#No this is not a jab at the show. I love the wild ride that is this show

[fawndlyvenus]

Not gonna lie, every week I forget about Pit Babe the series being a thing.

And then every week my dash gets flooded with every single thing that happened in the recent episode.

And I remember that an omegaverse show airs on public television in Thailand.

And when I tell you that shit takes me out like a fucking freight train going at high speeds every damn time, I mean it.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 28 - Lavender 9

Thank you to the lovely @headcaasefiction for helping me out!

So. This will probably be my last chapter for a hot minute. I've not been able to work on my stuff how I like to lately. So I have unfortunately fallen behind, and I would really love to do my best with the last half of Peppermint Tea. However, I have made this pretty long as an apology. ❤️❤️

Its been a wild ride so far! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Not many? Pregnancy stuff is mentioned. We finally get a couple of confessions, but that doesn't mean it turns out good. Angst happens.

Masterlist

You watch in awe, eyes large and sparkling in fascination as your brother parries his opponent, knocking their arm away with a swat of his hand. His body turned to dust and dropped low to avoid the blow to the chest that would have surely happened. He comes back up with a vicious swing, his knuckles smashing into the other boy's jaw and busting their lips. Blood drips down their chin as they wheel back, lips pulling back to show white teeth stained red.

Your brother goes back in, sending another two blows to the boy who had shoved you to the ground and called you some mean name that you can't even remember now. He is red in the face, his white hair a mess, and rage glowing in his green eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” your brother snarls in the redhead’s face and shoves him away for good measure, “Get the hell outta here, Jax.”

The redhead sneers and spits at the prince. He turns and limps down the alleyway, a sneer on his face, “This ain't over, Princess.”

Your brother rolls his eyes and then dusts himself off as he turns back to his little sister, lips twisting into a smirk, “You okay, Sunshine?”

You grin and fling yourself into your brother's arms, “I'm fine! Not even a scratch. Can you teach me how to fight like that?”

Your brother laughs, green eyes alight with mirth, “Sure. When you're old enough not to need an afternoon nap.”

You pout, thumping him on the chest, “Ugh. You say that every time.”

“Sunshine. You'll be asleep before we even get back home,” He points out and scoops you up, over his shoulder, grinning when you let out a delighted laugh. You argue that you most definitely won't fall asleep, and to his surprise, you don't. Your brother carts you all the way to your bedroom where he plops you on the bed. You bounce with a giggle and then attack him, jabbing at his ribs and armpits with a grin.

It lasts until he gets the upper hand and tickles his baby sister until you're red in the face and gasping for oxygen, begging for uncle. He pulls you in a headlock, kissing the top of your head with fondness.

“You know I'll always protect you, right?”

You nod, turning around to hug your brother as tightly as you can, “Of course I do! You're my big brother, Tomura!”

The scene changes suddenly, and you can hear the sounds of screams and vile laughter echoing all around you. Watching your home burn has become a familiar sight, but it still leaves you shaking in fear. Tomura runs as fast as he can, legs nothing but a literal cloud of dust as he skids around corners and runs down alleyways to get to the docks.

Another turn, and you know what's coming up. Tomura begs you not to look, but your eyes land on the tall figure anyway, wide-brimmed hat and white feather filling your vision until the next alleyway breaks your line of sight.

Tomura drops you to the deck, and you scramble up to help him pull the rigging and open the sails. Snow falls all around you, but your brother is there to help when you need it, and soon, the two of you are out in the open sea. Everything is okay for a while, and then the side of your boat exploding into splinters has you screaming in fear. Another shot is missed, sending freezing sea water over you and Tomura. The saltwater feels paralyzing, the devil fruit snarling at having been drenched.

The ship on the port side suddenly implodes, wood scattering everywhere and sending the Big Mom pirates to water graves. The same thing happens to the two ships on your starboard, and you look out into the raging seas and finally catch sight of that big white feather that blows in the winds before it disappears behind the rising waves.

-----

You jerk awake with a gasp, eyes wide and chest heaving. You can still hear the boy's name ringing in your head. Tomura Tomura Tomura. That was your brother's name. How could you have ever forgotten his name? Someone so near and dear to your heart. The one who had saved you from the destruction of your home. Why are you remembering now when you've been having these dreams for over a year? Why can you still recall his name? What he looks like.

You are so in your head, thoughts racing as you try and fail to pull up any memories of your past, that you don't notice the two men looking at you in concern. You have sat up, hand over your mouth and eyes wide like you've just seen a ghost. Shanks and Mihawk share a look of concern, and then the redhead carefully reaches out to touch your shoulder.

“You okay, Angel?” He asks, and the sudden touch and noise have you jumping out of your skin.

You whip around, turning to sit on your knees on the bed and look at your boys. They look worried, and you can't blame them. You probably look crazy, but it feels like a puzzle piece has finally clicked into place, and you can't just keep it to yourself.

“I have a brother. I-I think his name is Tomura. He's got white hair and green eyes, and he's the one who brought me here.”

This is definitely not what either man had expected you to say. Shanks looks a little confused but accepting, but Mihawk looks pale, yellow eyes wide with a hint of panic behind them before he expertly schools his features. The redhead glances over at the warlord and quickly switches to damage control. This wasn't the time for that talk.

“Do you remember anything else, Sweetheart?” He asks and smooths his hand up and into your hair. The name Tomura sounds familiar, but he doesn't think he's ever seen the man you are speaking about. To you, your brother would still be nothing but a boy in your memories. He glances at Mihawk, relieved to see that the panic has disappeared, and he looks like his unimpressed self.

“He was older than me, a teenager. He'd be a man now if he's still alive,” you murmur, carefully putting the pieces together. Why can't you remember more? Did something happen to you? Thinking about that makes you feel uneasy, and you curl an arm around your belly protectively.

While you go back and forth with Shanks, telling the redhead of the other dreams you've been having, Mihawk is quietly spiraling. This is his worst nightmare. If you started to remember your past, then he feared that you would remember him, too. Dracule knows that you saw him that night. He'd seen you too, tossed over your brother's shoulder as he ran away, and then again on the ship that took you away from your home. You would want nothing to do with him if you ever found out that Dracule was responsible.

Even though you've only been a part of his life for such a short time, Mihawk couldn't imagine losing you. To give up the content happiness that he's finally achieved by being here with you. Not to mention the wonderful gift you have given to him and Shanks. You have become his everything, his reasons for continuing his sham of a career as a warlord. All of it is used to keep you safe from harm.

Mihawk knows your brother, has seen him in passing, and seen him in action. The younger man is vicious and would not hesitate to attack Mihawk if he knew that the warlord had connections to his sister. It was only the knowledge of Mihawk driving the other ships away that night that kept the tension from snapping between the two men when they were in the same room together. Thankfully, it isn't that often.

However, none of that has happened, and if he were lucky, Mihawk would never have to deal with it being a problem. He forces himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. He needs to focus and get over himself. Everything would be fine.

“I um. I saw you again, too, Mihawk.”

Okay. Maybe everything wouldn't be okay.

Dracule licks his lips, glad that he isn't facing his angel right now or else she would see the guilt that painted his face. The warlord schools his face once more and then swings his legs off the bed, stomach churning as he turns and gives you a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Still dreaming about me, are you?” Mihawk teases, and thankfully, you don't see anything remiss about his expression.

You huff and roll your eyes at the warlord, put out at being dismissed on the subject, “At least a couple times a week.”

Shanks gives him a look, and Dracule glares right back over your head at the redhead. The other man just sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, annoyed that Mihawk wouldn't just come clean and put all of this behind them.

Dracule shifts back on the bed, long arms curling around your legs as he rests his face against your plush thighs. He kisses each one gently and then leans up to press his lips to your swollen tummy, and you can't help the snort that leaves you at the ticklish sensation.

The warlord tugs you in for a kiss, aiming to make you forget about this topic, “I've told you before to not worry about these dreams, Darling.”

You shrug at him, expression a bit helpless in the face of his clear dismissal. Usually, you would be content to let the matter slide, but this dream irks you, and you need to get to the bottom of this.

“I know you have,” you grumble and let yourself be pulled into Shanks’ embrace, turning your head to nudge into his shoulder. The redhead runs almost as hot as Mihawk, and you bask in it. His hand finds your own and gives it an encouraging squeeze, “But I can't let this one go. I've never been able to remember anything more than watching an island burn and you, Mihawk.”

The warlord tenses, and Shanks can see the way his back tightens up like a bowstring. He tugs you closer to his chest, not willing to let you see the unease that surrounds the other man. You go willingly, frown lingering on your lips as you lose yourself back in your head, going over your dreams and trying to pick out anything else that might stick out at you.

Dracule stands, turning to drop a quick kiss on your brow and Shanks’ cheek, “I’ll go start breakfast. You need your energy.”

Mihawk tosses on a robe and escapes from the bedroom.

You watch him go, concerned at the way he had retreated, and Shanks sighs heavily under you, eyes shut as he shakes his head at the other man's ridiculousness right now.

“Is he okay?” You ask quietly, and Shanks hates the way you sound so hesitant, so unsure of yourself. You speak up again before the pirate can assure you that Mihawk is fine.

“He's always been like this when I mention my dreams, and it hurts when he just casts them away. What if I'm right, and all this crap in my brain are memories?”

Shanks isn't sure what to tell you. He isn't the one that you should be discussing this with, but Mihawk obviously wasn't going to be the one to come clean. How can Shanks tell you that your hunch is right without giving away Dracule’s involvement? This was the other man's mess to fix, but Shanks felt guilty just by association.

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he doesn't go about it the right way,” Shanks murmurs and kisses the top of your head, trying to assure his lover, “Want me to go talk to him?”

You debate the offer. It makes you feel weird to have Shanks be the one to mitigate the tension that rolls between you and Mihawk. But you're tired of watching the other man push you away any time that you mention your dreams to him. They have to mean something, and whatever it is- it's important to you, and you have to find out why. You could have a brother out there, someone who knew who you were. Why would Hawkeye dismiss it?

You sigh and finally nod, “Yeah okay. Maybe that's not a bad idea.”

Shanks hums, rolling the two of you and looming over you. He leans in and kisses you silly, tongue slipping past your lips to gently curl with your own slick muscle. The kiss makes you relax, and you sink back into the bed with a soft sigh. He smiles down at you, leaning in to rub his nose along your own.

“I've got you, Sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together. Okay?”

You nod gratefully, a sweet smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

The Emperor bestows one last kiss and then shuffles out of the bed. He tugged on his pants from yesterday and watched as Sukuna took his spot, curling up close to his human and glaring at the redhead as if Shanks had been the one to upset you. He glares right back at the demon cat and then lopes out of the bedroom, Hank jumping up from the floor and following after him.

He finds Mihawk in the kitchen, hovering over the stove and fixing up a hearty breakfast for the three of them. The kettle has been filled, and Shanks spots three mugs on the counter, each filled with their preferred blend. He is quiet as he steps close to Mihawk, pressing his front to the other man's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“You're being an asshole, ya know,” the redhead points out, tone not unkind, but Shanks is tired of stepping on eggshells about this with the other man.

Mihawk puffs up like a bird, yellow eyes going wide as he stills, “I am not being an asshole. I'm doing my best to protect her.”

Shanks hums. It's a disbelieving sound, and it causes Dracule's hackles to rise, irritation flaring up like an old wound. What would the Emperor know anyway? He hadn't been there that night. Mihawk had slaughtered your people, painted Yoru red with their blood, and had done so out of pure boredom. He didn't think that saving you and your brother absolved him of his sins.

“You could at least tell her that her brother is alive,” Shanks points out, but Mihawk is shaking his head, his frown even more prominent.

“No, then she'd know of my involvement, and I can't risk that.” He denies it and goes back to furiously scrambling the eggs that pop and sizzle in the pan. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He'd much rather just forget about all of this and go back to having a nice, peaceful morning.

“I think you're being an idiot,” Shanks says, tone disappointed and despondent, “She's been nothing but kind and accepting to us. She's pregnant with our child, don't you think she deserves to know everything?”

Dracule tenses the more Shanks goes on, and inside, the warlord knows that the other man is right. It isn't fair to you, but just the thought of admitting his deeds makes him clam up, fear curdling his stomach.

“You know she loves you, right? Told me that before the three of us got together, she was worried I was trying to take her away from you.”

“Stop lying,” Mihawk hisses and grips the counter, brows pulled together in an awful scowl. He doesn't want to hear anymore. How could you love someone so monstrous and selfish like him?

“I'm not lying. She loves you. Just like I never stopped loving you, Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and pushes past the grief and anger that he can feel surrounding the other man. He presses his brow to Dracule's tense back, willing the warlord to open his ears and listen to him.

“Stop being afraid to love us back.”

“I'm not afraid,” Dracule sounds wrecked, and Shanks curls his arm around that slim waist, tugging him closer to his chest and holding the older man close.

“Then come clean, Baby. Tell her what happened, and let her hear your piece.” Shanks urges softly and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, “You can't keep it inside forever.”

Mihawk is quiet for a long time. Could he do this? Could he open up to you about everything, even with the risk of you tossing him out into the ocean? Dracule thinks of the pained look that he'd caught when he'd dismissed your memories and finds that the guilt is near suffocating. Shanks was right. It wasn't fair to any of them.

“After breakfast, I'll tell her.” Mihawk decides quietly. He doesn't want to, and it terrifies him to think what your reaction will be, but it must happen. Dracule was tired of hiding.

Shanks hugs his treasure close and promises him the same thing that he promised you not very long ago, “We'll figure this out together, yeah?”

Dracule gives a jerky nod, and then the two focus on getting breakfast finished. Shanks sneaks Hank some eggs, and the big lug happily scarfs them down. Mihawk sets the table, busying himself while Shanks disappears to escort you to the kitchen.

He finds you curled up still, Sukuna draped over you like a big, fluffy shield. He goes to the side of the bed and cards his hand through your hair, “You up for breakfast, sweetheart?”

Your pregnancy has been more of a struggle than anything. You hated how emotional you’ve become, getting upset over tiny things that you would otherwise ignore. You couldn’t eat certain things, and you had cried the last time the scent of your favorite tea had made you nauseous. You felt needy, and that made you feel even worse, even though Shanks and Mihawk both have assured you more than a few times that it was fine.

The men actually enjoyed how clingy you've become, eagerly awaiting your beck and call, whether it be running you a hot bath or massaging your sore ankles. Mihawk, in particular, turned out to be a mother hen, coming around more often and staying close to your side. He found books on the birthing process and what to expect after and made it a point to read them out loud when Shanks was able to come around. The other man would grimace and bury his face in the closest soft surface.

“I guess,” you murmur and push yourself up. Sukuna meows in protest, golden eyes narrowing on Shanks for being the one to disturb his nap. You dig your fingers into his thick coat and scratch the ornery beast, and your cat rewards you with thunderous purs. They make you crack and smile, and then you scoot off the bed, grabbing your fluffy robe and tossing it on.

Shanks follows you back to the kitchen where Mihawk has finished setting the table. The warlord comes to your side the moment he sees you, long fingers framing your face as he leans in and kisses you softly. You are surprised enough to kiss him back, but it only lasts half a second before he is pulling away, though he doesn't go far.

“Forgive me, Darling. I shouldn't treat you that way. Especially when it is something so dear to you.”

Mihawk's apology has you melting in his hold, tears well up, and slides down your cheeks. He wipes them away, unphased by the sudden appearance of them.

You sniff and give Dracule a watery smile, “Thank you for apologizing.”

Your rough voice makes his heart break, and Mihaek has a foreboding feeling that he'll be begging for your forgiveness again sooner rather than later. He doesn't want to upset you even more than you are now, but Mihawk had promised Shanks.

“Come, Angel. Let's have breakfast, then I think you and I should talk.”

You frown at the words, but nod, not in the mood to argue with the older man right now. Shanks presses a kiss to the back of your head and then takes his seat, patting his lap with a grin. Mihawk scoffs quietly but steers you in the Emperor’s direction, and you end up seated on the redhead’s lap. You cautiously pull your tea forward and relax when the scent of spearmint reaches your nose.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, though both men are attentive as usual and make sure that you have eaten your fill before they begin to clean up. You pout at being sent to the living room and remind the men that you aren't completely useless. Shanks relents first and reluctantly lets you take over drying the dishes while he goes outside to feed Neal and the three chickens.

Afterward, the three of you retreat to the living room. Your nerves build when the Mihawk sits you in his usual armchair while he and Shanks share the couch. You curl your legs under you, not liking the tension that had bloomed in the room. you lick your lips and break the silence when it seems that neither Shanks nor Mihawk looked like they were going to speak up.

“What's going on?”

You aren't expecting Mihawk to catch your gaze, and you are wholly unprepared to see the terrible guilt and fear that swim in his ringed eyes. The sight strikes you, and you feel concern and anger well up inside. You don't like to see these emotions in your warlord. Mihawk has always been a stone pillar in your life, and it upset you to know that something had made him feel like this.

“Do you remember when you first told me of the dreams you kept having?” When you nod, Mihawk continues, “I lied when I told you that I didn't know anything about them. I panicked earlier when you called your dreams memories because they are _.”

You stare at Mihawk. You can hear him, but there is a ringing in your ears. What did he mean? How could Mihawk know?

“...what?”

Shanks butts in when he sees the confusion and horror that masks your face, “Sweetheart. What do you remember of your home before you came here? Where you came from?”

You shake your head, hands clutching at your robe, “Ah, no? That's always been a little fuzzy for me. I don't know why I can't remember.”

Mihawk speaks up, and you've never heard the stoic man so fretful and nervous before. You don't like it.

“Your home was a chain of prosperous islands named the Nammu Isles. Your parents ruled with a kind hand, but people began to talk, and Charlotte started hearing rumors that the kingdom had connections to Ohara.”

you recognize the name. You remember reading it in one of the many books that Mihawk had brought you over the months. You remember feeling so so angry reading the name, but you couldn't find a reason why. You don't know if it's better or worse now that you know the reason.

“Your parents begged her for a chance to save themselves and offered you up as a bride for one of Big Mom’s sons. She pretended to accept the deal, but in reality, she sent out a message. Calling anyone who wanted a good fight to assist in dealing with a country who needed to know their place.”

“And you were one of them?” You breathe, tone full of anguish, and you look between Mihawk and Shanks. Your heart thuds loudly, and you curl an arm protectively around your stomach. You feel sick.

“I was,” Mihawk confirms, tone wretched and broken, “Your oldest brother, Tomura, found out about the attack and got you out before Big Mom and her sons could make it to the castle. I followed them inside and overheard them making plans to send out ships to search for the two of you, and I decided then that I wanted nothing more to do with Big Mom and her destruction.”

Dracule can see your mounting horror, and he knows he deserves every bit of it, but Mihawk needs to tell you the rest, so he continues.

“I stood there in the main room, looking at all the destruction that they had caused. That I caused, but when I saw you, so innocent and undeserving of what we did to your home, I knew that I couldn't let them find you. I left without a word and sailed out to find you and your brother, saving you from the pirates that had found you, and then I ran. As the years passed, I forgot about what happened, forgot about you, until I found you again.”

You feel like you've stepped straight into the raging waves of the ocean as memories play behind your eyes. You can see it so clearly now, Mihawk arriving on your island and your brother begging you to look away from the Marine Hunter at the time. You can feel the ship rock and shake under you when the cannon balls get too close, and the silence after once you realize that you are safe. You know in your heart that Dracule is telling the truth, but how are you supposed to take such a confession?

