#and anyone who says otherwise is probably a dick and can fuck off anyways

[safety-pin-punk]

(TW swearing just in case) Hi! I don't know if you care but I'll ask anyway:

I'm just starting to learn about what punk is and it sounds like an awesome community/scene. It's confusing though, as a lot of the things I've seen disagree about what punk is. I know (think?) the whole point of being punk is resisting authority and generally being your own person. I don't know how to do that even though I want to.

That probably makes me automatically not punk. Don't get me wrong, I believe in anti-authority, I just have no clue how to do any of that while still in school. I fucking hate being intimidated by authority constantly but I get panicked when I might get in trouble. My own mind is forcing me to be a fucking doormat. Can I get a bit of advice?

(Also, sorry for oversharing, you don't have to respond if I'm just being annoying)

What punk is can be VERY confusing if you are just starting to venture into the punk scene and youre learning from the internet. So don't worry, you aren't the only one whose ever struggled to figure that out. Honestly, the community as a whole cant agree on one single definition of what makes a punk. In this post, I've outlined the three separate aspects of punk. You might find it helpful :)

Getting into punk can certainly feel intimidating. The image people usually think of are leather clad troublemakers, but not all punks fit that image. Some punks work at the library and fight for community programs. Some punks go to protests all the time. Some punks are just struggling to finish their degree so they can survive in life (me a few years ago). My point is, not all punks look and act the same, there are pleanty of ways to be a punk.

That said, there are also different sub-categories of punks, such as crust punk, and solar punk.

Okay but moving onto the confidence thing, it takes practice. My suggestion to people is to start off with whats called 'little anarchies'. Take a pen that someone left. Give some food to someone who needs it. Research a 'punk' topic that interests you. Show support for a cause, even if its just wearing a pin. Eventually, when you're ready, you can work up to bigger 'anarchies' such as organizing a group of people for a project, volunteering at a soup kitchen, starting a community garden/library, putting up flyers for that cause you care about. And eventually, once you use your 'anarchy' muscles enough, you'll be able to do the BIG 'anarchies' when you need to. Like going to protests or even simply being able to defend yourself and your beliefs.

[husbandhoshi]

title: ghosted pairing: seungcheol x f!reader wc: 6.1k, mature/18+ only! tags: based on this drabble. porn with a considerable amount of plot, fwb to lovers, rich guy!cheol, yn is able to be picked up. horrible terrible excessive amounts of fluff. smut tags below the cut. everyone say thank you to @wuahae for reading this over :)

smut tags: softdom!cheol, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), spanking/biting, yn has hair that can get pulled, mild ass play, boob stuff, fingers in mouth.

--

you think you have seungcheol's number memorized.

well, you definitely should have by now, with how many times you considered deleting it. instead you ended up changing his contact name, first to seungcheol club, which is where you met him. second time--rebound guy. the third iteration, your roommate had made it DO NOT TEXT, and you had left it like that because she was probably right anyway.

for better or for worse, you are not very good at following instructions. you're two and a half weeks fresh off of a heart-to-heart with your friends where you agreed that no, the best way to get over your ex was to not get under somebody else, and yes, you should absolutely stop sleeping with a guy who brags about being a playboy.

so you deleted his number and your text history, and everyone swore up and down that this was a good thing.

and you're sure you were on the same page as them until about five minutes ago, when you were doing your laundry and you had come across one of his white button-up shirts.

(he let you keep it because he said you looked better in it than he did. that morning, before you left his place, he had buttoned it all the way up for you--don't want anyone else looking at you the way i do, he had said. plus, the amount of hickies he had left behind were in no way presentable to the general public.)

the effect this has on you is instantaneous and humiliating.

