#please follow me I’m a very sexy artist

[fiireicee]

He wants to order.

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: III

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

This is a follow up to Part II

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted. 

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.” 

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night. 

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his. 

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to… 

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned. 

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.” 

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed. 

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire? 

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones. 

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up. 

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?” 

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there. 

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head. 

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning. 

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

[velvetvexations]

I was commissioned to write how I'd torture someone without minding for how sexy other people may or may not find it. To my genuine but pleasant surprise the commissioner really did love it, so I thought I'd post it on here.

Warning:

The following artistic exploration of a hypothetical relationship between a dom and sub is very intense, and portrays extreme abuse that should never happen IRL, so please take the time to think about if that may be triggering for you before clicking through. It's told in the second-person, which may make it worse. Content warning for physical abuse, emotional abuse, non-con, drugging, unsanitary, gaslighting, isolation, misgendering towards the dom, and ableism.

Please keep yourself safe, your comfort matters. <3

Object of Affection

The day starts with you walking groggily into the dining room in nothing but the underwear I’ve been making you wear for a couple of weeks now. You look like you have eyes full of sand. You’re late, by the way. I’d have liked us to have left the house thirty minutes ago, but you had to sleep in.

You’re so selfish. But I forgive you.

You look directly at my breasts, because that’s the center of my personality and you have to address it like you would anyone elses face, and start to say something stupid, I don’t really care what. My hand is smacking into your face before you can get the full sentence out. That’s how I say good morning, sometimes. I laugh and tell you how cute you are, stumbling around like you’re drunk. The medicine I put in your drink last night really knocked you the fuck out, didn’t it? It’s a miracle you were able to wake up at all. I know it makes you a little more useless the morning after, but since I love you and I wanted to hurt you down there especially bad last night, I decided you’d be better off sleeping through it. It’s okay, you’ll be sore for ages and ages, you’ll still get to suffer for me, don’t worry.

To make sure you get the point, I grab you between the legs and squeeze as hard as I can. Pain shoots through you like lightning as you whimper and quietly beg me to stop, which makes me laugh, because it’s so funny for you to think you have any say in things. I put you to sleep because I’m so nice, and I chose to, but when I want you to hurt you’re going to hurt, and you’re going to thank me for it.

You fall to the ground and hit your head hard against the floor, because I pushed you, but later I’m going to tell you slipped and fell. My foot comes down hard on your groin, pressing into it with all my weight as I tell you to say thank you.

Go on, I growl, say it. And you do, through a pained moan that makes me want to beat the shit out of you even more, but I press a little harder and remind you you’re supposed to say “thank you, Daddy.”

It’s funny how hard that was for you at first. You were so nervous about misgendering a trans woman, but I loved seeing you squirm as you forced the words out of your mouth. It just sucks that you’re used to it now. It’s hard thinking of offensive things I haven’t made you do or say just to watch you look so uncomfortable you could just about die. I’m going to have to come up with a lot more, but first I’m going to take you out on a nice date.

I know you don’t like what I dress you in, but I do, and that’s all that matters. I have to literally do it for you since you’re too stupid to put your clothes on yourself. I drag your hot pants up for you, help your head and arms into your tank top with WHORE written across it in glitter, and I kiss you on the cheek for being such a good pet. Then I put on your lipstick, cherry red today, because it’s your turn to kiss me.

You get down on your knees, because I don’t go out unless people can see your devotion to me, so we’ve done this a thousand times. I turn around, and you press your lips right up against the seat of my pants, your lips flattening as you did your best to leave a big, colorful mark. Then, knowing how much you hate it, I rip ass right in your face, and chuckle at the fact that you’ve been trained to inhale like you desperately need my gas to live. You can be so well-behaved sometimes, thanks to me being patient enough to to train you.

I grab you by your hair and pull you to your feet, but before we leave, I clasp your collar around your neck, one last finishing touch. I like you down on your hands and knees, crawling next to me as I hold your leash tight, ready to yank whenever I want. I have to do that a lot, since you keep falling behind – and why? Just because the mall is a quarter mile away and you’re bruising your knees something awful? Poor thing. I don’t really care, though, beyond the fact that it gives me something else to yell at you for. And it’s not my fault how warm it is for Autumn, either. Why should I care if you have to put your hands down on far too hot concrete? You know that if you keep complaining I’m going to turn around and throw a kick right into your stomach, so you finally shut up.

As we walk, I notice someone doing yard work gawking at us. That’s the best part of going out together, getting to show off our love. I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably nothing too bad about me, but you, the one who’s crawling like a dog? He probably knows what a freak you are on sight. Someone who wants to be treated like this. Someone who finds fulfillment in being my little pet clown. I almost want to drag you over to him just to see the disgust in his eyes as you get closer, but we wouldn’t want to get too distracted, now would we? If we stopped for everyone who judged you we’d make it home in a few hundred years and not a moment sooner.

In the mall, things are a little different. I let you on your feet, if only because the sound of your knees on the polished floor annoy the shit out of me. Doesn’t stop people from staring, considering you’re still on a leash. Then I remind you of that you had to do for me the next time we went out.

A look of pained confusion crosses your face, then resignation, and you do like I explained to you the day before, sticking your finger right up your nose, digging for a solid minute or two. I bet you look even stupider to anyone who isn’t used to you having nothing between the ears. I can’t tell, because I’ve just internalized it and fully expect you to be as much of a ridiculous dumbass as you are, but everyone else is seeing you blatantly pick your nose and wondering what kind of idiot you have to be to not be embarrassed by your behavior.

You are embarrassed though, of course, or why else would I have you do it? I revel in how red your face is getting, or how you keep nervously looking around to watch people watch you. You must just be an attention whore. It says “whore” on your shirt, doesn’t it? Just be grateful I let you wipe the snot off on your pants instead of sticking it in your mouth and eating it. Maybe next time, if you piss me off.

I take you into the alt-goth store, because I have shit I want to buy, and if I see anything that’d make you look cringe we’ll grab that too. My tits are too big for everything they have here, or most other places for that matter, but that’s fine because it makes them even more noticeable, so I’m not complaining when we go into the dressing room and you watch with slack-jawed awe as my boobs nearly tear through something that would have been too small on me even if I were flat as a board. I notice how affected you are by my magnificence, so I smile and take the shirt off to let you stare at them in their full glory, barely contained by a bra I needed custom-made.

There’s no warning when I suddenly reel you in by your leash with a violent tug, letting your face fall right into my cleavage. I put my hand on the back of your head to keep you there as your training takes over and you start muttering “I love Daddy’s boobs, I love Daddy’s boobs, I love Daddy’s boobs…” like a broken record. I laugh because I can’t even remember if you were this into tits until I terrorized you into worshiping mine.

Remember how I broke a finger every time you looked me in the eyes instead of my chest? I bet every stray glimpse of my face still makes you relive that just a little. Now you’ll never make that mistake again, and I’m as proud of you as anyone can be proud of such a useless loser. Which isn’t much. You know I’m the only person who can stand to put up with you, you’re not capable of eliciting affection from others, but I’m built different and I can manage to put aside my disgust at your existence to take care of you.

And I do take care of you. Aside from putting your clothes on, I also fix your hair, brush your teeth, occasionally wash you with the garden hose, and even help you in the bathroom because you’d probably fuck that up too if you didn’t have me to do everything for you. I don’t care how long you think you’d been doing just fine with those little tasks, even generously assuming you really do believe that at all and aren’t just trying to get out of the tedium of personal hygiene like a lazy slob. The only reason I’m not certain it’s the latter is that I know you really are dumb enough to believe your own imagination.

The fact is, I’m in charge of you and if I wasn’t you’d probably be dead by now, because no one else has ever really loved you. We’ve talked about that more than enough for it to sink into your soul and understand that your friends and family were always just lying whenever it seemed like they might have cared for you even a little bit. You were an annoying burden to them and wherever they are now they’re infinitely happier since I removed you from their lives.

I start to get all sentimental now, sitting down on the dressing room with your face nestled into my chest, petting softly down your neck. You’re mine and I love you. I love you so much. I know our relationship doesn’t make sense to you, because you can’t make sense of kindergarten math, but it’s odd to other people too, you know. They don’t understand that you’re not my partner, you’re my object of affection. More than anyone else I want to hurt you, forever and always until death do us part. I’m happy to stay monogamous because no matter how attractive someone else would look crying as they gagged on my cock, you’re my object, and you alone.

I reach down and squeeze your groin again. You start to quietly sob, tearfully thanking me to hurting you, because you know you deserve it. I start to get excited, and so, so full of love for my object, that I push you off me and onto the floor and take my cock out. Your eyes go wide, transfixed as you get to see your favorite show – your Daddy jerking off. You sit there and stare, the closest thing to sex you’ve ever had or ever will have, consciously at least, and bite your lip with tense passion. This is our equivalent of making love.

I tell you to get out of the way when I’m close, because I don’t want my cum ever interacting with you, and I get off, completely independent of you. It used to make you sad, but now you know it was silly to think you could ever be sexually desirable or worthy of normal human intimacy. Watching me masturbate is all you get and you’ve learned to be satisfied with it.

We hit a few more stores and get some Chinese to eat. I feed you, of course, gently placing every bite into your mouth because even that’s beyond your ability to achieve on a consistent basis and I won’t even let you try to prove otherwise. It’s either me feeding you or lowering your face onto your plate and slurping it up like an animal, which may be more personally humiliating for you, but I like rubbing in how much you rely on me as often as possible.

When we go home, you assume your usual position in front of the couch, still on your hands and knees but at least the floor here is so much cooler than the sidewalk. I toss my feet up on your back to use you as a footstool while I fuck around on the internet. I don’t pay a lot of attention to you, but every now and then I glance over at you as you struggle to remain in position, and I smile, and even without looking you can feel my smile hitting you like a cannonball as I think of ways I want to hurt you next.

Because I love you.

______________________________________________________________

"Object of affection" as a role in a relationship was inspired by the following text, posted anonymously to one of /d/'s Globalized Fetish threads eleven years ago:

About 33% of the population grows incredibly possessive, narcissistic, and devoid of empathy. For them, owning, humiliating, and abusing another human becomes a pathological need. Without a person to objectify and mistreat these people become incredibly likely to commit well-planned, large-scale violent crimes. At first, volunteers are selected, but numbers are too few. In order to preserve order, the normal 66% of the population opt to force many, many, non-consenting individuals into lives where they are maltreated, humiliated, and have no right to consent, privacy, or decision-making. In time, punishing a crying "object of affection" in a public space, forcing them to feel misery, or displaying them in a shameful way becomes common.

[davinashifts333]

KIM HONGJOONG BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS (IDOL!KHJ X SINGER/MUSICIAN!READER):

⚫️summary; basically what the title says my guy, these are somethings I feel dating Joong would include if you were also a musician/singer but, a fan of his as well.

