#so his face is more exposed and he looks more benign

[storytellering]

screenshot redraw except i got a bit carried away

[ink-and-dagger]

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[elitadream]

Hey, I love your art! Anyways, do you headcanon any time where Peach or Mario have been sick and what the other partner does to make them feel better?

Thanks! :)

Even though I've never drawn a Mareach piece directly related to it, I must say the "sick" concept is one that I've always been very fond of (in any fandom!), and I did gather a few notes about it for this pairing in particular.^^

What's especially interesting here is that Mario and Peach are from two very different worlds, with different foods and climates and medications, so to me it seems rather inevitable that either one of the two (or both) would eventually become slightly ill after being exposed to the other's homeland for a time; their immune system having not yet built proper resistence to its germs and bacteria.

In my AU, the bros never see Brooklyn again, so the most likely avenue would be for Mario to fall sick (developping a fever due to an infected injury, for example, or reacting badly to a certain substance however deemed benign for the Mushroom Kingdom citizens...) and Peach to be the one to look after him. 🤒❤️‍🩹

Depending on how severe the symptoms would be, the treatments would range from a simple spoon of health syrup to full medical assistance with lots of rest, and the Princess would scarcely leave his side until he's fully healed. She would use her magic to soothe the pain and help him relax, and Mario would later claim that it did more good for him than any medicine ever could have. 💗

I had also imagined a short scene where, while laying in bed in his groggiest state, Mario would smile at her tiredly and mumble half-coherently that she would have made a wonderful nurse, to which Peach would respond by reaching forward and boldly touching his face in a gentle caress. Though it wouldn't quite register, he would close his eyes with bliss regardless, sighing as sleep would finally overtake him. He wouldn't be sure whether he dreamed it or not upon waking up later, but he would feel incredibly invigorated regardless. 😊✨️

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 11. In your hands

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, oral sex (m receiving), torture via Gom Jabbar, sub!Feyd, dom!Reader, BGSM

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

There are weapons you cannot hold in your hands. You can only hold them in your mind. — Bene Gesserit Teaching

She held his gaze and smiled. His hand had only been inside the box for seconds but she could already see it on his face. There was apprehension and excitement there and most disturbingly of all a hint of lust, but overwhelming everything was fear.

“Who did this to you before?”

“That’s my secret,” said Feyd in a quiet rasp. “Who did it to you?”

“The Reverend Mother.”

“Ah… Was she nice about it?” he asked with a smirk, but then his pale brows creased as the phantom pain began to tingle up his arm.

“No,” she replied, her thin smile widening.

She traced the blade up and down his taut stomach, more seeking to cool him than anything else. She’d never seen a man look down at her with so much fear… It was quite thrilling.

“What do you feel?”

“Itching,” he groaned. “Turning into… burning… into… Ah!”

The sound was gentle, something that escaped him before he realised. She moved the blade down between his legs as soon as he gasped, its presence no longer benign but threatening now. Feyd bit his lip and his pale head fell back, exposing the tense column of his throat. He breathed out through his teeth and through the thin metal sheet of the box she could feel his fingers moving, twisting, trying to form a fist.

“Shhh… Take the pain, my na-Baron,” she soothed, resting her cheek against his knee. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He should begin to feel his skin crisping now as if after too many hours in the Arrakis son. What followed was far worse, and to her surprise and admiration, he seemed to know it well. He controlled himself admirably all things considered. The blade turned to a caressing motion once again, brushing up and down the hardening length of his cock from the head that leaked against his trousers all the way down to the root. She pressed the tip against the swell of his sac with the gentle promise of penetration. Feyd’s head came up and he looked down at her again. His eyes were vulnerable. He braced himself against the bed with his free arm while the other struggled to stay inside the box.

“It’s not that hard for you, is it? I refer of course to you keeping your hand inside,” she smirked. “You like it.”

Feyd smiled his black smile but he seemed winded, consumed by something more than pain. Every now and then he’d frown with a sudden stab of something but his eyes stayed focused on her own, piercing through the veil of fire that by now shrouded him. She could almost feel what he felt. She could certainly remember it but it was quite a different thing to feel it through him, through the way he looked at her. The pain was theirs together. She kissed his clothed knee as she held his gaze, keeping calm for him, but underneath her heart was all aflutter, undecided whether she sooner enjoyed causing his pleasure or his ache. Feyd closed his eyes when it got too much and his shoulder jolted with the hint of pulling back. She bit her lip and twisted the knife against his loins, stopping him still.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “More.”

“P-please,” he gasped, his eyes watery when he next opened them.

She enjoyed hearing him begging so much that she felt herself begin to blush. Was this how it had been for him when he had made her suffer? Was it always so delicious to cause pain? But she could see his cock harden underneath his trousers, could almost see it throbbing with a quickened pulse, and underneath the tip of her blade his balls were swollen full of seed.

“You like the pain,” she said as she licked her lips. “And you like begging. Don’t you? Hmm? Do you like begging for me?”

He whimpered, head turning away from her as his hand fisted in the bedsheets. Even if she were blind she would’ve been able to tell that this meant more to him than anything else they had done together so far. His lungs burst into a quick sharp breath at once and his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips gasping open as he breathed his pain away. His stomach flexed and underneath her cheek, she felt his thighs were tensing. A flush of dark purpling blood bloomed underneath his skin, rising from the top of his broad chest up his throat and to his cheeks. His lips drew back against his stark black teeth and his nipples perked in keen excitement.

“What is it, my lord na-Baron?” she whispered, kissing up his clothed thighs all the way up to his loins. “Does it hurt so badly?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice breaking with unshed tears, but still he didn’t pull his hand away. “Hurts so m-much…”

She purred and kissed the swell of his cock, letting her lips rest warmly over the shape of it beneath his thin black trousers. Feyd whimpered and tried to close his legs but his figure was already unsteady on the bed. His fingers were flexing in the box again and he rolled his shoulder in its socket, and as she kissed up the throbbing edge of his cock she could almost hear him saying to himself that it wasn’t real, none of it was real, it was an illusion.

“But the pain is real,” she softly said. “It’s the only thing that’s real for you right now, isn’t it?”

“Mmm… Yes…” he breathed.

She laid her tongue flat against the length of his cock and let her warmth seep down toward him. When she looked up at him again, up the sweaty, pale, corded path of his body, she could see the agony there melding with relief. And although he was hard and leaking and he still felt her blade at the corner of his thigh all thoughts were chased out of his head. The air was filled with the sound of his sharp gasps and the little moans that slipped between them. Without a second thought, she placed the blade down on the bed and started undoing his trousers.

“W-what —”

Before Feyd could get the question out she had his cock in her hand and her lips were on the tip. He was so beautiful, like a broken doll. Like a precious thing from childhood — lost and now recovered. His voice was broken into fragile pieces, his body was falling apart, and in spite of all the pain she’d put him through he’d still chosen to obey. He was hers. She’d never had anyone before, not like this…

She dragged her lips lower down his shaft, moaning at the taste of him. He was hard between her lips and heavy on her tongue but sweet in that slick cloying way she’d gotten used to. His hips nearly arched off the bed and his free hand clung to the mattress. The deeper he sunk into her mouth the louder his cries became, and it was just as much from pain as it was from pleasure. She suckled on his length and closed her eyes, pulling him as far in as she could take. Feyd breathed heavily. He squirmed above her and after a few seconds he began to scream, his legs tensing around her shoulders. The nerve induction must’ve gotten to the point where he felt his flesh was melting, but he still refused to pull away. His cock was dripping down her throat and she wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him there, but from the weak and broken warbles he gave out, she was sure he’d started crying.

“Stop,” he whispered between panting breaths. “P-please, I w-want to stop…”

She moaned around his cock and suckled on it, tasting the saltiness of sweat and skin and the tangy sweetness of his seed. She pulled off of him for a moment to look up toward his blushing face and whisper.

“Cum for me first.”

Feyd groaned when she wrapped her lips around his cock again but he kept his hand inside. He was a good boy. Better than she had expected — and entirely intoxicated by the pain. Breathing deeply, sniffling through his agony, he sat up as firmly as he could on the bed and moved a trembling hand to the top of her head. She smiled at first, but then the fingers tightened in her hair and his grip hardened, and he pushed her down as far as she could go. She let the sharp edge of her teeth dance across his root but that only seemed to entice him further if he even felt it at all through the pain that shot across his other arm. Feyd gasped and moaned and thrust up into her with a hard pumping of his hips while he held her head against him and in only a few moments he was cumming down her throat. His cries filled the room sounding like a wail of death, but between her lips, he’d never felt more alive. With a painful seize of his whole body, he twitched and swelled and spilt his seed. She did her best to swallow but messy droplets fell from the corners of her mouth to lick across his sac. He hardly felt it. Feyd thrust up into her mouth until he no longer had the strength to, and then he fell back to the bed.

“Please, please, please,” he whispered. She could hardly hear it through the dizziness that rang between her ears. “I can’t… I can’t…”

She pulled herself up gingerly and looked at him. His hand was still inside the box. His cock was soft by now but still leaking on his thigh, and even on his back Feyd was breathing so heavily she was afraid he’d make himself sick. She pushed the knife off of the bed and well out of his reach as she smiled down at the sight of him, pale and sweating, his forehead creased, his plush lips bitten, his eyes dark with lust and pain.

“You can take it out now,” she whispered as she caressed his tense perspiring stomach.