You hate him for helping destroy your life, but you can't even remember what your parents look like. Your dreams - memories you remind yourself - only ever showing you your brother and the destruction of your home. But Mihawk had lied to you about who you are for almost two years. He knew your past, knew more than even you. How else were you supposed to feel?

and Shanks? How long had he known? Was he on it, too? The redhead had to have been. They were far too close, and Shanks too knowledgeable about the world. You feel sick, disgusted with the two men in front of you, but numb, too. You don't know how the warlord wants you to react, but you don't think you can deal with either of them right now.

Your silence unnerves Dracule, and he moves from the couch, taking a half step toward his angel, only to stop when you happen to stand as well. He watches with a hopeful expression that falls as you walk past him. Shanks stands as well, dark eyes never leaving your figure as you walk to the front door.

They watch you open it up and stand beside the exit, and Mihawk feels his heart break into a thousand pieces when you look at him, expression closed off and unreadable.

“Get out. Both of you.”

The silence that rings after your statement is deafening. Shanks and Mihawk share a look, and the redhead takes a step forward, hand outstretched.

“Baby, don't - you don't mean that,” he whispers quietly, but you don't look at him. You can't right now. instead, you keep solid eye contact with Mihawk, the true culprit.

“Yes I do. I want you out. Now,” you repeat, and the longer the men linger, the more upset you grow. You have to think. You need time to wrap your head around the fact that both of the people you trust the most in the world have lied to you.

Thankfully, Mihawk seems to understand that being there right now would be the worst thing he and Shanks could do. He tugs Shanks back to the bedroom where Dracule silently gathers his things, slipping on his coat and hat while Shanks roots around for his shirt.

“Mihawk-,” Shanks murmurs, but stops the second the older man shakes his head. The redhead can feel Mihawk's anguish, and he desperately wants to take it away from him, but he knows that only one thing would get Dracule out of his head, and that was you.

You are still standing by the door when they come out of the bedroom. Mihawk can see the way you tremble, but you stay strong and watch them come closer. He stops before you, wanting to reach out, to bed for forgiveness, but the warlord knows it would only make this all worse.

“Call us, please, angel,” Dracule says instead, and doesn't budge until you dip your head in agreement. He fights against the urge to pull you in for a kiss and instead ducks out of the cottage and stalks down the footpath. He needs to go or else he would stay and do something that he would regret.

Shanks lingers, and the redhead can't help himself. He goes to close the distance only for a weight to be shoved at his legs. He looks down, disbelief coloring his face when he sees Hank standing between the two of you. The big mutt stares up at Shanks, and the redhead swears that he can see disappointment swimming in the dog's dark gaze. He looks up at you, helpless, but you look away from him.

“I said get out, Shanks,” you hiss, and the redhead can hear the strain in your voice. He wants to stay, wants to tell you that everything would be okay, and that the three of you could work through this, but he knows that it's a lost cause. At least for now.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs, and then he turns and follows Mihawk down the path and to the beach. He rounds up his crew with a few short words, heart breaking further when he realizes that Mihawk is already on his ship sailing away, not even nothing to wait for the younger man.

Now alone, you shut the door and go to the couch, sitting in the middle of it. You take a look around your empty home, feeling hollow and alone. You give Hank a sad, strained smile when he comes and sits beside you, Sukuna appearing seconds later to curl up in your lap. Tears well up and stream down your cheeks, but you do not stop them. You let them fall, and grieve for a past you can't remember and a future that you don't know if you can trust.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Van Ink Za Tatsu No Harem pt. 5: Party Rumble||

*Waves* Hello there. This is part 5 of the drabble series Van Ink Za Tatsu No Harem. @demon-blood-youths has written this drabble and it’s been a crazy wild ride has it? If you wish to read up on this, the parts are here below:

~~Chapters~~

Part 1

Part 2 - New Challenger

Part 3 - Planning Operation Party B̶a̶c̶h̶e̶l̶o̶r̶e̶t̶t̶e̶

Part 4- Party Time Descending Into Chaos

((Your reading Part 5 right now))

~~Guests for this drabble~~

Demon mun’s guests

(The DBT)

(The fractions : Elite Demon Anthem, Upstander Campaign, The Lupins, knights of darkness and the leaders

My guests

(My Oc fractions: Dark Eclipse Nightshades, The Shallow Butterflies, The Season demon warriors, Cursed Vixens

((Canon OC guests: Deku and Bakugo from BHA with some of the A-1 class, Rin Okumura from Ao No Exorcist, Atsushi from BSD, Ren aka Joker from Persona 5 and Denji from Chainsaw man.

((Their is not much of a warning but will be swearing, maybe fighting, and possible insulting. Grammar is still not good but just giving a heads up. With that, I hope you like it.))

“........................”

Everyone in the room was silent with eyes wide or some just really speechless. Denji really had the guts to say this to everyone with no problem! He was fully confident in this. He was happy with his answer like nothing was wrong.

Well, not anymore.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” He was confused to why everyone got silent but their was still silence in the room till-

“THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY!?” Denji blinks to look over at Bakugo that gets up but glaring at him while getting up in his face. “What the fuck do you go off saying that like you know any better!” He shouted but Denji looked confused.

“What? We were playing a game and I did answer honestly.”

“...SO YOU WERE FUCKING SERIOUS! Look Extra, their is no way that you would get that chance. You don’t even look like her type!” He jabs his finger into his chest but Denji blinks to glare back.

“And you think your her type? Last time I recall, you don’t seem like proper dating material since you tend to be violent, you insult everyone that you see as ‘extras’ you always seem to love insulting Yuuka for being one, and if I heard this right, you scared the living shit out of that girl over there. Uhh Ashley right?” he looks seeing her slowly nod but Bakugo growls.

“FUCK HER! THIS IS NOT ABOUT THAT WIMPY BITCH, THIS IS ABOUT YOUR DAMN ANSWER! WHERE DO YOU GET OFF HAVING THE BALLS IN SAYING THAT!!!”

“You son of a-”

“Rex, easy. Please I’m sure he didn’t mean it!” Winter was worried seeing him now angry. It had to get Joshua, Shadwkz, and Rust to help calm Rex down from him wanting to beat him up again.

“And I did! Hell, it’s like the only one that is not some extra is my classmates and others but the only extras are idiots getting in my way! If she learns to defend herself, then she won’t be a bitch!”

“.....................” Ashley looks down feeling upset but she didn’t show it while some of the other girls tries to be sure she was fine. Kali was watching this to see both Denji and Bakugo glaring.

“Hold on, you two shouldn’t fight. Besides, Ink might not want things to get out of hand.” Rin said trying to calm things down. “Besides, were at a party here..” Yukio said but Bakugo glares at him.

“You know what? Fuck you two!” he said but looks to Denji, “And don’t give me that shit! I bet you were lying when playing the game! If you were honest, I bet you would have tried to at least get a chance to marry Ink or date her!”

“As Rin said, you need to calm down Bakugo. Your causing a scene..” Ren said with arms crossed that Bakugo looks angry to him till Denji speaks.

“And what makes you think your good at being there for Ink? You change people’s hearts but that don’t always help.”

“And how is that a problem to you?” Ren asked Denji with the three now looking at one another. Kali was eating popcorn seeing this, Yuuka was panicking inside while looking worried.

‘This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening!!’ she screams in her head.

Jinx already shook her head seeing this while the others were hoping this wouldn’t turn into a fight. Joshua was trying to be sure his team along with Ashley’s team make sure she was fine even if she didn’t look up. Hellmare was wondering if this is getting out of hand but deep down, she can tell it was.

“G..guys guys please! Were at a party to have fun. Please lets not make this some battle arena! Please!” Atsushi was panicking with Midoriya trying to break this up.

“Fuck off! I bet you were thinking the same with Ink too, and you too Midoriya!” He shouted seeing the two look shocked.

“H..huh?! What are you taking about Kachan!? Ink is my friend!” He said but Bakguo glares but looks to him.

“I know you since your always nervous around her but your just trying to hide it!”

“That’s not true!!!”

“I bet it is!” Bakugo said though hearing this, Bakugo was acting just like Navarro but he had the thought the guys were all in on him trying to kick him out of this game or to at least keep with Ink to hang out and keep her happy.

Mouse was worried seeing this as she was near Fosh. She was also trying to help him breath due to coughing some of the soda in his lungs.

“HUH!?”

“Goodness me, your making such a big deal out of this, Bakugo. Maybe if you just calm down then maybe you wouldn’t look like some idiot.” He stops hearing Vivi speak while looking at him with arms crossed. He sighed to look at her.

“Listen here, this is between me and the idiots alright?” he said now pointing at her chest. “So why don’t you mind your own damn business, stay out of my business, and stay out of it?” he said but vivi looks at him that her dark violet eyes looked like she was ready to rip his soul out before Breezy gets in between them.

��Hey hey HEY! Were trying to have fun at a party! You shouldn’t be starting something even with your friends dumb ass! Now, why don’t you calm down before you do something you’ll regret.” Breezy and Bakugo glares at one another that daggers were being shot. Melinda was worried but the guys saw.

“See!? He’s not dating material or marriage material. That won’t do for Ink if she did marry-”

“Who said she was going to marry you!? I don’t think she would unless she’s ready!” Midoriya said worried.

“True so now Bakugo is blowing this out of reason.” Ren said with Atsushi and Rin agreeing but Bakugo looks at Breezy ready to fight!

“Bakugo!!”

“What?! This fucking dumb monkey started it! She seems to wanna fight!” he said.

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna go!? I’ll be glad to beat your fucking ass you stupid air head motherfucker!” She hissed back cracking her knuckles. That’s when Rust and Midoriya grabs the two to pull them back.

“Breezy, calm down! It’s fine!” Rust said holding her back.

“Stop trying to start a fight with everyone Kachan!” Midoriya said. “Their our friends!”

“I know that, then tell that stupid monkey and her boyfriend to stay out of my way!”

“Hey, don’t call me a stupid money you fucker!” Breezy growls at him with Rust looking at him with a glare. “Yeah, and don’t call her that man!”

“What? She don’t like that face then I don’t care!!! Right now, I don’t like how smart and over confident this mother fucker Denji is!” He said looking to Denji who glares back.

“You wanna start something baka?! Fine, I’ll be sure to do that!” He said as the boys were glaring at one another but the fractions were in shock seeing this. Just how the heck did this happen!?! Kali was eating more popcorn but she was watching this happening. They looked to now start arguing with one another until.

“WILL YOU GUYS JUST STOP PLEASE!!!!”

They stop to look to see that Ashley spoke but she was looking down still upset. “L..Look, can’t we all just g..get along? I don’t get w..why you have to start something when you don’t understand. I m..mean, were having a party.....s.so can’t you just calm down and l..lets not f...f..fight..” she said even if she was nervous everyone looks to her but Bakugo looks to her before glaring.

“Look, no one asked for your opinion! This is between me and these idiots who things they know what’s best for Ink! We all are friends right!? Why that would be fine, if this idiot didn’t say anything!” he said but Ashley looks to him holding her hand.

“E..even so. You shouldn’t start fighting. You only c..causing a scene h...here.” She said to Bakugo but he sighed to look at her even with more hate that Ashley looks at him.

“Tch, your nothing but a damn extra to me. So why don’t you sit down..and shut up? You can’t prove to be a leader nor do anything so I was right. If we did marry like I said, I seriously would have dumb your sorry bitch ass for another!”

“.........”

“That’s not nice to say Baku-”

“And YOU! Stay out of it! Why are you all getting nosy with this when it’s nothing related to you!?” He shouts to Melinda but she stood her ground poking at his chest.

“The last time I remember, this is a party you stupid fucking idiot!!!! You shouldn’t be saying horrible things even when your surrounded with friends! You already said many hurtful things to them and my friend!” she said glaring at him with her silver eyes.

“I don’t care! She don’t have a backbone in that weak body of hers! Hell, she’s not as strong as Ochaco and at least she could stand her ground. True, she lost against me but she wasn’t a weak idiot! She wants to be useful then be better! Your too weak to do anything and you’ll just be in the way of your team, yourself, and anyone else!” he said but Ochaco remembers but wishes Bakugo didn’t include her in his little drama party right now. The girls in the A-1 agrees.

“And besides, your no better either right!? So why don’t you be quiet and sit down yourself! If she wants to prove shit to me..then stop being a fucking useless idiot! Your just a waste of space!” he said shouting at Ashley who looks quiet looking down.

“Hey, that was uncalled for!”

“I’m being honest!” He shouted at Melinda but she didn’t stand down.

“Then why don’t you stand down and relax!?” she shouted at him only for Bakugo to sigh looking away.

“Yeah, calm down. You’ll only make yourself a idiot with this sort of behavior.” He felt his eye twitch hearing that to look seeing Denji looking to him when Bakugo did something the others was not expecting. He grabs some of the cake that Melinda made to hold it.

“WHY DON’T YOU SHUT UP!!??!?” He shouted slamming his fist into the cake Melinda made as it exploded from Bakugo’s quirk. It exploded spreading cake all over Ashley, Melinda, some of the boys even on the floor. He panted to look but the other guys even Denji twitches.

“See, You even ruined the cake. Nice going you-” Denji couldn’t speak before being knocked down by Bakugo as they were fighting now. “Guys No!” Now the boys were  trying to break up the fight while Melinda was cleaning the cake off of her face but she heard a hic to look. She got worried seeing Ashley crying before she goes to the washroom.

“Ash! Ashley, come back! Please come back!!” Melinda glares at Bakugo before follow her with Ophelia, Yuuka, Luna, Hellmare, and Ochaco too. Now everyone was either trying to break up the fighting or end up trying to get the group to stop this. It was crazy that it worried everyone but now it was crazy with the fighting and the crazy mess.

“Take that back you jerk!”

“Make me!” Denji shouts but got hit with Midoriya and Atsushi trying to break it up worried with Ren and Rin as well. Now the fighting has gotten worse and worse that everyone was shouting trying to break it up with a door slamming shut while it shows Ashley locked herself in the bathroom alone. Yeah, this was getting out of hand now.

“I think Ink will be happy with me! Your not dating material!” Denji said holding Bakugo down.

“SHE DON’T EVEN SEE YOU AS THAT! SHE WOULD BE MISERABLE!” Bakguo shouted.

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!!! SO FUCK YOU!!” Bakugo said angry.

“NO FUCK YOU!!”

“FUCK YOU!!”

“Guys please, your not making this better and Ink wouldn’t be happy seeing this so stop please!” Midoriya said.

“SHUT UP DEKU!!”

“Guys stop!!” Rin and Ren said trying to break it up. The fighting just kept going with more and more cake being thrown or things being chucked like the board games and things. However, before it got worse..

“ENOUGH!!!!!”

The fighting stops along with the shouting to see it was Ink that said it. She looks quiet but looks to the group. It seems she had something to say  but what could it be after seeing that?

[crimsun-n-clover]

last night my guitarist and i went to waffle house after our miserable practice. we put a five in the jukebox and basically held it hostage for more than an hour. i guess heart of glass by blondie is our song now. the employees have gotten attached to us and our server straight up asked me for a ride home. i love waffle house so goddamn much.

we had our gigs today. the punk band sounded kinda shitty but that’s alright. it’s all on the new guitarist, but he’s a decent kid. i met his dad today and suddenly i’m feeling protective over the bastard now that i know what his parent is like. he wrote a riffs for an original song that we played, and i put lyrics about identity to it.

apparently our drummer lied to us and is actually on vacation. man i fucking trusted her. she said she had a family emergency and we did everything to cover for her, and i even had to play fucking drums on one of the songs because our fill in drummer didn’t know how to play it and i did. i sang while playing drums and let me just say, never again. jesus. christ. it definitely sounded like shit and i have blisters.

at least the band has a bunch of followers on insta purely because of the outrageous name.

OH AND the hot bassist from the prog rock band we share the stage with is interested in joining our metal band. fucking SCORE. she’s so insanely talented and i actually met her on tumblr before i met her in person and she started talking and i was like waiiit a minute. are you?? that one person i know on tumblr???? and she was so shocked but she WAS. fucking wild. now i can sing without playing bass for that band, because i can’t stand still in front of a mic while singing metal shit. it’s fucking impossible. “stevie you gotta eat the mic” FUCK OFF im jamming around and don’t have a hand free to keep the mic directly by my mouth.

i guess we gotta initiate her. which means watching rocky horror together, going to waffle house, and putting a dollar in the jukebox to play heart of glass.

my favorite kiddo showed up at the show. she isn’t even in the band anymore and she still wanted to see it. she’s welcome to come back whenever, she’s the randy to my ozzy. scrawny little blonde guitar god who writes solos that don’t make much musical sense but sound AMAZING and i’m very attached to her. you know that shit ozzy said about “either he’s the best fucking thing i’ve ever heard in my life or these drugs are really good”?? yeah.

i found out that she got a LEAD ROLE in a musical, talented little brat. she also gave me a birthday gift which i TOLD HER not to, but it’s candy, little squishy toy dinosaurs (which are getting their own shelf in the trailer but i’m not telling her. her ego is big enough), and a note that she wouldn’t let me read. i did the same shit with her gift so i don’t blame her. after the gig, i read it in the parking lot and fucking cried. i love her so goddamn much. she wrote about how she’s so glad i stayed with her even though she left the band, how we have been through some crazy shit but she didn’t mind because we were together, and how we have a bunch of adventures and mini cupcakes in our future. when i picked her up last time, we bought a dozen cupcakes from target and fucking devoured them in the parking lot. she ended it with “i love you man. from your little brat, ____” and when i tell you i had to turn off my dio cd?? to catch my fucking breath?????

god.

my catholic grandparents came to see it which i wasn’t very happy about. i intended to pull a bunch of stunts to piss off the guy who manages the school / studio we practice in, but my nervous ass completely skipped over it all trying to rush to get the set done. i only got in like two jabs when i’ve composed original music about how much of a dick he is. disappointing. i had SO MUCH blackmail AND mocking material.

i’m gonna put our shit on instagram. goodnight tumblr.

[massmediamayhem]

GOP Prez Race Loses Fatties: Only Skinny Hopefuls Left to Wrestle Trumpasaurus!