⚠️warnings; swearing, our scorpio captain’s sass, implied smut, ATEEZ being crackheads, etc. please do not read below if you are not 18+. I an a grown ass adult woman & do not need children on my blog, thanks. anywho STREAM GOLDEN HOUR!! LET’s GO ATINY!! 🩷

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-dating HongJoong would definitely begin by him being too shy or intimidated by you to approach you but, when he does, he doesn’t regret a single thing.

-he probably saw you when he was out & about with the boys & you caught his eye, one of the members sees this & encourages him to talk to you.

-“Hyung! I see you eyeing her, go talk to her. Or are you too scared?” Yunho joked, being Joong’s pain in the ass & of course Joong, red ears & all scowls at him before making his way to the isle you’re in. The beauty isle.

-you walked around a bit & searched for a good primer & moisturizer but couldn’t seem to find the one you wanted & he saw that cute pouty look on your face & took his chance.

-grabbing a product he was somewhat familiar with due to his makeup artists always teaching him what’s best, he makes his way to you; “If you’re looking for a good base this is what I use sometimes.” the accent evident in his voice & the ATEEZ shirt evident on you as you turn your shoulders towards him, you both stand there, eyes wide, goofy smiles & you in awe of one of your favorite artists speaking to you & him in awe of how much prettier you were up close, an artist he had been following on the low for some time leading up to their debut.

-“Oh! Hi, I mean thank you.” You stutter a bit & he catches on. A bit of confidence growing in his chest he hands you the product & brushes his hand in yours, subtly but the spark surely makes it a noticeable exchange.

-“I like your shirt. Are you ATINY?” He smiles, that damn smile, it would become a big toy of his int he future. Always using it against you.

-“Yeah, I guess you can say that, I recently got into your group actually. I like your guys’ vibe.” He proceeds to ask you who your favorite member is & your cheeks pink up.

-“Well, seeing as my face is already answering for me, it’s you but, i’m more curious of why you’re here. Speaking to a random fan in a random store.” He admired your ability to switch the dominance but still letting him control the conversation. He found it sexy.

-“I saw a pretty girl, got a bit of courage & was trying to get more to ask for her number. What will her response be?” His eyes a bit darker now, a mix of care, curiosity & enticement.

-“Her response would be to give it to you. Her number of course.” You giggle at the last bit & he does too. You continue to chat until the other few members who had come to the store with him for some snacks come to find him. They introduce themselves & end up actually being very kind (duh) & you exchange numbers with HongJoong before parting ways.

-for weeks on end you two text anytime he can & he constantly apologizes for the lack of a set schedule, you continuously reminding & assuring you understood why. They were on tour after all.

-time zones, jet lag, production, composition, all still ran his day but, he now added in “communicate with Y/N” or “check in with Y/N” to his list.

-throughout the first 2-3 months you would FaceTime and get to know each other more until you tell him about a trip to Seoul you & your bestfriend had planned. you swear you saw his face light up more than you ever had & he asked for all the info.

-safe to say he is the type to set up a car to pick you & your best friend up & take you both around Seoul safely & securely so he can also join with some members for dinners, lunches or late night outings when they can.

-the 2 week trip was the highlight of your guys’ relationship. it was when he asked to be closer to you, to have an official standing & title of Couple with you. (he asked you to be his girlfriend okay? he’s just a lil passionate & did it in a very poetic way because—Scorpio)

-those 2 weeks after 3 months of FaceTimes, Phone Calls, Texting & Voice Messages were where it truly began for the two of you, you were pursuing your own music career, your best friend an upcoming actress & he already being the Idol he was, made it all so much easier to understand your crazy schedules.

-it’s adventurous, passionate & terrifying all together but, 6 months after that meeting in the store, you move to Seoul, making it easier to be around him.

-You soon sky rocket into the music world/industry with your EP/Debut & he couldn’t be prouder. You were set to perform at Music Bank & he was definitely fighting to be there. He was, ATEEZ was & they all cheered you on with all their might.

-you hard launched that day, a picture with OT8 captioned “my 7 best friends & the love of my life as my biggest supporters (ATINY & Y/F/N) you guys better fight harder for me!”

-ATINY went crazy because they had speculated as well as your fans (Y/F/N) had. The Dispatch pictures/articles & Western articles openly talking about the two of you & how close you’d gotten, etc. This only confirmed it.

-dating an Idol as a Western Artist was a bit hard but, you made it work, soon that random meeting of two fans of each other’s work, became a connection, then a relationship & now 2 years later, you’re both on tour, making sure your scheduled shows line up in the same cities whenever they can just to keep each other close.

-per his words HongJoong has assured you “no matter how far apart we are, what time zone we’re both in, if it’s different continents we’re on, you’re always on my mind & in my heart. come on Y/N, we broke many stereotypes already, we were meant to find each other, we got this.” his hands in your hair while you’re both tangled in either his or your hotel room on the one of few cities you both were performing in at the same time.

-even with the hardships, you fought for one another, surprise trips (planned with each other’s companies/managers), big yet intimate dinners alone, dinners with your mutual friends, other members, staff, etc. anything to spend time together & with your guys’ people/friends was what made it so easy.

-you two bounce off the other’s energy. you being a producer as well, made it easy for him to feel understood & seen in his deepest & most intimate moments. he opened up a lot to you, like you did with him.

-this was only the beginning though, he had a lot planned for your lives together. a power couple if you will, is what he saw you as & you did too.

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-A/N: LMK WHAT ELSE YOU GUYS WANT ME TO WRITE, I WILL BE ACCEPTING REQUESTS FOR ANY ATEEZ MEMBER, JUST INBOX ME & I GOT YOU! sorry this wasn’t my best work just some things I thought of while working on my lil secret life 👀 anywho! LOVE YOU GUYS!! 🩷🩷🩷 & TYSM FOR HELPING ME SURPASS 200 FOLLOWERS!!

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Dreams in Ink

Danny Wagner x f!reader

Synopsis: Danny has booked in to get his third tattoo with a very sentimental reason behind it.

Warnings: mentions of needles, tattooing

A/N: This was a special request for one of my pookie’s birthdays!! HBD my gorge baby g, this one’s for youuuuu. 🎂🫶🏻

Today was the day.

Even though he’d done this twice before, the nerves still gnawed away at him. But what better way to commemorate playing at the Royal Albert Hall than getting a new tattoo? He and his brothers had dreamed about this moment since the inception of Greta Van Fleet, and now it was actually happening. So many years had been spent preparing for this very moment, they were all truly grateful for the opportunity and determined to make it a night to remember.

The band’s assistant had taken care of the booking, Danny explaining what he wanted and letting her do her thing. She’d found a cute little studio, not too far from their hotel. All he needed to do was show up, which alleviated some of the stress of the experience they were about to embark on. The entire band loved being in London, the city was so vibrant and the fans were just as passionate as back home in the States.

Following his usual morning routine, he stepped out of the shower and took great care when it came to his bouncy curls. He’d learnt along the way to use a cotton t-shirt to dry them, plopping them on top of his head as he got ready for the day. He then raked his hands through the curls and applied a gel to set them, scrunching up through the ends to the base. Once he was happy with the form of his ringlets, he grabbed his room key and headed out. Usually, his brothers would tag along to the studio, but today they were all feeling the effects of the pub that they situated the evening before, so a member of the security team was his only company. They arrived at the studio five minutes early, Danny’s palms beginning to sweat with anticipation. A bubbly, bright eyed girl with long, blonde hair approached him as he walked in through the door.

“Hi there, do you have an appointment?” She smiled, showcasing her pearly white teeth.

“Hi, yes. Daniel Wagner, my appointment is at 10.”

“Fantastic, if you could just fill out this form for me and I’ll let Y/N know you’re here. She’ll be over to show you the design in a minute.”

Danny filled the form out and gave it back to the girl, then took a seat in the waiting area.

A few moments later, the tattoo artist made her way through the thick, forest green velvet curtains that separated the reception from the main studio. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, with her silky, mahogany hair and cherry red lips.

“Daniel, right?” She asked, squatting down in front of him with her iPad in hand.

“Uh, yeah. But you can call me Danny, if you like. Most people do.” He wanted to smack the heel of his hand into his skull, why was he getting so flustered?

“Ok, well hi Danny. I’m Y/N. I’ve got the design here, if you wanna have a look and let me know if it’s what you had in mind.” She flipped the screen around in her hands and held it out to him.

He’d chosen the outline of the Royal Albert Hall. It seemed fitting, given the importance that playing there held in his heart. He peered down at the screen, noting that the design was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“That’s perfect!”

“And we’re going on your wrist?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Fab! Ok then, I’ll get the stencil sorted and then we can get started.”

With that, she stood up and walked back through the curtain, the smell of her perfume wafting through the breeze as she moved past him. It was such an alluring fragrance, subtly sexy but warm. It reminded Danny of a summer night back in Nashville, sat around a campfire with a glass of whiskey in hand. It smelt like home. In fact, he’d been so fixated from it since the moment she’d left that he hadn’t even noticed his name being called.

“Danny? You ready? Not having second thoughts now, are we?” She chuckled. Oh god, her laugh was so musical, the sweetest melody.

“Yeah, sorry... Lost in thought.”

“Come on back, let’s get you stencilled up.”

He entered through the curtains with her, walking out into a relatively small, but homely studio space. There was another artist at work in their own booth, a partition dividing the two spaces for client privacy.

“Ok, so I’ve printed out three sizes, so if you take them over to that mirror and try them on for size. Once you’ve picked the size you like, I’ll pop it on for you.”

Danny approached the mirror and held the three sizes up to his arm, deciding on the smallest of the three. The artist then shaved his arm and applied the stencil solution, then pressed the stencil down onto his wrist. She carefully peeled it off, urging him to go and take one more look before she began. Happy with the size and placement, Danny laid down on the couch and extended his arm out to lay on the rest. She slipped into her latex gloves, then took a seat on her stool.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, a little nervous though. This is my third tattoo, but it’s still pretty daunting.” He let out a nervous laugh, which brought a smile to her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” She winks.

She dips her machine into the small pot of ink, then stretches the skin of his wrist between her finger and thumb. She leans in, her breath tickling along his skin, causing his breath to hitch right at the moment the needle makes contact. She pulls back, her eyes clapping onto Danny’s.

“Are you ok? Was that too much?”

“No, no. Sorry, carry on. I’m all good.”

She rubs her hand across his arm, trying her best to soothe his nerves. He can tell that she genuinely cares about her clients, which is incredibly endearing.

“As long as you’re sure. I can help take your mind off it if you want? Tell me why you chose the design.”

She goes back to her position and begins to etch the line work into his skin, giving him occasional reassuring glances and listening intently as he explains the meaning behind the tattoo.

“Well, me and my brothers are playing at the Royal Albert Hall tomorrow night. It’s been a huge dream of ours for the longest time, so it’s extremely sentimental.”

“Wow, you’re playing there? You must be pretty big, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.” He chuckles.

“Tell me about your band. It’s so cool that you’re getting to live your dream.” She grins.