"fuck. fuck," you groan, now scrolling through your camera roll to look for literally any screenshot with his number in it.

there's one from back when he was rebound guy--he had sent you ten dollars in apple cash so you could buy a coffee when you said you were too tired to fuck. you ended up coming over that night anyway, and you both watched four hours of law and order until you fell asleep on his couch.

there are a handful from when DO NOT TEXT had sexted you in the middle of the workday, which you kept for posterity and nights alone with your vibrator.

and then, finally, a few weeks before that, when things were simple and he was just an unsaved number in your phone--hey, i know you ran out this morning, but i wanted to let you know i had a great time last night, if you know what i mean. even with the winky face emoji, it was a strangely wholesome text from a first time hookup.

you favorite the screenshot and curse the fact that you have never had good impulse control.

you up? i miss you.

the words fly so fast out of your fingers, you have no time to consider whether or not this is a good idea. you vividly recall the time he told you he had never seen the point of putting a label on a relationship, which was the whole reason your friends staged an intervention in the first place.

still, the white shirt on your bed taunts you. even thinking about it makes your head spin.

yeah. let me send you an uber.

that too--he had money, and he wasn't ashamed to spend it on you. between that and the dick, you don't think you're willing to squander your luck.

besides, seungcheol is still rebound guy. you're still getting over your ex, and he's just a quick fix in the meantime. you tell yourself this, and you keep telling yourself this until you're out the door, without a second chance to tell yourself otherwise.

--

"can't go long without getting your back blown out, huh?"

this is the first thing seungcheol says to you, oblivious to the fact that you were planning on forever ghosting him less than an hour ago.

"as if you didn't answer my text almost immediately," you laugh, letting him help you take your coat off.

"never said i wasn't happy to provide," he replies. his gaze is hot, sticky, like he's forgotten what you've looked like already. "i think it's been almost a month. i thought you got tired of me or something, you know."

"of course not. i...i got busy."

it's a half lie. the other half? you wouldn't dare admit it, but you missed his apartment a little. partly because it's much nicer than your own, but the bachelor pad decor was starting to grow on you. (and maybe the bachelor, with it.)

"work was good today?" you ask, letting him draw you in by the waist. his hands are so warm as he draws them up and down your sides, underneath the cotton of the thin shirt you have on.

"oh, please," seungcheol says, his grin now hovering right over your lips. "don't play innocent. you didn't come here so i could talk about my job."

he's right, so you let him kiss you. it's hot and fast and it tastes like his twenty dollar mouthwash, which you take small pride in because it means he would have been sleeping if his hand wasn't on your ass right now.

seungcheol has never been slow nor patient. your shirt has come off, and he now thumbs at the waistband of your jeans, grasping at the button to undo them.

"i don't think i even know what you look like with pants on," he says, lips dragging against the shell of your ear. "you always dress up when you come here, and it all ends up on the floor. pity."

you feel all the heat in your body surge towards your core. somehow your jeans are already on the floor and seungcheol's palm is fanned over the thin lace of your panties.

"thought about me the whole way here, huh?" two fingers are meanly sat over the seam of your cunt, pressing the damp fabric to your skin. "let yourself get all wet for me on the car ride?"

"maybe," you manage, not wanting to betray the embarrassment in your voice. you don't need his hand there to know how wet you are, and yet you know he's doing it to tease you anyway. he finds the bump of your clit over the fabric, now clingy and warm over your skin, and runs his thumb over it. "what else was i supposed to think about?"

"no need to be shy. can't lie with such a needy pussy." he chuckles as your thighs squeeze helplessly around him. "it's cute."

before you can protest, he pushes your panties to the side, now undoubtably soaked through, and his fingers find your clit again. it just takes two, three, rough strokes to draw the pleasure out of you like a fire in your belly.

"cheol," you whine. somehow things always end up like this--you, almost fully naked, and him, still with all his clothes on. he likes reminding you of it too, now enjoying the way you press against him, searching for skin. instead, you feel his cock under his sweatpants, right up against your thigh, and it only turns you on further.

your hands find his waist, but between the new welt he's sucked into your neck and the paralyzing feeling of his thumb on your clit again and again, you falter. your fingertips hover on the downy hair peeking over the band of his sweats, and you've never ached more to have him inside you.

that's all seungcheol needs to yank you back in line. "bed. now," he says, and you listen.

his apartment is big, and the walk feels dizzying as he follows behind you. what's even worse is that you can feel his eyes rake over you--he loves it. the humiliating stumble of your two left feet, the glistening slick at the apex of your thighs, how your panties cling to your ass, now ruined.

even now, as you clamber onto the bed like you're learning to use your limbs for the first time, he loves how easy you are for him. but you can't help it--no one fucks you as good as he does, and that was the reason he was rebound guy in the first place.