Yo, listen up! The GOP’s mega rumble for top dog in 2024 just got less squished, with a bunch of wannabe presidents peacing out. Now it's just a few tough cookies left to take on the big, bad Trumpasaurus. But peeps are all, "Yo, is it too late to find some other dude or dudette to wear the big elephant crown?" Stay tuned to see if the GOP can dig up a champ to go head-to-head with the Don! Alright, folks, let's talk about this whole kerfuffle with the Republican candidates trying to be the head honcho for 2024. It's like watching a bunch of muscle-bound dudes at the gym trying to one-up each other by lifting heavier weights, except these weights are states like Iowa and New Hampshire, and the muscles? Well, those are the votes and endorsements they're trying to flex. So, Senator Tim Scott decided to take his ball and go home, which was a total shocker to his crew. Maybe the game got too rough, or the other players were hogging the ball, but either way, he's out. Now, it's like a royal rumble with Nikki Haley and Ron DeSantis duking it out for the silver medal, 'cause let's be real, Trump's sitting pretty with the gold around his neck, at least for now. Haley's getting some big bucks thrown her way, with billionaire Stanley Druckenmillier backing her up. She's betting big on ads, hoping to spread her name like wildfire. Meanwhile, DeSantis is buddying up with the folks in Iowa, talking about how he doesn't like the same things they don't like, and scoring points with Governor Kim Reynolds. It's like a tag team forming right before the big match. But here's the kicker: while Haley and DeSantis are busy throwing jabs at each other, Trump's in the corner, chomping on popcorn, and loving the show. His team is even tossing out some zingers, calling Haley "Birdbrain" and DeSantis "DeSanctimonious," like they're trying out for a schoolyard insult contest. Now, some smarty-pants out there are saying that this whole scuffle could get nastier once it's just one of them against Trump. It's like when there's only one slice of pizza left, and everyone's too polite to take it, but you know deep down it's gonna cause a brawl. And let's not forget the folks still hanging on by a thread, hoping for a miracle or just enjoying the ride. It's like they didn't get the memo that the party’s over. But hey, you gotta give 'em points for sticking it out. So, what's the game plan for the Republicans? They're trying to figure out who's going to be the champ to take on the big T, but it's a slippery slope, and there's a lot of mudslinging to come. It's like they need to pick the best player for the team, but everyone wants to be the quarterback. In the end, it's all about who can charm the crowd, who's got the best one-liners, and who can dodge the mud the best. Politics, am I right? It's a wild ride, and we're all just here for the entertainment. Stay tuned, 'cause this show's just getting started. SAUCE: The 2024 Republican presidential field is rapidly shrinking. But is it too late to stop Trump? https://apnews.com/article/scott-haley-desantis-trump-republican-president-iowa-c64fa9a5e8ffc0694331d7d148aac5c1 Read the full article

[senseicowpoke]

A Timeline of Kourtney and Kim’s Rocky Relationship

2015: The Video Game Dispute

In 2015, the tension between Kourtney and Kim escalated when Kourtney refused to let Kim use her likeness in her mobile game, “Kim Kardashian: Hollywood.” While other family members happily obliged, Kourtney initially resisted, leading to a heated exchange. Eventually, she signed off, but this incident marked one of the early clashes between the sisters.

2017: The Epic Holiday Decorations Fight

The following year, Kim accused Kourtney of stealing her holiday decorations. In a Christmas special episode of “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” Kim revealed that they got into “the most epic fight” because Kourtney copied her festive lights. Kim’s warning to anyone attempting to copy her holiday style was clear: "I will come for them!".

2018: The Least Exciting to Look At

During season 15 of the show, another explosive argument erupted. While planning their family Christmas card photoshoot, Kim lashed out at Kourtney for not accommodating her schedule. She called Kourtney “annoying” and even declared that she was “the least exciting to look at.” The tension escalated further as Khloe tried to mediate over the phone, but insults continued to fly.

2019: Style Clashes

In season 17, Kim accused Kourtney of copying her fashion sense. Kourtney defended herself, asserting that they had “completely different styles.” Their disagreement over fashion choices added fuel to their ongoing feud.

The Dolce & Gabbana Collaboration

Most recently, their feud centered around Kim’s collaboration with Dolce & Gabbana. Kourtney felt disrespected because Kim worked with the fashion house that had designed her wedding just six months after her big day. Their phone call fight on season four of “The Kardashians” reached new heights as Kourtney called Kim a “witch,” and Kim retaliated with low blows.

A Familiar Cycle

Despite their intense clashes, it’s worth noting that Kim and Kourtney often make up after their fights. However, this time around, things may be different. As we watch their relationship unfold on-screen, we can’t help but wonder if this feud will finally find resolution or continue its rollercoaster ride.

-------

It’s no secret that the Kardashian sisters have had their fair share of disagreements over the years. But the latest feud between Kim and Kourtney has taken things to a whole new level. From verbal jabs to physical altercations, these two sisters have been at each other’s throats for quite some time now.

But what’s really at the heart of this feud? Is it jealousy? Competition? Or something deeper? Maybe they’re both just too wild and independent to be tamed by anyone, even each other.

Whatever the reason for their feud, one thing is clear: these sisters need to find a way to work through their issues and come out stronger on the other side. As Carrie also said, “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.” So maybe it’s time for Kim and Kourtney to focus on themselves for a while and figure out what they really want out of life.

In conclusion, while it’s always sad to see family members fighting, sometimes it’s necessary in order to grow and evolve as individuals. Let’s hope that Kim and Kourtney can find a way to put their differences aside and move forward in a positive direction.

What do you think? I'd love to hear below.

[sugar-petals]

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️  all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋  byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋  lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this 

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh 

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋  kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out 

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good. 

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there? 

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋  wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war 

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time 

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋  mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons 

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear? 

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you. 

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋  ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times. 

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner. 

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place. 

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs. 

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋  lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start. 

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[plus-size-reader]

Talent

Eddie Brock x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1897 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Eddie being assigned a co host after his first outburst on national television in hopes that it won't happen again, but it doesn’t exactly go as planned

—————————————————————————————————

If there was ever a professional rival to Eddie Brock, it was you.

Personally, he didn’t see it.

You were too buttoned up, like you were reading from a set of cue cards whenever you found yourself in front of a camera, and he would never do that. That sort of reporting was inauthentic and if he ever had to act that way, he’d surely quit.

It just wasn’t who he was.

Really, the comparison between you two was sort of insulting for him.

If nothing else, it was a blow to his ego but none of that mattered after what happened with the Daily Globe.

No one would let him work solo again, which was how you’d ended up here in the first place. Both his colleagues and the general audience seemed to think that the two of you would make a perfect pair.

For some reason, the man in question couldn’t keep his mouth shut and needed a babysitter out in the field so that he didn’t make a fool out of everyone at The Eddie Brock Report.

That was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t allow.

In all honesty, the only thing you and Eddie seemed to have in common was the fact that you didn’t quite care for the other, but you didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. Jack made it perfectly clear that Eddie Brock was your meal ticket, and you couldn’t rightfully toss that away.

You loved your job, and you were good at it, so if you had to take care of the man child that was Eddie Brock for a while, you would do that. All you had to do was keep a tight lip and get this whole thing over with.

Once the interview with the Life Foundation was over, and you got paid, you could request a transfer.

It wasn’t like working with him for a few months was going to kill you. Though, he was definitely going to challenge that notion.

This morning, for example, he was already more than an hour late for your meeting.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr.Brock” you sighed, turning around to find Eddie standing in the doorway, finally. He was meant to be here at eight am sharp, just like the rest of you, but evidently, he was too good for that.

Not that you had been expecting much more than that from him.

After all, if he was all that good at his job and showing up when he was supposed to, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

Whether Eddie realized it or not, he had developed quite a reputation in all the time he’d been on the air.

At this point, you weren’t even sure if anything he did was going to surprise you. You knew exactly what you were dealing with when you signed up for this.

What he was doing was incredibly unprofessional.

Not only did it make your life more difficult for the time being, but more than anything, he was just getting on your last nerve.

It was like he didn’t even realize that his job depended on how well this interview went. The Life Foundation was a monster of a company, and Carlton Drake had incredible influence over what happened in this city.

If this interview went poorly, it would reflect negatively on both of your careers.

You couldn’t let him ruin this for you.

Still, even from where he was standing in the doorway, terribly late and under-prepared, Eddie couldn’t have cared less about the obvious weight of this assignment.

“How are you already mad at me, I just got here?” he hummed, not even bothering to look at you as he sat down on the other side of the table, a teasing smile on his face. 

You two had only ever been around each other a few times, and never under such terms.

You just didn’t know what to expect.

In your entire career, you had worked with plenty of other people but you had never encountered anyone like Eddie Brock. He was as stubborn as an ass and arrogant even when there was no reason to be.

It just didn’t seem like this was going to work.

If anything, you and Eddie brought the worst out in each other, and because of that, you were sure that this whole thing wasn't going to work. 

Having the two of you work together didn’t make any sense, and you couldn’t imagine anyone would think it would work out.

All in all, working with Eddie was a terrible idea.

“You were supposed to be here two hours ago” you reminded, doing your best to keep a level head. It was becoming clear that if anything was going to get done here, you were going to have to be the one to take control of this.

One of you had to be an adult about this.

If you knew anything about Eddie, he was likely just doing this whole thing to get under your skin, but this wasn’t about that. He had a job to do, and you weren’t going to let him get out of it.

After all, he was the reason you were in this position in the first past, and he wasn’t going to bring you down because of his big mouth.

You had a lot riding on this too.

“Honey, I’m the talent. Last time I checked” he laughed, looking between the rest of the people in the room as if to verify, not that anyone wanted to get into it between the two of you. 

Most of them had worked with you before, and had a lot of respect for you, but that didn’t mean they wanted to go against Eddie either.

He had a reputation as a bit of a drama queen and wouldn’t hesitate to throw a bit of a tantrum regarding whatever happened here.

“Oh, you’re right, I’m so sorry. How could I be so dense? I actually expected the talent to show up” you grumbled back, folding your arms across your chest. You were frustrated, of course, but there was no way he was being serious.

First of all, Eddie wasn’t the talent.

Neither of you were the talent, that was the whole point. He did his job like he was playing a game, or just messing around, like the job itself didn’t matter. In fact, you didn't even think he understood how serious this was.

Clearly, this was all a joke for him.

“Woah, we’re a little snippy today, aren’t we?” he jabbed, still keeping that casual air about him as he antagonized you. There was this snide attitude about him, something that showed you just how much he was enjoying this.

He thought it was funny.

“I’m not, actually. I just give a damn about my job, something that I’m sure you couldn’t understand” you huffed, deciding that you needed to just take care of this yourself. 

Obviously, you were going to have to figure this out if you wanted to get out of this without completely throwing away your entire career.

Having this conversation with him wasn’t worth anything, and it certainly wouldn’t make the Life foundation interview go any more smoothly.

Without missing a beat, you started gathering your things and stuffing them into your bag. 

You had been sitting here for far longer than anyone ever would have for an appointment and seeing how Brock was acting now, you realized just how much of a waste that was.

This really was a mistake.

However, once Eddie realized that you were planning on leaving, the arrogance that you had seen before started to fade away. Whether he liked it or not, he knew that he needed you and if you didn’t help him on this, he wouldn’t have a job.

The only way he got to do the Life foundation interview was if he did it with you by his side, and he needed it.

After everything he’d messed up as of late, he needed someone to take a chance on him so that he could prove himself to everyone who didn’t think he could do it.

“Hey, hold on!” he called, a light jog closing the space between the two of you, where you were now walking away from the meeting room. You had no desire to talk to him, of course, not after how he was acting, but you did stop.

You didn’t move to look at him or ask what it was that he wanted, but you stopped moving so that he could get out whatever it was he was so determined to say.

“I’m sorry if I struck a nerve, I just don’t know how this whole thing is supposed to work out. You know as well as I do that the Life Foundation is a fraud” he sighed, his words little more than a whisper through his teeth.

The truth was right there.

You were a journalist and while he may not have had a ton of respect for you in general, he knew that you could see it. Anyone who had been doing this as long as you had couldn’t possibly be blind to what was going on.

Drake was killing people, and the fact that you were still willing to go through with this interview as if he wasn’t just proved everything that Eddie believed about you to be true. 

You were just another spineless icon without any morals or ideas of your own.

It wasn’t real journalism if you hide the truth.

“Even if that was true, you don’t have any proof. How are we supposed to prove it?” you asked, unsure what he was getting at. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was something wrong with Carlton Drake and the mammoth foundation he’d created.

What he was suggesting was much more than just the usual drama that came along with hiring Eddie Brock but when you looked him in the eye, you noticed that the usual mischief in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

He was serious.

Wherever this was coming from, Eddie seemed to believe what he was saying.

“I don’t know, but I know that something is wrong and I think we need to figure out what it is” he tried, finally going for broke as he stood in front of you, acting like a crazy person.

By all accounts, you should have turned around and walked away. He was paranoid and completely determined that he was right, in a way that only someone who’d lost their mind would be. However, you couldn't help but believe him

As much as you disliked Eddie on principle, you had a lot of practice figuring out if someone was lying and you knew that whether he was right or not, he believed what he was saying and was telling the truth.

Now, all that was left to do was figure out if there was any truth to his wild claims.

“Give me a few days to ask around. We’ll meet up at the start of next week to talk, but don’t make me wait again” you decided, confident that if he was serious about this, he would show up at the right time.

After all, if he was right, you’d be risking your own career on this.

[anonymous-southern-armadillo]

SOA Headconnon.

(Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy) Opie jax and clay didn't make the cut pardners.

Synopsis: What dating the boys is like. (Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy only, sorry)

Warnings/disclaimers: Language. Non-graphic mentioned NSFW themes. Angsty themes. Fluffy shit fellers. So with that being said “typed”. This is going below the cut!

Chibs Telford

Dating chibs is a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because he can be so sweet, Heart on his sleeve whenever it’s just you and him.

He literally pulls his bike over if he sees wild flowers he knows you would love, picking them and dropping the vibrant flowers off at your home or work.

The boys often tease him for being a softie for you, But he prides himself for it.

The curse part though….

The croweaters absolutely loathe you because the relationship you and chibs have.

You can’t go to the clubhouse without hearing them whispering your name with venom.

But chibs knows how to make you feel loved, The whispers from the other women forgotten whenever he whisks you away for a night alone.

Lot’s of rides on his bike.

Wearing his leather jacket around the clubhouse to show everyone your his.

Expect this man to Shower you in small gifts.

Especially after arguments, That’s when he really pulls out the extra sweet shit.

Such as:

Chibs knew you were beyond pissed whenever he came home and the front door was locked, The windows as well. Luckily he knew how to break in without having to kick the door in. Whenever he walked into the silent living room he could hear the soft footfalls from upstairs, Knowing you were up there probably preparing for for bed. Creeping up the stairs silently, Chibs slowly pushed the door open seeing you pacing the floor. You were still pissed if the scowl on your face was anything to go by. Chibs sighs and leans on the threshold of the door, Watching you with guilt. He knew the argument was his fault, But in the heat of it he was stubborn and refused to admit it. Walking into the room he uttered your name in a hushed tone, Yet you heard him and curse under your breath.

“What do you want chibs?” You don’t look at him, instead you busy yourself with trying to fix the room you destroyed in a fit of rage.

The Scotsman walked over with his hands behind his back, Hiding what he held from you. “I wan' to apologize for being stubborn” He said while grasping your attention. “Also I have you somethin' ” You turn around and glare at him, It wasn’t as harsh as it once was but still cold enough to make him feel bad for the argument. Knowing how pissed he made you.

“Filip if you think you can use whatever gift you got me to mend this argument then you better get the hell out of here now” You huff, Word’s cold but you were still mad at him. That much obvious to chibs.

Sighing, Chibs slowly holds out his hand, The wild flowers of various kinds on display. You were mad at him, But the defeated look on his face and the small boutique of wild flowers helps ease away the anger and soon being replaced with guilt of your own. Smiling at Chibs you let a small giggle escape your lips.

“I swear you make it impossible to stay mad at Filip, Get the fuck over here” You say and pull him into a hug, Forgiving the man then and there.

Chibs wasn’t one to initiate cuddles.

BUT that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to them either.

He usually waits until your asleep until he ever so gently pulls your back flush against his chest, Large arm slung over your waist as his face nuzzles your neck.

Chibs makes it known to almost every in charming that you are, in his words, “His old lady” and he’d be damned if he ever lost you.

Insufferable. Dating this man is insufferable in the best way possible.

He never misses the chance to slap your ass, Whether it be in the privacy of your home or his dorm, Or in the public eye.

Tig trager

He’s not afraid of some PDA, He will make you sit on his lap and leave hickies on your neck just to show whatever man dared look your way that you were his.

Tigs, Although insufferable can be sweet. He makes it his goal to buy you whatever you want, He even surprises you with beautiful pieces of jewelry. He spoils you.

High sex drive. What’s surprising?

He literally takes you for drives on his bike to beautiful private places just so he can sit on his bike, Back against the handle bars with you riding him. Something he loves doing in his free time.

But he also loves binding you over the seat of his bike and taking you from behind, His hand tangled in your hair as you release a string of curses and moans of his name. 

He likes spoiling you, Like said before. He buys you all sorts of quite Revealing choices of wear. 

Mini skirts, short shorts. Plunging V-necked shirts and tank tops. 

He didn’t mind when you showed off your skin, He enjoyed the sight very much. 

But he also respected when you chose to wear more decent clothes most of the time, The sleazy ones more like a surprise for him.

Dates with him were spent at either the clubhouse bar or some bar out in town. He would occasionally (after chibs talked him into it) take you to restaurants that you liked, Letting you order whatever you wanted.

His flirtatious behavior though get’s him in more trouble then anyone could count, Leading to some angsty arguments with you two.

The party was in full swing at the clubhouse, Everyone in a particularly good mood after a successful deal made for more guns. Although specific details weren’t handed to you when it came to the business, Something your boyfriend tig would rather keep you out of. Speaking of tig though, you spot him by the bar with chibs and Bobby, talking amongst themselves. Chibs offering some blonde chick standing with them a small smile but warning flashing across his face making you a little curious. Shrugging it off, You smile and decide to join tigs side, The night boring without him pestering you with his constant talking and handsy self. Who would have thought you’d miss all that in a matter of minutes?

Once behind him you noticed that he was talking up the blonde chick, Shamelessly flirting with her. Bobby meets your furious gaze and tries nonverbally telling tigs you were behind him so the fool would hopefully close his trap. Luck wasn’t on tigs side tonight as you angrily placed your hands on your hips, Clearing your throat.

“Having a good time over here boys?” You say and the venom laced in it has chibs downing his beer and bidding the men goodnight. Mumbling something about having to talk with jax about something.

Tigs whips around so fast you fear he got whiplash, Bobby now amused at the horrified look on your boyfriend’s face. “Y/N! Baby, I was just getting you a drink” He tried to lie smoothly but you shake your head and ball your fists by your side. Seeing right through it, You knew he loved you, He showed that every day in small simple ways that you adored, But he always done this. Flirt with other women and shower them in his attention. You didn’t mean to be jealous, It wasn’t really that even. It hurt, Seeing and hearing him show and tell other women how gorgeous they were, It made you feel insecure, As if you weren’t enough for him.

You jab a finger at him when he tried explaining himself, The blonde behind him snickering at the scene. That pissed you off more. “Getting me a drink? By flirting with her?!” You scoff and turn around ready to leave the bar, But his large hand delicately grabbed your wrist and made you spin around.

“Shit I’m sorry babe I – I didn’t mean to” He stuttered out with a look of guilt. But you squirm free from his hold and storm out of the clubhouse with a heavy heart. Tig always causing the dull ache to burn your chest with his carelessness.

But he makes it up to you in the sweetest way possible.

Like trying his best to cook your favorite meal and surprise you with the house candle lit and the table fixed up nicely with your favorite flowers placed in the center of it.

Once all is forgiven, He would let you sit in his lap and curled up against his chest while you watch some old film on TV.

Like jax, He wouldn't initiate cuddles but he secretly loved when you cuddled him, Especially when you ran your fingers through his dark curls.

Juice Ortiz

Despite his flirty behavior and insufferable attitude, You loved tigs and he loved you, Even though he was hesitant to say those words back.

Juice wouldn't open up to you about himself much in the early stages of your relationship, He seemed shy, Nervous.

But after a month of dating, He started to be more open.

Juice seeked relationship advice from chibs, Not sure what he was doing and confused about his feelings for you.