He obeyed before she even finished speaking. His hand was trembling and he was almost too afraid to look at it, but he knew what he would find. His skin was alright, his bones too. It all had been an illusion, again. His knuckles were a little pink from where they’d brushed against the metal and the beds of his nails were white from strain, but it was still a perfectly healthy hand. She reached back to take it as she straddled his waist and brought the weak limb to her lips.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked with a thin smile as she gently kissed his knuckles. She felt wicked for toying with him that way but felt closer to him than ever before too, and she was certain this strange mix of emotions was addling his mind just as much as hers.

His eyes watched her, keen yet dizzy in the shadow of his lust. “That was… too much,” he breathed.

“Even for you?”

“Yeah… Even for me.”

She grinned and moved her kisses to the tips of his fingers, taking them between her lips one by one. “When will you want to do it again?”

“Damn it, woman. Give me a week, at least.”

She giggled and placed his hand gently beside him then slid down his body and off of the bed. With slow and loving care she pulled his trousers off and made him comfortable, put the box and the knife away, and took her own clothes off too. And while Feyd was still catching his breath and examining his hand like it was the most precious, vulnerable thing in the world, she poured him a glass of water. It felt strange to comfort him, to tuck him in and pull his head to rest over her chest. It was a behaviour from herself she hardly expected. If anything Feyd seemed less surprised by it than her.

“We won’t have to do it again if you don’t want to,” she whispered as she trailed a soothing path across his back.

“I asked for it,” he muttered, burying his face against her neck. “If I ask again…”

“You want me to give you what you want?” she finished.

“Every time,” he smiled.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : Din Djarin x Reader

» CONTENTS : Smuttt. Needy Din- maskless Din is a sub, fight with the wall. Body worship (face… worship?). P in V sex- emphasis more on the P on V sex). Not proof read.

» SUMMARY: Traditions form after Din removes the mask.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

It’s freezing cold to the touch, the sharp edges of his helmet practically slicing your fingers open as you tentatively lift the beskar from his face. You feel his aquiline nose catch on the foam padding on the inside. You utter a sorry.

Din’s palms splay over your hips where you straddle him in the minute cot, leather biting lightly against your bare skin where he digs his fingers in. His eyelashes flutter as the edge of his helmet is pulled up, and he’s exposed to the harsh, untempered lights inside the Razor Crest. Din turns his face to the side, unable to look you in the eye. Even now, after all this time, he’s still momentarily apprehensive about displaying his face to you.

“Hold still for me,” you whisper, so quiet that you’re sure that your own heartbeat muffles your order, drowning your words out with its pulse. It’s thrumming wildly against your sternum, still thrilled by the sight of Din’s eyes on you.

Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian- Mandalore. All of Din’s titles melt away like beskar in an armourer’s kiln when you’re alone. The alloy drips and runs and cools, melding the warrior a far simpler and benign title- yours.

Din’s breath stalls in his lungs as you begin your ritual, his eyes cast to the durasteel hangar ceiling as he feels you press your lips to his with a gentle urgency. One kiss, then another, and another. You barely give him a moment to register your affections, his own lips lagging behind in their response.

“Mhmm~” You hum, but it bleeds into a whine as you settle your bare cunt over the length of Din’s cock. His groan dies behind gritted teeth as you sweep your hips over the length of him, soaking the velvety skin with your slick.

His chestplate is freezing against your breasts as you lean over him, having given him no time to undress when you threw him back against the cot and took what you wanted. Your nipples are hard against the cold Beskar-steel, dragging back and forth slightly as your hips rock against the curve of his dick. It makes you ache for him even more.

Focusing a slow, steady rhythm with your hips, you allow your lips to wander. They trace his jawline, sharp as the spear he carries with him. Din tilts his head back for you, gasping out your name as you bite the skin stretched across the bone. You nip playfully, focusing your attention on the patchy parts of his jaw, where the hair is sparse.

“C-Cyar'ika,” Din groans, his voice pitchy over the wet sounds of his cock sweeping through your folds. The head bumps your clit, and you whine against the curve of his jaw, your chin pressed to his pulse point.

Din Djarin is the prettiest man you’d ever met. His expressions, however, were even more enticing. Hidden behind a mask for his entire adult life, Din never learnt to neutralise his face. It made him emotive, especially in bed.

As you kiss the tip of his nose, you watch as his eyebrows pinch together, then arch up slightly as you let the weeping tip of his cock nudge at your entrance. You settle on it lightly, let the head sink inside before pulling up again quickly, barely allowing him a moment to relish the tight heat. He lets out a groan of frustration, desperation, as you drag your lips over the arch of his aquiline nose.

God, you love his nose. You praise it, its beauty, worship the way it makes you feel when you grind down on it. Humming softly, you can’t help but grin into the kisses you offer as his jaw falls slack, moaning out your name.

“Stars,” he groans out louder, with a sudden urgency that startles you, “Please, I need- I need to feel you.”

Din’s voice without the modulator is impassioned, cracking slightly on a whine as he begs you for mercy. For relief. A vulnerable tone he barely affords you unless you take control. The leather of his gloves digs into the meat of your ass, palms shifting your hips forward to pull your weeping pussy across his length.

Refusing to give into his demands, you continue your affections. You press soft kisses above his eyebrows, then each of his closed eyelids. His eyes- they took your breath away, stealing your attention when he first removed his helmet for you. You’d heard the tales of ‘brown eyes’, but they did little to emphasise their beauty. Deep, rich, laced with Din’s heavily guarded emotions that he’d veiled with beskar.

“You’re impatient,” you finally point out in a breathy whisper, lungs working a little harder as you feel something delicious settle at the base of your spine. Din looks like he could cry, desperation kicking in as he jerks his hips up against yours.

“I am deprived,” he murmurs back, an edge to his tone. The Child had clung to him for days following his last bounty job- he hadn’t had time alone with you for at least a week despite doing everything he could- stolen kisses in the cockpit, even attempting to shut Grogu in his bassinet. Somehow, he always managed to stumble into the room at the most inopportune time, much to his father’s utter dismay.

Sitting up, one of your palms settles on Din’s breastplate, you push strands of his unkempt curls from his damp forehead. Din, as renowned and feared a bounty hunter he is, also keens for you, vulnerable and achy for your affections. He chases your hand, leaning his face into your touch as you care for him.

Rewarding his openness, you reach between your thighs to take his cock in your palm. Din lets out a slight hiss, sucking between his teeth as you work his cock slowly. The drag of your palm against his sensitive flesh has him bucking his hips again, pressing the crown of his head back into the pillow.

“Din,” you whisper his name, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and centre his focus on the swirling arousal that builds quickly.

“Please.”

Pressing a gentle kiss to Din’s lips, swollen from your previous affections, you sink down onto his aching cock.

“Fuuuuck, Cyar'ik-aah-“

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @pedrosprincess

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[azul-marie]

leon. (desiderate)

fem. reader. canon-typical violence/injuries mentioned.

if only you’d been beside him a second sooner.

the surrounding ganados were resolute in killing the two of you, but so far you’d handled everything well. he took the front, you, the back. it was going fine enough, up until a creature welding a machete managed to land a clean slice across the side of his abdomen, easily cutting through the flesh. your partner’s pained sounds were a nightmare on the ears.

once that damned church bell finally rang upon safety could you take cover in an abandoned home to check whatever damage was done.

now another challenge began.

“please, just let me see how bad it is.” your pleas are no match for stubbornness. leon waves you off, pretending that he isn’t holding a bleeding wound. his beautiful jacket, a favorite of his, he had told you on the way to the village, stains his hand a bright scarlet. he lingers by a window to keep watch outside, his handsome face scrunched with discomfort.

“it’s fine. i’m fine. focus on yourself first.” his reply is curt, slightly winded. his broad chest heaves as he applies more pressure on his injury, his jaw setting tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. you watch helplessly, unused to the view of your calm, confident partner so hurt.

the two of you hadn’t been partners for long, but something akin to a friendship was undoubtedly there. his odd quips, the occasional joke that would usually cause eye rolling and groans were actually rather charming coming from a man of his reputation — you took them in stride, bouncing off of his personality as if you’d known each other all your lives.

but there is a certain coldness to leon. an inner frost, like a perpetual twist of the brows stuck in thought, or eyes heavy with a lack of heart. clear reminders of whatever he’s gone through before meeting you. perhaps it’s the innate good you sense from him that encourages the desire to know him, befriend him. a goodness that is such he’d prefer bleeding out if it meant saving you first.

you gather your courage. with cautious steps you approach his side, place a benign hand on his bicep that silently insists. at first, leon refuses to look your way. he's all too aware of those doe eyes you’re making at him — knows it’ll get him weak in the knees. the touch on his arm is already making it harder to breathe.

“leon…” —god, do you have to say his name so softly like that?— “i’m not hurt. i’m worried about you. just let me take a look so i can help ease the pain. please.”

his eyes flicker down to yours before he can stop himself. fuck. those pretty eyes, brows turned up with concern, flutter when they meet his. leon’s jaw goes slack, and he swallows so hard he’s certain he gulps aloud.

“okay…okay. i surrender.” he says, a hint of humor lacing in. “sorry to have made you beg.”

your unease melts into a beaming smile. “as long as it paid off.”

after finding the most stable looking chair in the house, leon peels off his beloved jacket on the one side he’s hurt, exposing the weeping cut caked with a mix of dried and fresh blood. he at least looks a little sheepish to have insisted he was fine, when he was, in fact, not very fine at all.

you cringe at the sight, deterring any ogling leon would've preferred to see instead. you carefully lift his skin-tight shirt to examine the cut further. the feel of your smooth fingers gliding across his bare skin sends a wave of gooseflesh over every inch of him. he reminds himself he’s a professional, not a schoolboy.