"face me," is his next command. at the foot of the bed, first, he pulls off his shirt, and your eyes wander first to his chest, then to the trail he's got down his stomach, teasing you as he pushes down his sweats.

one of his hands, strong and veiny, disappears under his waistband to play with his cock. you watch the slow flick of his wrist and see the shape of his length underneath the fabric, and you almost start salivating.

you're sure he's punishing you by now.

"you're staring, pretty girl. use your words." a turn of his wrist, and he groans. he might just make himself cum like this, and the notion that it wouldn't be somewhere inside you absolutely shatters the last bit of pride you had left.

"need you in my mouth, cheol," you whine, now sitting up straight against the headboard, as if looking any more pitiful would persuade him to join you.

and he does, just not in the way you want him to. instead, you watch his sweats fall to the ground before he kneels on the edge of the bed, on the end furthest from you.

"what, you think i'm gonna give it to you easy? after you made me wait for you?" you are not thinking straight enough to decipher what this means. who knew ghosting a fuckboy would have actual consequences, but you watch his grip tighten around the fat base of his cock and decide this is not the time to play detective.

so you swallow your pride and all your questions and you crawl. you crawl all the way down the seemingly endless length of his king sized bed, feeling seungcheol's gaze swallow you whole, and you like it.

when you stop at the foot of the bed, you take pause to look at seungcheol, really look at him. his eyes are dark, almost unrecognizably so--maybe it's the way you so readily make yourself perfect for him, arching your back just how he likes and letting your swollen, wet mouth fall open like you've never wanted anything more than him.

"so pretty like this," he coos. he runs a thumb over your bottom lip, feeling it quiver under his skin. you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth; it's as humiliating as it is desperate but you can't help yourself. it feels so good to be touched, and seungcheol's clings to you like nothing else.

he pushes his fingers into your mouth, almost to the back so you choke. you're at the point where you'll take anything, so you suck. you let your tongue run all over the digits, long and calloused enough that you can only dream of having them inside the other half of you. he pushes onto your tongue, wanting you to taste him, and you whimper, the feeling harsh but not unwelcome.

"dumb mouth just needs something in it, huh? my girl will just suck anything?"

you can't talk, so you whine around his fingers, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. he's been playing with his cock with his free hand, forcing you to watch him trace every vein with his own skin instead of yours. you hollow out your cheeks and suck him nice and tight, trying to fool yourself otherwise.

then he laughs, low and quiet--as fun as it is to slut you out, he's never been patient. "open wide, darling." he slides his fingers out from your mouth before pulling your hair out of the way. thank you, you want to say, but it's quickly washed away by the shock of his cock between your lips, rough but never too much so.

god, you didn't even think you liked sucking dick that much, but sleeping with seungcheol for this long must have altered your brain chemistry for the worse. his familiar, heavy warmth sits on your tongue, and you can't help but moan around him. you love the stretch of your jaw, the way his eyes always wrench shut no matter how in control he is.

"fuck," he groans, carding a hand through his hair. "slutty little mouth's made for me."

you hum around him, taking him all the way to where your nose skims the dewy curls on his abdomen and all you know is the scent of his heat. you're drooling so much, thanks to all the fingers in your mouth not too long ago, but you don't care. you run your tongue on the veiny underside of his cock, back and forth, savoring the hurt in your cheeks and all the spit on your chin.

seungcheol makes a low-pitched, strangled noise, the first time you've seen him crack tonight, and it sends another gushy wave of heat to your cunt.

you toy with his slit, let the salt of his precum fill your mouth, and suck hard around his cockhead. your scalp stings wonderfully with how he pulls at your hair, and you lean into the feeling. a deep breath through your nose, and you sink down again. the way he hits the back of your throat makes you yelp pitifully, but you persist like a dog to a bone. again, again, and you're gagging on your own spit as your throat spasms around him and you go cross-eyed.

he's all about control, but he lets you have this--perhaps he likes seeing you give yourself to him without him asking. he doesn't have to lift a finger, and you'll still choke around him, bruise your own throat. surely that had to mean something, but you'll chalk it up to some astrological sexual compatibility you're unaware of at the moment.