Sweet. Absolutely sweet yet distant.

But chibs guided him through it and juice learned that he was indeed in love with you.

Lot's of sweet calls from him if he goes on a particularly long run, Telling you how much he missed you and loved you. Because he dropped the L bomb early into the relationship.

He doesn't really care for going out in public for dates so most the time it's either a picnic in the middle of nowhere or dinner at your house while binge watching shows.

Juice isn't eager to let you ride his bike with him, Afraid you'd fall off and get hurt.

If he did though, He made sure you were safe.

Making sure the helmet was on tightly. Urging you to hold onto him good enough multiple times before slowly driving you through the town of charming.

Overprotective, Like, Really overprotective.

Doesn't let you do anything if he thinks it's dangerous, The boy doesn't like seeing you get hurt.

With that being said, His overprotectiveness starts small arguments between you both.

More like harmless bickering.

Like:

Standing in the kitchen of your small home, You grab a cutting board and a knife, Preparing to cut some onions for the stirr fry you were cooking for yourself and your boyfriend juice. Tonight rare, No club business to attend. Just you and him, Spending the night together.

As soon as the sound of chopping fills the kitchen, Juice rushes in and quite literally takes the knife from you. Confused you look up into the wide brown eye's of the man you love. “Juice, what the hell are you doing?” You placed a hand on your hip and quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs and starts cutting the onions. “Well I felt bad for making you cook dinner for us both by yourself, Thought I'd come in and help you” He shrugs and avoids your suspicious gaze narrowed onto the back of his head as he turned his back to you.

“So this isn't because you heard me using a knife?” You crossed your arms with a knowing look, This not being the first time you and him have danced this little dance.

Sheepishly peeking at you over his shoulder, Juice continued cutting the rest of the onions. “Maybe...” He trailed off, Your huff of frustration at his overprotective behavior caused him to place the knife down and turn around. Leaning on the counter with his hands resting on the top by his sides. “What? You always end up with cuts on you're fingers or hand whenever you have a knife! I don't like seeing you get hurt babe” He exclaims with those adorable eye's begging for this not to end in a argument.

Scoffing, You un-crossed your arms and fixated a stern stare on him. “Everyone get's hurt sometimes Ortiz, That doesn't mean you have to keep a close eye on me or treat me like I'm a baby!” You told him as he simply sighs and averted his eye's to the floor.

“Maybe I just wanted to help you cook! Maybe I wanted to chop the veggies for you!” He argues back as frustration of his own began to build up inside him.

“Maybe I wanted to do it!” You walked up to him, So close that you stood chest-to-chest. Juice looks down at you with an expression of seriousness, You mirroring his expression. But a small smile tugs at his mouth, a laugh threatening to tumble out. You quirk a brow, Curious as to what was funny.

“If you cut the veggies we would end up at the emergency room because you would end up chopping half you're hand off” He snickers, A full laugh finally rumbling through his chest. You couldn't help it, You began laughing as well. Forehead hitting his chest as you both laughed hysterically at his little joke. Although he was overprotective, He was also right. You couldn't look at a knife without cutting yourself by accident.

But sometimes arguments with you and him could get bad, Like him spending the night in his dorm at the clubhouse bad.

Usually he would be at your doorstep with some form of gift with glossy eye's. Apologies flying from his mouth.

The damned puppy dog eye's of his, He made it hard for you to stay made at him.

happy lowmen

Sweetie, A total sweetheart and you are absolutely privileged to be his old lady.

Dating happy is probably the best thing that could ever happen to you, Not only was he sweet with you, But a secret romantic.

Expect lots of roses to be gifted to you while your at work or simply chilling at him. He makes it a habit of having the red flowers shipped to you almost every day.

Like if he saw a little stuffed animal of your favorite kind, He would get it. just sweet simple things like that.

Date nights are spent at his house where he cooks you a big meal and you both eat outside under the stars.

Just like the other guys he showers you in gifts, But the ones happy gets you are more sentimental then anything.

This man loves cuddles, You can't change my mind about that.

Loves being the little spoon, He likes when you hold him, The feeling of your chest pressed against his back comforting.

But he is always open to being the big spoon himself, Holding you close to him just as comforting.

Happy loves when you ride with him, Your arms tightly wrapped around him as he flies down the road making him feel special that you chose him out of all the guys in charming to be with.

When he introduced you to the son's they all started teasing him about how you were to obviously to gorgeous for the older man.

But you always shut them up with a sassy remark or just plain out mouthing off. Either way the understood that you love happy and seeing him act like a complete lovestruck puppy around you made them ease the teasing some.

Although loving and sweet, It's apparent how much of a clean freak he is. You even nicknamed him Mr clean much to his dismay.

Sometimes you accidentally leave dirty dishes in the sink or throw laundry in a heap on the floor to fold later. Both duties forgotten as many other things keep your mind occupied.

Happy isn't very happy whenever he comes home to such things, He doesn't get mad, But it definitely gets under his skin and irritates him.

He huffs, Ignores you, Angrily doing the small chores you forgot himself. He never once raised his voice at you, Something he refused to do, That's why whenever you accidentally frustrated him he chooses to ignore you.

Like:

You have been struggling with house work and general work, Both things piling up and becoming one big jumbled mess. The morning you woke up for work, You noticed happy was still home and cooked him breakfast before he headed out, You had the dishes neatly stacked on the counter ready to be washed. But time spent with happy flew by faster then you thought, Making you four minutes late for work. Quickly shrugging your coat on and rushing out the door, You completely forgot about the two specific duties that set abandoned in the house.

So whenever you came home, Happy's bike in the driveway. You felt joy flutter inside you at the realization he was home, But whenever you walked inside the house you instantly felt the joy being replaced with guilt and fear of the beginning argument that would soon commence. You saw happy in the kitchen washing the dishes, His back facing you while you shrug your coat off and tossed your keys on the sofa. Walking into the kitchen you wrap your arms around his middle, Placing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I was going to do that after we ate breakfast, But I lost track of time and ended up being late for work” You muttered, The silence you received letting you know he was pissed.

“Go sit down and I'll finish it hap, Then I'll order something for dinner” You said while rubbing his belly through his shirt, But he still doesn't move. His muscles tense. “Please... Mr clean” You try and break the very cold ice.

Happy shrugs you off though and starts rinsing the dishes he had washed, Giving you the silent treatment. You step back and watch him for a moment, Guilty for not keeping them clean. You knew he hated whenever the sink was cluttered.

“C'mon happy, It's not the end of the world because a few pans and plates where sitting in the sink” You lean on the table and crossed your arms, “I was going to clean up whenever I got back home from work” Happy scoffs and picks up a dish towel to dry his hands off, Leaning his back on the sink and looking at you with a blank expression.

“Why not do it as soon as the dishes are dirty?” He asks Finally, The words coming out raspy as his frustrated was crystal clear.

“Because I was late for work! I didn't have enough time to do it this morning hap!” You exclaim while motioning towards the sink. Starting to grow irritated by how he was acting. “I mean -- Jesus christ happy what do you want me to do, Call into work and tell them I won't be coming in because I have to wash dishes or else my boyfriend will be a dick all day?” You huff out angrily, Crossing your arms again as you look away from him, Jaw clenched.

“I'd appreciate them to be clean when I come home so I can at least cook my girl some fucking dinner! But y'know what? fuck it -- I'm going outside to fucking calm down!” He yelled while throwing the dish towel down out of pure rage. He then proceeds to storm outside, placing a toothpick between his lips.

You sigh and rub a hand down your face, Hating whenever you and happy argue. But sometimes he could be a dick, A real major dick. Walk over to the sink and finish washing what little dishes he left, Once their dry and put away. You start preparing him and you something for dinner, Just simple macaroni & cheese and chicken strips. It wasn't anything fancy or special, But you wanted to at least make him dinner after pissing him off unintentionally. It didn't take long until it was all done, You scoop some Mac & cheese into Two plates, Soon placing three chicken strips in each plate and walking outside onto your porch. Happy was in a chair looking out over at the yard, You hand him his plate hoping he'd take it. He did but doesn't look at you, Just held his food. You sat down in a chair beside and find yourself poking around your food rather then eating.

“I'm sorry I yelled” He broke the silence, Looking over at you. “I had a rough today and stupidly enough took it out on you... I'm sorry” He whispers and you forgive him the moment the sad glint swims around in his eye's.

“It's okay hap, I'm sorry I didn't clean the kitchen” You decided to slowly munch on the Mac & cheese.

He smiles a small smile and placed a hand on your thigh, Gently rubbing it. “You didn't need to do it, I was the dumbass who made that mess. Although I don't recall piling a bunch of clothes in the bedroom floor” He jokes. You almost choked on your food as you remember the laundry you needed to fold. About ready to get up to do so, He shakes his head in denial. “We can do that tomorrow, Right now we just need to eat this gourmet meal you made and relax” Happy once again jokes and you giggle at how he described the food. You and him sit outside on the porch eating dinner and laughing about random things, The argument forgotten.

IN CONCLUSION:

Happy is always guilty whenever he does raise his voice.

He also felt bad for making you make dinner and surprises you by folding the laundry early the next morning.

Which you rewarded him with some *coughs* early morning head.

Although he wasn't expecting such a reward, He excepted it graciously.

And he returned the favor like a gentleman.

[nari-nim]

yeosang as your boyfriend

nari note: kicking off the bf series with this king. who do you want to see next? creds for gif goes to @holy-yeosang​

Let’s be honest, you might have to make the first move with him

But it’s worth it because yeosang is actually such boyfriend material

He takes comfort in established familiarity and warm-heartedness, so likes taking things slow and understanding your personality more than anything

Shy boi at first even as y’all are dating

It can take a long time to reach the point he’s super comfortable. 

But please be patient with him because he really has super intense and strong feelings for you

Super playful and chaotic once he feels max comfortable around you!!

Type to be quiet around others but then rambles nonstop with you. Would be so funny too, he has so many hot takes he was holding in 

Can be unpredictable, but not in a bad way! 

More like he just stares at you in such a straight face until you get slightly worried, but he just feeds you three pocky sticks, kisses your lips as you are munching in confusion, and then leaves

Also please he’s so funny??? Like it’s not the type of humor like Wooyoung who just is so loud and makes everyone laugh, but the type where he makes such snarky or intellectual jabs at the situation/those around him

So it just ends up with the two of your snickering on the side

So many inside jokes

So much laughter, always 

Definitely the type to tease you as his form of flirting

Enjoys personal attention and lots of eye contact when talking about literally anything that comes to mind

Really likes just sitting with you somewhere cozy and talking about life for hours and hours on end

Once he’s comfortable, he’s actually so adorably expressive and unafraid to return PDA

While he may struggle with emotional expression at times, physical affection can stand in loving words for him

While not as touchy as San or Wooyoung, he isn’t afraid to have the two of you be in your own world

Sits close to you at any given opportunity and quietly takes care of you

Like offering you snacks first, moves your hair behind your ears, urges you to wrap you arms around his, gives you his jacket

He’s the type to love you quietly

Actions speak louder than words, and his actions are so incredibly thoughtful and attentive

For example, he may not be tripping over himself to tell you just how much he loves you 24/7 but he never fails to open soft drinks for you after the one time your nail broke in front of him when you tried to pry the metal tab open, he literally ignores the group chat but makes sure he bids you good morning and good night because he’s seen how happy they make you feel, etc

Ok but he is so kind even if he rarely voices it. You can absolutely count on him to be there for emotional and practical support whenever it’s needed.

Very trusting in the relationship

He is really understanding of you having friends/a life outside of him so he’s less likely to get jealous

Really rational in disagreements

Sometimes it can get hard to read his expressions, so it’s important you both learn to communicate a lot to keep the relationship healthy! He’s actually really good at voicing his thoughts and opinions well once he has the space to do so

Values reciprocation

Will do aegyo to make you blush or sway things in his favor. And then will proceed to hide his face immediately after

please he is Adorable

You’re his hype man. He will also then get super shy, but loves every single second of it. Secretly wants you to hype him up nonstop

I think he secretly really enjoys words of affirmation as his primary love language (receiving).

Compliments can be a little rare from him, so when he does compliment you, you know he really means it!! 

And he will roast you

Sometimes, he has his fun by occasionally starting some verbal sparring followed by intense making up. 

Like he’ll choose a topic and say something so wild about it just to see your expression. Pushes your buttons a little before either one of you has to shut the other up through a make out session or a bet

Just very trustworthy, loyal, loving and faithful as a whole uwu

NSFW after this

With that being said, he’s a switch

I don’t see power play being as big of deal for him tbh, he likes to go with the flow with what you both feel like during the moment

literally his preference to dom or sub may actually depend on you and the dynamic of the relationship

when he’s dom, he’s soft or hard depending on the mood as well

but ngl I’m leaning on that hard dom agenda

Sex with him can start out a bit vanilla at first

He’s so careful and wants you to be comfy :’)

But give it a few rounds and lots of communication, his kinky ass will take over

Takes a lot of joy in pleasing you, and can take this to an extreme where he just wants to watch you cum again and again and again from his touch

Um can be a bit of a sadist 

Type to ask you if it hurts while overstimulating you and says “good” when you moan in affirmation 

Secretly has a thing to see you cry 

Also really likes edging

He likes driving you so desperate to the point you’re begging him to let you cum

As you’re reaching and moaning for him he’ll say in a teasing tone “oh really, what do you want? You want my cock? Hm? Is that it?” 

Just to hear your pleady whines

That mocking tone will send shivers down anyone’s spine 

Oh My God you cannot tell me he won’t have a degradation kink (giving)

Also the type to be like “use your words” while he’s going down on you and then proceed to suck your clit extra hard, making you unable to form coherent sounds through your loud moans. It then becomes his excuse to edge you for yet another round because you didn’t use your words, did you?

Whew, anyways

Grab onto his biceps while he rails into you and notice how they flex underneath you as he starts pounding harder in response

Likes to show off his gains by pushing you up against a wall 

Also likes it when you top him

Likes hearing you really vocal, even though he’s more on the quieter side when he isn’t dirty talking

Usually just groans when hitting an extra sensitive spot or when you give a particularly good blowjob that day

Likes having you go down on him as foreplay, but prefers penetration as an end goal

Into the classic missionary and launchpad positions so he can see your expression clearly as he overstimulates/edges you

Likes seeing you look up at him through those teary eyes <3

But also very into doggy style

Likes fucking you into the sheets in general, so any position adjacent to that is on his favorites list

um his fingering game is so strong

In the mornings, likes slowly fucking you from behind while spooning you so he can also grab onto your tits or play with your clit

His end goal always is to make you feel so fucking good, it just manifests differently than service tops like Seonghwa or Yunho

Very private about your sex life and not into public sex at all

Possessive in that way. Only he can touch you like that, see you like that, hear your moans like that, etc

Likes hearing you confirm that 

“Only I can make you scream like this”

“Who fucks you this good, huh?”

“C’mon, say it louder.” 

Has one hell of a degradation kink (giving) me thinks

Likes it when you talk back, lowkey likes brat taming when he’s in a dom mood

But does like teasing you in public and keeping it like that until you both find a bedroom, gets off on the idea of you both having to hide your neediness in public

Very little people expect that from just seeing you both together in regular settings 

But little do they know despite the two of you innocently sitting together eating brunch with the team, leaving a few inches for jesus, y’all just had the freakiest sex before getting there. Like you’re literally shifting around in your seat as the soreness kicks in, and Yeosang is smirking ever so slightly at your discomfort

Will rest a heavy head on your upper thigh for a few seconds, brushing his pinky finger against your clothed clit through the thin fabric of your outfit, as he reaches for the bread basket 

Likes hearing that little gasp leaving your lips

Knows he’s leaving you very frustrated and will use that to his advantage later

The whole time, he has the most innocent, fair expression on his face

when he’s a sub tho?

similar vibes. wants you to feel good. 

Still wants to dirty talk, but it’s far more subservient now

one quick way to get him into subspace

if you push him far enough, then he’s so pouty and clingy and fucking cute

It’s so rare to see him like this but always such a treat

favorite positions is to have you ride him and he’ll play with your tits

or he’s still fucking you into the sheets but you are 100% in control

Just imagine him all whiny and teary as he fucks into you, begging you to let him cum as your clench your walls purposely around him, making him yelp as he tries to still his shaking thighs to wait for your signal

actually can be quite obedient as a sub

truly will do his best to be your good boy 

Anyways, aftercare is pretty good with him. He’s very caring and gentle and checks in a lot with you (he better, usually he fucks quite a few rounds out of you)

If he’s fucked out tho, make sure he is also taken care of! As a sub, he follows your orders so well so he’ll probably fall asleep so fast after intensely cumming for the nth time 

At the very least wipes you both down clean with a warm washcloth and kisses you to sleep

Likes spooning you at the end :’)

give him his cuddles </3

masterlist

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?�� you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Note: Hi guys! This is my first writing piece. I tried not to do a two parter for my first one but it ended up being so long. Sorry! I would love to hear your feedback so feel free to leave me a message! Part two will be posted soon. Also I have completed a rewrite of the show with a JJ x Routledge sister pairing so keep an eye out for that! Also wanna shout out @skiesofthesketchy​ @malfoyfarms​ @collecting-stories​ because they were some of the first masterlists I read and I loved them and it inspired me to write my own. So thank you!

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Language, angst, very slight mentions of abuse

Part 2

Y/N Y/L/N. That’s you. Or as some like to call you, Hannah Montana. You live the best of both worlds, living it up on Figure Eight and wearing hundred dollar dresses to fancy dinners and parties, sneaking expensive mimosas to brunches with your friends, and getting biweekly mani pedi’s with your sister. Meanwhile, when you’re not rolling around in the luxuries of Kook Life, you’re rolling around in the dirt with your Pogue friends, baking in the sun on a dirty small boat while drinking the cheapest beer one of the boys’ could get their hands on. Most Kooks hated you even when they wanted to be you. And most Pogues didn’t trust you even as they tried getting in your pants.

One of them being JJ Maybank.

Kiara introduced you to her group of friends right after freshman year. The two of you were the black sheep of Kook Academy. Both your families have money, sure. But you weren’t jerks about it. You enjoy a little pampering here and there, but you’re not tone deaf and superficial like the rest of your peers. You were so grateful that your science teacher paired you two together for that year’s science fair. You instantly clicked with the curly brunette and spent most of the class talking about whatever came to mind instead of actually brainstorming project ideas. After working together for months on a science fair project with a shared passion of wanting to help save the environment, Kie finally introduced you to her best friends.

John B and Pope immediately made you feel like one of the group. Sure, they were curious about your life but you never felt like you were being interrogated with questions. They included you on inside jokes and even gave you the nickname ‘Sassy’ after proving to them that you can hold your own in a verbal fight.

Thanks to JJ.

From the start he claimed to never like you. He hated where you were from, who your parents were, and that you never had a job. He hated that you didn’t even have to try to get people to like you. In his eyes, everything was handed to you on silver platter. You had a picture perfect life and all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and show off your pearly white teeth. He couldn’t stand you.

Yet, he was dangerously attracted to you.

He loved the way your hair shined against the setting sun, he loved that you didn’t wear makeup every single day like every other Kook on the island, he loved how your white jean shorts perfectly shaped your curves, and he loved how your temper was as equally as short as his because it made you fighting with him that much hotter.