“i’m…i’m sorry, but, ew. aside from that, it’s actually not too deep. a good cleaning should help, since that blade was probably really unsanitary. then i’ll bandage you up. sounds good?”

leon is quiet. concerned, you glance upwards to check on him, only to find he’s already staring at you. something hot clenches at your chest. his eyes fall to your parted lips for a split second before realizing you’ve stopped talking.

“yeah.” he mindlessly agrees. it is incredibly obvious to the both of you that he hasn’t heard a word you said. you kindly choose to ignore it, mostly because it’s cute. and because he’s probably lost a bit of blood while he was being stubborn. not to mention he was nearly sawed in half by a literal creature of darkness, too. something like that would take a moment to process.

“i’ll clean you up, then bandage the cut. sounds good?” you repeat slowly, trying to also kindly ignore how his eyes switch between your eyes and lips. leon nods, then looks away in silent complacency to let you do what you need to. and to steady himself when your hands run down the expanse of his abdomen to check for any other injuries he may have sustained.

he wonders how you’ve managed to keep such soft, supple hands. how they press just the right amount of pressure, not too much or too little. the first aid spray, nor the herbs you mix and crush into a salve hardly sting when you massage them across his wound. all the while your eyes, those pretty eyes, gleam with pure concentration as you work to heal him. help him. without ulterior motives, without asking for anything in return.

guilt overtakes him. to have you mend him despite his being perfectly capable feels selfish. reminds him of naivety and red. longings of the past. you two were already in over your heads, and now this? having you coddle him? leon’s hardly deserving. hardly worth your effort. he wasn’t the priority at this point, even if he made the promise to get all three of you back home safe. there were risks, dangers, that either of you could succumb to, but he’d be damned before letting anything happen to you. as long as you stuck together, nothing would.

“you with me, ace?”

your whisper jolts him out of thought. leon appears struck, as if forgetting you’re sat beside him, pressing bandages along his abdomen. your perplexed expression wakes him from his inner rumination. makes him think his own face is twisted in the way it gets whenever he’s too far deep in his mind.

leon takes a beat to answer. “uh…yeah. all good. sorry about that.”

“no need to apologize. i know it’s a lot to take in. i’m just worried about that handsome face of yours.”

he freezes, his dark thoughts at once evaporating. “my—what?”

you turn slightly bashful. “oh, well, you know. if you keep making the same kind of face, it’ll get stuck that way. i just…well, it would be a shame if yours did. you’re really quite nice on the eyes, leon.”

he gapes at you, stunned silent by your boldness. and what more it could imply. these sorts of compliments are nothing he’s not used to, clearly, but coming from you? the first person to mean something to him in years?

leon feels his face going hot. shit. he clears his throat, shifts in his creaking seat. prays he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. you manage to catch his fleeting eyes for a second. he watches how your lush lips turn up with an amused smile so poorly hidden he almost thinks you wanted him to notice — and just like that, he’s properly flustered.

he isn’t allowed to collect himself. soon you’re patting off whatever excess salve remains on his skin and tugging his shirt back down over freshly set bandages, held together by even more prayers and a bit of medical tape. you’re up and on your feet before leon can even pierce together the concept of thanking you.

you head to the nearest window for a quick peek outside. “looks like the villagers are still in the church. it’s all clear for now, unless they decide to cut service short.” you muse. leon joins you, carefully readjusting his jacket and his cool.

“don’t jinx us.” he huffs. “last thing we need is another run in with trouble. we should start looking for ashley now that things are quiet.”

you agree. after one last weapons and supplies check, you lead the way towards the front door to brave whatever awaits the two of you ahead. before you finish twisting the doorknob, he pats an awkward hand on your shoulder.

leon says your name intently. “…i appreciate your help. very much.” he hesitates, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. you can still see a bloom of pink across his cheeks. “so…thanks. i owe you one.”

you pat his shoulder in return with a mellow smile. “of course, leon. it’s why i’m here. i am your favorite partner after all.” you joke, turning the moment he lets out a chuckle. you miss the way his eyes soften as he takes in the pretty view of you.

“true. but it’s not like you had much competition in the first place.”

“ha-ha. if you’re saying i win by default, then that’s just fine by—”

the moment the two of you step outside, an incoming call from hunnigan interrupts the lighthearted atmosphere. the sudden intrusion turns leon’s face somber once more, though he glances somewhat apologetically at you before answering.

no matter, you think. there’s plenty of time to spare for team-bonding.

[chiliyue-archived]

Joie De Vivre

↬ domestic morning blurb thing

Includes; Dazai

Entry; 🥞 - lazy Sunday morning

Tags; lovesick Dazai !! im it's #1 fan

[Event Navi | M.list] | [Bsd M.list] ♡

-

Sleepy brown eyes settled over you; glazed in a warmth unmatched to the sunlight that bid its welcome through the windows crevas. Unbeknownst to you, a placid candor became graced upon Dazai's features, cheeks stretching the further he indulged in his shameless stupor.

The leaking golds of sun cascaded over your figure, light dust particles meandering around. It was akin to the stirring that became pervasive in his chest, heightened by the snores and light murmuring you emmited. Its tone was mellifluous to his ears even when laced in a raspy undertone or simply muttering puerile phrases.

The scene felt entirely picturesque and it was astonishing even now for the burnette to be bestowed with an interlude as addicting as this.

" Belladonna~"

A pair of bandaged limbs and abrasive fingertips curved along your arm, random circles and patterns traced— the wake of his touch diffused a tincture of sentiments left unspoken on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were more than telling, however, the dilation showcasing his keen attention to you even during such leisurely hours.

His gaze would ultimately softened admist your presence, and it was almost hard to believe he was the object of manys affections and a flirt; internally, he had always became stupefied, hearts aglow where his pupils should be when it came to you.

Inquiry over his devotion never dwindled too long - the answer was evident in his ministrations and physical stature. For someone who exhibits lax behavior, he notably straightens and beams a pair of pearly whites when he catches your silhouette. His stride is all but eager, smothering you a deluge of affections that did nothing to satiate his ardor.

Exultation always felt like a brevity to Dazai and yet it seemed universal when you were just within arms reach. Even in the rare taciturnity of passing moments, it was deterred by the grin pasted on him that gave way to his festering emotions. He always regarded himself as a reserved individual, and yet it was nearly painful how his emotions threatened to seep into his demaneor at this moment.

As though feeling his intense lingering gaze, you peeked an eye open, greeted by the benign other. He could feel his pulse hasten, momentarily lapsing from his meticulous control as you fluttered your eyes at him.

" Good morning, 'Samu."

The corner of his eyes wrinkled almost by impulse, empathized by a wave so strong, he struggled to contain himself. A dainty finger reached out to mindlessly trail around your face, curling your bangs and strands around the digit. Meanwhile, his eyes trailed south to your hand, and he couldn't stop the pronounced twitch that made his lips arcuate.

A ring. A gift only appropriate for you.

The small metallic band rested on your finger, its prescence accentuated wordlessly. Its resplendent surface gleamed and reflected against the intruding rays, meeting his awestruck gaze. It almost fascinated him how a small jewel could betoken the significance of his purdurable cherishes. And just looking at it made him feel more alive.

His own finger mirrored a similar piece, but he was far more beguile seeing it on your finger - knowing he was responsible for placing the object into its proper orientation.

He was thoroughly devoted to you even when he struggled to voice it outloud. But the inability became increasingly marred and exposed a vulnerability only evident to your eyes.

Then again, the depth of his emotions were abundant and the jewel was just a testament of that ceaseless infatuation. Not enough orchestrating, sweet nothings or offerings can properly allude to the accumulation that harbors within his previously wilted chest cavity.

Consider him captivated, entranced, bewitched - through and through wrapped around the finger that housed the representation of his joie de virvre.

Dazai's grin remained intact as his thumb continued to work along the edges of your face - the veracity behind the lineaments palpable.

" Good morning, my love."

-

A/n; srry for 2 dazai in a row, the brainrot was too powerful 😒 I hope this isn't too ooc...

Joie de vivre means - joy of living btw !!

I believe in lovesick dazai and rings have been stuck in my head all night. I wrote this before going to sleep hueueue

Taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @himebwrries

^ if you want to be added let me knowww

[bh-writingdump]

What could be causing this? It can’t be Crest’s magic. Could it? Wouldn’t have the wolf’s tongue have wiped all traces of it. You could still feel their saliva trickling from your cunt.

It had to be something else. What else could’ve Crest done? He… he put something up there… Th eggs, he said they’d kill you by daybreak didn’t he… is this how?

The cool sponge material presses into your cheek. Despite the pleasant tingle it produces on your aching cheek, you can’t help but reach for your cunt. It burns and aches like before. Something thick and slimy oozes out of it. It comes back a murky purple. You’d rather not think of how much it covers you.

How long until your next episode Would you even survive this time?

Your throat closes up as you struggle to breathe. If it weren’t for decades of training beneath your father. Broken leg, illness, mid-breakdown, maybe you would’ve given up there like you had hours before. his monotone voice echoes through your head, “again.”

It’s all you need to drag yourself onto your belly. Away from the comfortable bed. It’s too bright outside the dank cave to tell you much but outside is outside. The cold spring air sends goose pimples all over your skin. You shiver hard.

With your vision still blurry form sleep, you don’t realize what you’re passing until it breathes on you. You freeze. Listening to what sounded like the wind before, actually is something sleeping.

Your body screams to run. You bite down on your lip until it bleeds. Your better than that. all you got to do is wait it out. You wait there for what feels like an eternity.       