"enough," seungcheol finally says, voice gravelly, and he pulls you off him by the hair. "fuck, you probably would've cummed from that alone, huh?"

meanly, he reaches over your back to grab at the strings of your underwear so it digs into your cunt. you cry out, feeling the warmth of arousal leak all over your twitching hole, even between your ass. he's right--any more, and you really might have cummed all over yourself.

" 'm so wet, cheol," you plead, toes curling as he pulls the elastic of your panties further back. "please, please, please."

he releases the band, and it snaps hard against your skin. it feels like electricity as it connects with you, and you cry out again, the noise high-pitched and whoreish.

"gonna need you to face the other way if you want me to fuck you, darling," he says. "my baby likes it best from behind, right?"

you have nothing left in you but insatiable desire. you turn around to face the headboard, still on your hands and knees. seungcheol runs a careful hand down the curve of your spine before landing a hard slap on your ass. your skin sings, and all the blood in your body feels like it's been turned to fire.

"cheol," you warble, pressing your face into the sheets. your pussy actually hurts from how neglected it is, and when the second slap comes down, your clit aches like a bruise. "need you so bad...can't believe i went so long without you."

the words just fall out of you but you think they're true regardless. you were really fooling yourself thinking you could go the rest of your life without this. somewhere deep inside you, in the working part of your brain, you wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. that underneath the show, all the greed and the meanness, he missed you too.

"you must really need to get fucked," seungcheol chuckles. "you've never been this nice to me."

"not true," you protest, muffled by the sheets, and he laughs again. then he peels your underwear down your thighs before spreading your ass underneath his palms, and the cool air makes you twitch under him.

"you smell so fucking good. fuck." he groans, low and desirous, and it's the last thing you register before you feel the swell of his nose, his lips, as he buries his face in your cunt.

it's all too much at once--it rips a squeal out from your chest, one of those slutty, loud ones he loves, and it spurs him on further. you feel the wet pressure of his tongue, first between your folds, then up to the tight ring of your asshole, still messy with your arousal.

"o-oh my god," you cry. the pressure in your belly is now wound tight; you're so, so close and he's barely even started. he seems to know this, and deprives you of his mouth in lieu of his two fingers. the change in sensation is instant and toe-curling. something, anything, is finally inside you, and it's better than anything you have ever known. he drags the pads of his fingers brutally over your g-spot, loving the way you cry and tremble beneath him as your orgasm builds.

"have you had enough, pretty girl?" seungcheol asks, voice cruel, teasing. it's a rhetorical question--before you know it, his fingers are gone, and you instead feel the length of his cock between the curve of your ass. he's got a hand between your shoulder blades, pinning you down, just so he can see you struggle to push yourself against him.

"n-no," you reply, voice catching in your throat. you feel the head of his cock against your slit, and your thighs tremble with anticipation. not good enough. it only takes him a few times, rocking against your cunt, for you to crumble. you ask for things you can't even remember, and it's then when he pushes into you, so meanly you really do forget what words mean.

seungcheol swears under his breath, and his grip on your ass feels tight enough to bruise. your cunt flutters around him, god, you forgot how fucking big he is, but he doesn't give you much time to get used to it. his pace is unforgiving, and his hips slam into your ass like he's trying to fuck the sound out of you.

"cheol," you hiccup, listening to your voice jolt with every thrust. " 'm so full...."

"yeah? you like how i fill you up?" he squeezes your ass hard, and you moan into the sheets. "better than anyone else?"

"o-only you," you reply, slack-jawed at the feeling of being split open so well and the delicious, unending drag of him against your walls. "just you."

this seems to satisfy him. he enters you, deeper still, until it feels like he's in your stomach.