Last night was no different than every other night with you and your friends. It was quiet, spent around a bonfire in John B’s back yard. You sipped on cheap beer from the can while the smell of JJ’s marijuana smoke wafted through the air. Kie lightly strummed the strings of her ukulele while Pope and JJ bickered about the pros and cons of smoking weed.

This was your family. You had friends on the other side of the island too but you weren’t as close as you were with the Pogues. You would do anything for the people surrounding you. Even JJ. You tried to tell yourself you hated him just as much as he hated you, but you couldn’t help but feel like every other girl on this island, falling for his ocean blue eyes and golden locks. His wit and his charm. His loyalty and protectiveness of his friends. How he looked with his shirt off. How he would wink at you when he caught you staring. You wished you didn’t, but you loved him.

“Hellooo, Y/N?” John B waved his hand in front of your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d been staring.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

John B smirked but didn’t say what he was thinking. He always thought you and JJ were acting dumb when it was clear as day that the two of you were attracted to each other. He always caught you two staring at one another when the other wasn’t looking. You two would always ask about the other person when they weren’t there even if it was just to throw a sharp jab behind their back.

“I asked you what you were up to this weekend.”

“Oh,” You shrugged. “Probably run some errands, babysit my neighbor’s kids...”

Just like Hannah Montana, you also lived a secret life. Your life wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought it was, but you’d never admit to it. Your mother would be crushed, your friends would find you stupid and pathetic, and you would hate yourself even more than you already did.

“Good. Sunday we’re going to check out the surfing competition on Seasill Beach. JJ’s trying to qualify for it next year.”

Your smile immediately dropped. “Sunday. Oh.”

“Already got a spa day planned, Princess?” JJ smirked from across the way.

“I, uh,” You tried your best to fake a grin. “I’m sorry. I can’t go. I already have plans.”

You held you breath as you waited for someone to respond. This was the third time this month you flaked on your friends without a good explanation. You never knew what to tell them, only that you had plans. You were afraid if you said anything else, they’d find out you were lying.

“Again?” Kie stopped playing her ukulele to look at you. “Seriously. Is there some secret boy we should know about or something?”

You scoffed. “No.”

You felt the most guilty lying to Kie. After all she was your best friend. The one you were supposed to be able to share everything with, even the stuff you couldn’t tell your parents.

“Kie’s right. You bailed on us last week last minute too,” Pope said.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your head wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie.

“We all knew this day would come.” JJ’s smirk was gone. He flicked the butt of his joint into the fire and claps off the ash from his hands. “Hannah Montana dips her toes into the wild life. She feels free and independent long enough to decide she’d rather go back to her cookie cutter life and live with all the privilege that daddy has to offer.”

The word ‘daddy’ physically made you flinch. Your eyes narrowed in a tight glare as you dug your fingernails into the palm of your hand, hating that this was the way JJ thought of you.

“J...” John B tried to warn him but JJ didn’t listen.

“No, seriously.” JJ stood up. “I bet the reason she’s not telling us what all her ‘plans’ are is because she knows you’ll all be disappointed. Me? Well, I couldn’t care less whether you hung out with us or not. In fact, I’ve been praying for it. So tell us, Y/N, what are you doing that you won’t tell us? If it’s not some dude, then maybe you decided you’d rather be a Kook. Are you going to fancy lunches and riding yachts across the ocean? Maybe you’re spitting in the faces of the people who work to make your life easier. Maybe -”

“JJ!” Kie yelled.

You stood up, your vision turning red and your skin going hot. Usually you could take JJ’s insults. You were use to JJ throwing your family’s money in your face, trying to make you feel bad for something you can’t control, but this was too much. Because now he was calling you out on your loyalty to your friends. And he was so far from the truth.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You said. The other three stood up when you took a step in JJ’s direction. John B stood close to you. He didn’t know what you were going to do, but he’s never heard your voice so low and threatening in a long time. The other time was with a Kook who was giving JJ shit. Ironically. “For me to just leave.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. In fact, because I’m such a nice friends, I’m going to give you some free advice. First, the last thing you want to question me about is my loyalty to the people who’s lives I would put before my own. Second, I would suggest removing that stick up your ass because it seems like your way too uptight to handle it.”

JJ glared at you and didn’t move to respond. A part of you was surprised he didn’t have anything to come back with and the other part of you was relieved.

The thick tension between you and your friends was suffocating. Your night had been effectively ruined by a simple question. But the sad part is, you didn’t even know who to blame. JJ, or the other man causing most of your guilt and grief.

“Y/N/N...” Kie tried stopping you as you gathered your stuff to leave.

“I’m out of here.”

You stormed out of the backyard and into your car. There was only so much you could take until you broke. And you were not going to give JJ Maybank the satisfaction of seeing you break.

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

You couldn’t fall asleep last night. JJ’s words kept replaying in your head like a bad song stuck on replay. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to blame him for not trusting you. But instead, you hated yourself. Because you’re the reason he can’t trust you. Cause you have secrets you don’t want shared.

Your thumb hovered over his contact. Not JJ’s. The man who’s made your life a living hell for the last sixteen years. You wanted to scream and cry and slap him in his face. But instead, you stayed frozen in fear. Like the little pathetic girl he says you are. And you hated yourself more for proving him right.

Your attention was taken away when someone busted through your bedroom door out of breath. Kie immediately went to your drawers and pulled out the first bathing suit she could find and threw it at you.

“Kie -”

“We need to go,” She said. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Pope and John B ran out of gas doing grocery runs for Heyward. We need to get them with the HMS Pogue.”

“Where’s JJ? Why can’t he help you?”

“He’s working,” Kie said quickly. “Come on.”

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

You and Kie found Heyward’s boat stranded in the middle of the marsh like Kie said it would be. John B and Pope were waiting for you on the back and thanking you both for coming to help. You hold the gas as they helped you onto the boat. They directed you to the tank while they helped Kie.

As soon as you made your way to the front of the boat, you heard the engine of the Pogue rev and take off. You dropped the gasoline gallon and sprinted to the back of the boat where they left you. John B and Pope waved back to you as Kie drove them back to the Chataeu.

“What the hell?” You yelled at them to come back.

“You and JJ need to work your shit out!” John B yelled back to you.

“What...” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards you. You gasp in surprise when a sweaty JJ passed you to glare at the boat that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“There’s food and blankets in the cabin!” Pope yelled back.

“We’ll come get you in the morning,” Kie said.

You clenched your teeth together with frustration. JJ looked just as pissed off and small part of you was disappointed with that. He turned around, cursing to himself and hitting random shit in his way.

This was going to be a long day.

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

After four hours, you and JJ still hadn’t spoken to each other. He took over the cabin while you laid out on the back of the boat. Your head was running with different thoughts. Should you try to make up with JJ? Should you just continue to ignore him? Should you tell him why you can’t go to the surfing competition tomorrow?

You didn’t know what to do but you knew you couldn’t sit here in silence anymore.

You reluctantly stood in front of him with crossed arms. He was smoking a blunt and looking out into the setting sun. If you were friends, you would take a picture of him right now. The pink sky painted his skin perfectly.

“What?” He said without looking at you.

“Seriously?” You raised one brow. “We’re asked to do one thing on this boat and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not sorry for what I said last night.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes. The problem with both of you was that you’re both stubborn. But if the problem with JJ couldn’t be fixed today, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to put up with his rude remarks and assumptions about you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You said.

“My problem?”

“Yeah. Your problem. You’ve been treating me like shit ever since Kie introduced me to you. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so goddamn much?”

JJ shook his head in annoyance. “I’m not doing this.”

He got up and walked to the back of the boat where you were sulking not even five minutes ago. You followed him like the stubborn person you were and you continued to grill him.

“I’ve tried so hard to be your friend. I’ve bought you drugs, I’ve even done yours and JB’s laundry. I put in a good word to the tourons who ask about you at boneyard parties. I laugh at your jokes, even when they’re about my friends. I try so hard to be on your good side and you still want nothing to do with me!”

“Because you’re a Kook!”

“So?”

“You have everything. Money, family, friends, a future. I don’t trust you because I don’t know what the hell you want with us. What do we possibly have that you can’t get on Figure Eight? Hm? Are you trying to prove a point to your mom that you don’t need her? You trying to prove to your dad that you’re a tough girl and don’t need his money or protection to keep you safe? Huh?”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t listen! I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t care about any of those things. I hang out with you guys because you are my friends. I have a good time when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to get?”

JJ scoffed. “Please. You don’t think I see you constantly checking your cell phone? Making sure no one can see who you’re texting? If we’re such good friends, why won’t you tell us what you’re doing tomorrow? You always have ‘other plans’ and then you never tell us what they are.”

“Because that’s none of your business!”

“If my friends are going to get hurt because of some lying bitch then it is my business!”

You were breathing so heavily, you were basically panting. Your blood felt like it was boiling under your skin and your head felt fuzzy with lack of thoughts. You didn’t know what to say, truly lost for words.

JJ took another step closer to you. You’re so close to him, you can feel his breath on your face and see every mark on his skin. You never knew he had a scar right above his brow or a freckle under his ear. He smelled like weed and sun sunscreen and his breath like mint. Had you not been fired up with rage, you would have thought he looked hot and maybe even made a move.

But now it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m sick and tired of you spoiled brats getting everything you want. You’re nothing but a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t even know the kind of privilege she has if it hit her in the face. You can’t relate to anything we have to go through. You don’t have to get dirt underneath your fingernails to make a buck. You don’t have to wonder where your next meal is coming from. You wouldn’t last a week on the Cut because you’ve never known what it’s been like to live the life we do!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” You snapped. The heart in your chest felt like it was being shredded to pieces by a rapid wolf. You felt like you were being torn apart one by one with each insult he threw in your face. Little did he know, he was wrong.

“I know enough to never want to see you again. I will never accept you into our group of friends. Don’t you get that? So you can stop playing the nice girl act around me and go back to Sarah Cameron and the other Kooks that you still hang out with despite knowing everything they’ve done to us. To Kie!”

Bringing up the fight between Kie and Sarah was a low blow and JJ knew it. It was something you always struggled with because you continued to be friends with both of them separately. At first, they were both mad at you but then accepted your friendship when they came around to loving the idea that you would fight for both of them. You tried getting them to talk and make up, but both of them refused. Maybe you should just stick them on a boat in the middle of nowhere and force them to work it out.

Although, clearly your experience with it wasn’t going so well.

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well life’s not fair sweet heart. But you wouldn’t know about that.”

You thought the fight last night was bad. But this one took the icing off the cake. You wished so desperately that Kie had just trapped you both in a locked room, so at least you had the chance to break out and run away from the darkness that was clouding around you.

You were most upset that this was how JJ thought of you. You didn’t know if you would have the same devastating reaction if someone else had said these things to you. You wanted so badly to be friends with the blonde Pogue. You saw the way he interacted with his friends and you wanted to be a part of that small circle so badly, you would almost do anything to be in it.

But you didn’t think you could last another second of being belittled and tormented with JJ’s outspoken feelings towards you. You wished there was a rewind button so you could go back to bed and hopefully never wake up and you’d lock your door so Kie couldn’t break in.

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and admit your defeat. You wanted to find the nearest corner and crawl into it and escape the murderous glare of JJ Maybank. JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because in this moment, you still wanted him. And you were just realizing that you never will.

“You judge me by the surface. You’ve never once tried to get to know me. You don’t ask. You just assume that I’m like every other kid on Figure Eight. You don’t know where I’ve came from. What I’ve been through. What I live with. You don’t know my plans for the future or my hobbies or even my favorite color because you didn’t ask!” Adrenaline pushes through your veins like a wave of energy. You’ve never felt so powerful but so small in your life.

“All right. So tell me,” JJ said. “Tell me whatever story you can think of that will change my mind about you.”

You paused, standing there face to face with someone who will never accept you. You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions you didn’t know which one to choose from. Anger, sorrow, fear, confusion, shame.

You couldn’t believe you even thought about telling JJ your story. A story that you haven’t even told Kie. The story about how you were actually born and raised on the far end of the south side. How your dad use to abuse your mother right in front of you before she managed to escape when you were eight. For six months you lived in her car before she got a job as a housekeeper at a cheap motel used mostly for hookers and their cliental. Her employer let you live rent free if your mom accepted a cheaper pay check. During one of her shifts, your mother ran right into Andrew Y/L/N. No, he wasn’t one of the hooker’s clients. He was actually on the property looking to buy out the place. Even though he was a Kook, he looked through the housekeeper’s uniform into my mom’s heart and loved everything about her. He took her on a couple dates, then less than a year later, married her. You changed your last name to his because you didn’t want any relation to your father anymore. You thought the man was scum and deserved to rot in hell for everything he put your mom through. You hated him and even wished for him to die. Sometimes you even thought about doing it yourself. But then you saw him again. At a gas station in the middle of The Cut. You couldn’t believe he recognized you and you were even more shocked he had the audacity to talk to you. And you listened. He told you how sorry he was. How he never meant to hurt your mom. How he missed his baby girl and wanted to be in her life again. You fell for every word because a part of you you didn’t know existed missed having a biological dad.

That was your biggest mistake.

He didn’t change. He was still the same bastard he was eight years ago, using violence and threats with people much weaker than him to get what he wanted. He loved guilting you with your new luxuries. How you now had everything right under your fingertips after you left him to wither away with nothing. He said you owed him. Because you were his daughter and you were supposed to love him unconditionally. And you fell for it every time. He never hurt you like he hurt your mom. A few slaps here and there but nothing to leave a mark to get your mother questioning.

So now you were trapped - trapped in his world and in his life. Using your own money that you actually worked for, little did JJ know, to pay for his bills, his drugs, and sometimes, even his bail.

You didn’t tell anyone about this secret life because you didn’t want anyone to make you feel any more pathetic and weak than you already felt. And most importantly, you didn’t want to hurt your mother by telling her you’ve been supporting the one person she’s been trying to protect you from.

And you were about to risk that by telling someone who probably still wouldn’t care about you even after hearing what you had to say. You are who you are. If JJ didn’t like you now, he shouldn’t like you after telling him your story, anyway.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No?” JJ scoffed. “I’m finally asking you tell me something and you’re saying no?”

“Because you don’t care, JJ! Not really. You think knowing my sob story is going to get you to like me? I don’t need a pity friendship. I am who I am because of shit I’ve had to overcome. And this is me now. So if you don’t like it, then fine. We’ll do it your way and call it quits.” JJ didn’t say anything as you turned around to find somewhere to pass out in hopes of getting morning to come faster.

You found a blanket deep into the cabin and pulled it over your body, shielding yourself away from the world. You hoped the darkness would sweep through your head so you wouldn’t be plagued with torturous thoughts about your past or what’s going to happen to tomorrow. You cried - you cried because even after JJ ripped into your like a zoo animal, he still hated you.

JJ was wrong. You didn’t have everything. Because you didn’t have him.

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

Surprisingly, the sun rose sooner than you expected it to. Sleeping on the swaying boat wasn’t as awful as you thought it was going to be. In fact, it was kind of peaceful with the stars above you and the sound of moving water right under you.

The morning wasn’t so calming. You were slapped in the face with memories of the night before. Your stomach twisted at the thought of being face to face with JJ again. You knew what you had to do and thinking about it made you sick and depressed.

You pushed yourself up and checked the time on the radio. 8:03. Anxiety instantly flooded through you. You only had two hours to get home to be ready in time to run ‘errands’ with your dad.

You looked out to the back of the boat where JJ was looking into the horizon, probably waiting for your friends to come.

Fresh set of tears pricked your eyes at what’s to come. You loved your friends and you even loved JJ. But you couldn’t stay with the Pogues. You didn’t want to make JJ any more uncomfortable than he already was and you were afraid the constant fighting would push your friends further apart. You didn’t want to be the reason for that.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and walked next to JJ. Without a word, you looked out in the same direction he was looking and admired the morning sun.

Surprisingly, JJ was the first one to speak. He looked at you and instantly felt guilty all over again. He tossed and turned all night contemplating on whether he should wake you up to apologize or just wait until morning. He knew he wasn’t being fair. You’ve done nothing but tried to earn his trust since day one. You accepted him for all his flaws and he couldn’t do the same for you. Yeah there was the phone thing and not telling the others what you’re up to, but it wasn’t like you were constantly in his business. If you see him with unexplained bruises, you don’t pester him about it. If he comes back to the Chateau in a pissy mood and blames it on a fight with his dad, you try to make him forget about it with a distraction instead of making him tell you what the fight was about. Why couldn’t he give you the same respect?

Truth was he wasn’t so much worried about his friends getting hurt as he was getting hurt. He liked you more than a friend should which would make your departure from your friends that much more heartbreaking for him. He never felt this way over a girl, let a lone a Kook and he tried so desperately to hate you. But it didn’t work. Instead, it made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wanted to fix what he broke. He told himself he still had time left. His friends weren’t back yet to get him.

“Listen, Y/N -”

“It’s fine, J,” You sniffled. This time you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks. You tried blinking them away which only made them fall faster. You hated crying in front of people. Your dad always said it was a sign of weakness and you believed him. You wouldn’t be surprised if JJ laughed in your face right now and called you a loser. “It’s done.”

“What are you talking about?”

JJ’s heart physically broke when he saw your tears. He had never seen you cry. Not even out of joy. He couldn’t believe he was the cause of this. That he had made someone as beautiful and as kind as you actually feel bad about herself. He wished he could take back time and start over. He wished he gave her a chance from the beginning. He wished it wasn’t too late.

You both looked up when you heard the engine of the HMS Pogue. In the distance, you could hear your friends laughing and calling out to you, not yet realizing their plan went to shit. You had to make this quick.

“The last thing I want is to get between you and your friends. You don’t have to worry about me hurting anyone, especially Kie. I’ll back off.” You said, making JJ’s brows furrowed in confusion and his heart raced with worry. “I’m giving you what you want. I’ll stay out of your life.”

JJ couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he drove you to do the one thing he actually never wanted you to do. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

You looked JJ in the eyes and he wished you didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t see the light behind your eyes or the little crinkle in the corner when you smiled. They were dull and lifeless, making him sick to his stomach.

“I didn’t stutter. Did I?” You used his words from the other night and it felt like a stab in the heart to JJ.

JJ was left speechless which almost never happens. He wished he could say something, anything, to make you feel differently, to tell you he was wrong and sorry. But nothing came out. He could barely breathe.

“Hey you crazy kids,” Kie’s voice pierces the air, jokingly and airy. If only she knew that wasn’t how you were feeling.

“Missing a key or something?” John B joked alongside her.

“You should have called us sooner!” Pope added.

When the boat came closer to yours, they finally got a look at the two of you. They were shocked to see you silently crying and looking like all the life had been sucked out of you. JJ looked mad but they couldn’t tell whether he was mad at you or them or himself.

The three of them went sick with anxiety, suddenly wondering if this was a bad idea. Kie tried to get you make eye contact, but you wouldn’t look at her. You couldn’t look at any of them - afraid you might actually break completely if you did.

“Y/N/N...” Kie said softly.

“You guys okay?” John B asked wearily.

JJ helped Pope tie The Pogue to Heyward’s boat and hopped on right after. Pope traded spots with JJ and came up beside you and stood there awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do either.

You looked up at him before he could come up something probably stupid to ask. “Can you drop me off please?”