Wolf sleeping no more than a few inches from you. just ass you get your wits about you hear sniffing. You lie perfectly still as they sniff from your rear to your feet. Unlike the day before, you realize your whole body is exposed. Their steaming nose presses between your thighs.

Don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove—

They growl, deep and like it was personally offending them. Your body reacts before you can stop, crawling in a mad dash. All you can see is the light at the end of the tunnel. So close. Just as you reach the grass, a weight falls on your back. you cry out as razor sharp claws dig into your flesh.

Flash of images of your rear fill your vision. Some reality of purple ooze gushing out between your legs. in others, it’s covered in blood and bruises. Your begging cries echoing from other memories. Then one you don’t recognize of you with half your face covered in bruises like some topography map, begging for death.

Something thick and warm slides between your thighs. You shudder as you try to keep quiet. Clearly, they aren’t awake. You can’t escape it but if you can transmit an image to trick it into thinking something benign, you could run away.

Another pass of its tongue grazes the burns on your cunt and belly but also clouds your mind. you nearly moan as you force back the arousal. You imagine yourself running on healthy legs far into the forest from the wolf’s perspective. Getting further and further away until you disappear in the underbrush.

By the third time you repeat it, they shift. Panic swelling tightly as they look to you, then the forest. Images of an empty forest reflecting back.

You imagine yourself screaming, blood curdlingly so finally, they rush into the forest.

Covered in saliva, gain. You drag yourself far as you can just to sit outside the cave. Any further you’d lose yourself in the flickering panic the wolf’s soul keeps transmitting to yours.

It’s forlorned howls filling the forest.

You check yourself again. the sludge leaking from your cunt’s thinning out. you can’t feel the cramps either but static dances along your skin, making your hairs stand on end. It wouldn’t be long until the shocks are back.

If you stay here, the wolf may decide your better meal than a chew toy. On the other hand, the aches in your stomach had only gotten worse, running you hand over the swollen surface, you realize it’s not from bruises. It’s uneven, like you’ve got something filling your stomach.

As you do, the foreign objects glow an eerie green yellow. You press into them, watching them flicker and glow as they bounce into each other, like watching someone scoop calamari.

You want to shout and curse but the wolf may hear it.

This could be worse. The eggs could be hatching and you’d be dead. You can fix this.

Another ache spread across your stomach. One of the eggs swell so large it’s the size of a baseball now. you feel the disgusting thing shove another egg out of place. It pops into your cunt with enough force you fish out its smaller compatriot. It didn’t burn so bad touching your cunt.

Seeing the egg on the other hand.. beneath the moon, its yellow shimmer grows brighter. Within, you spy a grey worm wriggling against its bloated egg sack. A tiny inverted heart positioned in what would be its chest.

Pitch the thing as hard as you can. It hits a nearby tree, bursting like a water balloon. If only you had da wire hanger. Or… some leverage. If you could beat them out. you crawl along the wall to nearby boulder. Lifting yourself off the ground as far as you can, you arch your back and lam back into it. grunting as you knock all the air out of you, nearly puking.

You try again and again, only feeling a single egg emerge back in your canal, none popped. In fact, more joined, swelling your belly further.

Your already exhausted. There’s sure to be thirty more. shocks run aong your left arm, spazzing it out. forcing you to lift yourself with one arm.

It’s then you hear a growl from behind you.

“Shit.” You gasp, feeling it smell between your legs. with a shudder, you glance down, watching it poke at the egg with its muzzle before growling. You stare at it a long while, hand on your twitching belly, how it gurgles or maybe you’re managing it. “Guess I won’t be your chew toy for long after all.

The wolf’s eye lights contract into pinpricks.

You roll your eyes as worry and panic resonates through your soul. “Oh cry me a river.” You limp b ack toward the forest. You got a step or two before they lightly clamp down on your arm. Not hard enough to do more than scratch the skin but if you fight, it would tear into you.

Flashing visions of their tongue between your legs, the feeling of it winding it’s way up you, leaving you breathless. You feel between your legs. nothing’s there but you still felt the wolf’s tongue, your tongue moving through narrow canals until it reaches a dead end, filled with eggs. Pricking the delicate surface, they pop easily. As the wolf pulls out, so doesn’t’ your stomach deflate. A horny satisfaction fills the wolf as images of them licking and cleaning up every part of you fill your head.

“Enough.” You croak.

The vision lapses, you’re staring back into the canine’s gaze. Eager and waiting for something. “You think you can get them out.” It stares dumbly back, licking at its chops. You take a cautious step back. “No, you have to---” Wait, you need to do the thing. But.. if its to understand, you’ll have to envision every detail down to the fucking to get the eggs out. One that doesn’t potentially end with you getting eaten.

You imagine yourself holding your thighs open as their tongue burrow into you. No reaction from you but looking away once leaned the eggs out. the wolf and you walk separate ways.

No sooner had you finished, the wolf growls in warning. You see yourself wandering the forest alone. No clothes, your belly aching, weak from starvation, a cougar stalks you. its muscular shoulders shifting slowly, not needing to run to catch up too you. Just waiting for you to drop.

You drop to the earth. It felt so real. You’d be fine. you’d get away.

Another vision takes over. this time you find food. A shadow comes over you. You look up to find a giant harpy clawing at you. You imagine yourself running but no matter how hard you run it gets you. tearing you apart, over and over again.

The visions don’t stop there.

Starvation.

Dehydration.

Then more predators. The wolf must’ve cycled through a dozen predators before you fell. You imagine a wall around yourself. Something nobody could get through. You watch as hundreds of those harpy skeletons descend on your head, hammering at, a spiderweb of cracks cover it. only for a wolf to burst out from nowhere. Mot of the harpies flee but those who don’t, the wolf gobbles up.

The wolf waits at your feet. Lying in wait until the next predator comes

Crest.

A horrid terror grips you so hard you try to make a dozen shields thick but nothing enough. He easily steps though. You back up into the stone wall. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you stare in horror.

You didn’t see what happened next thing you know, a big boney face presses into yours. Its breathing calming slow from your frantic gasps. You try to claw away. your body screams. “HE’S COMING!”

But the wolf remains, nuzzling away the nightmare. Not pushing. Just being there. Even as the tremors grow, it whines but doesn’t move.  you cling to yourself, trying to get under control, trying to make the awful feeling stop but all you can see is him. His hands around your neck, fucking you, putting things in you while you slept. You scream. So loud your ears ring as you hold yourself.

All of a sudden, you don’t feel your body. Dry grass fills your vision. It drifts in the breeze, interspersed with lupine, Indian paint brush, tiger lily, and all manner of daisies. Besides you, you see a skeleton humanoid with a canine skull for a head. they sit beside you, watchful of the rolling grain. The reassuring weight of their hand on your shoulder eases your racing heart.

For a split second, you see yourself through their eyes. smiling tiredly up at him. wrinkles worried into your skin at the edges but less pronounced than they are in reality.

Then you’re staring from yourself again. it isn’t reality. Our mind knows but your body refuses to listen. Some part of you stays, resting against his shoulder, watching some buzzard circle a distant carcass. The warm wind kisses your cheek like an old friend.

When the skeleton’s hand moves  to pull you against them, you realize you feel safe enough to close your eyes. When you do, it’s like opening them again.

Your sprawled out over his snout, face buried between their eyes. you shudder, pulling back but as soon as you break contact, the overwhelming dreadful panic returns. Even knowing the pain in your body regardless, you latch back on.

Your mind wonders. They’ll eat you anyway. why does it matter? You must’ve though tit too hard since another vision hits you, brief of them spitting you out.

“You’ll get bored.”

But looking up at them, you don’t see that hunger like before. Camly watching you, eyes half lidded, yet their eye lights sharp.

Tentatively, you try again. Imagining yourself from the wolf’s perspective slowly spreading your cunt’s lips still pensive, like they’d breath on you wrong and break you. The wolf gradually lowers themselves., lapping, watching, when you tense slapping the ground, they pause, nod, they go.

Gradually, the wolf works themselves into you lots of saliva, springing all the while. once the eggs get dispatched, they move just as slow before resting beside you. you pat their nose.

You feel something uncoil in your chest, stronger than usual.

You reach for your cunt, spreading it. They suddenly dive, you slam your legs shut, growling back. “HEEL.”

They whine, but back up, licking your feet.

You imagine it again.

This time, they move slower.

You shiver as their hot breath rolls over your cunt. You claw into the soft earth, grabbing a stick to gnaw on.

Nothing happens, long enough you look up to se them watching you.

Were they waiting? You nod.

They duck down, slowly lapping at your cunt. You bite down harder on the stick, clawing into the ground as you r whole body trembles, fighting the desire to give into it. Thankfully, they don’t take long. it’s not as thick as you remember. Glancing down, you shudder seeing Wolf’s rosy tongue split into three. Two holding open your cunt while another working its way inside. Despite being smaller, it’s still thicker than the highest dick you’ve taken. You gasp as it presses into your cunt’s lips. you try to relax. Thankfully, you don’t have to. With all the saliva constantly sluffing off, it’s enough to slip inside.

It squeezes in like a rat into a tiny hole, expanding further in and amn, with every thrust, saliva gushes down your ass more than you remember.

Oh fuck.. this was a bad idea.

Worry pulses through your soul. a vision grips you of wolf pulling out.

“Don’t’ you dare.” You snarl.

They start to. You imagine them thrusting hard back in, focusing on popping the eggs.

Nothing happens for an agonizing few seconds, you wonder if they’d prefer eating you filled with eggs.