“Well, I’ve known the guys for what seems like my whole life. They are blood brothers, but really we’re all brothers. They are my best friends, such an amazing bunch of guys. Sam was my best friend growing up, we were practically attached at the hip. Still are. Josh and Jake are twins, a few years older than Sam and I. Jake’s dream was always to start a band, so the rest of us just kinda went with it. Music has been such a big part of our lives, we’re so influenced by it. It great that we now get to influence people too.”

“Danny, that’s amazing! It sounds like you guys are really close, getting to do what you love with them must be so fulfilling.”

“Yeah, it really is. I get to travel the world with them, explore countries we’d have never got to see if it wasn’t for the band. We’ve actually just finished up the Europe leg of our world tour. Next stop is North America again, then we go onto Japan, Australia, and New Zealand.”

“Damn! Ok I’m gunna need to know the name of your band, sounds like I have some listening to do.”

“It’s Greta Van Fleet, but please don’t feel obliged!”

“If you’re good enough to tour the world, I’m sure you’re good enough for me.”

She finishes up the rest of the tattoo, wiping down his wrist with cooling green soap which is gratefully received.

“So, what do you think?”

“I love it, thank you so much. And thanks for chatting with me, it really did take my mind off it.”

“Anytime.” She gives him a sweet smile. “Here’s a sheet with some aftercare information on it. It was lovely meeting you, Danny. I hope the show goes well tomorrow.”

“Likewise, you made me feel so comfortable today. It really was a pleasure, Y/N.”

She blushes slightly, then composes herself, running her hands through her hair.

Fuck it. Here goes nothing…

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, in fact please don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I had a lot of fun chatting with you, and I’m free this evening. If you don’t have plans, would you want to come out for a drink with me?”

She mulls it over for a minute, the cogs turning in her head.

“Yeah… sure. I don’t usually accept offers from clients, but something’s telling me you’re different. Here’s my business card, shoot me a text.”

Danny holds the card in his hand, looking down at it. He smiles, then looks back up.

“Great. I will. I’ll see you later? Thanks again for today.”

“Yeah, see you later, Danny.”

[skyland2703]

Everyone’s making OC kiddos for their characters so imma do it too— this is so CRINGE omfg PLEASE don’t @ me

Full blame to @lordkingsmith and a lil bit to @augment-techs and @azurezfiction

Amelia and Javi’s kids:

Adelyn Garcia

(Yes that’s Emma Roberts from scream4—)

Addy was an accident— neither of them knew what to do— yes they were together, but they weren’t sure they were ready. They had decided almost for an abortion, but Amelia changed mind last minute, when she saw the way Javi smiled at her, when he told her that no matter what her choice, he was going to support her anyway— she knew she wanted him forever. She knew she wanted kids with him.

At twenty years old, Adelyn can be a little hot headed, can also be a little very irresponsible, but has a good heart. Following in Javi’s steps, to become a musician, Javi and Adelyn often do duets together. A lot of her personality comes from Javi— especially her love for marshmallows and anything sweet. When she was a kid, she and Javi would sneak into the kitchen at midnight and drain all the snacks, and Amelia would throw a tantrum in the morning with a “WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT—“

As she grows up… Adelyn starts becoming… not too fond of her mom. For reasons. At sixteen, she dropped Jones from her last name. I still need to fish this out a bit more, but she and Amelia used to be close, but something happened, after which they just grew distant, and she moved out. Amelia still cries about this every night. Javi doesn’t know how to fix it.

Amelia’s Rafkonian powers get split between the kids, so Adeline gets the antlers, physically, she looks like Amelia, but personality vise, she’s a mini Javi— only a little more emo XD She’s quirky, usually happy, but the second you infuriate her, she WILL destroy you. Sharp tongue and all. Eight piercings and two tattoos, she’s sexy, smart, and everyone wants to be her, or be with her. Possibly a red ranger…?

Next up we have:

Hazel Garcia-Jones

Three years younger to Adelyn, this boy is chaos. He’s gay, he’s emo, he’s rebellious, and he listens to everything his mama says. He’s got the mind reading powers, he can hold someone’s hand, and know all secrets— and it’s even better than the other rafkonians, because no antlers pop up every time he tries to read someone~ He hates his eyebrows. Nobody can sleep secrets from him. He got them from his dad. Only pierced ears, scared of getting tattoos, but loves his twink form. Keeps his hair long and curly, most of the time.

He’s not a musical prodigy…. Which was much to Javi’s disappointment— but Javi didn’t wanna be a repeat of his relationship with his dad, so he was all supportive and sweet when he told him Hazel wanted to be an artist. Has ADHD as bad as his dad’s, and can hyperfixate on a painting he likes for several hours, without food or water. Amelia is usually there to point out that he needs to eat, and stuff— just the way she does, with Javi. She loves her boys, more than anything in the universe.

He likes reading books. You can find him curled up in a corner in the public library devouring books after books after books. He’s horrible at maths, but his language and depth in perception is beyond

Not a ranger, per se. He was given an offer, but he turned it down on account of ill health.

More pics of the sibs:

And a few dark!headcanons:

Hazel is not too physically fit, and has a weak body. Sure he’s pretty, but the internals are a mess. He frequently collapses, coughing out blood, and has an immunity of a rabbit. When he was born, he was kept in an incubation chamber for almost three months, and the doctors weren’t sure he’d be able to make it. He does though. He’s a gamer and an artist, spends most of his time locked in— still coughs up blood sometimes, still has to undergo minor surgeries to keep himself alive, but he’s making it through.

Adelyn tries to commit suicide three times between the ages of twenty two to twenty five. I’m still a little at blanks with this part of the story, but it’s gotta do with something along the “I hate my mom” storyline. Hazel found her on the bathroom floor, once, panicked, and called every single ambulance he knew of, along with mom and dad. Once, she was found by her partner— Ollie and Aiyon’s kid (still need to fish out their personality)— and the third time, she was just lucky some neighbours saw her jumping off the building. She’ll never tell Javi why she did it, of course. Amelia knows deep down it’s because of her.

Damn wtf is wrong with me WHY DO I THINK OF THIS KINDA STUFF—

Anyway thank you for reading!!!

[befemininenow]

Top posts of the year

Hello fellow followers! As the end of the year is slowly approaching, I want to give a thanks to all your support! We may not all share the same interests, but we all share a similar interest of wishing to connect more with our feminine sides. I want to share my last Throwback Thursday by looking back at something more special outside of my own past: my most popular captions by my followers! It will also be my pinned post until New Year’s Day arrives! Here are the top 5 most liked and shared captions (created by me) from this blog:

5th most popular is this one of Sunny Leone in sexy lingerie. This one was created out of impulse and I was caught by surprise that it caught on more than I would have thought. Then again, someone hot like her would provoke you into cracking your egg if she actually said that.

4th place is this art of someone dressing as a woman. This was my very first caption and decided to use this well known drawing used in captions for several years. From what I was able to find later, it was a commission drawn by a known TG transformation artist. However, this person in the drawing is transgender and she (not “he”) is happy to see herself looking back. The euphoria in her face may explain why she hasn’t worn the wig yet. Crossdressing may help some trans individuals with dysphoria and can even serve as a catalyst in transitioning if they feel the need to feminize (or masculinize if trans male) beyond dressing. I may look into recreating this caption in the future as I related more to this pic after discovering the origin.

3rd place is this caption of some girl in cleavage. I’m just going to leave it at that. I wrote as a way to show how “boymoding” can only work until your feminizing results make it difficult to hide. Boymoding, from what I was able to understand, is when transitioning girls under HRT dress as male, but everyone around them notices they’re turning into a girl. In other words, the people around them see them as a crossdresser instead of a guy now. Yet, boymoders deny their feminizing changes. Once it becomes too obvious, like bigger breasts or softer skin, their only option left is to come out as a trans girl.

2nd is this very hot GIF, and it’s easy to see why it’s so hypnotic. The crop top and leggings hugging her own curves, the way she moves, her long, flowing hair, and her overall looks are persuasive enough to either chase her, become her, or both! The clip was originally from a Vine (remember those?) that was difficult to edit, recrop, and make into what you’re seeing right now. I don’t make GIFs anymore, but maybe I’ll make another one like this one day.

And in 1st place is this one of a woman holding a set of pills. Although they’re actually birth control pills, this pic was used in long-gone caption affirming the user to take hormones. Many trans people are placed in a waiting list to be prescribed gender-affirming hormones, and that’s after an extensive time being in therapy sessions. These waitlists take months, or even years, before being cleared out. Oh, and these trans people are all adults! So it’s no surprise as to see why many would love to get their hands on HRT if handed to them instantly. If you’re in that process, please reach resources such as Planned Parenthood, Plume, or other sources available in your country or region that will help you guide your transition into a girl.

-Conclusion

These top posts say something more than wishing to connect with our feminine sides. Based on this list, it seems many wish to also become a girl for other reasons. I can’t judge what you like as I am responsible for creating these captions. But as someone who is learning more about their trans identity, my captions are slowly drifting away from fantasy and diving more into reality. I will slip in something provocative as a way to tease you. But it most likely won’t fall under the “forced fem” topic, but rather as a way to “crack” your egg. There will be more surprises showing up come next year, or up until this blog lasts. Until then, happy night people!

[nhlovesadri3]

The full interview below, and the picture from the article:

After five long years without angels, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show is back, and it’s not the winged thongfest of its early-aughts peak. The Victoria’s Secret World Tourpremieres on Prime Video today following a month of curated international events featuring legacy supermodels and their Gen-Z counterparts. Before the premiere, record-holding angel Adriana Lima joined 22-year-old rising star Amelia Gray, who grew up admiring Lima on television, to discuss walking with wings, channeling the sirens of Old Hollywood, and the brand’s heavenly reinvention.

———

ADRIANA LIMA: It’s very nice to meet you, Amelia. I’ve been following your Instagram for some time.

AMELIA GRAY: I know. We’ve met a couple times backstage, but we haven’t actually had a moment, so this means so much to me. 

LIMA: I’m a big fan of your mom too. I think she’s amazing. Please tell her hi from me.

GRAY: She’s gonna die. She’s obsessed with you too. It’s interesting that they’re having us do this together because you’re my first memory of Victoria’s Secret. My mom was always like, “Pick someone that inspires you,” and I was always like, “Adriana.” You’re just her.

LIMA: It’s really exciting to talk to you too. How did you feel about being part of Victoria’s Secret? Were you nervous?

GRAY: I never really thought that I would be part of Victoria’s Secret. So when I got the call, I genuinely dropped to the floor and was like, “Wait, what? Are you sure you’re calling the right girl?” It was crazy for my inner child that used to sit on the couch and watch the shows at a young age. And it was one of my favorite sets that I’ve been on so far. It was so empowering. I’d never really done anything sexy and in lingerie.

LIMA: I mean, every post on your Instagram is sexy. [Laughs] I felt the same when they called me for the first time. The first time that I worked with them was in 1998 for the catalog. You know, back in the days, we used to have a catalog. [Laughs] And the first fashion show was in 1999. I never thought that I was gonna be part of that either. And after so many years, when I thought it was over, I received a call again and I couldn’t believe it. It was really exciting for me.