Pope glanced back at his friends and nodded. “Uh, sure. John B will probably get you there faster though if you -”

“No, it’s okay,” You said. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle being in an enclosed space with JJ for another minute. You just wanted to go home and forget the past two years ever happened. “I’ll stay here.”

Pope shrugged at his friends when you trudged back into the cabin and curled yourself into the corner. You didn’t know what the next few weeks would be like, but you hoped they go better than the last twenty four hours did.

[dynyamight]

here’s a concept: deku, a farmer boy goes out to the Wild West and encounters a cowboy kacchan. deku teaches cowboy kacchan to plant corn and take care of chickens. they then become close. after that they marry and are known at the “maize buckaroo duo.”

(this is so random hshshshsh. but the idea just sparked outta nowhere ;33)

i offer you, farmer!deku x cowboy!bkg you give concept. i create fanfic. ;33 i luv this idea & ilysm

—

When Midoriya registers the fast, loud gallops outside, hitting and snapping down on the ground, he ceases his movement, before smiling hard.

The Monday morning has just started, and already there’s excitement in his chest. Those familiar sounds gave him the absolute flutters.

However, that excitement drops. Daisy huffs, back kicking at the milk bucket in an annoyed fit. Midoriya hurriedly picks it up, before all their shared, hard efforts were to go down the hay. Literally.

“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya urges the cow, quickly smacking his wet hands on the folded towel on his knee. Then, resting a short calm palm on her snout, he whispers reassuringly, “You did amazing, today. Let’s get you back on the field.”

After setting the bucket aside, Midoriya takes the rope around Daisy in one hand, and lifts open the gate with the other. Together, they slowly make their way out of the stables, more or less. Daisy steps on Midoriya’s heels, hurrying him up.

However, stepping outside, Midoriya already knows to turn to his left, instead of his right at the gated grass field. From the sounds he heard inside, he bets on seeing Dynamite, first.

And, sure enough, turning around the corner of the stables, the proudful stallion meets his eyes, neighing a loud greeting over his way. Midoriya halts Daisy and offers a small wave back.

There’s a small jolt from Dynamite, before he starts walking, at a quick pace over towards Midoriya. Finally, that’s when Midoriya sees Bakugou, riding on the back of the horse, the finest, leather saddle equipped.

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling up. “Surprising to see you, so soon. It’s not even sunrise, Kacchan.”

“How fucking rude,” Bakugou clicks his tongue, before stopping Dynamite’s steps with a small pull. He tips his black, cowboy hat down, though barely. “Not even a damn ‘morning’ my way.”

“You’re never one for pleasantries, anyway.” Midoriya teases, pointing at his hat. “You didn’t do a full tip, you know.”

“Tch, you ain’t special.” Bakugou huffs, “Be grateful.”

Taking a few steps forward, Midoriya pats the side of Dynamite’s face. “Good morning, boy! How are you, on this fine early day?” He holds in the laugh, glancing at the scowl Bakugou sends his way.

Dynamite doesn’t give any cues of delight. But, by the way Midoriya feels the stallion lower his head, and press firmly against his hand, it’s not too far-fetched to assume he loves the touch.

On the other hand, Bakugou swats at Midoriya, face twisted in disgust. “Gross! I don’t want that fucking creature’s juices all over him.”

Behind Midoriya, Daisy stomps on the ground. ‘The field, remember?’ Midoriya imagines her quip. And, from the wagging of her tail, she’s losing her patience. Quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou sneers aloud, speaking directly at Daisy, “Say whatever you want. But, I ain’t wanting your spoiled cheese on my damn horse.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about.” Midoriya deadpans. “And, what? Can’t handle milk, out of all things?”

“Milk that came straight out of her tit.”

“Where else would it come from? Trees?”

“Whatever, I just don’t want that shit on my horse, for fuck’s sake.”

Though, they couldn’t argue anymore about it. With a strong force, Daisy begins to pull Midoriya away, forgoing staying another second away from her beloved grass.

Fortunately, for Midoriya’s heart, Bakugou cues Dynamite to follow, trailing right next to them. “Damn, she reminds me of my hag. So fucking dramatic.”

“Your hag?” Midoriya questions, tossing a curious head over. “Is she your dog?” He guesses.

“My mom.” Bakugou corrects, nonchalantly.

Midoriya supposes the open expression of shock wasn’t concealed well, because Bakugou lets out a laugh, turning away with a fist to his mouth. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” He snickers. It leaves Midoriya red in the face.

It’s just he would never call his mother anything, but an absolute blessing. He loves her, dearly.

The moment they step onto the wide, open area of the field, Daisy tosses her head, wanting the rope around her neck off. Hushing her quiet and still, Midoriya loosens off the knot, allowing the loop to widen, and finally, pulling it over her head, free.

As Daisy trots away, passing through the sheep and goats, Midoriya’s surprised to see Bakugou pulling himself off Dynamite. Landing smoothly on his feet, leather boots shiny with clean spurs, Bakugou fixes his hat, showcasing more of his face.

His red meets green. “Nice farm you got building.” He compliments. “An improvement from before.”

Midoriya nudges him, with a dull elbow jab. “Stop, It looks the same.”

“That ain’t true.” Bakugou firmly states. “Two months ago, this place had nothing.”

“Well, it’s still not enough to open a public business.” Midoriya sighs, readjusting the straps of his brown overalls. ”I might have to pull out another loan, in order to afford some harvest equipment for my corn.”

“Tch, that’s why you should join the rodeos.” Bakugou insists, crossing his arms to his chest. “It’s the easiest way to make money, here. Good money.”

Midoriya looks back at Bakugou, unimpressed. “Says the state champion.”

Dynamite snorts, conveniently in tune to Midoriya’s mock. It causes a slight reddening in Bakugou’s face. He quickly turns back to his horse, munching on the grass. “Shut it.”

“Anyways, I’ll find a way. Rodeo, or not.” Midoriya continues, yawning in between his words.

“Geez, where’s your damn etiquette.”

“Left it back home. With all my sins and exes.” Midoriya teases, outright. And, despite the smack over his head hurting, Midoriya can’t help, but laugh. “I’m serious!”

“You’re so annoying.” Bakugou grumbles, digging one of his spurs on the ground. “Bringing up stupid shit.”

Midoriya shrugs, still rubbing the back of head. “I promise you, I was a lady killer, where I’m from.”

“Killing those poor, innocent ladies with your bad breath.”

Immediately, Midoriya raises a hand over his mouth, puffing out an air. Though, all he can smell really, is Daisy.

God, did that mean his breath smells like Daisy? The cow?

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Gullible Deku.” He simply states. “Your breath s’fine.”

Midoriya groans, and he tries to smack Bakugou back over the head. Though, Bakugou dodges his hand easily, leaning away.

“Making fun of a farmer on his own bought land, is an insult to his pride.” Midoriya huffs, taking back his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bakugou mocks, a grin forming against his lips. “Make me work? Not a chance.”

With a lightbulb feeling running through his mind, Midoriya absolutely loves the off handed suggestion. “Actually, yes! You can help me feed the chickens!”

Turning his heels quickly, Midoriya smiles at the absolute panic in Bakugou’s voice. “Hah? What the— No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Midoriya sings aloud, taking quick steps towards the gate. “C’mon, hurry up, now! Leave Dynamite out on the grass!” He calls out, as he opens the gates, and goes into a full sprint out.

By the time he reaches the stables, goes to his feeding cabinet, shelves crowded with plastic containers and bags of nutrients for his livestock and crops, and grabs onto the chicken feed, Bakugou has begrudgingly made his way inside.

“It smells.” Bakugou complains.

“Suck it up.” Midoriya laughs, before taking a plastic bowl off the shelves and setting it down on the counter. He pours the feed inside. “I bet the rodeos smell just as bad.”

“They don’t.”

“Well, you’re being paid to say that.”

Bakugou walks over to him, standing by his side. He leans on the counter, as Midoriya lifts the feed bag back into the cabinet. “If they did, I wouldn’t do them.” Bakugou states, narrowing his eyes. “Simple as that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Bakugou can insist otherwise, Midoriya pushes the bowl into his hands. He holds back a laugh, when Bakugou almost drops it completely. “Now, let’s head to the coop, shall we?”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou grimaces. “S’too fucking early for this.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up.” Midoriya reminds him, as they walk to the back of the stables, where the clucks of the chickens resound louder. “Which, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the sudden visit? Forgot to buy eggs, from yesterday's pick up?”

“Does it matter?” Bakugou questions, instead.

That takes Midoriya aback. “I mean, not really. But, we never meet on the weekdays.” He admits softly. He takes a moment away, to crack open at the tall, wooden gate at the end of the hall.

The chickens weren’t too active, thankfully. Several of them are still sitting perched and hidden inside the coop. Otherwise, only a few were already walking around outside the coop, clucking aimlessly.

Midoriya feels Bakugou lean close to him. When he looks, he notices a chicken had passed by Bakugou’s boots, with no pay to mind. However, Bakugou was visibly losing his mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” Midoriya smiles.

Bakugou scowls, glaring right down at him. “They got bacteria. Sick motherfuckers.”

For a cowboy, Bakugou has a keen distaste for getting unnecessarily dirty. It never fails to surprise Midoriya. “Well, just wash your clothes when you get back home.”

“I got other shit to do after, you know.” Bakugou growls.

“Again,” Midoriya sighs, “You’re the one who chose to be here. I’m simply utilizing you.”

As Midoriya leads Bakugou over to the coop, he grumbles under his breath. “Gonna have to pull another loan, if you want me working for your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, he ignores the silly comment, and instead gestures at Bakugou to start throwing the feed at the nearby chickens, surrounding the coop. When he stares back, confused, Midoriya remembers the guy’s not a farmer in the slightest. “Start throwing the feed.”

Bakugou hurriedly starts tossing small amounts. “I knew that. Thought you were gonna say something else.”

It’s hard to imagine what else an open hand in air would mean, but nevertheless Midoriya doesn’t argue. The chickens awake are already bustling over, surrounding the dropped feed in seconds.

Taking a handful from the bowl, Midoriya kneels down, going close to the small crowd of chickens. He notices some of them quickly waddle over to him, instead of feed dropped on the ground. The few that come to him peck at his hand, and it floods warmth to Midoriya’s heart.

“They prefer off the hand, huh.” Bakugou comments above him.

“I would like to think that they like me, but sure.” In seconds, the feed’s all gone, and the chickens wait around him for more.

“You should kneel down, too.” Midoriya offers gently to Bakugou, making sure his voice doesn’t startle the creatures. “Feed them off your hand.”

There’s an obvious hesitation, before Bakugou gets low, kneeling next to Midoriya.

One of the chickens tries to reach into the bowl in hands, in which he pulls it away quickly. “I’m getting fucking attacked already.”

“They’re eager.” Midoriya insists.

Dipping his hand into the bowl, Bakugou raises a handful of his own. He whips his head to Midoriya, glaring. “If my hand bleeds, I demand a lawyer to prosecute you.”

They don’t even hurt that bad. Though, telling Bakugou that would probably have him second guess everything. Hence, Midoriya shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Within a few seconds of only impatient clucking surrounding them, Bakugou finally puts his hand out. In seconds, the chickens start to peck at his hand, picking up all the feed quickly.

Midoriya stares at Bakugou. He’s cursing them out, demanding them to stop pecking so hard, for fuck’s sake. And, despite the apparent discomfort from the first handful, Bakugou goes for another handful, offering his hand once more.

Again, the cussing ensues, but it’s still all Bakugou’s free will. He could have stopped at the first hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he’s still kneeling next to Midoriya, feeding these silly, rambunctious chickens.

When Bakugou definitely had better things to do.

“Why did you show up?” Midoriya asks once more, standing up. The chickens have already departed, as Bakugou had tossed the rest of the feed from the bowl, out in the open. “You only buy my products on Sunday’s.”

“Why do you keep asking.” Bakugou reflects back, opening the wooden gate open for Midoriya.

Midoriya steps in front of him, back inside the stables. Once inside, hearing the wooden gate close, he turns around, facing him. “You know, I’m not letting you off, without hearing what’s on your mind.” He softly smiles.

Bakugou stares back at him. And, for an odd moment, his eyes scan all over his face, jittering, until they cease. “You’re making this a big deal, Deku. Just wanted to check up on the farm.”

Ah, that does make sense. “Oh my— Then, why didn’t you say that earlier!" Midoriya laughs.

Bakugou shrugs. “Again, it’s not a big deal. Now, where’s the damn sink?”

Midoriya leads them back to the entrance of the stables, where the sink was, alongside various cleaning supplies perched on shelves. They wash their hands, in silence.

They don’t say much either, when they head back to the grass field, to pick up Dynamite. Though, Midoriya doesn’t mind the silence. Bakugou has a limit to his social battery, and Midoriya has grown to know when it’s time to give him his quiet and peace.

After Bakugou sits back up on Dynamite, and they walk back to the open road, around the corner of the stables, he slightly pulls the reins, causing the stallion to come to a stop. It causes Midoriya to look up, wondering if the cowboy forgot something, back in the stables.

Instead, there’s a slight flush in his cheeks. He coughs loudly, clearing nothing in his throat. “There’s a rodeo this Friday.”

Midoriya waits for the rest, but instead Bakugou says nothing else. “Oh, uh, okay? Will you be participating?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou simply utters.

Again, nothing else is said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, then.” Midoriya offers, despite the confusion in his mind.

“Are you—” Bakugou stops, inaudibly grumbling under his breath. “I mean, the rodeo ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s genuinely surprised, “Who would have thought? That’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. You could go, even.”

“I’m not joining rodeos. No matter how many times you demand.” Midoriya laughs.

“No, to watch.” Bakugou corrects, though the moment he slips the words, it suddenly causes his entire face to go red. “Fuck, I mean, you could watch. Other riders, and competitors, or whatever the fuck.”

Midoriya can’t seem to understand where Bakugou’s coming from. This cowboy wants him, a new residential farmer, to watch a rodeo. A rodeo, which he has never seen in his entire life.

Though, if Bakugou’s asking, Midoriya’s heart will always simply agree. “I’ll go watch, then.” He reassures him, “And, I guess I’ll cheer you on, if you’re any good.”

Bakugou’s face calms, though there’s still a stiffness in his shoulders. “Cool.”

Midoriya thinks he wants to say something more, but instead Bakugou brings his thighs closer to Dynamite, squeezing him slightly. Instantly, Dynamite starts trouting off.

Before he can call out, Bakugou looks back at him. “Starts at 7 in the afternoon! Don’t be fucking late!”

And, just with a small kick, Dynamite starts racing off on the road, Bakugou leaving Midoriya only with his thoughts.

There’s not a lot of information about the rodeo, though Midoriya knows he will most definitely ask around for the rest of the details. Essentially, it’s a nearby rodeo, that starts at 7PM. Surely, there are others in town that know where exactly is the event.

Midoriya can’t help, but drift his focus away from the rodeo, and back to Bakugou’s distant figure. Against the morning sunrise, he looks so cool.

But, a farmer like him, attracted to a cowboy like Bakugou, is so embarrassing.

[eideticmemory]

PERFORMANCE | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: You film a sex scene with Matthew Gray Gubler, and have a big urge to try it off camera.

Word Count: 2,953.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, choking, 18 year age gap between adults.

You filmed the sex scene in one take.

The cool air trailed over your bare breasts as you laid against the bed, Matthew’s torso between your legs, his lips on your neck. You had never done a sex scene before, but you knew it shouldn’t have felt this good. You knew your moans should’ve been fake, your facial expressions exaggerated, your body working in an absentminded rhythm. But you found yourself trembling, weak, releasing breathy moans into his ear. All from the feeling of Matthew creating friction between your legs. In an unscripted moment, he gropped your boobs in his hands, and the force sent your back arching. You became so focused on the sensation of his body, the heat trapped under the duvet cover, and his lips as they pressed against yours, the eyes of the crew were drowned out - long forgotten.

When the director yelled “cut!” you pined for Matthew’s lips, the sudden loss of them leaving a bitter feeling in your stomach. Holding eye contact with him, you allowed him to help you out of bed. He promptly handed you your robe, and you couldn’t help but watch as he began to put on his own. Your eyes raked down his body, studying his skin, his torso, his chest, his hips. Your arms folded over your chest to hold the clothing in place, you quickly removed yourself from set and disappeared for the rest of the day.

It would be hours before you got over the feeling. The intensity, the passion, and the pure embarrassment of allowing to let yourself get carried away. It was silly to think a man, of Matthew’s status and age, would find a way to express any sexual attraction towards you. It was wildly unprofessional of you, not to mention completely inappropriate considering the 18 year age gap. But, fuck, you couldn’t help but think about it.

After a substantial amount of time locked away in your dressing room, you finally gathered the courage to head out and head home. You kept your head down as you went to exit the set, eyes trained on your feet. Headphones in, you weren’t sure someone had called your name, but you still stopped in your tracks. When you turned around, one earbud in your hand, you saw Matthew, racing over to you. 

“Hey,” he smiled. “You going home?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Tired.”

“Aw, man,” he sighed. “I was hoping we could, uh, run some lines together? Prepare for tomorrow’s shoot? But if you’re tired, then—“

“I’m not tired,” you interrupted him. The words flowed from your mouth before you could catch them. “We can run lines. That’s-that’s cool.” 

He gave you a soft smile, his eyes peering into yours. “Awesome. My trailer?” 

You gave him a speechless nod, still attempting to catch your breath at the sight of him. You followed him into his dressing room, with him opening the door for you to grant you entrance. You stepped in shyly, and set your bag down on the couch. 

“Nice place you got here,” you said.

He closed the door behind himself and laughed, “Thank you.”

You dug your script out of your purse and sat down beside the accessory, flipping through the pages awkwardly. “So, what scenes did you want to rehearse?”

“How about,” he whispered, holding his own script in his hands. “Our second love scene?” 

You cut your eyes up at him, your breath caught in your throat, “You teasing me?” You pouted.

“Teasing you about what?” He smirked. 

You shyly shook your head, and looked down at your toes as he took a seat beside you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Matthew’s eyes went wide, the shock of yours words having him taken aback. “Uncomfortable? [y/n],” he chuckled under his breath. “You made me...the complete opposite of uncomfortable. I might have been, um, a little too comfortable. It’s a sex scene. It happens.” 

“What do you do...um, when-when it does happen?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, but you could see he was smiling. 

“Just rehearse,” he shrugged. “Get aquatinted with the other until you fall into your own groove.”

“Wow,” you looked up at him, a sly smile on your face. “So much wisdom.”

“Is that a jab at my age, kid?” He gasped, trying to keep from laughing. “Because I gotta tell you, that hurts.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “So, let’s get aquatinted then. Um, page 67?” You asked, pinning the paper in your script. 

He nodded, “Yep. So, again, we have to improvise the scene. The initiation, the tension, the act itself.”

“Right. So...how should we start?”

“Hm...” he hummed. “Can you start reading your lines? We can do some quick improv.”

You shrugged, “Sure.” 

You set your script down and began to recite the words from memory, staring at the space across from you as directed, and putting on a somber face. “I don’t know why you came here,” you murmured, presenting a voice on the verge of breaking. “You want to sit here and pretend to care about me, when we both know that’s not the case—“

Matthew watched you for a long time before he started kissing your neck, “I wanted to see you,” he breathed against your skin. “I had to see you.”

You draw in a shaky breath, feeling Matthew’s hand on your leg. “Had to see me? See me? You-you haven’t called me since...since....” You trailed off, Matthew’s lips now tracing your jaw with soft kisses. His mouth felt nice. Like it was meant to be on your body. 