"so fucking tight," he says, from somewhere deep in his chest. "you need me to stretch you out like this every once in a while, yeah? you take it so well, pretty girl."

all you can do is moan his name. it's what you've been doing, and at this point, it's the only word you know. he bottoms out again, and the pleasure is so white-hot it feels like it burns.

it only takes two, three, punches into your cunt for you to come undone. you're gushing, gushing around him, babbling something incoherent, and still he is unrelenting. you feel your mouth move in an attempt to tell him you're too sensitive, and he only shoves his cock deeper in you so he can feel you clench hard around it.

then he pushes your head into the sheets, deeper still so the neighbors won't write him up in the morning, and fucks you again. you foolishly think another orgasm will break you, but all it takes is for him to press his thumb into the dip of your asshole and tell you he's going to fuck you in both holes one day for you to fall apart again.

by the time he's done with you, your legs feel boneless and you don't even want to think about the situation between them. (you had asked him to cum in you, and he did. there was so much, he had to push some back into you with his fingers, and you cummed one more time.)

you feel seungcheol's dead weight slump onto the bed beside you. you're still face-down, but you turn as far as you can to look at him. it's unfair how he still looks good now--his bangs, dark and curly with sweat, crown his forehead, and you watch his long eyelashes flutter shut.

"fuck," he groans. "how does every time with you get better?"

somewhere inside you, in the parts that still work, you feel a small gleam of pride. it feels traitorous, in a way--the whole point of being friends with benefits was that it was supposed to be conditional, but you're running out of conditions. clearly, it didn't take much for you to come back and not regret it.

seungcheol laughs at your silence. "did i break you? no," he jokingly whines, and he rolls onto his side to return your gaze. he brings a hand up to brush the hair out of your eyes, as if that would somehow magically repair your body. but it does feel nice. "please speak."

"maybe broken. to be determined." seungcheol grins stupidly when you say this, and you watch how his eyes crinkle up at the sides.

usually, it's every man for himself at this point in the night. seungcheol will order takeout and draft some emails, and you hobble over to the bathroom so you can pee and use the shower. he leaves you alone for this part, which is the perfect opportunity to mix all his fancy shower gels together like you're a kid again.

but today seems different. you lie there for a beat in silence, watching each other blink. then seungcheol gets up, slowly then all at once, and walks over to your wrung-out body.

"i'm picking you up," he says, like a warning. "hopefully you're not afraid of heights."

you think he's joking until you feel the strong cords of his forearms--one around your middle and the other under your legs. you didn't even think you were able to be picked up at this point in your life, but somehow he's got you flush against his chest now, almost nose to nose with him.

"wait," you waver, suddenly feeling self conscious about literally everything. you're sticky and smelly and you're not curious to find out if your post-coital form will scare him away. "seungcheol."

"you really plan on walking yourself over to the bathroom? you couldn't make it to the bedroom earlier, and i hadn't even fucked you yet."

"hey!" you protest. he laughs, and you can feel his whole body shake. "wait, i can't laugh too much, or i'm gonna start leaking."

"you've got another thing coming if you think i'm afraid of a little body fluid."

seungcheol bumps the bathroom door open with his ass, which is somehow the funniest and most endearing thing to you. you flip on the light, and he sets you on the counter like it's just a normal friday night for the both of you.

he turns the shower on and turns back to look at you. "how hot do you want it?" then his eyes narrow playfully. "are you one of those freaks who likes getting their skin boiled off?"

"well, you can answer the first half of that question on your own."

"ok. freak."

while he messes with the shower knobs (he's got one of those showers with three separate showerheads), you take a moment to do some more snooping. the first time you were here, you did go through the various things he had on his counter. most of them are still there--the overpriced moisturizer you shamelessly use when you stay the night, a quarter-full bath and body works foaming soap, and a folded up hand towel with his initials on it.

there are some newer additions too. you don't miss how the little jar for your toothbrush is still there, or a small tube of lip gloss you had forgotten to take back a few months ago. he restocked the hand lotion that you said you liked, too.

you're starting to think that there is a small possibility that you are no longer friends with benefits. you're not dating either, but something somewhere in the middle. but how do you say something like that? how would you know, especially when seungcheol is a self-proclaimed forever bachelor who may never, ever date?

you have no time to think about this any further.

"sooo," seungcheol hums, wiping his hands with a bath towel. "i'll be in the bedroom. you want me to order chinese?" you watch him linger around, lamely, like a stray dog.

"wanna join me?"

he smiles, ear to ear.