GRAY: When I think of Victoria’s Secret the first person I think of is you, and then I think of Candace [Swanepoel]. How is it being part of Victoria’s Secret for all these years?

LIMA: I’ve been with Victoria’s Secret for over 20 years, and I’ve watched the brand evolve. I started working with them before social media. I saw the fashion show go from being just a regular runway with no entertainment at all, just models and campaigns shot with film cameras, to going digital and having musicians or athletes on the stage.

GRAY: That’s insane. 

LIMA: It’s exciting because it’s always different. This year we’re showcasing cultures and offering a platform to upcoming musicians and fashion designers from all over the world. I was representing the fashion designer Melissa Valdés Duque from Bogota. 

GRAY: I was in Japan. It was incredible. It’s so important to allow designers from all over the world to create their own idea of what it means to be a woman, or to be sexy, or to be empowered. At the end of the day, there’s not just one definition of that. We interpret it so differently. 

LIMA: Can you describe your look? 

GRAY: It was this deconstructed black dress. It was so perfect for me, I literally died when I saw it. It’s all these bras and underwear that the designer took and turned into a dress. But the thing that was most interesting is that she took a 3D print of her body—literally molded her whole body—and turned it into dresses that half of the girls were wearing in my group. 

LIMA: Very artistic.

GRAY: What was yours?

LIMA: It was very modern, yet traditional. It was a crochet dress made out of beads. I’d never seen something like that. It was a golden color, but the way she designed it, it almost looks like liquid. Golden liquid crochet. It’s truly incredible, and she’s so young.

GRAY: I feel like they’re all so young.

LIMA: She’s 23 years old with the mind and creativity of a genius. She started doing crochet when she was seven. It’s exciting to see so many talented people in this forum.

GRAY: I know, I’m really, really, excited for everyone to see it. I’m curious on how everyone’s gonna perceive it. Nobody really knows what’s coming, you know? 

LIMA: Yeah, it’s gonna be a hit. My children are so excited to watch. My youngest, Cyan, it’s his birthday tomorrow. He’s gonna be one. 

GRAY: Happy birthday, Cyan. I remember the last time I saw you, you were pregnant at the Alexander Wang show. It was so major. But wait, I do have to ask you a question about the wings, because we all got to wear them for the main shoot. Oh my god, those wings are so heavy.

LIMA: Which one did you choose?

GRAY: I chose the smallest ones. I don’t even remember which ones because I was really present on set. But when I put them on, I was like, “This is insane.” Mind you, there were some that were 10 times bigger. So how did you walk down the runway for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show with those wings? 

LIMA: Personally, it does not matter if I’m wearing wings or not, I’m always nervous. I get so freaking nervous until I walk out in the show. But there were a few times that I almost got kicked off the runway because they’re so wide open and I barely had space to walk.

GRAY: And there are so many people watching.

LIMA: It’s nerve-wracking, but I love that sensation. I like the adrenaline.

GRAY: Me too.

LIMA: I think the biggest wings I had were maybe six feet tall. And it wasn’t that heavy, but because it’s so spread out, you kind of lose your balance a little bit and it’s hard to walk.

GRAY: Oh my god. And you’re walking on the runway with such strength and you’re being so sexy and calm.

LIMA: I was nervous, but luckily nothing happened.

GRAY: I really respect you for walking in those wings all those years and never having a moment.

LIMA: It has happened, but it wasn’t aired. Nobody saw, but there were a few things that happened backstage.

GRAY: Nobody needs to know about those things. Also, I don’t know if you remember, but  before I was a model, and was very much your biggest fan—I’m still your biggest fan—but when I was like 12, you wished me a happy birthday. That was the nicest thing ever. Your birthday’s the day before mine, so we’re both Geminis.

LIMA: You’re a Gemini! I love it. I’ve been following your mom for some time and I love her energy, and I sense the same vibe with you. But let’s talk about music. What do you listen to to get pumped up for the show? I’m so out of the loop. When we were on the shoot, they asked me to choose a song, but all I listen to is baby music.

GRAY: [Laughs] What is baby music? But music for me actually makes it easier to portray my character. Music on set is very important for me. So for this particular shoot, like I said before, I’m not that sexual of a person in real life. On my Instagram I am, but that’s the character I play. So when I was doing Victoria’s Secret and they asked me what to play, immediately I was like, “’Sex with Me’ by Rihanna.” Without that song, I wouldn’t have been able to do it as well as I hope I did. But before the runway, when I’m really nervous, I listen to Azealia Banks. I only listen to one song, it’s called “212.” It’s kind of a lot on the ears, but if you put your AirPods in and just tune out and listen, it’s like you’re now the baddest. Rap also brings me to that space.

LIMA: Is that like hardcore rap? I like that.

GRAY: Whatever can take me out of being me as a person. I’m more of a Sade type vibe. I’m really chill. I like jazz, I like Kenny G.

LIMA: Oh, Kenny!

GRAY: Is music important to you like that too, or can you just turn on the character?

LIMA: Music is a big part of my life and it’s a big part of finding inspiration. I used to do playlists. Like, for a workout, for the Victoria Secret commercials that I would shoot, for shows. And it was a combination of music and movies. I would watch old-school Hollywood.

GRAY: I’m doing that right now. 

LIMA: One of the greatest classic movies to me is La Dolce Vita. 

GRAY: I need to watch it again.

LIMA: And all the Marilyn Monroe movies. I’m obsessed with Sophia Loren, too. There are many movies that I try to capture. I watch how they move and I get certain things from each character.

GRAY: I love that. I’m finally getting into movies in my twenties.

LIMA: You know what I miss? Back in the days when VH1 and MTV played real music videos. There are a lot of music videos that were super inspiring for fashion.

GRAY: Usually I study the old ’90s fashion shows for every brand that I work for. I’ve seen this one Versace show a billion times. But I’ve been needing an extra push of inspiration, so I think I’m gonna do the music video and movie thing.

LIMA: Usually I go eighties. I love the ’80s. I’m obsessed with Billy Idol. There’s a lot of inspiration there for me. 

GRAY: I better do my research.

LIMA: I will send more to your Instagram for you to check out.

GRAY: Please do.

LIMA: Where are you now? 

GRAY: I’m in L.A. at my gym right now. I just did Pilates.

LIMA: Tell me where you go for Pilates. I moved to L.A. I used to live in Miami.

GRAY: Amazing. And you’re Brazilian, right? My boyfriend’s Brazilian and I’m pretty sure he is going to be my husband one day and I need to learn how to make all the food and speak Portuguese, quickly.

LIMA: Oh my god. Have you been to Brazil yet?

GRAY: No. We were supposed to go. I need to go. He’s from both Rio and São Paulo. 

LIMA: You’d love Rio. São Paulo has a kind of New York vibe.

GRAY: We need to hang out, please.

LIMA: You’re going to be in New York?

GRAY: Yes.

LIMA: I’m looking forward to seeing you.

[lgcmedia]

i’ve been following max since before he was in legacy- I saw this guy grow up and he was always a bubbly, funny, a bit clumsy guy with a hell lot of stage presence but sex-appeal would not have been a word I’d associate with him. at least until the concert of spring boys at everland! not only did he completely floor me with his performance at the guitar, making me think he was a whole ass rock star but during outsider- i don’t think I ever screamed that loud. some of his shirt buttons went flying during the performance and instead of giggling it off like I expected him to, he just continued on like he wasn’t suddenly half naked on stage!  confidence looks so very sexy on him can he just please debut already?!

[ + / - ]  lmao the chicken chest got you excited? you like them scrawny, huh? let the poor kid gain some more muscle before legacy exposes him like that

[ + / - ]  oh. my. god. I know exactly what you mean! the way half the arena freaked out I think we weren’t the only ones either!

[ + / - ] he’s finally showing some potential and professionalism. lgc did good to hold out to debut him in my opinion. but he’s starting to look like a real artist more and more. he’s not getting any younger though, I’m not sure how much more time they’re willing to invest into him.

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[chapterbookluvr]

“I’ve taken a life, but never shared a life.” - A Comprehensive Review of Sophie Lark’s Serial Killer Romance Novel, There Are No Saints

Content Warning: Abuse, sexual assault, murder, domestic violence, self-harm Spoiler Alert for There Are No Saints by Sophie Lark

“Well. Looks like I’m into serial killer romances now. So that’s brand new information. In my defense, sociopaths should not be this attractive.” writes Larissa, giving Sophie Lark’s romance novel There Are No Saints a five-star review on Goodreads. When typing in “serial killer romance” into Google, you’re greeted with listicles titled “Serial Killer Love Stories” and “5 Horrific Serial Killer Romance Books (Psychopath Love Story)”. Lark’s story is one of hundreds being mass-produced for Amazon’s Netflix-esque book subscription service, Kindle Unlimited.

Something that should be said about this novel before the full review: this book is not intended to be ‘good.’ L. Brown, who gave No Saints 4/5 stars on Amazon, says “Just please read the synopsis and content warnings before jumping in. And don’t take it too seriously while you’re reading it. It’s for the best”. This is the nature of these ‘trashy’ romance novels. They are known to be mediocre but incredibly attractive because they are filled to the brim with sexy characters and fantastical smut. This quality designation does not absolve them of criticism, though. But any ‘negative’ aspects books like these can have tend to fall into the rug-sweeping ‘taboo’ category. Toxic relationship? Taboo. Poorly written characters? Also, apparently, taboo. Any piece of criticism these novels receive fade into the background, as loving readers clamor to say, “If it’s not your cup of tea, don’t read it!”

Smut, as a category, is sexually explicit content. Content that could border on assault (or just plain be assault), consensual sex, passionate moments. The more absurd, the better. Quality falls wayside, predictably, as written porn comes to life. What this does to the culture surrounding these romance novels is conjure an immense aura of shame. Women are sly about reading their ‘smutty’ books. Those who do not want to purchase a Kindle (thus discretion), can get books from smut authors who market their novels as having “innocent covers” compared to the traditionally more lewd ones, ex. half-naked men, buff werewolves, women in the throes of passion, etc. While all being romantic in nature, these books boast strong female characters and caring male love interests. Never mind that she is pregnant, homeless, kidnapped, sick. He is a Mafia boss, a professor, a dragon, her step-brother. The core of all of these stories is love and heart, marketed in a very sharp package. Sometimes, though, the package is opened, and the only thing left inside is blood.

There Are No Saints fits perfectly into this ‘smutty’ romance genre. The book details a serial killer obsessing over an up-and-coming artist. The killer, Cole Blackwell (no relation to Edward Cullen or Jacob Black from the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer, though Cole is regularly described as very pale and is compared, multiple times, to Dracula), is a famous artist from an old, rich, San Franciscan family. He has no loved ones, emotions, or redeeming qualities. Mara Eldritch (Lark loves a symbolic last name) is a young starving artist, desperate for studio space and traumatized (in a sexy way) by her abusive past. Any other characters in the books are useless, serving only as placeholders for cheap plot points (abusive parents to explain trauma away, best friends being murdered for sexy thrill, etc.).