You don’t have much time to think about it as those tongue work into you. one curling around your clit while the other stuffing your cunt like a plush. You shudder, tears brought to your eyes.

All of a sudden, it stops. The panic of being torn apart drops to manageable levels. A worrying intent pulses through you.

You nod.

The worry still there but it keeps going. By the end, you watch as a rosy tongue glows in your bell. It’s slender as if it had to stretch itself thin to get there. the baseball size eggs bounce around each other.

The first one deflates make you sigh but the more that pop, the more you wonder how all this foul magic would get out. you must’ve envisioned it for the wolf again since a vision came back of wolf’s tongues pumping you full of saliva until all of the egg’s juices were flushed out.

You can’t help but laugh. It’s the they start to pull out. you can help the appreciative moan as the suction pulls at you. You watch your stomach rapidly shrink. Gallons of egg juice slip out of you. Only a single egg left in your belly. a little indentation.

Too tired, you don’t’ get a chance to think as they lick your ass. So much so your ass comes off the ground. You gasp as all of a sudden the slender tongue wriggles up your cunt.

You shoot up, babbling. “En-fmmm,” You groan as English fails you. It wriggles teasingly as another tongue curls around your clit. You can barely think as the two work their magic on you. The egg in your belly somehow misses the tongue whipping around. the more its up there, the more ruby red saliva is pumped into you. You’re stomach swells slightly but more you feel it cascade down your legs. you groan at the fullness, attempting too get up only to flop onto their snout. You feel something rushing down only to come back up.

Leading the wolf’s thrusting more rapidly in and out to get it. it’s all you can do to ride it. “wolf.. pwease, not.. too… fast.” You groan like a bitch in heat.

It’d never felt so painless with so much lubricant, even his thicker tongues easily slide in and out of you. Your ass bouncing on the ground as it pumps you full of juices until your sure that the egg as escaped again.

By this point, your well past stimulation. Your body throbbing tensing hard as you groan. The tongue’s pause, the wolf’s eyes widen as they extract themselves from you. hard given how hard you’re holding on. Only once your cunt let go, are you able to set them free. You giggles as you crash onto your back. “heh. think ya. m… broke me.. hahah..” your eyes slide open and shut. Your body so much, your amazed you don’t’ slip between his teeth where he picks you up. All the while saliva and egg juice spirting out of you like an over shaken soda. When you hit the moss, you curl into it. Wolf presses themselves to you.

Your stomach, sending another chaotic gushing spray out. you groan, by the end, you’re curled up against them. Their ectoflesh pushing against your cheek as they pull you toward their belly. “I got.. stuff…” You babble, trying to get up only for another arm to covered in warm ectoflesh until it surrounds you. You sigh, been awhile since you were warm as you doze off in a peaceful sleep.

.

.

.

[CS: Medicine] pg 3 -->

[nyxrev]

Tsukuyomi Trilogy

Chapter II: Icarus

A boy who flew too close to the sun

………….————- *Moon Craters Highway radio,

Welcome back. Last time we left off at eugenics and esp tricks. Buckle your seatbelts folks we're about to go downhill. Full throttle ahead with an Eastward turbulence.

“From our surveillance data…” *!!!* **red flag**

…eh? we could't even grasp the battle situation (much less catch any data) on our end though?

With the sisters held hostage, our moon agent releases Demon level monsters from the floor below. Now, exactly how much he knows about the HA floor plan idk, but the extent to which he is familiar with mechanisms of what we can see should already draw concern, if earlier mention of their “data” did not already perk up our ears.

Unfortunately, though execs felt brief confusion they brush off their uneasy sentiment, and soon forget about it as the agent thanks them for the valuable “specimen” and their focus is drawn to money matters.

The fact they don't immediately feel suspicious, nor try to discreetly ask an outsider about how they acquired such extensive data on what was supposed to be so secretive an operation, even their own people could not get data, and are so gullibly unwary of the outsider with undisclosed data to proceed “trades”, not only exposes how desperate for funds they are, it also exposes their catastrophic lack of critical awareness. Smb boutta get caught for gross negligence, except them execs will prolly get let off easy.

See, the world runs on money most luxurious of which often acquired through nefarious means. Sure, money can buy you comfort and security, but comes with an equally expensive cost. Well, you could buy comfort, but you might soon find out you pay for it… For example, perhaps we are already *quite very* familiar with circumstances of compromised critical security… You see…we can't let you have both at once now, can we…

The agent prepares to make his grand exit, and as he juggles the psychic sisters he declares all smug, “nobody would question the de*th of the witch sisters anytime soon, now would they?”

Excuse me young man I wholly disagree. In fact everyone who knows them would question their de* th more than anyone else's for no one would believe they'd go down so easily to some caged monsters. You should know better by now, what with Tatsumaki as an indispensable pillar of HA, and Fubuki an influential figure.

Cosmic Mad Hatter and the Oreo Hoops Boy

…A new party emerges from the suited group…and leaves the fray. Eyelashes shouts, enraged, “so You're the bastard…” who dr—gged Fubuki. Outrageous. Traitor. I mean, can you really call him traitor when he'd always been a spy?

It'd do well for Blizzard regulars to stay together get to know each other well so they can discern who (among them & out) is trustworthy.

Furious, they attack n I realized it's the first time I've seen Eyelashes' we.*pon, I always wondered how he'd fight with a pair of eyelash curlers. Not so benign a cosmetic tool now, eh?

But they're no match for psychic retaliation…Oh and doesn't Mad Hatter look like Choze there? Eyes of eugenic superiority complex.

Fubuki cares about her subordinates and I hope she cares about them as people and not assets, as I'm sure they each can learn and grow strong enough to hold their own, to truly help her grow as a person as well.

At the critical moment, Saitama crashes out of the monster den with his usual punch, shock on every face present, but distraction is fatal for an agent on mission and Tatsumaki seizes an open defence to strike. As expected, she would never let herself be compromised for naught.

“Found it” she reclaims autonomy…and oh how the tables have turned. All while she was bound, she located the p!ll. Smart.

silent agent panic “the capsule won't react…!?” Of course not, once Tatsumaki has control, you will never be able to reclaim control over it. Behold her power and precision, amateur.

What happens next, we all know. He gets gently poked 3x by 1 lil p!ll n-—-dle.

Excellent now your brilliant plan backfired most disastrously, you*&*your cult is humiliated, and I'm stuck here with you for the next 24hr as you try to rush to a psychic hospital if it even exists.

Why did he turn two shades darker as he teeter-totters two steps away from de*th, oh pois0ned bl*-*d mb. Tbh, at first I thought mb the p!ll was just sleep, and he said it had poison to bluff, but his pitiful state now, doesn't look too well. Hope you not allergic or got antidote for whatever it is

“Look I'll have you spit out all you know about Tsukuyomi later, you hear me” Now you rly see and feel the terror of tornado, right next to you.

I, too, want to t0rment you gently, for you made the most careless mistakes and lost your prizes.

Fly next to the Sun too keen and get burnt.

As Tatsumaki, at full threat, makes our poor fool of an agent spill the beans I can't help but recall an uncanny similarity between Apollo and Amai when he got poked by Do-S. Look at him, vessels emerged, almost monstrous.

Makes you wonder what they did to them, what happened under the kn!fe to get their artificially activated psychic power and how they maintain or strengthen it, right? I wouldn't be surprised if they did contact God on the Moon to get power or try to anyway. Maybe some of them, artificial psychics, are even monsterized for their hunger for power. Just a stray thought but I do wonder.

Now Apollo's mission to the Moon is honourably jeopardized, his failure might get him fired who knows, but Tatsumaki rightly spares no pity nor mercy and not only keeps enemy compromised but gets the job done thorough and through, all the way to the last precautionary step.

The spy, he manages to slip out of house arrest, but gets no pass and is thrown on the wall most gracefully as he makes meagre attempt to run.

My humour is broken as Garou's hut but I found it funny he just went “Bu-” … if you squint extra hard his knocked out form might even look a lil bit like the shape of ぶッ bahaha

On a serious note, I didn't expect Tsukuyomi to get their prizes or even escape unscathed, but I did wish they proved trickier to defeat, not* bc I want to see Tatsumaki suffer (MA was :'|) but bc I want to see her be decently challenged, not to traumatic extent, but by what challenges her to problem solve and use her smarts as well as but more than brute strength. To see her grow from catalytic challenges or experiences, so she is no longer so stubborn to fend for herself, her sister & co. alone, but can learn to work with and trust others, like we saw with Genos.

Let's stop here for now. Next chapter will be the last. It is short, but I should like to address what will prompt more questions than answers.

…^^^vroom vroom zoomies on highway to hell*

Pardon my weird amount of text censors. It got flagged or whatever it's called last time n idk what triggers the algorithm so. I had to crop out the first two panels of the scene where he got backfired literally cuz idk if photos also trigger the system. But the first two were most obvious similarity to Amai's broken mask so ifykyk

[runelocked]

& - small animatronic lion is worried about her creator totally benign acquaintance.

HE DOESN'T REMEMBER FALLING ASLEEP. IT DOESN'T REALLY COME AS A SURPRISE: he's been getting more comfortable here over the past few weeks, slowly coming around to animatronics again . . . Well, he really means Dandie specifically. Maybe it's because she's still so familiar, even with the gloss and shine - maybe it's because she feels safe, like the doodles he'd created of her back when he'd been a child and all alone in the world. Either way, his exhaustion has been catching up with him, and he doesn't remember drifting off but he does remember waking:

A HAND ON HIS ARM TRACING OVER BONE WHITE SCARS FROM NOT ONE BUT TWO SETS OF SPRINGLOCKS AND HE REMEMBERS THE PAIN THE HORROR OF EXISTENCE TRYING TO SCREAM AND HIS THROAT CLOGGING WITH BLOOD AND THE PAIN AND HE REMEMBERS cringing back from her ( them it's them they're coming to repay what he's done to them and he can't move ) and his heart almost exploding out of his chest.