"thought you'd never ask."

--

morning comes slowly.

you wake to birdsong and the quiet chatter of the city beneath you. the sun from the curtains is buttery and warm on your bare skin, and time seems to drag its feet. it feels perfect, which is a word you would have never used in relation to any of this, and yet nothing else seems more appropriate.

last night, after your shower (in which you learned that seungcheol always makes his hair into a shampoo mohawk, without fail), you talked for hours over the fattest spread of takeout you had ever seen.

the plan was to put on the office and dissociate like usual, but he finally answered your question about how his day at work was. (tumultuous and drama-filled--that was his first mistake. you love drama.) strangely, by the end of the night, you learned that you had more in common than you thought with a man whose watch collection was valued higher than your entire college education.

"you up?" seungcheol's morning voice comes out sounding like a croak from behind you. you're sure he's about to complain that his arm is asleep from your big head on it, but he doesn't. instead, he settles deeper into your warmth and pulls you closer by the waist.

"yeah," you reply, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

you grab your phone from the nightstand, wondering if your roommate has discovered your betrayal and has blown up your phone. she has, so the two voice memos and twenty text messages in the group chat are no surprise to you.

what is a surprise is the text you get from your ex. can we talk? it reads. it's the first time you've heard from him in months--before that, he had broken up with you (over text) and then proceeded to block you on every platform possible.

your mind starts to spin. you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to text him back. just for closure's sake, you tell yourself, as if you haven't cried at least seven separate times about this. but you will admit, seungcheol has been a great diversion. you don't remember the last time you had a cry, and any progress was good progress to you.

complicating things, said diversion has slotted a leg between yours, and his hand has found its way to your ribcage, distractingly close to your chest. such are the consequences of only wearing a shirt to bed.

"you're so warm," he murmurs, right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. his hand creeps up, now right over your heartbeat. it doesn't really take much for your body to respond--his fingertips find your nipple, and with a light squeeze, you're already arching back into him. "is this ok?"

"yeah," you breathe. you're distracted, but you figure the best way to un-distract yourself is with a new, better distraction.

now emboldened, he rolls the skin between his fingers, finding he loves the way you shudder underneath him. quickly, he moves out from behind you to hover over you instead, propping himself up by his forearms, and pushes your shirt up over the swell of your tits.

"you good?" seungcheol asks, lips flush to the skin over your heart. he presses another wet kiss to one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

"yeah, why?" you have half a mind to hold his head down so he can't ask more questions and ruin the point of being a distraction in the first place.

"dunno." he switches to the other side, licking over a mark he's bitten into your skin. "you looked at your phone and you seemed worried. also, you're frowning, and it's not a sex frown."

damn. you guess you're easier to read than you thought. you don't even have the heart to ask what the fuck a sex frown looks like.

seungcheol's mouth returns to your nipple, and he sucks hard, making you gasp into your palm.

"my ex," you tell him. there's no point in keeping it a secret. the first time you slept together, you had made it clear what your intentions were, which is what made this arrangement work so well in the first place. "he wants to talk or something."

"that asshole?" then another suck, and you keen into him. "you're too good for him."

it's literally one of the three appropriate responses he could have chosen from, but it still feels like a compliment to you. almost too much so.

"yeah. i guess." your voice sounds more wobbly than you'd like, but you chalk it up to the fact that he's now pressing his lips down your middle, all the way down to your core. "hey, i'm ticklish."

"i know." he kisses your belly button, and you smile in spite of yourself. "you smell good, by the way."

"it's your forty dollar body wash," you remind him.

"damn right it is." you feel his breath fan over your thighs, and your stomach flips with anticipation. "legs over my shoulders. you know the drill."

"you don't have to do this, you know," you say, before immediately regretting it. you have a spectacular knack of self-sabotage, which you think seungcheol knows by this point. "you've been really nice to me."

"am i not allowed to like being nice to you?" seungcheol jokes. "would you prefer me to be mean?"