Romance author Sophie Lark opens No Saints, confessing, in her dedication, “Writing this book was intense therapy for me, dredging up some deep hurts from a long time ago”. Therapy can look like a lot of things for different people - for Lark it looks like a heartfelt statement followed by a book drenched in dubious consent, assault, murder, and abuse. There is no additional satirical or critical layer. If Lark was trying to make commentary about women having to endure in the face of abusive men, she missed that mark entirely and ended up playing directly into it. It’s an unfortunate result to an interesting concept. Instead of Mara  being independent and daring, she has meaningless calls-to-actions that ultimately get snuffed out by the man she apparently is trying to rebel against. It’s a lesson in futility marketed as feminism.

There are No Saints begins in Cole’s point of view (the novel alternates between his and Mara’s), while he is gloomily presiding over an art show, wherein his serial killer rival is also showcasing a piece. His enemy is named Alastor Shaw (possible reference to the chief torturer demon in the hit CW show Supernatural, knowing Lark), an older, uglier man who has been in not only an art battle, but a killing battle, with Cole, for an indeterminate amount of time. The difference between the Good serial killer (Cole) and the Bad serial killer (Shaw) is that Shaw kills women. That’s it. There Are No Saints does not contain a “killer-of-killers” redeemable love interest. Cole kills 14 innocent men, but no women, “I don’t kill women, typically, This is not out of any petty moral constraint. It’s just too fucking easy”.

Enter Mara into the gallery. Described by Cole as “a nobody” wearing “a loose white shift dress” with “battered Docs [that] look older than she is”, she is immediately identified by Cole as an anonymous girl that is dirty and small.  Someone bumps into Mara, spilling wine all over her dress. She runs to the bathroom, Cole thinking she’s trying to wash the stains out of her dress, but this “nobody” returns, doing “quite the opposite: she’s tie-dyed the entire thing”. This quick Project-Runaway-style turnaround is what Lark attempted to do with Mara’s character for the entire novel: be quirky in the face of destruction.

Throughout No Saints, Mara is repeatedly described to be unique. She wears overalls with nothing underneath, she reads Dracula (highlighting only topical quotes for Cole to read when he breaks into her house later), she listens to EDM. She has an abusive mother, no money, and shit luck. These novels, with their unfortunate protagonists, all possess negative traits that are never accompanied by negative  qualities. They want a romance with all of the edge but none of the grit. Mara has “never known what it would be like to swipe a card without wondering if the balance would clear” but has “never starved yet”. She’s down on her luck, but God, not starving-down, that would be unbecoming.

Female protagonists in dark romance novels tend to be either 1) demure, quiet, and inexperienced, or 2) snarky, haughty, and whorish. Either way, their character arc always peaks at becoming as ‘dark’ or ‘twisted’ as their male love interest. Their subsidiary personality traits, like being kind or witty, act as seasoning to their congealment into their boyfriend.

As far as how Mara is interpreted by readers as a character, some, like Ayman’s five-star review of No Saints on Goodreads, regard Mara as: “…so admirable, strong, and will put this psycho in his place when needed. she isn’t the “i can change him” type or the super submissive type that would make me say “stand up girl”. cole does that all on his own. she literally makes him feel regret for the first time for some shit he pulled. and if there’s one thing i’m gonna eat up, is a woman bringing wreaking chaos on a very organized man UNAPOLOGETICALLY!!! the shear revenge she pulls…she’s the puppeteer and he’s the puppet!”

While other people, like Lori, with their one-star rating, disagree, “A sexually aggressive heroine does not a strong heroine make”.

The collision of these characters, Cole, Shaw, and Mara, happens after the gallery showing. After smoking some weed in the alley with one of her friends, Mara is struck on the back of the head and wakes in the trunk of a moving vehicle. Lark then spends a lengthy paragraph detailing the duct tape, bag, zip-ties, and rope used to gag and bind Mara. She gives the readers all the gory details of the kidnapping, details you’d hear on Forensic Files, TikTok compilations, all the warnings women are given about strange men. How to break out of zip-ties, how to find the emergency pull-tab in the trunk (“WHERE’S THE FUCKING LATCH!” wonders Mara), what cuts duct tape. Mara inventories her trauma exactly how someone who likes true crime would want to hear about it.

After drafting this Criminal Minds script in her head, the trunk Mara is in, flings open, “It’s only when the cold air hits my flesh that I realize I’m naked – or at least, partly naked”. How, in this detailed description of her current state, did she not realize she’s naked? The answer is obvious: it wouldn’t be sexy. Mara is dumped in an alley way by a mysterious man. He dressed her in a skimpy BDSM outfit and ‘stripper heels’. Every trauma Mara goes through in No Saints either makes her even more resilient or, just hotter. Before leaving her to die, the man pierces her nipples and slits her wrists. The chapter ends.

Back to Cole, walking home from the gallery and wondering if he’s going to be caught for his most recent kill (he isn’t, the whole situation is forgotten immediately because there has to be room for sexy moments). He stumbles upon Mara, gagged, and bound, and immediately understands her presence in ‘his territory’ as a message from Shaw, “I don’t kill on impulse. I prepare my location. And I never lose control. He hopes I’ll break all three rules”. Ignoring the fact that those three rules are all fundamentally the same, character-wise, Mara becomes a question mark for Cole, “I’ve never killed a woman. I assumed I would at some point, but not some skinny girl, and not in some frenzy of fucking and stabbing like that ghoul Shaw”.

This is where our love birds get introduced. Cole, standing stoically above bleeding Mara, while she whimpers for help, and he thinks of killing her. This is where character development happens, right? This is the moment where we see Cole start his redemption towards Mara? –“I take one last glance at the girl’s beautifully tortured body. Then I step over her and carry on my way”. No. Cole leaves Mara to die. Thus is their meet-cute.

Mara, through sheer power of will (“I’m not dying here. I’m not fucking doing it.”), gets up and survives this murder attempt by Shaw. The rest of No Saints is Cole and Mara orbiting each other, him growing more possessive over someone he thought he watched die, and Mara just needing money and a place to make art. They are, not subtlety, given the Hades and Persephone motif, though Cole expresses his distaste for such obvious reference in the first chapter, insulting a sculpture that has “all the symbolism hitting you over the head”.

As the plot continues, Cole inevitably does something murder-y, like threaten to kill someone Mara has sex with. She does this as revenge, Cole knows, because he puts a camera in her art studio and Mara purposefully has sex with someone else on a giant canvas (that she later hangs in Cole’s office) while making direct eye contact with the security camera the whole time. Cole threatens to kill someone who slapped Mara’s ass (bar is on the ground, as he is already a serial killer), and Mara, throughout, all but gasps and stares.

Lark attempts, again and again, to define Mara’s character. Unfortunately, those definitions tended to be mutually exclusive. For instance, at an art show that Cole demanded Mara wear something specific at (which she rebelled from, saying “Well fuck him, I pick out my own clothes.”), they have an intimate moment after Cole manages to get Mara’s painting sold. She finds herself suddenly attracted to the man that left her for dead, saying “I wanted death. I wanted HIM” (Lark loves using capital letters in place of description). Mara offers a sexual favor to Cole, internally thinking “This is the deal with the devil. He owns me. He controls me”. Then, a mere four sentences later, tells him “I wanted to fuck you. But you don’t own me, Cole. And you never will”. Lark makes it hard to ignore inconsistency in character, especially when it happens on the same page.

Mara and Cole’s relationship can be crudely defined by a phrase Mara tells herself while in one of her many painful contemplations of Cole: “Rage isn’t the same thing as ‘caring’”. Cole is violent, disrespectful, and cruel. He compares having sex with her as being “strapp[ed] into an electric chair”. His redemption comes from the misery he spares Mara from, though it was him putting her in it in the first place. Cole dares to admire the strength Mara has to overcome her trauma, like a predator playing with his meal. Even outside of their interactions with each other, Cole is disrespectful - Mara tells him about when her dad died, saying “I loved my father, the day I lost him was the worst day of my life”. Cole, ever the loving partner, responds with a smile, “The worst day so far”.

Cole, like Mara, is a very contradictory character. Not in a anti-hero, grey-morality-type way. Cole doesn’t make sense in a poorly-written way. His violent profession is emphasized in the beginning of No Saints and used only as a spunky character trait for the rest of the novel. His serial killing distills down into him just being a violent and broken man. Something attractive and fixable. He later starts developing feelings for Mara, “Mara warps who I am. But in the moment, when I’m with her…I like it. I see things I never saw before. I see things, Hell, I even taste things differently”. Mara, just being her, poor, inconsistent self, is curing this man’s murderous instincts. Cole, as someone who didn’t ever kill women, doesn’t make sense to have this redemption arc. Mara is not hard for him, she’s just new. If Shaw fell in love with her and resisted killing her, that would be character development. Cole has not grown, nor has his serial killing done anything for the plot but be shock value. In fact, the mention of the 14 people he killed is rare, and he doesn’t kill again after he meets Mara. He’s never caught, either: “Getting away with murder is pretty fucking easy. Only 63 percent of homicides are solved under the best of circumstances—and that includes the cases where the idiot criminal is literally holding the smoking gun. There are precious few genius detectives, despite what network television would have you believe. I’ve killed fourteen people and I’ve yet to receive a single knock on my door.”

If Cole’s violent crimes are the equivalent to a day job in how they impact his life and intimidate Mara (both meaning, not at all). It brings up the very important question of: why is Cole a serial killer in the first place?

Back in the beginning of No Saints, we see Alastor Shaw make a pass at some young girls at the gallery showing. Cole, watching, thinks to himself, “Alastor’s need disgusts me. He’s such a cliché of himself. College co-eds, for fucks sake.” Cole goes out of his way to snidely mock Shaw, whispering under his breath, “You and Bundy”. This reference to a real-life killer makes the true-crime loving audience that will inevitably devour No Saints feel included – as seen in RenegadeWoman’s five-star review of No Saints on Amazon, “I have never read a book so psychologically dark – except about Ted Bundy”. But what true, narcissistic, sociopath cares about other killers? Especially long dead ones? Lark makes her characters just culturally literate enough for the readers to sit up and go “OMG! I know that reference!”

There Are No Saints is a part of the growing “violent criminal romance” subgenre, something consequential to the recent hyper-popularization of true crime content. Especially on the social media platform TikTok, where it is hard to parse out the difference between fake crime and true crime, and the fans of both tend to be one in the same. So, lines between crime and romance, fact, and fiction, are destined to blur.

Mikayla Raquel, reviewing There Are No Saints on Amazon, says: “what is it about serial unaliver smut that is just sending me into a tizzy lately!! Cole is yummy yummy yummm…now i want a psycho artist unaliver control freak to rent the house across from me and watch my every move and become obsessed with me…and be really rich and sexy LMAO.”

The phrase “unalive” comes from users trying to circumvent TikTok’s rigorous yet unpredictable explicit content tagging system, so “murder/killing/suicide” has transformed into “unalive”. The presence of the word here, in an Amazon review that does not scan for such verbiage, indicates the origin of this person’s exposure to There Are No Saints: BookTok.