He hasn't been this afraid in a very long time.

Doesn't really comprehend who is touching him, but his body has seized up anyway. His arm ( bare ) ( exposed ) ( vulnerable ) trembles, and other than that and the look on his face, outwardly he seems unaffected. Still half asleep, the words that leave his lips are the plea of a child a lot younger than who he is now --

" Don't hurt me. "

[aamaranthiine]

The strangeness of the evening is not lost on her, and the prickle of discomfort in the air is not only on Elio's part. Thea feels exposed in the simple shirt and pants she wore, more skin on display than what she typically allows whilst under anyone's scrutiny. An errant thought of weaving a glamour comes and goes; she's not going to waste energy on something so benign. It's rare that her eyes are ever direct and even now, she seems to be looking elsewhere - but keeping her employer within her field of sight all the same.

Thea could make the trek back to her own room to wash and that was her initial intent, but Crocodile's offer to bathe here takes her by surprise. An answer sticks to the roof of her mouth, due in part to the continued sense of awkwardness tangling in the air between them. "All the same, this is not the norm for me." Said in regards to his experience dealing with similar, or worse situations. The artificer is far considered a very peaceful individual by most.

The way he fumbles over offering her help, offering kindness, does tempt something of a smile to her face. This is so very very odd for them. "A bath here would be convenient and appreciated," she finally says placidly, "as well as having you nearby were I to accidentally drown myself." A touch of humor in the words but still they ring morbidly true; she is a devil fruit user and the chances of drowning in bathwater were probable.

This wasn’t the norm for them. His gaze lingered for a moment upon the splotches of blood that still clung to her skin. Iron filtered through the air, mingling awkwardly with the scent of cloves. His head tilted; does he dare ask…? No, offer. “You should bathe.” He states simply, nearly grimacing at his own tone. “My quarters are attached to this office, you could use my bathroom to clean up.” 

It felt odd, to offer such an intimate gesture. But something about this situation managed to put him off kilter, moreso than normal. Sighing softly as he leaned down, the golden hook scooped up the soiled garments. “You’ve no reason to apologize. I’ve seen far worse walk through those doors- and I myself have walked in looking far worse than this.” Reassurance, that was necessary for such a situation, yes? Certainly. 

“If you… Require help with the blood- in your hair, I mean.” Ah, shit, he isn’t good at this. “I’ve only got one hand, but, three hands would be better than none…?” His gaze settled on the glass, watching the wani lazily swim by. He felt judged by their passive gazes. How dare they judge him? He’s simply trying to be nice.

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #16

[masterlist] [part one] [part three] [part four]

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Bruce sat in the bat cave, long after he'd sent his kids to bed. In his hands were the batarangs Phantom had gifted him. They were unnaturally cold in his hands, but the chill never became painful. In fact, it was strangely almost comforting.

Thinking back on Phantom, Bruce wasn't sure what to make of their meeting. The kid seemed to be a few years younger than Tim, and had all but told them he was being hunted. Phantom had come to them seeking protection from someone, or multiple someones, for himself and four others, most of which were kids. On one hand, it made his heart ache, knowing these kids had to run from their previous homes, their "haunt". On the other hand, Phantom's genuine belief that they were something beyond human was obvious and more than a bit unsettling (he ignored the part of him that reveled in that belief, the part that had him on edge before an Arkham breakout, the part that saw Phantom and whispered "other, different, like me".)

His kids had held similar reservations, though they'd all agreed Phantom wasn't a threat. His gifts, though obviously magical and not human in nature, had felt benign and were reasonably well thought out, and though the level of research each gift had symbolized was slightly worrying, Babs had assured them she'd closed all the holes in their internet security those gifts had exposed. In the end, they'd all agreed to honor Phantom's request for refuge. The kid's relief was profound and practically soul deep, which reassured Bruce they'd made the right choice.

As Bruce fiddled with his new batarangs, which held a very faint green sheen at the edges, he remembered the moment his "feeling" had reached its peak. Something had changed, something big, when he'd accepted Phantom's gifts. He still didn't know what, exactly, had happened, but he'd felt some sort of shift in the energy Gotham exuded, in his children, in him. He had felt the sense of connection between him and his children grow ever so slightly stronger, and he knew they'd felt it, too.

Bruce flipped the batarang in his dominant hand and caught it with ease, returning it to the holster with a sigh. Whatever Phantom was, whoever he was running from, whatever his presence meant for his family, and Gotham as a whole, Bruce had a feeling they'd be crossing paths with him again soon.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Danny phased invisibly into his and Jazz's apartment, turning human as he sat at the table with a thoughtful frown on his face. Jazz looked over at him from the stove, a questioning look on her face, though she didn't pry, which he was thankful for. He needed to gather his thoughts before he explained what had happened tonight.

When Jazz placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, Danny took a deep breath. "You owe Sam ten bucks," he started, smiling at Jazz's soft curse. "Condor is definitely connected to death, but they're equally connected to life, and the only being or creature we know of that is perfectly balanced between life and death, that isn't a halfa, is a phoenix. They also don't have that slimy, necromantic feel liches are supposed to."

Jazz hummed as she swallowed her mouthful. "What about the others? How close were we on our guesses of them?"

"Well, Batman is definitely a guardian deity, and Gotham is definitely his territory. Ibis, who I actually interacted with, was also spot on, definitely a kitsune. You should have seen them move, Jazz, it was almost ethereal how gracefully they moved. Oh, and Starling? Definitely at least related to banshees. I don't think they're a true banshee, because that connection to death wasn't there, but they're at least related to banshees." Danny paused to take a few bites before continuing. "I think Signal is a Will-o'-the-wisp, actually. You know how I thought they'd be a vengeful spirit? Having been in their presence, I gotta say, not very vengeful. Very mischievous, somewhat malicious, but mostly protective, strangely enough. Same with Raven, they practically ooze protective vibes, along with some very pointed trickster energy. I think Raven might be some sort of protection based deity, under Batman's authority, with strong trickster leanings, which is an interesting mix in my opinion. Oh, and Robin is definitely fae, they've got a very ethereal look to them, paired with their grace and general mischievousness, there's no doubt. BlackBat is more difficult to say. I think they're either a shape changing shadow wolf or otherwise just living shadows. Even when they were illuminated by my glowy self, I could barely see them. It was trippy, I'll tell you that much right now."

They continued eating in silence for a bit before Jazz asked, "So am I signing the full lease tomorrow, or are we moving on?"

Danny grinned. "Oh no, we're good. Batman actually told me to get the others here as soon as possible." His grin mellowed to a small, warm smile. "I think he's worried about them, Jazz. When I mentioned only two of us were currently in Gotham because the others weren't able to come with us when we left, he asked if we needed help getting them here. He seemed to relax when I told him we had a plan and that they were just waiting for the go-ahead from our end."

"Are you going to call them after we finish dinner, then?" Jazz asked, taking another bite.

Danny nodded. "Yeah, Ellie will grab them in the middle of the night. They'll wait until morning with Frostbite before portaling in so we can get the lease signed." He paused, stirring his spaghetti absentmindedly as he thought. "I think," he started haltingly. "I think the bat clan aren't actually aware they're not human."

Jazz paused, spaghetti falling off her fork and back into her bowl as she stared at him in shock. "What do you mean, how could they not know their own natures? You guys pegged them as eldritch beings as soon as you discovered them, they have to know!"

"I don't know, they just. They didn't seem to understand why I was giving them gifts or behaving the way I was. They also looked very confused at a few of my gifts, like they weren't sure why I'd chosen that specific thing for them, even though it makes sense for what kind of being they are!" Danny huffed. Then he sighed. "If they don't actually know what they are, then someone needs to explain it to them. They deserve to know what they are, especially because some of their species have very specific instincts that could be very confusing, even terrifying, for someone who thinks they're human. I... Should I offer to teach them more about themselves next time I see them?"

Jazz looked at him with a small smile. "If you think they'd be receptive to it, I think that'd be for the best, especially if you're right about them thinking they're human. I highly doubt we'll be the only Fright to seek asylum here, after all."

Danny nodded. "Then tomorrow night, I'll make the offer. If we get kicked out because I offend them, then at least we'll all be together."

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

This would have been longer, or at least done sooner, if I hadn't had an ocular migraine come out of nowhere earlier today (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) but after a two hour nap, I could actually see again, so I was finally able to get to work on this ficlet! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ I had a lot of fun coming up with what the members of the Batfam had managed to become due to the entire city believing them to not be human (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) Jason was fun, cuz I hadn't really thought about what exactly liches were before, so when I realized that Voldemort from Harry Potter was basically a textbook lich, I knew I had to change my initial plan for Jason (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ but hey, now he gets super strength and the ability to heal himself from anything, including death! Much better than being able to create essentially undead thralls lol (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

I'm seriously hoping to continue this into at least one more part, with the Bats coming to terms with and learning more about their new supernatural status, possibly even the Justice League initiating contact with the distinctly not human protectors of Gotham, but we'll have to see what prompts I find (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

OH! ALSO! I'm so close to reaching 200 followers! When I do, I'm thinking of celebrating somehow, but I'm not sure what to do. If any of you have any ideas, please, let me know! I might take your suggestion to heart (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ also, if I get to 260 by the 26th of this month, I'll do another celebration lol

Y'all are awesome, thank you so much! I've got some more people who asked to be tagged in this continuation, so here's hoping I get them all again! @airis-hunter, @little-pondhead, @stealingyourbones, @crystallicedart, @summerfox1988, @minnesota-fats, @edgemcjee, @fire-glass, @f4nd0m-fun, I think you all asked to be tagged (or at least heavily implied it) if I continued my fake cryptids real ghosts au, so here ya go!