"no," you laugh. you don't know how to ask what he meant. what made yesterday and today so different? it feels like you're on the edge of something, coming close to what you could only describe as more than casual affection, more than desire. "go back to being nice. forget i said anything."

you put your legs over his shoulders, like he asked. one good orgasm wouldn't solve the ex problem or this new seungcheol problem you are starting to discover, but it sure would help you think more clearly.

his lips are soft on you. he has none of the urgency or greed of yesterday; instead, he takes his time with you. his mouth skims over your inner thighs, lightly, drawing out all the breath from your lungs. you make a small noise of impatience, and you feel the stretch of his grin against you.

before you have a second chance to complain, you feel the heat of his open mouth over your cunt, as to drink your taste up. then his tongue, warm, insistent, on your clit, circling it before he sucks.

"o-oh, fuck," you whine, voice muffled by the back of your hand. it feels too early to be loud, and you're already embarrassed by how sensitive you are.

"don't text him back," seungcheol says. he's replaced his mouth with two fingers, now leisurely teasing you at your entrance.

"don't worry--" you manage to say this before he crooks the pads of his fingers into you, right at your sweet spot, and the words are stolen from you. "--about him."

"i'm serious." he laps at your cunt, and with his fingers still buried in you, the feeling makes you dizzy. "did he ever make you feel like this?"

"n-no," you whine, now with your palm shoved right against your mouth. he's added a third finger now, and the stretch is so good, you're going cross-eyed. "never ate me out."

"what?" you hear him tsk between your thighs as his fingers still. "he's missing out."

it's then that seungcheol must have resolved to give you the best head of your life, because you think you black out after that point.

his lips return to your clit, and the pleasure is so startling, you can feel your thighs squeeze shut around his head. unfazed, he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your hole, still fluttering, unused to the size.

"close, 'm so close," you mewl, hips now lifted to chase his tongue. he indulges you, gives you the flat of the muscle to grind against as he stuffs you full.

your other hand finds his hair, and it only takes a moment, a slight pull, for him to moan into your heat--the sound breaks something inside you, and you're gasping, crying out with your high. by now, there are marks from your teeth in your palm, but something about the sting only makes the feeling better.

seungcheol stays sealed to your cunt, removing his fingers only to replace them with his mouth, eager to taste you. he lingers until you're shaking and whimpering, spent from your orgasm and too sensitive to endure another.

he looks up at you, swollen lips and bedhead made worse, and a surge of affection overtakes you.

"kiss me," you tell him, and he does.

it's long, and it's slow, not even close to any of the ones you've had before. you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, and he sighs. you don't think he's ever done that before.

when he pulls back to look at you, it feels as though the air has changed. there are words pushing at your lips. this isn't casual anymore. it can't be, not with what just happened.

yeah, the sex is good, but the first thing you thought of this morning wasn't you or your saturday plans or how to endure the dismay of your entire friend group, it was about him. if didn't count for something, you don't know what did.

"seungcheol, i--" you pause. his eyes are so brown, it's distracting you, and you start to second guess yourself.

"is it about your ex?" he interrupts. "if he asked you to get back with him, would you?"

it's not his question, but his insistence that takes you by surprise.

"n-no." you watch his gaze flicker at your hesitance, and you don't like it. "no, i wouldn't."

"good, because--" he pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts. you try to read his expression, but he can't even meet your eyes right now. "look, i know i haven't had the best track record with dating. i don't even think i know how to date."

"what are you saying?" you ask softly. there's a part of your heart that feels like it's peeling itself back, in a good way.

"i'm saying i want to try." and when you still look confused, he continues. "dating you. if you'd let me."

against all odds, past all the swirling, terrible emotions in your chest, there's a bright surge of relief, of joy. the last time you saw him look so vulnerable was when he reached into his oven to pull out a tray of cookies and burned his hand because he forgot a glove. maybe this whole thing would crash and burn, but you like him enough (honestly more than enough) to try with him.

so you smile, and you watch him frown and pout and look unbearably terrified, and you smile harder.

"ok," you say, playfully feigning indifference. "you can try."

instead of replying, he kisses you again, and it's even better than the first one.

when you finally head out that morning, there's a lightness in your chest.

in the doorway, seungcheol pecks the top of your head before showing you his phone. "which emoji do you want?" he asks, completely seriously. "i want the blue heart."

you pull out your phone to find his contact, which still shows his plain number, just like old times.