“Dark romance”, as a genre, is very popular on ‘BookTok’ (the term coined for the reading community on TikTok), hijacking recommendation lists and Goodreads charts. Most dark romance stories bank on the fact that these readers will be so caught up in the subversion of classic romance tropes that they will not notice the decreasing quality of the writing. It’s a lot of “look at how bad this man is treating this woman, BUT he is also nice to her a few times”. The disparity between these two concepts: abuse, and subsequent love, is what drives the popularity of these novels. They bank on the idea of “he’s an asshole to everyone but me” , while the audience don’t realize the relationship they’re reading about is going far deeper than domestic violence.

Redemption arcs in dark romance novels seem to have no limits. When talking of heterosexual romance, the man can keep the woman locked in a cage (Birdie’s Biker, Misty Walker) or even stalk and sexually assault her (Haunting Adeline, H.D. Carlton). It does not matter, as the man is redeemable, even when he says he’s not. His irredeemability is a character flaw, not an actual plot point. These men are regularly painted as satanic creatures with one soft spot: their woman they abuse. This broadcasts a dangerous message: if a man protects you, he is allowed to hurt you.

Cole does just this, regularly hurting and seducing Mara. The climax of the novel is a sexually explicit scene where Mara, during intercourse, reveals to Cole that she was sexually abused as a child. Cole uses this experience to re-train Mara, even as she says “No, wait!” Her abuse becomes sexual fodder for Cole to manipulate. Though, it works, as afterwards, she “sob[s] again, this time from pleasure and relief”. Thus, Mara and Cole come to a close.

There Are No Saints is, at its core, an unconventional love story. It’s certainly not the best thing ever written, but it sure is entertaining. Mara summarizes the reading experience best, “I’d rather be dead than bored. And heaven sounds pretty fucking boring”. ■

★★☆☆☆

[sukunasbabymama]

Tattoos.

⌗ Summary: You are the tattoo artist of Bonten, and Rindou goes to you for his tattoo on the throat.

⌗ Pairing: Rindou Haitani.

⌗ Warnings: Suggestive, dry humping? ig, cursing, I label it as 18+ even if it doesn’t have explicit smut so minors please do not interact. Very vague on the process bc I don’t have tattoos. :c

⟿ Second part with the smut here.

You know Mikey, he loves you even though he doesn’t show it. You were the one who tattooed him in the back of his neck with the logo of his gang, then Kakucho came and you did the same, then the older Haitani. All of them treating you really well since you were a really easygoing person, and because the one that was closer to you was the boss, you weren’t intimidated by the others.

Today they had call you, saying that you were going to give the same design to another member, this time the younger Haitani. So, as usual, when you’ve got to work for them, you close your shop earlier and put down all the curtains and stuff so outsiders couldn’t even see your front desk. Privacy for your VIP clients.

You were disinfecting the area where you are going to work and putting everything in place when he enters the shop.

The first thing he notices is your shorts, they were baggy but oh, so short, he could see almost everything when you bend down to pick up something from the floor.

The next thing was you. You straighten your posture when you heard the doorbell ring and look over your shoulder, looking at him up and down slowly, checking him out without a single drop of shame, you smirk slowly and turn around completely to face him properly.

“I know you, you’re the young—”

“I’m Rindou Haitani,” He says, annoyed that you were about to mention him being the youngest already.

“Yes, that one,” You giggle and he frowns because he’s giving you his resting bitch face but you are not bulging, just laughing like he’s being friendly.

“Whatever, let’s —”

“I’m sorry, you came a little bit earlier from what they told me so I’m still cleaning everything to leave my shop clean and for our session, please come this way,” You say starting to walk without even looking behind to see if he’s following you.

But he is, all the time he’s following you with the eyes directly on your ass and thighs and the way they look so fucking pleasant to his eyes. The way you were moving your hips were dangerous, it wasn’t forced or anything, it was you, your whole damn aura was sexy.

He knew you were hot, his brother told him all about it. How you carry yourself in such a way that even Ran was left speechless, how you would give their bodyguards a flirty smile while telling them to wait outside.

“Do you want a change in the design?” You ask him while drawing something, he shakes his head. “Great, sit on that chair please, and take off the suit and unbutton your shirt till your neck is visible”

Silently you go behind him and help him to take off the jacket, then you wait for him to do everything else, he sits on the chair and without breaking eye contact starts to open his shirt, enough for you to see the big piece on his body. If you were surprised you didn’t show it, he thought.

From all his brother told him, he understood that you rejected all of their flirty shenanigans, and that you would always keep your composure around them, not even gulping if one of them whisper in your ear.

You smile and walk to him, and giving him the same look he was giving you before, you started to pull up softly his sleeves for him, scratching your nails on his arms slightly. He gulps.

“That’s not the way, baby boy,” You say and he internally groans at the way your voice sound. So sultry, so sexy, goddamn it.

“And what’s the way, then?” He asks.

“It depends, the way to what?”

“To get into your pants,” He says deadpan and you laugh.

“At least you’re coming directly, uh? No little games like the other ones?” You say in a mocking tone.

“No, I don’t know how to flirt,” He says without being ashamed. “I think you’re fucking hot and I want you to know it”

“Well, then thank you,” You wet your lips with a smile.

After you prepare everything and he has the drawing plastered on his throat is when the game starts. He can’t stop looking at your lips and you can’t stop putting on a show for him, biting slightly, putting your tongue out in feigned concentration, brushing your tongue on your upper line of teeth with a smile.

“So that’s how you like to play?” He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

“Shh, you can’t talk while I’m tattooing your throat, baby,” You say without looking at him.

“I’m not gonna stop talking,” He whispers, playing his card. If you reject him it’s okay, if you don’t, then he’s gonna make you his.

“Unless?” You say straighten your back to look at him, he raises an eyebrow.

Slowly, giving you time to back off, he put his hands on your waist and make you straddle him, but you don’t sit, just standing there looking down at him with a raise eyebrow. Now, since the chair it’s a little but leaned the position it’s actually comfortable for you to do your job.

“What’s this?” You say entertained.

“Want you to tattoo me like this,” He whispers looking up at you, you wet your lips and nod.

You sit on him and he couldn’t help it this time, he let out a loud groan, but you ignore it. You start doing your job again, this time focus on your task since you’re now in a comfortable position, on top of an executive of a gang, but comfortable.

But he wasn’t focused, he felt like he made a mistake, not because of you, but because of him. He can feel your breast pressing on his chest, your thighs on each side of his waist, your ass was pressing down on him in a delicious way. His breath hitches every time you move, and you move a lot since you’re tattooing him.

You watch his eyes getting almost black from lust, his groans getting needier the more you move. And you were loving every second of it.

“Wanna take a break?” You murmur in the same sultry voice and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He shakes his head and clutches your shorts with force. “Wanna touch me?”

He nods.

“Go ahead,” You whisper and sigh as soon as his hands go down to your thighs. “That's the limit”

But that was enough for him, he spends the rest of the time kneading your thighs like his life depends on it.

“And… we are done,” You say putting the protector on his tattoo.

As soon as you take your hand off him signaling that you were done he grabs your neck and pulls you down till your lips crash. Unlike his behavior earlier, the kiss wasn’t rushed, it was so slow and sensual that you find yourself getting comfy on his lap, he groans in your mouth.

“You need to stop moving right on top of me,” He whispers agitated.

“Or what?” You say and circle your hips, he moans at the sensation and grabs your ass, pushing you down and making you gasp.

“Or I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude out of you,” He takes the initiative of moving you on him, you whimper.

“Is that—” He cut you off with his lips.

You moan in his mouth and that gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue to explore your cavity, slow, sensual. When you try to fight for dominance he tightens his grip on your ass, making you roll your eyes.

You try to back off a little but he doesn’t let you, looking for your lips a second after you’re separated.

“R-Rindou, I can’t breathe,” You whisper between kisses.

So he takes that as an order to start leaving short kisses on your cheeks, jawline, under your ear, going south to your neck, he bites it and you moan, letting him give you a hickey if that’s what he wants.

“You’re blessing me with your body after rejecting everybody in my gang…” He whispers in your ear and bites under it, you sigh. “I have to make the most out of this”

“Damn sure you have,” You say in a moan, and he giggles.

He suddenly stops and looks at you with a smirk.

“Why are you blessing me?” He murmurs while letting you press your finger in his lower lip.

“I told you, you came out clean telling me you were interested, not offering me money nor expensive gifts,” You wink. “I can get those myself”

“Mhm…” He hums satisfied while pulling you down again but you stop it.

“If you’re gonna keep going you’ll have to sit here pretty while I do the work,” He frowns.

“Wha—?”

“You’re not going to mess the work I did on your throat, sir,” He closes his eyes at the name, and when you grind on him with force he let out a shaky breath. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

God fuckin damn it.

🔖: @saturnmitsuya @melaninnntae @haitanigigi @baji-san

[lollypopsx]

Boyfriend!Harry: 3 Minutes?

Thank you so much for reading! Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog if you think someone else may like it, and follow if you want to see more! I love you all, be safe and be kind!x

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of vomit, pregnancy (I think that’s all!)

—————————

“Harry what the hell is the matter with you?!...There’s a coaster right there in front of you on the table and you still put your mug on the table next to it” you sigh and pick up the mug.

“Harry Edward Styles! Now you’ve stained the bloody table!” You shout, trying to wipe ferociously to avoid a permanent stain. Harry strolled into the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, his brunette curls damp and dripping. 

“Oh m’darling...I’m very sorry” He pouts and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close into his chest. “I can’t stop thinking about how amazing you’ll look in that sexy long black dress tonight” He whispers, his lips trailing from behind your ear, down into the crook of your neck.

“Haz...” You blush and giggle softly “The hair and makeup people will be here any minute” 

“Mmmm fuck ‘em...but it will look much better on the floor” his lips smirking against your skin.

“H, I mean it! I have to-...Harry what’s that smell?...” You frown.

“What smell? I just got out the shower...I used your marshmallow body wash and that orange-y smelling shampoo...I think they smell great? That’s why you bought them right?”

You felt your stomach curdle as the colour drained from your face. You rush to the bathroom just in time, your head hanging low into the toilet.

“Baby?” Harry frowns and rushes after you. “Hey...It’s okay” He whispers, crouching beside you and pulling your hair back gently, his other hand rubbing small circles round your back. 

You cough and whimper softly, your eyes watering. “Sorry...I don’t know why I-”

“Baby is there something you aren’t telling me? Are you sick? Have you been feeling this way for long?” He pesters with questions.

“Haz I swear I’ve felt fine all day...I don’t know why..I-...I...”

Within seconds the waft of Harry’s shampoo had travelled up to your nose, and your head was back into the toilet. Harry stays close although trying to keep his head above yours, frowning gently. He grabbed the damp flannel on the sink to wipe your mouth and quickly filled the closest cup he could find with water.

You sigh and stand up slowly, flushing the toilet. “Harry seriously you need to bin that shampoo and go and wash your hair with something else otherwise I’m not coming to the Brits with you.”

He blinks silently as you get up, take a sip of water and head back to the front room, the colour back into your cheeks and seeming like nothing had happened. 