“You okay, [y/n]?” Matthew whispered in your ear. By now, your bodies were pressed together, your shoulder leaning into his chest as his hand moved to your inner thigh. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t get touched often, do you?” He asked. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, and only shook your head no in response. 

“How?” He kissed your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’ve never...” You licked your lips. “Never...never, um...”

He pulled away from you instantly, his eyes concentrated on your face. “You’re a virgin?” 

You looked away as you nodded. “And please don’t give me the whole ‘22-year-old-virgin’ speech. I know it’s lame.” 

“Hey, look at me,” He pressed his fingertips into your chin and lifted your head up. “It’s not lame. Not at all.” 

“However,” you spoke quickly. “I’m-I’m not entirely attached to this virginity. I’ve been meaning to get rid of it, actually.”

He looked at you for a moment, and scoffed, “[y/n]...”

“What?” You whined, turning to face him. “Did you not see me earlier? I’m a complete mess for you.” 

“I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable or anything like that. And I don’t want you to regret choosing me.”

You stood to your feet, calmly positioning yourself in front of him. You pulled your shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor, your bra following. You began massaging your breast as he watched. “I could kind of tell...that maybe, you liked these.” 

He bit his lip, “Fuck, [y/n].”

You boldly straddled his lap, pressing your boobs into his chest. “I...I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“You...have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered. “At all.”

You placed a sweet kiss to his lips, “Show me. Please?” 

So, he did. He kissed you, fiercely, and had you laid out on the couch in seconds. He expertly removed your shorts and panties, tossing them to the other side of the room. His enjoyed the view of your body as he kneeled down between your legs. “You’re so beautiful,” he told you. “And so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. His finger presses against your clit and rubbed you in small circles. “Because I’m taking it easy on you tonight.”

You gulped, and started pant at the small touch. You watched him as he leaned down and kissed your labia. “You’re already so wet,” he commented. He drew a finger over your slit, “Here, see?” He placed the covered fingers against your bottom lip and you instinctively opened your mouth to suck on it. 

“Good girl,” he purred. “Perfect.”

He dove his head in and ate you out. There's something about the way Matthew does it. Like he's starving. Like he's dying and you’re the cure. Like he's in the desert and you’re the only drink of water. He devours you. Completely buries his face and presses his tongue down with so much force, it sends chills up your spine. His hands are tight on your thighs as his tongue encircles one spot on your clit, the one he knows drives you wild.

Embarassingly quickly, your orgasm built in your stomach. When you first noticed it, you began to pull at Matthew’s hair. Push his head away, clench your thighs together. But he only responded by swatting your hands away, putting one hand around both your wrists and the other on your breast. 

“M-Matthew,” you whimpered. “Ah, fuck, I—“

He looked up at you, his eyes peering into your soul from under his eyelashes. He sped up the velocity of his tongue, the muscle applying immense pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

“Mm,” you whined, attempting to pull your hands from his grasp - no success. “Please, please, please.”

You tried so hard. So hard. But it was good, and it was Matthew, and you came. His name falling off of your lips and your chest heaving up and down. He rolls his tongue along your slit, the stickiness covering his mouth. He stared up at you, hungrily, “So, so lucky.” He whispered.

Matthew pulled a condom from his pocket, and hovered over you as he pulled his pants down to his thighs and released his cock. You licked your lips, to which he gave you a knowing smile. Condom on, he sat beside you on the couch, “Ride me.” He commanded.

“What?” You murmured. “I-I don’t know how to do that.”

He chuckled, “I’ve got you, just come sit on my dick.” 

How can you say no to that? You sat up and straddled his lap once again, body shaking with anxiety. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, holding yourself up on his shoulders. His hands guided your hips as you slowly, very slowly, sunk down onto his cock, the length and girth filling you up. You let out a vulnerable whine, biting onto your lip. 

“Stay with me, babygirl,” he said. “You’re doing so good.”

With his erection fully buried inside your, you fell against his body, sitting completely still. He asked if you were okay again, and you replied by sitting up, looking him in the eye and saying a quiet, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he whispered. His hands gripped onto your ass, waiting to guide you. “So, you’re just gonna raise your hips up, like this,” he pushed your thighs up, his cock pulling out of you about halfway. “And then you’re gonna come back down.” He relaxed his arms, allowing you to take his length back inside of you. 

Immediately adjusting to the movement, you started to bounce on him, slowly, awkwardly, and he loved it. 

“Oh, yeah,” he moaned, leaning back to watch you. “Fuck yeah. There you go, baby. You got it.”

You smiled at the encouragement and absentmindedly started to rock your hips faster, the sensation of his dick sending you into a trance. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he swore. “Your pussy is so, so fucking good. Give it to me, beautiful, give it all to me. I want it.”

That’s when you lost yourself. You supported yourself by placing your palms on his chest and continued to ride him, quickly, eagerly. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping. You’d been touched by other guys, kissed by other guys, eaten out by other guys. But it wasn’t like this. Nothing was ever like this. 

"Look at me," he said. "Look at me."

There's a hint of pleading in his voice, but just enough power to compel you to open your eyes. 

“Let me pound you,” he requested. “Hm? Let me make you come on my dick, huh?” 

And before you could fully nod, he stilled your hips, grasping them in his hands and angled himself before slamming into you. You threw your head back and let out a guttural moan. Shivers racked your body as his hips picked up this new momentum, fucking you so hard and so fast that the couch wobbled. 

“Ah! A-Ah!” You cried out.

“C’mon, [y/n], you can take it. Say you can take it.”

“I-“ you stuttered. “I can take it. I can take it.”

“Mhm, yes, you can.”

Staring into Matthew's eyes while he's pounding into you is a religious experience. When you open your eyes and make that first bit of contact, his jaw drops and this strangled moan came out. 

"Is this good?"

"Yes."

"Tell me it's good."

"H--huh—fu--it's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How good?"

"So good."

"Say it again."

"S--so good."

It is. It's so good. He buried his face in your neck, making the loudest groans possible against your skin. And you felt his tongue licking from the base of your neck to the edge of your jaw, slimy and icky and drool dripping down your skin. So dirty, so disgusting, Jesus christ. He knows the spot. The one right on your jaw line that sends you over the edge. And he sucks on it endlessly while one hand begins to play with your boob, teasing the nipple between his fingers. Then there’s his tongue again, making it's way to your ear. 

"Say my name."

"Oh, my G--god."

"Say it." And he nibbled on your ear. Your eyes rolled back. "Who's fucking you?"

"M-M-Matthew." 

"Who?"

"M--fuck-Matthew."

He found your clit, such ease, such speed. He presses his middle finger down, the pressure alone making you squeeze his bicep with all your strength. You squeaked, you gasped, you trembled, you tensed up. "Fu-ck."

And he rubbed in circles, quick, hard. Hard. 

"A-ah. Fuck. M—Matthew, please." There were tears in your eyes. Literal tears. He looked at you and wiped them away, not breaking the gaze for a second.

"Oh, baby, you're so close."

You nodded.

"Your legs are so tense, you can b-barely hold your eyes open, your pussy's so tight, fuck." 

You were so, so close. 

"Am I right?" 

"Yes."

"About what?"

"I'm gon-Ah! I'm gonna come."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then do it." And his hand moved at super sonic speed, the motion of his fingers moving at almost the same tempo as his hips.

That did it. The curve, the fingers, the way he looks at you. You threw your head back. You came. It was good. It was long. His hands. Your throat. Fuck.

“Oh, come on, baby,” he cooes. His hand smacked your face, lightly, just forceful enough to pull you from your daze. “Don’t wear out on me now. That was only number two. I know that’s not all you’ve got.”

“Matthew,” you whimpered.

“Hm?” His hips have slowed to this sweet, tempered rhythm, the tip of his tongue pressed against your bottom lip. The steady pumps send shivers through your spine. “Do you want to stop, baby?” 

You dug your nails into his shoulders, your eyes soft and pouty, misted with tears. 

“[y/n],” he calls. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you shook your head. Quickly, harshly, your face flushed and your body quivering. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Can you give me one more? Just one more, baby.” 

“Matthew, I can’t,” you whine. “I can’t, I can’t come again.”

“Yes, you can, you can give me a third one. Watch,” His thumbs locates your clit once again, the mere touch drawing a shaky moan from your lips. “One more, baby. That’s all I want. Just one more. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, weakly, holding his face in your hands. 

He's real good about making sure you come again. But when you do, after you ride it out, it's all about him and you’re all for it. He grabs you  by the throat and watches you tremble, sticking his thumb into your mouth. 

"Fuck. Fuck!" he moans. "Mm, am I being too rough?"

Rough? Yes. You could feel him in your chest he's pounding you so hard. It's sloppy and uncoordinated and you feel like you could come again in seconds with the amount of force he's using. 

"No. Keep going." You begged. 

"Fuck." His voice, so dark, so deep. 

He grips onto your throat harder and leans in. "Where do you want it?"

This man is so hot.

You do nothing but stick your tongue out, exposing your throat. He laughed and nodded, biting his lip as he pushes into you harder and harder. 

The transition from your pussy to your mouth was quick. The second he was down your throat, he came and he held onto your hair while he did. He tensed up, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. "Agh! Uh! H-huh! Fuck. Fuck."

What calms you down, after the waves and waves and waves of intensity, is the sound of Matthew’s heartbeat. You end up with your ear pressed to his chest as you two bundle up on the couch, your fingertips tracing his sweaty skin. 

He kissed your forehead, “You okay?”

“Thought you said you were taking it easy on me tonight.” You giggled. 

“Oh baby,” he huffed. “That was easy.”

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett: “In the Name of Honor”-Review

The Book of Boba Fett closes in a (quite literally) explosive finale that plays to the series’ comforts while failing to improve on its weaknesses.

War has come to the streets of Mos Espa. The Pyke Syndicate has struck the first blow with the destruction of Graza Fwip’s sanctuary and the gunning down of Cobb Vanth. In preparation for the oncoming bloodshed, Boba Fett must rally his allies in the hopes of maintaining his territory, but of course not everything goes to plan.

After two weeks of cameos and diversions, we finally return to Boba Fett. For better and for worse, this actually feels like a continuation of the series we watched for the first four weeks of its existence. Boba is back and so are the Pykes, the Mods, Black Krrsantan, the other Tatooine gangs, etc. If the first four episodes of this show were about assembling various action figures, “In the Name of Honor” lets loose as director Robert Rodriguez plays with his assorted toys. For most of its runtime, The Book of Boba Fett feels like the blaster and explosion filled story you might get from an excitable young fan told to go wild for an hour. There are big droids with big blasters! Boba and Din get to use their Mando armor! Boba Fett rides a frikken rancor! It’s big and it’s loud, but for the most part it’s very fun. As someone who has always been a fan of kaiju media, I particularly loved getting to see a rancor tear through the streets of Mos Espa and do battle with giant mechs. There’s a giddiness to the carnage and like his episode of The Mandalorian Rodriguez shines when he gets to lean into the excess of it all.

It’s also mostly hollow. Sure the action is explosive and fun, but there’s a decided lack of drama to it all. Rarely are we at all worried that Boba or his various allies are in serious danger. Sure, our dear Gamorrean friends plummeted to their deaths, but they end up being the only real sacrifice that Boba has to make. This is not to say that I wanted massive bloodshed amongst our supporting cast, but eventually “In the Name of Honor” transforms into pure spectacle and nothing much else.

The lack of stakes also speak to a continued issue with Jon Favreau’s scripting. The Mods and Black Krrsantan, hell, even Fennec and Boba are barely characters. Sure we’re familiar with them and sometimes they do cool things, but their personalities are simple, their motivations one dimensional. There’s a moment where the Mods and the people of Freetown make a sort of jab at one another that hints towards a rural/urban cultural divide in Tatooine that gestures toward something potentially more complex. It’s the managing of these different personalities that The Book of Boba Fett really feels like it missed out on. Boba Fett may have gathered various allies but they rarely, if ever, feel like a team. We never got to see him, or his various underlings, learn to work together or even establish the internal friction within the group. It’s a profound missed opportunity especially when the series often reminds you of the more interesting story paths that could have been taken.

The one aspect of The Book of Boba Fett that does carry some actual weight is Cad Bane. Between impressive, emotive practical effects and always outstanding voice work by Corey Burton, Cad Bane carries with him a magnetic presence every time he is on screen. With its over reliance on the relatively bland Pyke antagonists, this series has desperately needed a villain with a voice and personality and Bane provides that in spades. There’s also a nastiness to him that feels appropriate. Even if this is the first time we’ve really seen Boba and Bane on screen together, their interactions carry a surprising amount of weight. He’s one of the few characters to actually make Boba flinch, to make painful personal barbs at his failures and losses, and call into question his bloody mercenary past. There’s actual drama there, both between characters and thematically. It marks one of the few times when Boba actually feels like three dimensional part of the story. For a moment, there is the worry that Boba may lose his cool and collected demeanor and give into his baser instincts, letting his hole empire come crashing down around him. It’s disappointing that we didn’t get him sooner then as having a continued presence in the series may have done wonders for ratcheting up its tension. It’s also more than a little bit of a letdown that Bane is killed off here. After such an impressive showing in live action, it feels like a missed opportunity to take him off the playing field so early, but at least our grumpy, Duros cowboy went out on a high note.

Speaking of letdowns, as touching as it is to see Grogu and Din get to reunite, it can’t help but feel frustrating to see the two of them together again. One of the things that made “Return of the Mandalorian” such a standout was seeing Din chart a future for himself without having to look after his surrogate son. One of the continuous problems with the first two seasons of The Mandalorian was its commitment to a status quo that remained relatively stagnant for much of its existence. How many more stories can we really tell about Din and Grogu flying from planet to planet running errands for people? It also undercuts some of the more powerful moments of The Mandalorian’s second season. As much as Luke Skywalker’s appearance irked me in “The Rescue,” it was genuinely moving seeing Din bid Grogu goodbye. It comes off as Lucasfilm leaning into a dynamic that they know worked in the past and, let’s be honest, has been a serious cash cow. (Also, can you imagine how confusing it would be if you were one of the poor viewers that didn’t bother to watch The Book of Boba Fett and season three of The Mandalorian just opens up with the two of them together again?)

The Book of Boba Fett ends with a moment of relative quiet. The city of Mos Espa is grateful to its savior (who also blew up half of their buildings but hey who’s counting) and Boba Fett settles into his role as daimyo. There is an awkward moment when Boba admits that maybe he isn’t the right person for the job, which is an odd realization to come to in the final minute of the series. It’s even more confusing that the visual language of this scene seems to indicate that Black Krssantan and the Mods should be the leaders of Mos Espa? Which is equally puzzling. I honestly am pretty clueless on how we are supposed to read this sequence. It feels like an attempt to close out this show on a pleasant, upbeat note but the nature of it just feels awkward.

And so, The Book of Boba Fett closes with a finale that is action packed and filled with blaster bolts, but ultimately rather lifeless. The structure of this series is honestly one that I feel like will puzzle fans for quiet sometime. It’s a show that never really was able to find its footing. Between its underwritten lead characters, clunky pacing, and its diversion heavy second half, The Book of Boba Fett may not be the worst thing to come out of Disney and Lucasfilm’s partnership (The Rise of Skywalker will be hard to beat), but it is definitely the messiest and most confounding. With the shining exemption of its Tusken Raider centric second episode, The Book of Boba Fett was a show in search of identity and purpose and for all of its enjoyable flashing parts it never really found one and it speaks to the growing awkwardness of the Star Wars television arm. Spectacle, universe building, and callbacks are really only going to carry this franchise so far. Eventually, we have to let Star Wars’ humanity (or alienity or droidity), always its most important asset, shine through.

At least, Cobb Vanth lived. My horny heart hurt with the thought that he perished last episode. If we lose Cad Bane at least I get to keep one sexy space cowboy.

Score: B-

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 10- These Are Strange Times

Summary: Could something positive be truly on the horizon? With the random intrusion of though-to-be-dead Scott Lang at the Avengers Facility, your hope for seeing Bucky again may have yet to be a possibility.

Warning: yeah nothing enjoy the ride

Masterlist

-Five years since the Blip-

Throwing on a dark sleeveless top, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to sneeze which evidently causes your little furry companion to startle at the unexpected noise. The furry tigress lets out a meow of protest that pulls forth a humored snicker from you, while the little beast sends you an annoyed look.

Recovering her bearings in a flash, she walks across the short wooden dresser like a model strutting on the runway, her thick mane of mahogany and dark chocolate fur glossy and adequately brushed to perfection, just how your spoiled Main Coon, Silver, likes it.

She purrs happily as she begins playing with Bucky’s dog tags that lay across the small dresser top.

“What are you do..? Oh give me that you little shit.” Silver ignores you until she’s rudely lifted and placed firmly on the carpeted floor before you snatch up the valuable memorabilia. Placing it around your neck where it belongs then glancing down to give her a casual shrug, “Don’t give me that look Silv, I bought you a cool bird feathered cat toy like three days ago. What happened to that?” Silver meows, running her head against your worn out old boots as you smile, “Guess it’s as good as dead huh, you little beast. Now you staying or coming with me to find Nat?” Nothing but purrs of affection.

You lean down to gently rub her head before standing up fully and heading for the door, Silver hot on your heels. Soon you’re both traveling down the hallway until you finally reach the large study. Natasha’s on a conference call with Carol, Rodney, Okoye, and the last two guardians of the galaxy, Rocket and Nebula. And by the looks of it, nothing new has been reported. How disappointing.

Soon they all log off, leaving Natasha alone with Rodney who stays to give Nat a little insight into Barton’s violent whereabouts from the last couple years since he’s been rouge. Apparently he took out a whole cartel in Mexico, so he’s been busy. Definitely not keeping up with those group therapy sessions Steve makes you go to to help cope with the loss. Not that you’ve actually been that consistent with them if we’re being real here.

Quickly enough, Rodney logs out, leaving a tearfully conflicted Natasha as she slouches in her comfy swivel chair. Head in her hands as she holds back the waterfall that threatens to spill within her. You take a step forward, leaning casually against a steel rimmed display area for random nick-nacks. “I’d join you in the fun, but I’m limiting my crying sessions between 1 and 2 in the morning on Tuesdays. So, uh....I brought Silver.” You smile, pointing a finger down to your loyal companion, “Well I guess she brought herself but you know.”

Natasha breaks out into a reluctant grin, genuinely happy to have a bit of positive company within her gloom, “And you didn’t even want her to begin with.” Laughs the red head, “Now I never see one without the other.”

You nod with an almost shy smile, “Yeah, she’s alright.” 

You hear soft movement making its way through the hallway behind you just as Silver meows when Steve casually saunters into the room, coming to stand next to your side as the furry beast paws at his shoes, “What are you here for? Doing some laundry?” You tease at the tall blonde.

Steve smiles at your little jab since he’s not usually always present, doing Captain America stuff and whatnot, “Just here to see some friends.”

Natasha chuckles through glossy eyes, “Well clearly your friends are doing just fine.” Steve knowingly nods paired with a small smile, both you and Natasha look relatively well kept and functional as usual. It’s just, there’s a palpable pain and hidden darkness that always appears to simmer lowly on the surface. Just enough for a skilled eye like Steve’s to notice.

