bottle of water or a cup of coffee and go to sleep. I'll be over in the morning and we'll go out for breakfast. Deal?" Jinyoung nods and then giggles, laughing at himself when he realized you couldn't see him.

"Deal." He hiccups and doesn't say anything else before he hangs up the phone.

"Fuck!" You groan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. "I can't even focus on feeling bad because I just need you to fuck me," Jaebum smiles and wraps an arm around your waist, and flips you over onto the couch, backing you against the armrest. He smirks down at you and slams into you with such force you're at a loss for words. Jaebum presses his forehead against yours, his eyes staring into yours. He was rock hard, call him a dick or an asshole but fucking you while you were on the phone with Jinyoung got him so riled up.

"I'm not even going to lie," Jaebum grunted, lips moving next to your ear. One of his hands come up to grip the armrest, nails digging into the leather. "Hearing you talk to Jinyoung, a guy who is head over heels for you while I was filling you with my cock got me so fucking hard." His confession makes a new wave of arousal spill from your swollen core. "I'm a terrible hyung...I know but Jinyoung, the poor boy doesn't know what he's missing. Your pussy is so wet, so warm, and so fucking tight." Your hand falls between your legs, fingers sloppily circling your swollen clit. Your jaw stays slack, eyes glazed over as you take Jaebum's cock like an obedient whore. "Fuck!" He hisses, you looked so beautiful taking his cock, "You're such a beautiful cock whore." Jaebum's grunts, grip tightening on your hip and on the armrest of the couch. "I love watching you when I'm fucking you, eyes glazed over, mouth wide open...you're drooling, am I that good?" You can't respond with a smartass comment, your orgasm blindsiding you. Your head comes up, hand cradling the back of his head. Jaebum's hips don't still as he fucks you through your orgasm. "That's it princess, cum around my cock." He coos and you spasm against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. His lips pepper kisses along your jawline, and they're cooling against your heated skin.

"Jaebum," You whispered, hand moving from your clit to your side. Your fingers lace in Jaebum's hair, giving it a sharp tug, pushing him over the edge. Jaebum's cock twitches inside of you and he lets out the most guttural moan as he cums inside of you.

"Fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit," You can't help but giggle as his choice of words. "Thank you, thank you." He always said thank you when you let him cum inside of you.  

"You're such a good boy Jae," You whisper against the crown of his head, nails raking against his scalp. Jaebum moves away from you and looks down at your sweaty figure, brows knitted. "What?"

"You're so beautiful," He shrugged, moving off the couch.

"Are you just saying that because you're basking in the aftermaths of sex," He chuckles shaking his head.

"No, you're really just so fucking beautiful," He circles the couch and leans over you, pressing his lips against yours. "Your phone's going off," He smiles before walking toward the kitchen. You grunt and lean forward, grabbing your phone off the table. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see it's a text from Jinyoung.

Jinyoungie <3: Was that Jaebum-hyung I heard in the background? 3:06 AM