“Women...” He sighs, binning the bottles and getting back into the shower. He would never complain...he was extremely whipped for his girl.

When Harry came back into the living room after his second shower, a small team of hair and makeup artists had arrived, as well as Harry Lambert who had brought your outfits over. 

You looked so much better than earlier, and to say Harry wasn’t confused would be a lie. He sat chatting away to Lambert as you had a stylist focusing on your hair and a stylist doing your makeup. 

Harry was set on wearing a brown, orange and white retro-patterned suit with a matching brown leather bag and white shoes...because he could and he wanted to!

Y/N had a gorgeous black, floor length satin gown, with long lace sleeves and buttons all the way down the back. It was tight at the top and flowed down once it reached the hips. She had heels matching the colour of Harry’s shoes, even though her dress covered her feet.

After an hour and a half, Y/N was ready with her hair styled in a low curly bun, a few pieces pulled from the front and curled, with her make up flawlessly glowing, and a dark brown smoky eye with a nude lip.

In that time, Harry had re-painted his nails, had his hair blow-dried and styled, and had very light makeup on, jut enough so that he didn’t look washed out from the cameras and stage lighting. 

“So you definitely still want to wear the suit?” Lambert checks. “I also found another bag to match your shoes...you’ve got the choice then.”

“Hmmm, I like the white bag but I think I’ll stick to the original one. Y/N might like the white one instead” Harry smiles softly as Lambert helps him into his suit. His closet had a full dressing/fitting room, with a raised circle platform in the middle of the room, in front of the floor to ceiling length mirror. “Right, you’re all ready. We have an hour til the cars arrive, go and get Y/N and bring her to get changed”

Harry nodded at his orders as Lambert brought the beautiful dress out of the bag.

You follow Harry to where Lambert was, standing in your silky black robe and looking in awe at the dress, you had tried it on three weeks ago and it was perfect, if anything slightly big, but Lambert had said he could sew it tighter once it was on.

Harry sat on the sofa beside the platform, half watching and half scrolling through his phone. By now, the stylists had joined, as well as Jeff and Glenne.

“Uh oh...” Lambert frowns softly as your eyes widen, you felt him pulling tight at the bottom buttons, and you felt like you was in a nightmare.

“I-it doesn’t fit does it...” you whisper and frown, looking at Lambert’s eyes in the mirror. Harry notices the conversation and looks up frowning, “That’s not possible...it was too big three weeks ago...” you felt tears brimming your eyes as Harry rushes over.

“Baby...baby we can sort this” He takes your hands, running his thumb along your knuckles and gazing deep into your eyes. “I can go and find another dress in your closet...you have tonnes!” You knew he was trying to help but it wasn’t working.

“No, no, no...right. Y/N calm down...I can sort this” Lambert reassures you. “Now don’t ruin your makeup!” He gives you a reassuring smile. You felt disgusted in yourself. How was this even possible. You hadn’t been eating that bad...well apart from having a love for prawn cocktail crisps dipped in chocolate spread...but that was besides the point...oh and cheese and chocolate...

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god...Harry I need to talk to you” You mutter, your heart beating out your chest as you grab Harry’s hand and pull him out the room, into your bedroom.

His brows furrow as he holds your hand tightly, “Baby...what’s going on? You’re scaring me Y/N”

“Okay...sit down a minute...” You sigh and look up at the ceiling. “You know how we’ve...well we’ve sort of said we would...I mean-we haven’t really spoken about it for a while but-”

“Y/N! Calm down...just tell me. Whatever it is...it’s okay” He squeezes your hand, pressing gentle kisses to your fingers.

“I-”

“Y/N...Are you ok? I can sort the dress, can you come back?” Lambert knocks on the door gently.

“Er...yeah I’ll be one minute. I just need a moment” You say softly.

“Baby...”

“Harry I think I’m pregnant...” You blurt out. His face falling, expressionless.

“I-I don’t know for definite but...well it’s possible. I’ve been wanting weird foods, I-I’ve been throwing up...my period is never regular but I...well my dress doesn’t fit so I...Harry please say something” You beg.

Your mind ran wild as you felt tears threatening to spill from your eyes...you couldn’t help but assume the worst.

“M’baby...I-I can’t believe it” His straight lips turn into the worlds biggest grin. He lets out a chuckle and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I-We don’t know yet Haz..” You mumble softly, not wanting to put false hope in either of your minds. “Do a test...”

“Harry we need to get ready. We have to leave in 50 minutes...” You mutter, nervously looking at the floor. “I know you have spare tests in the draw...c’mon darling...then we can focus on the rest of the night.” He strokes a strand of hair from your face. 

You nodd reluctantly and took a test, heading into the bathroom. Once you had completed the test, you placed it upside down on the counter and open the door for harry to come in. “...3 minutes” you whisper, the two of you sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. It was a nervous kind of silence. 

“You know...” Harry took your hand softly, lacing his fingers with yours. “Whatever that test says...I’m going to be right here with you every step of the way. And whatever you decide is best for you...I respect that. But I...I love you so much. You’re m’world...and as long as I have you...and we have each other...we can conquer the world.” 

“W-what about your job...a-and tour and...and everything. I couldn’t do it all alone...but I wouldn’t want you to put a hold on anything…”

“Hey...we can make things work. I’m never leaving you alone. You’ll be with me everywhere and I will take care of you. Right now we just need to live in the moment and we can deal with this tomorrow...okay baby?” He presses a kiss to your temple as the alarm goes off on your phone. 

“3 minutes?” Harry whispers, you look up at him and nod “...3 minutes” you smile softly, taking a deep breath and picking up the test. “oh my god...” your eyes widen in disbelief. Harry grins widely and pulls your lips onto his “I love you so fucking much”

—————————

The two of you decided to keep your little secret to yourselves for now. Lambert had spare material from Harry’s suit jacket and cut enough that he could sew you into it, so instead of having the buttons fastened all the way up to your back, there would be a triangle of fabric from the bottom of your back, up to the top of your shoulders.

“Lambert you’re amazing...” Harry grins 

“It’s a good job you chose a black dress...and it’s nice that you are partly matching H...” You grin happily, feeling much more comfortable. “Thank you so much!” you hug him tightly. 

“The love of my life...you look so beautiful!” Harry grins like a school boy, kissing your head and posing for a photo with you for Lambert. 

—————————

“What a euphoric night to win Best British Single” Boy George announces into the microphone on stage. “What a night, this is going to be special, and the winner is....Harry Styles! Watermelon Sugar!”

The crowd at the O2 arena went wild, as you squeal and feel Harrys arms wrapping around you tightly.

“You won baby! I’m so proud of you!” You grin happily, you felt the buzz and couldn’t imagine how Harry would be feeling.

“All for you my babies...” He grins and whispers as he heads up onto stage with his team, his grin could be seen for miles.

“Thank you so much er..it’s um...I just continue to be baffled by moments like this and they make me more and more incredibly grateful to do this job every day and erm...I’m really happy to be here and proud to be celebrating British music tonight. I want to thank my fans for being so generous to me...always. To everyone in my life who has my back, thank you so much I love you. To my Y/N...I don’t think I’d have gotten this far without you. You are my muse, my inspiration and my life. Writing songs with you is always going to be my favourite thing to do. I’m going to marry you one day” Harry plasters a childish yet extremely loving grin on his lips as he blows a kiss to the audience and to you before leaving the stage and joining you at the table. 

There was a particular gleam in his eye, and in that moment, you knew everything would be okay, and that you would be loving this man until the day you die. Yu also were starting a family with your best friend. “I love you Mr Styles...” You whisper against his lips, a gentle tear glazing over your cheek.

“And I love you most...both of you” He whispers, His hands never left yours the whole night, and you felt like everything was falling into place.

—————————

[toadallytickles]

NEST 2022

We just got home from NEST 2022- and AH! It was SO MUCH FUN!! I just want to share a few of my highlights as I really pushed myself out of my comfort zone this time and I’m really proud of myself!

I checked off one of my New Years Resolutions of playing with someone new this year!! And it was with someone I’ve had a tickle crush on literally since NEST 2019!! Since Clay and I have been open, I haven’t played with anyone else, and I’m just really ecstatic that I got to this weekend!! Yes I lee’d.. twice.. but maybe it was a trap all along to get revenge at the next gathering~

Also acquired a Spongebob gummy shish kebab for showing up to session lol~

WE MET SOPH @sophucking-kinky AND ZACK @silly-panic !! IT WAS THEIR FIRST NEST AND WE GOT TO HANG OUT WITH THEM. IN. PERSON. I’ve literally known them online longer than Clay.. and it was so wonderful and honouring to hang out with them!! Cannot believe they like a gremlin like me!! ❤️

We also played Mario Kart with them, and listened to The Wiggles~

And we met the THE AMAZING ARTIST @yourhardnerdcollector !! We met him by surprise, he showed us his work and I recognized it immediately!! SO AWESOME to meet him!! Such a cool guy, and it was so honouring meeting him and hanging out! Please go follow his accounts and enjoy his talent!

I HAD FIVE GUYS FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME!!

I also had Fritos for the first time too and omg so good.. new favourite snack probably lol

I actually found the courage to enter the tickle colouring game (where you colour in a picture while being tickled~), and I surprisingly WON by amount of votes on it!! EDIT MAY 6th: Just found out winning tickle colouring means I won a free NEST ticket for next time!! 🎉

On Sunday I wore a very revealing outfit of fishnets and a crop-top! I’m not used to showing that much skin (especially my tummy) and presenting feminine, so it was a big step for me to wear that all day in front of 150 NEST attendees! But I really wanted to, and I’m happy I did because I felt cute and sexy af!! Ya! :)

Allison alliron-art was at NEST selling cute kink and sexuality buttons + customs! I got this custom-made androgynous button with a feather!! She was super awesome and her stickers are cute, please go check her out!

For the tickle auction, you use Rhino Bucks (the auction currency) to buy people, and you can collect more by volunteering, helping, doing a demo or class- but Clay and I received extra Rhino Bucks for tickle fighting in a giant inflatable unicorn~

And lastly, I’m just overly proud of myself for sticking to my boundaries, like waiting until I was comfortable to play with someone new, and saying “no thank you” when I needed to! I’m really happy I could bring my more confident, grown self to this NEST! I did a lot of socializing and hanging out in the public play room! I’m very to myself and awkward (I think) but there were a ton of really cool people that made me feel comfortable to be myself and open up more! Yeah, at this NEST I made so many good connections I honestly feel like I’m making true friends and potential play partners (if it goes in that direction!) and I’m just really excited to stay connected and see where it goes! Definitely wanted to play with so many people but I can’t pick-up play!