Have a good morning/day/night!

[teabreakpancakes]

Kinktober: Day Ten

Spoiled Rotten (Service Dom Ron Molan x Sub GN Reader)

age gap, master-servant relationship, spoiling!

"Young master, or, should I say little one instead?" Ron spoke, gloved hands firmly grasping their shoulders. A soft whimper leaves their mouth, cowering under the older man's gaze.

Don't get the butler wrong, he loved his wife but eventually, he had to let go and move on. While running away, he happened to be found by their father—a deal was formed between them: the lord would take them in and in return, Ron and Beacrox would work for him. Luckily for Ron, he was assigned to the lovely and meek youngest child of the lord.

Ron grew to love his little master but, his thoughts often drifted towards more... unbecoming topics. Instead of seeing them as a little cub he had to raise, he often saw them as his very own little darling to shower in soft praise, guiding them and slowly paving way into their heart.

He knew it was wrong to indulge in his desires, he should feel ashamed. But when he saw you being so desperate for release in your bedroom, soft sobs of his name leaving your lips as you touched yourself, he couldn't bear to leave you alone to your own devices.

"Little master, this butler apologises for his insolence but, my attention was called upon hearing my name" Ron interrupts with his benign smile, causing their hands to still as a soft but loud yelp leaves their lips.

"Mr. Ron, y, you were here?" they stuttered, using their blanket to cover their exposed nether regions. The pink decorating their cheeks grows darker when they realise that the older man could've heard everything.

"'m sorry for getting caught doing such a thing—" Ron moved closer in the blink of an eye, shushing his master. "Don't apologise little one, I'm alright with that but," he paused, moving his gloved hand to cup their cheek, "I'm not alright with you not informing me about your.. problem" he scolded lightly, brown eyes boring into their own.

"I could've been helping you all this time and yet you didn't tell me" he said, disappointment heavy in his voice. (Name) pouted, "It's not as if it's easy to tell you" they muttered, looking away.

Ron chuckled, ripping away the blanket covering their body. "H, Hey, why'd you do that?" they questioned, almost shrieking. "I can't help if you don't show me little one" he eyes their milky skin hungrily, salivating at the sight of their twitching sex and sensitive hole.

"Little master, do you want me to continue?" Ron asks, wanting to hear them consent. Consent is very important in his eyes after all. (Name) swallows nervously, nodding their head.

The butler cocks his head, sighing. "If you don't answer me verbally, it does not count little one" he adds, eyes narrowing. (Name) swallows nervously, looking away. They whisper something inaudibly at first before meeting their butler once more.

"P, Please Ron, touch me all over and m, make me feel good please" they pleaded, pulling on his tie to close the distance between them. Their breath hitches in their throat when the older man's breath fans their face, the faint aroma of sweet tea entering their nose.

A flash of shock appears in Ron's eyes when they pull him in for a kiss. Quickly regaining his composure, he slowly pushed them down onto their bed, supporting their back with their lips still intertwined.

He reaches up into their shirt, pinching and toying with their nipples. Soft moans are drawn out from their mouth with each gentle tug and pinch.

Ron parts from their lips, a smirk tugging at his mouth when the action elicits a soft but needy whine to escape their lips. "Don't worry dear, I'll make sure to spoil my needy little prince/princess" he cooed, pecking their forehead lovingly.

The older man lowered himself, lifting up their shirt and sucking on their nipple. Pleasured moans and whines fell endlessly from their mouth, gently tugging on Ron's white and brown hair.

Ron sneaks another hand between their legs, relishing in their soft squeals as he worms a finger into their warmth. He continues until three fingers are inside, making sure to give their nipples and the rest of their body just as much attention.

He scatters kisses all over their body, smiling at their broken words and moans. "There there little one, you can cum, cum for me sweet thing" he cooed.

With a high pitched cry, they climaxed, tightening their grip on his suit. He plants kisses all over their face, whispering soft praise.

As soon as Ron attempted to stand in order to get a towel, they pulled on his sleeve. With a curious stare, Ron eyes them.

(Name) shyly points to his aching member, confined in his pants. "I... I wanna have that in me, I wanna help you" they spoke up, voice getting quieter with each word as their face burns a pretty shade of red.

Ron smiles, chuckling with his velvety baritone voice. "Alright then, but.. I'm a bit well endowed so I do wonder if it'll fit into that tiny hole of yours" he rasps out, lust dripping from each word.

@mirology

[yslkook]

UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

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

Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

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

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,” You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

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

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[athyathye]

Motives

Some possessive and or suggestive moments with

(Koko, Izana and Ran)

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of gun, blood and dead bodies, crude behavior, violence and more

Author's note 📝: this is still sfw! Hehe~

Koko :

Hands on your waist, the both of you swayed to the music being played.

Koko in a suit was a sight, but both of you in such formal attire was something to admire.

People around the area watched, Some jealous of you and some jealous of him, but no one could deny the chemistry you both had.

“How much do you think I could swindle from that loser” He just had to ruin the regal vibe you two were showcasing. Nodding in a specific area you turned towards where he pointed, seeing a man as old as the grand piano that was currently being played, glancing at you in a not-so-innocent way.

You crinkle your nose at the thought of him profiting off an idiot when you were enjoying your time. Making people turn their heads to your direction

While you did boast around the fact that only you could manage to leash Koko, he was still the same money-seeking fool he was.

You sighed, “I’m going to the bathroom.” You said curtly, not bothering to turn your head back at him as you went to freshen yourself up.

Though what you didn’t expect to see when you came back was a person and a whole other group of people clinging themselves onto the smiling figure of your significant other.

“Ladies, settle down, I’ll get to your offers.” He said charmingly, going as far as to bring a finger down an insignificant girl’s chin.

Fed up with the bullsh*t he was doing, you walked towards them, the girls looking at you up and down with fake smiles on them, manicured nails blocking their mouths when they talked to the person behind them.

“Oh hey baby~ These girls apparently needed a business partner, and you know I can’t live with myself not helping, Where would my dignity as man be” Lies.

For girls strung up in high society they seemed to be as generic and blunt as their designer shoes and fake personalities.

You watched as another girl put her hand on Koko’s exposed upper chest, revealing his smooth creamy skin, glistening just slightly from the light.

You rolled your eyes, opting to give him the silent treatment before you felt a hand pull you by your waist.

You looked towards the unfamiliar presence, seeing the gray-haired man Koko wanted to rip off.

Before you could say something else the familiar sound of a gun being clicked was heard.

“Get your dirty f*cking hands off her. Touching something that isn’t yours, I’ll put a damn hole in between your eyes. Wanna lose an eye grandpa as well, grandpa?”

Izana :

For someone who claimed to hate people in general, it was a surprise when he willingly hosted and organized a formal party.

Celebrating the partnerships and deals that he and his loyal followers were offered, a fitting party for a high-ranked individual...though it was acquired from illicit activities.

There he was, having a conversation with a few of the most influential people in the business, formal and polite, A huge difference from the usual rowdy and wild persona he had.

Though you could see the half-assed smiles and slithery tongue he was exhibiting. He truly wasn’t one to be messed with, and he showed them why.

“I must say, you seem quite the capable person Mr. Kurokawa” An old man with a benign smile had said, his stance showing complete power and money. He reeked of arrogance and pride, but he had the right to be those values.

“What do you take me for Sir. I never do things half assed.” As Formal looking as he was, he couldn’t seem to get rid of his crude tongue, those which he used to taunt his enemies on the ground, to underhandedly motivate others and to mock those below and above him.

“Ha, Though I must say, your woman is absolutely gorgeous, fitting for a young and competent man like yourself.” Another had spoken up, rings adorning almost every finger on his right hand. “Where did you find her?”

The polite smile was wiped off from his face, “Huh?” He spoke eerily, a complete contrast from his rather bright looking appearance earlier.

“Surely, you can’t find a young woman such as herself on the streets.” The man continued, watching the Izana’s expression morph into one of distaste, obvious by his slightly squinting eye.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, ready to take on some highly conceited bozo on your behalf. Smiling in a way that he knew wasn’t polite.

Before the man could reply, The topic of their conversation appeared. “Contrary to popular belief monsieur,” You spoke from behind them, not flinching from the way they looked down at you.

“I know what I want, And I always get what I want.” You declared with a smile that could make any man willingly kneel for you.

You grabbed Izana’s tie, forcefully pulling him to you as you side-eyed the grown men, a sly smile replaced your smile as you gently pressed your hand on Izana’s chest this time.

The rising anger of Izana had depleted, focusing on the way you held him. As if he was hypnotized by you from the very beginning.

“Is that so?” The condescending looks made you feel snappy, though you were a great actress...as well as the best in stirring trouble. Though this time it was Izana who spoke.

“Out of curiosity, if you had to kill one friend to save the others, who would you pick?”

Ran :

Being one of the few women at the top of a male-dominated field, it was no question why you were highly sought after.

As mesmerizing as the night sky while also being as mysterious and stealthy, everybody wanted to unravel you, yearning to have you under them, to covet you, to know the full truth of the mystery that was you.