“Exactly.” You add, wandering over to sit cross legged on Natasha’s desk as Steve moves to lean against the display, “But if you’re here to tell us to look on the bright side...”

“I’m gonna hit you in the head with this peanut butter sandwich.” Finishes Natasha with a pursued lipped grin as the 90 year old nods. “Um, right. Force of habit.” Admits Steve, pushing himself off the surface to find a seat next to you and directly across from Natasha. 

The three of you keep to a mutual silence for a long moment until he finally speaks, “You know,” Starts Steve thoughtfully, “I keep telling everybody they should move on...and grow. Some do.” He pauses for a moment as you frown, Natasha looking elsewhere as Steve finally continues, “But not us.”

She shakes her head, “If we move on, who does this?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.” Suggests Steve, he means well of course, but maybe he’s right after all, its been five fucking years with absolutely nothing to make for it. Nothing of any significant progress or even a possible way to fix what's happened. 

Natasha blinks through bleary eyes of saddened green while you pet Silver’s furry mane, refusing to give in to that notion, “No.” You whisper softly, causing them to look at you, “We can’t, it wouldn’t be right...at least,” You let out a gentle sigh, “at least not for me....before all of this, before I met all of you. I had nothing.” You admit thoughtfully, “Not a soul in the world who gave a damn whether I lived or died. Then I found Bucky, then I found this. This.....family. And because of it, I’m better off now then I was ten years ago.”

They keep a respectful silence as your breaths become shaky, teary eyes now trained onto Silver’s little ears, “And I know they’re gone now, believe me I fucking know it, but I’m still trying to be better.” Natasha nods in deep understanding, a couple stray tears falling down her cheeks as Steve crosses his arms.

“I think we all need to get a life.” He muses, his tone light as he tries to pull you two back from the edge of grief. You give him a friendly nudge at his annoying brotherliness, “You first.” He chuckles as you throw him a playful glare while Natasha checks an incoming call.

“Oh, hi! Hello! Is anyone home?” Speaks a man frantically from one of the security cameras, an orange van behind him, “This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport.....in Germany?” Now you’ve got his attention.

“What the fuck?” You mutter in bewilderment at the blue tinged image of Scott as Steve and Nat share a confused glance, the three of you quickly rising to your feet while Scott keeps talking about who he is, how he got here, and what he’s learned about the world so far.

“Is this an old message?” Wonders Steve as he studies the image of Scott who’s still waving his hands up at the security camera.

“It’s the front gate.” Replies Natasha with a hopeful smile.

——

All you came here to do was shoot the shit with Natasha and maybe make some actual dinner, but here you are, laying across the study’s plush couch as Scott rambles on and on about the quantum realm. Whatever that happens to actually be, you’ve never heard of anything like that before, but then again you didn’t know aliens existed at one point. So perhaps anything's possible.

Silver brushes her fluffy head across your fingers as they dangle over the couches edge while Scott keeps at his long-winded tellings of how he got there, what it was like, that he’s been technically gone for only five hours, and now he thinks there’s a way to enter this new plane of existence and travel to a fresh alternate reality. Like through a time machine type deal, or whatever he’s on about.

Apparently he means one before Thanos. But it honestly sounds like a load of horseshit and gibberish coming from a desperate man refusing to acknowledge that this is the new shit reality. There’s no fucking way that’s even goddamn possible, right? No way. 

Maybe?

Drifting back out of your doubtful thoughts, you swiftly move yourself into a seated position as Scott begins to self doubt. Head lowering as he mumbles about how crazy that it. You start chuckling as he throws you an almost embarrassed look. “Scott.” You speak to gather his attention, “Nat gets emails from a raccoon. Your idea is admittedly a bit nuts, but nothings that crazy anymore considering all the wild shit I’ve witnessed in the past six years. So I don’t know, maybe there’s a way.”

Scott flashes a hopeful smile as his brows furrow in thought, uncertainty seeping right back into him, “So, uh...who do we talk to about this?”

——

“Stark! Miss us?” You shout at Tony as he holds Morgan in his left arm, an Ironman helmet grasped firmly in the right. He gives the four of you a less then enthusiastic nod of acknowledgment before wordlessly turning around and taking a step up onto the wooden porch.

You give Steve a shrug, “He misses us I can tell.”

Soon Tony let’s Morgan go off to play with you as you opt in to be the babysitter slash distraction from the grownups who are currently discussing if time travel and gathering the stones for ourselves is even a possibility, or even a palpable option that can be done. You skillfully listen to everything they’re saying as the little Stark shows off her array of multiple plant-life assortments picked from the local greenery.

“So I got this cone from that tree over there and then I put a frog in a glass but dad said I had to let him go so I did.” Babbles on the five year old as you entertain her constant musings.

You raise a brow, knowing her shenanigans all too well, “Is he in the garden?”

She mischievously smirks, sneakily peaking over at Tony who’s seated up on the porch, before giving you a nod, “Yeah. I made him a little house from some flat rocks I found too. I named him Froggo.”

You chuckle, “Oh really, Froggo? I like it, has a nice ring to it.” She nods in delight before walking into her tiny tent to retrieve something new as you catch either Scott or Steve saying something about a time heist, what the hell are they going on about now?

“Y/N! Look at this!” Calls Morgan excitedly while bursting out of the tent to run on short legs over to you who’s seated comfortably in the grass, “I got a cool rock from the lake but I didn’t get to show you last time cause you left early.”

Raising your brows in surprise, though you don’t exactly feel as thrilled as she is, you make sure she knows you care, “Woah! A cool rock from the lake, why Morgan I gotta see this.”

“Look.” She hands you a dull grey rock with a tiny fossil shell indentation on it, “It’s from the dinosaurs.”

Examining the small round object, you nod, “Next thing you know I’ll come back to a whole dinosaur excavation site. Impressive Professor Grant, I’m thoroughly amazed.”

She giggles in excitement, “Y/N I know what that means now.” You give her an inquiring look as she smiles proudly, “That’s from Jurassic Park.”

“And your dad let you watch that, with the big Trex eating the goat and everything?” You tease before handing her the prized object, “Next thing I know you’re going to have a whole dinosaur skeleton in your house.”

“Yeah that would be cool. Thanks ninja turtle.” Cackles Morgan as she hugs her rock, smiling brightly as you throw her a puzzled look before joining in on the laughter. “Okay, now you’ve lost me kid, I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She shrugs innocently, “Dad told me to call you that.” Clearly not understanding what she just called you either. A ninja turtle? The fuck is a ninja turtle?

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You muse before looking up to the four of them getting closer to a heated discussion, “Alright Morgs let’s go save your dad before he decides never to invite us back for dinner again.” You add, quickly rising to your feet as she laughs before racing past you, on a beeline for Tony.

You choose to stay out of the conversation and instead wait for Steve, Natasha, and Scott to start walking back towards the car. You lean against the metal as Steve round the corner before catching your eye as he goes down the three steps, “Are we banished from the castle? I was kinda hoping not cause I actually like Pepper’s cooking.”

Steve smiles, “No. He’s not gonna help us is all.”

“Damn that’s shitty.” You retort with a tinge of genuine disappointment, you don’t completely believe this shit is even possible. But dammit if you don’t want them to at least try for all it’s worth. “So what now? I’m guessing you bastards aren’t gonna let this go anytime soon. And cause Tony’s out for the count, we obviously need some different brain power.”

Steve nods while walking closer to the car, “We wanna do this right. So, yeah, we’re gonna need a really big brain.”

Scott turns from Steve to point a thumb in Tony’s general direction, face a mask of confused puzzlement, “Bigger then his?”

-

After a less then pleasant adventure to some cozy little diner in New Jersey where the four of you were subjected to Banner in his weird Hulkness body or whatever the hell he is now. Turns out he was most definitely on board for this time traveling experimentation. Of course he was, the weirdo takes fucking selfies with children nowadays. 

So here you five are now, in the giant glass and metal garage of the Avengers Facility getting things ready for whatever nonsense is about to take place next. The back of Scott’s orange van closed for the moment, keeping hidden some reactor core thing behind its doors. Scott in some safety quantum realm suit while Banner and Natasha stand behind a large intricate assembly of high tech equipment in preparation for the events to hopefully follow.

You keep an amused yet genuinely curious stance off to the side as Bruce gives you a thumbs up, nodding, you face Scott who’s walking over to the van. “Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one everybody! Scott get that bitch open!” You shout with a small bout of rare enthusiasm while he opens up the doors.

“Emergency generators are on standby.” Announces Steve as he walks into view from behind some large plastic containers covered in safety rope.

Banner nods, “Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose, uh..” He points a green thumb at Scott who’s getting his helmet ready, “Tiny here in the 1950’s.”

Scott’s head snaps up in an instant, “Excuse me?” He worries.

Natasha smiles while looking down at her touch pad, “He’s kidding.” She sing songs before shaking her head up at Banner, “You can’t say things like that.”

Banner turns around to face a fearful Scott as you snort at the small bout of humor that you did happen to find rather amusing. Then again, you’re not the labs guinea pig, so instead you casually shrug while giving Scott a half persuasive grin and a thumbs up of reassurance, “Bad joke.” You add as Bruce nervously laughs, “Yeah, it was a bad joke.”

Scott nods apprehensively before turning to walk over to the reactor, appearing to believe the two of you, “You were kidding, right?” Asks Natasha as you raise a brow at Bruce in question. Albeit a smidge doubtful he actually one-hundred percent knows what he’s doing.

“I have no idea.” Whisper yells Banner, confirming your suspicions, “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is.” Explains Bruce, suddenly smiling as he lifts his attention back over to Scott, “We’re good!” He shouts with a positive thumbs up of that prominently famous green.

“Oh we’re so fucked.” You mutter humorously while Natasha shares an uncertain look with you.

“Get your helmet on.” States Banner as Scott does just that, “Scott, I’m gonna send you back a week...let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?”

Scott smiles brightly, waving him off with confidence, “Perfectly not confusing.” He muses with an almost annoyingly positive expression.

“Good luck Scott. You got this.” Encourages Steve while Scott grins proudly. “You’re right. I do, Captain America.” Then just like that’s he’s gone, sucked into the reactor like a crumb into a vacuum cleaner.

“On a count of three..” Begins Banner, “Three, two, one.” Bruce flips some switches as the machine whirs before a second later and there’s Scott. In the body of a teen. “Uh, guys? This doesn’t feel right.” Worries teen Scott as his brows furrow in confusion, clearly not aware of how he looks. This just got interesting.

“What’s going on?” Questions Steve as Bruce urgently flicks more switches. “Who is that?” Wonders Natasha as you snort at teen Scott, snickering at how absolutely ridiculous your life is becoming and the weird shit you’re adding to the list.

“Oh my god he looks so innocent, like before the world hurt him.” You muse as Natasha’s brows raise in bewilderment, giving you a side glance as she focuses back on the person in question. “Is that, Scott?”

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Protests the sassy little 14 year old before whoosh and he’s gone once again while Banner squats down out of view to mess with some more buttons. A hot second later Scott’s back, this time looking significantly different.

“Oh, my back!” Complains the short wrinkly 80 year old man, Steve sending the back of Bruce a troubled look, “What is this?”

“Hold on a second. Could I get a little space guys.”

Steve hastily jogs around Bruce as he makes his way over to you and Nat, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Mumbles Banner with underlying urgency as he flicks more switches in hopes of getting a better result, whoosh, and Scott’s gone again before reappearing as a...

“It’s a baby.” Deadpans Steve in astonishment.

You burst with laughter, “It’s Scott! Let’s just keep him this way so we don’t have to hear him ramble about how amazing you are, Captain America.” You tease playfully as Steve throws you a what-the-fuck kinda expression. “Y/N! He’s a baby!”

“He‘ll grow.” Adds Bruce as you shrug in agreement. Crossing your arms as you study baby Scott, “Steve you can change the diapers.”

“Bring Scott back.” Urges Steve as he ignores you and Banners amusement of the situation.

“Alright fine.” Chides Bruce, “When I say kill the power, kill the power.”

Natasha rushes past you while mumbling, “Oh, my God.” As you await for Bruce’s fantastic technological skills.

“And....kill it!” Natasha turns the breaker switch downwards and a moment later Scott’s back, this time fully Scott. Whether that’s good or not is debatable.

He stands there, arms open and face twisted in confusion, “Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me.......Or just...me me.” Speculates Scott as you snort in amusement.

“It was probably just you.”

He sends you an unsure look that’s half offended yet he can’t exactly counter that claim considering he’s just jumped between three different age groups of himself. Bruce claps his hands together before spreading his arms out wide in excitement, “Time travel!” He shouts enthusiastically as Steve shakes his head before turning to walk elsewhere, “What?” Wonders Bruce, “I see this as an absolute win. 

——

In the following weeks after Banner’s half-successful attempt at legitimate time travel, Tony and Rocket have been toiling away tirelessly on Starks actual time machine since he’s agreed to help fix the mess that Thanos left behind. The Avengers base has honestly never been busier; with Tony, Banner, and Rocket working on the giant machine. Everyone else is going about their business helping when needed and hoping for good news.

So here you are now, in the middle of the night with all light sources retired for the evening, hanging out in the kitchen with a bowl of watermelon chunks in your hand, and greatly enjoying the recently rare peace and quiet. Though soon your silent midnight snacking is disrupted when the sounds of human feet padding on tile reaches your ears from down the hallway. Dammit.

The lights flicker on in an instant, blinding your vision for a brief moment before they adjust accordingly to find the blue eyes of Steve, he yelps in surprise, hand holding his chest as he relaxes once more when he realizes it’s just you. Then he does a double take, considering you’re seated crossed legged on the counter with a bowl of watermelon, “Uh, hey there Y/N.”

You nod, awkwardly taking a bite out of your snack, “Steve.”

He raises a curious brow, deciding to step farther into the large kitchen area, “Huh, never seen anyone eat watermelon like that before, but I respect it.” Says the blonde, nodding towards the chopsticks held in your right hand.

“Yeah. Less of a mess.” He nods before taking a Gatorade out of the fridge, “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it.” He nods before promptly seating himself next to the marble table. “So, eating in the dark? Your inner night owl keeping you from sleeping again?”

You shrug, “I can kinda see in the dark so....yeah, a bit of a night owl.” You admit with a growing frown, not sure why you suddenly feel so down in the dumbs again, “....guess I haven’t really slept well for some time now....well, now since I think about it actually, I probably don’t get as much sleep as your average person.”

“I get that, yeah....I know what you mean.” Lightly chuckles Steve in understanding, taking a small moment of silence to let his mind think of something to sway the atmosphere away from an awkward tension. Parting his eyes away from his clasped hands, he looks up to meet your stoic gaze, “You think all this is possible? I mean they’ve made some real progress and I guess Tony really knows what he’s doing. Still after all this time I can’t help but find it amazing.”

Pursing your lips together in thought, you let a small sigh emit from your parted lips before answering, “I hope so, cause if not. Well, guess that would be as expected.” You admit with a frown, “Maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go....a fitting punishment for my lengthy list of crimes. I guess that’s fair.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Counters Steve as he sends you a sympathetic look, “What happened to you isn’t your fault, neither is what they made you do, or everything Thanos did to the universe....”

“Yeah, guess you’re probably right....it’s just...just so difficult to move on you know? From all of it, everything swirling in my head, and even though it’s been five fucking years now. I still think of that shit, even worse, I still think of Bucky every single day, I miss him.....I just, I miss all of them.” You admit sadly, setting your snack down as Steve takes a moment to reflect on his own losses.

Suddenly his lips curl into a humored smile as he shakes his head, eyes looking down at the table before they connect with your curious ones, “God he was so different back in the 40’s....Y/N you wouldn’t believe the stuff we got up to, jeesh, the stuff he got up to.” Chuckles Steve as you raise an intrigued brow. 

“Alright Rogers care to elaborate?” You press with a growing smile at the thought of Bucky and learning more about him, “Bucky never told me a whole lot about that time. Considering he’ll probably never get the chance, I think I’d like to learn more about him and what shit you people did back then.”

“Aren’t you from the 1950′s?” Inquires Steve with a humored grin as you wave him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I was a baby back then I don’t remember what happened okay,” You explain, “I was born in 53 alright, and let’s not forget I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.”

Steve nods, “Right. Fair point.....Okay so..” He laughs, “There was this one time and if you knew me back in the day, of course I was getting in an unsolicited scuffle with some boys who thought it was funny to argue with the paperboy.”

Raising a brow, you begin to smile as his eyes light up, “An unsolicited scuffle?” You muse, “Or is this when skinny Steve got his ass kicked by a couple of mangy dogs?”

“Dogs. Yeah that’s probably more fitting, well you know, of course I had to step in and do something.”

“As expected.” You quickly add as he continues.

“Which I did. And let me tell you they were not a fan. Those assholes ran me for two blocks till I got cornered in some market when who would you know it.....Bucky was there, taking some cute strawberry blonde out for a date while he got groceries for his mom.” Chuckles Steve, blue eyes shimmering with the humorous memories coming back to him about his old friend.

You heart subconsciously swells with the thought of Bucky, “Clever man. Sweet talk your girl while doing something useful.”

“Exactly. I would have gotten a bloody nose if he hadn’t thrown a tomato right at the biggest guys head. That thing coated his hair like red paint, then...” Steve balls his fist as he presses it against his mouth to try and keep himself from losing it with laughter, “...then, his friend turned around and smack! Another tomato right in his face.”

Snickering in amusement, you run a hand down the side of your face at the vivid image forming in your head, “oh Bucky..”

“It was pretty damn accurate too. The other guy booked it down the sidewalk before Buck could get him. Then when he started walking towards us, the other guys took off like a couple of scared birds....fortunately leaving me with no bruises that day.” Says Steve proudly, no doubt thinking fondly on that old memory, “Then of course he told me I gotta be more careful and all that stuff, I said I was fine and he want back to shopping with that girl......huh, don’t think I ever saw her again, well....at least with him.”

“Don’t blame her, he sounded like a real ladies man back in the day, she probably got too jealous.” You joke with a small brow wiggle before your smile lessens again, God you miss him so fucking much, “Thanks Steve.....he seemed, so different. It’s just when I knew him, when I first met him that is, Bucky was very different.”

Steve’s face looses it’s once vibrant glow, he keeps a steady gaze set on you now, knowing your time with him was such a chilling contrast to Bucky in the 40’s. You sigh, “I think I would have liked to see that version of Bucky just once, but I liked the Bucky I got after everything we went through.....after everything’s that’s happened. Maybe 40’s Bucky wouldn’t even look in my direction, I’d probably scare the socks off of him anyways.”

Steve shakes his head, “No way Y/N, you’d have him wrapped around your finger so fast, not a doubt in my mind he’d do anything for you in a heartbeat. That’s just who he was, a player yes, but a kind one who treated everyone with respect through that famous charm of his.....and you, you’d have caught his attention in an instant.”

Looking down at your hands, you raise the corner of your lips into a small half grin at the thought of Sergeant Barnes losing it all to the dangerous vixen that is no doubt yourself, now that’s an interesting thought indeed. Bucky in the 40′s, how about that.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not....but I know one thing. That I’m glad to have even known him at all, he was...so special and he didn’t even know it.” You pause for a moment, lips pursing together as you think fondly of your past lover. Steve keeps silent, studying your disheartened features as you gather your words, “So if, if they can somehow do this....if it’s even actually possible to get those fucking stones again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Steve.”

Whatever it takes.

-

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