This NESTing season was wonderful~! Staff did another amazing job keeping it a fun, safe place! Thanks to everyone who attended and made it special! And thank you to those who love our content and came to introduce themselves! It’s honestly so flattering!! So looking forward to future events! ❤️

[sangyeonsofthours]

i’m drawn to you; lee sangyeon

pairing: artist!sangyeon x female reader  warnings: it’s not smut yall 👀 but if you squint, you can say that this one is kinda sexy hehehehe reader has a tattoo… and i guess that’s it… let me know if i forgot something? thanks! words: 1.1k summary: a quick look into the morning after with you and your lover at the city of love. n/a: I just hit 200 beautiful people following me... so I thought I could give you, my dear company, this little something that has been laying on my drafts for a while now. please, enjoy  ♡

If it wasn't for the soft chirp of little birds or the chill breeze blowing over your naked skin, you swear, you'd keep sleeping for hours. Why is it so cold? Damn!

The soft whine that slips past your lips doesn't go unnoticed by the man who's sat right by the large window. His husky distant chuckle startles you and urges you to finally blink your eyes open. That's when you realize you're completely alone on the bed. Outside the ajar windows the sky is painted in pastel colors of blue, pink and orange. Like the painting you hang on the walls of your apartment back in Seoul. The only difference is that faintly in the distance you can see the iconic Eiffel Tower.

The view is amazing and it makes a tiny smile display in the corner of your lips as memories of your last night adventure in Paris flashes into your mind. You can still smell the wine both you and your lover spilled while dancing (or trying, at least) to some romantic song that he hummed to you. Maybe a too small room wasn’t the best place for a too tipsy couple to end up dancing.

“Come back to bed” you whisper, “I thought we had an agreement that today would be our lazy day!” and finish with a mumble. You’re not even trying to sound sexy, but your raspy voice sends tiny shivers through Sangyon’s spine. A clear sign that maybe he should get his head out of the gutter for now.

But how could he help himself when you look perfectly like a goddess?

Your body is laid in the middle of the bed, all naked, while the fluffy sheets wrap around you in the right places to make the scene extra sensual. He can see the bare skin of your soft back and legs, leaving the intimate parts for only his imagination. Parts that lucky Sangyeon has already memorized them by now. 

“I know, babe, and I promise we won’t be leaving this room any time soon” there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice and you look at him with a confused frown, wanting to know what he’s thinking. “Just wait a little bit, will you?”

He’s been scribbling something on his sketchbook while you’re immersed into his gentle demeanor, eyes fluttering shut every once in a while, coming and going from a soft nap while looking at his Adonis-like posture. Shirtless and completely static, except for his hands that are working on something and eyes that shoot quick glances at you once in a while. The frown between his beautiful eyebrows gives the hint you need, to know that he's very concentrated on what he’s doing. His plump lips are a bit swollen and  puckered in a slight pout. It makes you want to kiss him so bad.

It’s when you make a move to get up that Sangyeon’s voice is announced again.

“Wai-wait, babe, please, do not move yet, please,” he exasperates, “I'm almost finished with this masterpiece!”

“What do you mean?” you sputtered out, stopping on your tracks.

“I’m drawing you, my muse” he grins, before looking up to search your eyes for any trace of discomfort.

“Oh, God, this romantic trip to Paris couldn’t get any more cliche than this, could it?” you ask, smiling at him, relaxing on the mattress to let the man in front of you, to watch you while making art from a simple situation.

“You’re right, it couldn’t, but I can’t help but draw beautiful things when they catch my eye, you know that” he winks at you.

“Right, lover boy, hurry up and finish this! I’m getting numb from laying on my arm for so long” you mumble, a faint of a smile on your lips, as you try to sound annoyed by his cheesiness “plus, I'm curious to see the drawing!”

“Hm, I think I’m done,” Sangyeon blurst out, taking off his feet from the window-sill, where it laid for all the time he kept drawing. He lifts his body up while leaving his pencil on the coffee table, walking a few steps to meet you on the bed. 

You finally stretch yourself, moaning at the feeling of the tension leaving your sore muscles, making a smirk light up on Sangyeon’s lips.

“Here,” he turns the book around, putting it on your lap, right above the sheets that cover your naked body. “What do you think?”

For a few seconds you don’t really know what to say. You look fucking beatiful. No, beautiful is an euphemism. You look ravishing, almost magnificent. Sangyeon captured even your wild hair perfectly, in a way that made you look gorgeous. It was like staring into a picture of you, a black and white picture of course, but so much more beautiful than you could ever imagine yourself.

It always made you proud, how talented your boyfriend was, but this time… this time it made you breathless. 

“So, do you like it?” Sangyeon asked hesitantly, not liking how quiet you had gotten.

“I love it, Yeon” you whisper, letting your fingers come up to drag softly along the drawing, absorbed by the amount of details. Even your freckles and hip tattoo are so well sketched.

A bright smile shows up on Sangyeon’s face at your reaction, so glad that you liked it.

“Can I keep it, please?” you ask, hugging the sketchbook against yourself. 

“Well, princess, since we live together back in Seoul, I think that even if this simple drawing weren't to be in your possession, it would be going home with you anyway.” Sangyeon teases you.

“Oh, shut up, you silly” you chuckle, leaning into your lover’s body, to give him a heartfelt hug.

“Thank you, my love” the man whispers, wrapping an arm around you as he softly distributes pecks on the side of your head.

“You’re freezing, Yeon” you chuckled, when he placed a hand on your waist, cold fingers sending sparks through your body and making your skin explode in tiny chills.

He quickly sits back, grabbing your robe that was carelessly discarded on the floor beside the bed.

For a thin second you think he’s going to really get you the robe, but he decides against it, leaving the poor piece of cloth on the ground and grabbing on your wrists to pull you back against him.

“Wanna know something, babe?” he asks, in a gutural mumble, while his hands go down your body to rest on the curve of your back.

“Tell me” you whisper weakly, letting Sangyeon guide both your bodies to lay wrapped around each other on the soft mattress, taking the time to put the sketchbook on the bedside table.

“I’m really drawn to you,” he says, half smiling.

And even though it was just a silly pun, it sounded much more sincere than he intended. Of course it did. It was the pure truth.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[jockvillagersonly]

I am new to DMBJ fandom and I want to ask a favour. Would you introduce me to some dmbj tumblr blogs, active or on hiatus. No pressure though.

Hello anon!! I have no idea when you sent this to me, and honestly huge apologies since I've been on hiatus for , like , literal months. Yikes. At this point you've probably found all the blogs you'd like to find, but I'll include a few that come to mind under the cut anyway! 

Please keep in mind that I've been on hiatus for several months, so there could be super ✨hot✨ and ✨fresh✨ new blogs I am not aware of, and/or some of these folks may have drifted out of the fandom, and/or my memory may have failed me!

Best of luck anon, and welcome! :D

DMemeBJers (A-Z)

@cross-d-a​ - crossy baby has been on hiatus for awhile but I think about her tits post literally every day. If anyone has a link please sent it to me. Please. I’m begging. 

@ghostyshades - a Meme Queen (gender neutral), tho I’m not sure if Sasha is still posting DMBJ?

@nope4ever - the absolute funniest DMemeBJ person alive

@psychic-waffles - Jack owns my entire ass and I would die for him, you’ve seen his sketches and you don’t even know, I love him

DMBJ Fan Artists / Gif Makers (A-Z)

@ashenwren / art blog @ashenlights - wonderful artist and all around good person! Multi-fandom but has some great DMBJ stuff :)

@creeds-eagle - Wonderful gifs across a variety of DMBJ shows!

@dmbjartreblogs, run by @unforth - thanks for the addition, Foxy!!! :)

@keichin - an incredible artist!! last I checked, mostly draws HeiHua + misc. from TLT3

@rose-nebulijia - does beautiful edits as well as incredible fic, is also my heart, love, and life. You may also see her referred to as Vishie!

@tianzhens - this is someone I just recently started following!

@wu-xie - makes gorgeous gifsets, though they may also be on hiatus??

DMBJ Fic Writers (A-Z)

@achray1 - multi-fandom blog and one of the absolute best fanfic writers I have had the pleasure to read

@amidalogicdive - very kind, great writer, and super involved in fandom projects!!

@chirpybirdy - I haven’t talked to them much, but I know they have a bunch of DMBJ fic? I’m not sure how frequently they post DMBJ

@dmbjexchange - a great place to start if you wanna get in on fic!

@eirenical - very horny for Zhu Yilong, which is relatable and sexy of them

@epicwalrus - a gem of a writer, person, and being. 10/10 good vibes

@foxofninetales​ - FOXY BABY is an absolute gem, a star, a great author and all around joy to be around, I really have no idea if she is still posting DMBJ but I think so and for that I include her

@hils79 - quite literally the nicest person on this hellsite, also a DMBJ legend @humanlighthouse​ - an absolute legend, PingXie fic queen, also has a very soft aesthetic that will make your dash ~glow~

@kholran - is any DMBJ rec list complete without the RiSang pool noodle? Signs point to no

@laireshi - incredible author with equally incredible feelings about Xiaoge and I think that’s very fun, flirty, and sexy of them

@mejomonster - multi-fandom, but can always be counted on for EXTENSIVE and HEART-RENDING DMBJ tags

@merinnan - multifandom and multi-interest blog; prolific writer in DMBJ + very involved in DMBJ fan events and such!

@pissmeoffanddie - not DMBJ exclusive but YES genuinely the most wonderful

@s1utspeare​ - an absolute fucking legend, mostly posting M9, Fo/FuBa, and other fandoms now, but still a great DMBJ source!!

@thosch3i - not on tumblr a whole lot but when they are I am almost guaranteed to peel at my yellow wallpaper about it

@traineecryptid - great writer and very fun dash energy!

@undyingsunshine - if you like crying about Li Cu, have I got the blog for you!!!!

Good Vibes and DMBJ Content (A-Z)

@dmbjaddict and @theyareinlovecanttellmeotherwise are great blogs if you want lots of DMBJ / PingXie content on your feed!!

@canary3d-obsessed - actually not sure how much she posts DMBJ consistently, but her DMBJ fashion posts literally ascended me to the heavenly realm  

@jaecomments - the literal love of my life, professional hype beast

@justpostsyeet - always down for a good head canon discussion, especially about our fave bitchy ex ;)

@greymouser13 - I have no idea if they are still posting DMBJ but I do know that they bring me joy, and thus here they are

@kolachess - super interesting posts, head canons, and translation discussion! (multi-fandom)

@mythochondrion - bonk, go to horny jail

@ninbayphua - Ninby posts loads of fandoms, incl. DMBJ! Also has a writing blog that you can find here: @ninbayphua-moyan

@uschickens - great head canons and DMBJ discussion, same good vibes as @momosandlemonsoda

@xcziel - follow for the tags, stay for the incredible loving energy 

@xiaobaibai - a great place to find fanart and general good vibes :)

@xia-xueyi - not DMBJ exclusive but has a really cute turtle and really nice energy so.... 🐢

Mystic Nine Specific, & We Love That For Them (A-Z)

@elletromil - every day I think about how talented Elle is, and every day I weep. These are related events.

@gaiahenshin - immediately after weeping about Elle, I think about how kind and lovely Gaia is, and then the weeping recommences. These are related events. 

I’m sure there are loads I missed, and others I mis-labelled! Please feel free to add corrections and additions in the reblogs or notes. :)