And though Ran was not like those other men, he too couldn’t help but bewitched by the rumors and aura you exhibited.

He first saw you at a business party, one that he attended with the rest of the Bonten members, catching a glimpse of your sultry form.

The way you smoothly entered without anybody noticing you, to the way you attracted all eyes on you once you were seated.

You were like a magnet, one that he could tell would repel from anyone else who wasn’t worthy.

Though he never did advances on you, Not because he didn’t want to, but because you seemed to leave a trail of blood of the men who tried to chain you.

He knew better than to endanger his and his brother’s life. After all, whatever the other sibling was involved, the other would follow.

They were loyal to no one else but each other.

But that was before their plan to dominate the whole of Japan’s underworld.

Blood was shed, bodies were piled up, the agonizing screams of the b*stards who overlooked them were what filled the chilling atmosphere.

Ran was walking around with his brother, enjoying the stench of power they had claimed in one night.

That was when they saw your masked figure skillfully fighting against their men, managing to easily injure and immobilize three at the same time.

That was when he decided to finally make a move. As he walked he waved a hand back at his brother, urging him to leave them to which of course he did.

“It’d be a shame, if something were to happen to that pretty little face of yours.” He spoke, hands inside his pocket as he watched the deep crimson splattered on your dress.

“You know...the last person who tried to talk to me was found in some ditch near the coast of Maine.” Taking off your metal masquerade mask that was sharp enough to be a weapon, you glanced at him.

Eyes red and glaring as you looked at him with a smile that could be described as psychotic.

“I wonder, you still have all of your fingers...but I can fix that!” Your hands finding its way to your face, glancing at him in a way you knew could make a grown man cry or have a nosebleed.

“Well then, I’d gladly take up on your offer...to fix a night with me that is. Less bloody and more of us letting our bodies talk.”

[singlecelledthot]

🗣RONNIE!!! May I have Kuai’s titties drenched him in his own cum😬

💕I may have taken this a whole different direction than intended, but I promise, you get what you asked for!💕

Whisper, Whisper!- Solo Tundra/Kuai Liang (mentions of Fem!Reader) Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, solo male, pining, edging, Summary: Kuai Liang just can't keep it in anymore, you're driving him fucking crazy.

Tags: @lilliannmac @icy-spicy

Quietly, Kuai Liang stole into his room, pushing his way into privacy at last. Outwardly, Kuai was taciturn as he began the arduous process of removing his armor. His fingers worked slow and steady, pulling leather straps, tugging off strings and belts and letting each hardened piece of armor slide off to the floor. It wasn’t until he was left in his basics; unrestrained by claustrophobic gear, and sat down on the edge of his sleeping cot, that his jaw muscle quivered. He clenched his teeth, working them against each other as the roiling emotions in his belly churned up into his throat, threatening to gag him.

Would your cruelty know no end?

The entire day you both had gone about business as usual. He performing his duties with the Lin Kuei in training, patrolling to the grounds and attending the Grandmaster when summoned. And you, spending your time strapping fighters with tape, bandaging wounds and reorganizing and scheduling (bullying) young assassins into their physicals. As a medical authority in the clan, you always had a reason to put your hands on him, and at first it had been benign for the both of you. But as the months rolled into years, you two had somehow managed to grow close, stranger still that you both did so without the normally stilted way that he flirted with women getting in the way. Almost every encounter now, three years after you had first met, was fraught with some sort of temptation. He delighted in your touch, your whispers as you purred innuendo into his ear when you would bandage his injuries. You would always teased then retreat, laughing and smiling in a way that found his eyes glued to the soft swell of your bottom lip. He smiled rarely, flirted back even less, but always spoke softly, never chasing you from his close proximity with coldness or the blunt superiority people like his brother and Sketor threw around. No, it was clear he wanted you there, at his side, with your hands soothing the pain from his body---and yet.

Lately it had been altogether too much, and not enough. You lingered, growing more bold, sneaking touches even in mixed company where the act would cause sweat to bead at the back of his neck each time your fingers ghosted over his skin. It had slowly begun to strain him, pulling him taut like a piano wire, poised to snap with the vicious twang of a clever finger.

Who could have foreseen that, that day was the final stroke that sealed his fate?

You had tutted over him as you always did, fussing at either his carelessness or his sparring partner’s foolishness. This time it had been a spar with Bi-Han that had done it, coming in the form of a back hand landing on his jaw so hard Kuai's neck had snapped to the side and sent him sprawling. When his ears stopped ringing he overheard the harsh trill of your voice barking out at the more subdued tone of his brother. Kuai had blinked away the momentary loss of consciousness, sat up and was immediately set upon by you now that you had taken your pound of flesh from Bi-Han. Your hands were on his face in seconds, stroking along his jaw where he’d been hit, tapping gently on his scalp and through his hair--the sound he made was easily passed off as a groan of pain and he made no move to speak in agreement or otherwise.

“Tundra,” Were your eyes always this bright? “I cannot believe you would go out of your way to ignore me when I TELL you not to do full contact directly after a mission.” Were your fingers always this warm?

He had blinked owlishly, staring from you to his brother who stood behind you. “I cannot believe that your ability to listen is worse than Sub-Zero’s...” That was what had done it, that one little comment spoken in genuine exasperation. He loved his brother, he never felt lesser when it came to Bi-Han and he had never before experienced jealousy over something so small. It’s how he found himself where he was now, fists clenching so hard his bones creaked.

The wire finally snapped.

Kuai Liang stood up as he kicked a small side table that sat near the head of his cot, sending the object flying across the room to bang against a wall. Clearly broken. He continued on in relative silence, beyond the harshness of his strained breathing, clenching his jaw to keep the shout building in his throat behind his teeth. Pacing back and forth across the length of his room, he recalled how smug Bi-Han looked as you compared the brothers, how your small hand had gripped his sore jaw firmly and you held his gaze as you glared into his very soul. And he throbbed from the want. The sheer desperation for you came upon him like a typhoon, whipping up how he perceived your friendship and smashing it to pieces before settling, and what was left was a fractured and terrible need. His cock lay heavy and thick across his thigh, angled down his pant leg, each time the coarse fabric of his pants slid across his aching flesh, he had to fight the urge to growl. He’d been hard since you grabbed his chin and forced him to hold your eye contact.

How had he not realized how quickly these feelings had been building? How had he not seen this coming from a mile away? How could he have ignored the small ways his body screamed at him to heed it? To pursue you?

It punished him now for his negligence, Kuai let himself lean back heavily on the edge of his cot, palming the painful hardness of his cock. He was breaking, shattering like so many shards of ice across the harsh, stone judgement of your words--your touch.

He tugged the waistband down so that his hefty length could spring free, slapping against his exposed belly with a meaty ‘thwack’. He stared down at himself, taking in the thickness, the throbbing vein along the side that disappeared into the base of his cock. How dearly he wished that it was not by his own hand, but yours, that would relieve this horrible ache. Kuai hesitated for only a moment before he reached down to wrap a fist around his cock and give it an alleviating squeeze. It made his hips buck up to meet the pressure and he had to bite his tongue to stay quiet. His nose crinkled into a silent snarl as he dragged his rough palm down to pull the skin back as taut as it could go, before pulling it all back up to stimulate his already leaking cock head. His breath frosted the air, free hand scrabbling to pull his shirt up to bunch under his chin---for whatever reason the fabric was unbearably hot. With his torso naked, and his hand squeezing pre-cum out of his tip, Kuai Liang sighed your name as tension pooled in his belly.

He knew he’d never be able to withstand your teasing again, foreseeing many nights spent in the state he was currently in, but also finding he did not care. Heat mixed with the ice in his belly, egging him on as his fists set a slow, tight pace along the thick length of his cock. He imagined you, methodically tracing patterns along his veins, stroking the bunched skin beneath his glans--his hips lifted as he pictured your smile as you breathed molten heat against his tip. A promise, or maybe a threat. His eyes slammed shut as his pace increased, he did not have the patience at the moment to tease himself as you would and the fantasy he’d been playing in his mind flew out the window in favor of more heated, frantic visions.

You throating him diligently in some secluded hallway in the barracks. His other hand reached down to give his heavy balls a squeeze.

Your eyes, lidded in desperation as you begged for him not to stop. His head fell back, his hand working an aggressive pace across the entirety of his length, the wet noises of his pre-cum smearing across his skin filled the room.

You, saying his name, a whisper in his ear as he pinned you to a wall and took from your body the pleasure he violently craved…

That was what undid him. His fist pulled down his shaft until it was squeezing the base, his cock twitched, once, twice before hot strands of cum splashed over his belly and chest. His pectorals heaved as he caught his breath, smeared in the trickling viscosity of his own cum. His nipples hardened as the wetness cooled in the air. Kuai’s eyes rolled back, his thighs shaking as each pearlescent shot of cum that hit his skin sent volts of pleasure through every inch of him. He panted through his teeth, collapsing back on his cot once he was spent, cum dripped down his collar bone, dirtying the black shirt that he’d had tucked under his chin, sliding down his abdomen to pool into the dip of his belly button.

He was a mess, mentally and physically, the visions of what he wanted to do to you faded to the chilled realization that he could never let you know how he felt. Kuai managed to open an eye, staring at his hand, now soaked with the evidence of his desperation. Though he would never reveal to you this hunger, he knew he could not--would not--ever possess the discipline to stop your touches and whispers. It would be his burden to bear, his secret to keep---his deepest indulgence.

Your touch would undo him one day, but until then, he’d torture himself with this sweet sickness.