"i'm unsaved?!" his jaw drops open like he's animated, and you laugh.

"gotta go," you tease. "see you later."

it's only in the uber home (that he called for you, of course), where you finally put in his real, government name, for the first time. finally, it feels a little more right.

choi seungcheol, it reads. with the blue heart.

[envysparkler]

“Cass is the favorite.”

Bruce paused in the hallway, head tilted in the direction of the kitchen.  He wasn’t aware that anyone was still up.

“Definitely.”

Bruce was aware that Tim had coordinated tonight’s patrol as Damian was sick with the flu and Bruce was laid up with a couple of injuries—they must’ve just gotten back.

“She can read everything on his face and he never has to say a word—the old man must’ve been thrilled when he found her.”

Bruce frowned.  His plan to return to his bedroom was put on hold as he lurked in the shadow of the den, listening carefully.

“And…Dick is the next favorite.”

“Of course, he’s the Golden Boy.  Follows orders like the perfect soldier.”  There was a dark twist of bitterness to the words.

“Tim’s next.”

“No, it’s definitely Babs.  She’s actually good at her job.”

“Nah, I have to go with Steph.  Babs calls B out on his bullshit.  You, baby bird, melt into the shadows and don’t make a peep.”

“Tim, then Babs.”  When he heard the scratching of pencil on paper, Bruce realized they were actually writing this down.

“Then the demon brat.”

“Depending on what kind of scene he’s caused in the past week.”  A laugh, low and not very amused.

“Then me and Jason.  The outsiders.  Last on the list.”

A scoff.  “No, Blondie, then you.  I’m not on this fucking list.”

“Jason—”

“We’re ranking his kids remember?  Not the vaguely estranged undead mob boss that comes to bail your asses out of trouble.”

“You’re his son, Jason.”  Bruce was gripping the door frame so hard his dislocated shoulder twinged.

“All evidence says otherwise.”

“Well, I’m not his kid either.  So I guess both me and Jason are off this list.”

“You’re his kid, Blondie.  You have a room in this house.”

“I don’t use it.”

“Neither does little Red, and he’s the one running the company.”

“You have a room here too, Jason.”

“No, I have a fucking shrine to the fifteen-year-old kid who was murdered in Ethiopia.”

It landed flat and whatever camaraderie had been underneath the bitterness and snark dissipated instantly.  It left a heavy tension in the air.

“I don’t want it anyway.  Look what happens to the poor bastards at the top of the list.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cass—dear, darling, favorite Cass.  She disappears whenever anyone is talking to B.  Probably too painful to watch.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.”  Quiet.  Guilty.

“And the Golden Boy.  Trying to hold the family together while everybody in it tears it apart.  Timbo here, who’s hoping that if he slinks further into the shadows everyone might actually forget he exists.”

“Hey, I don’t—”

“Babs is stuck working for a boss who constantly undermines her, the demon brat doesn’t know if he should be listening to Dick or Bruce, and you, Blondie, for the great honor of being last on the list, are the only one of us that actually managed to slap B.”

[adorehyyuka]

drooly beomie <3

smut mdni

warnings; sub!beomgyu duh, he's wearing a skirt and thigh highs, degradation, dacryphilia, feminization, pinching, face grabbing, grinding/dry humping, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, best friends to ??, readers gender or body isn't really described, dumb drooly beomgyu <3

he sat perched on top of your lap. his pink thigh high clad knees resting either side of your hips. tears welled in Beomgyu's eyes while his lips and chin wobbled, his sparkling irises staring into yours. You cooed, "awe, what's the matter sweetheart ? feeling frustrated ?"

he whined and let out a choked sob, you laughed at his trembling state and brought your hands down from his waist to caress the skin of his squishy thighs. "this 's embarrassing ! why're you being so mean"

"mean ? you're the whore who begged for this, who begged to be played with by his best friend, aren't you ?"

"n-no ! just wanted you to touch me, not tease me . . .".

"well what's the point in that ? it's boring unless I get to see what a mess you can be" he frowned at your words and attempted to grind his crotch against yours so he could gain some friction, which did not go down well as you promptly pinched his thigh with one hand and gripped his waist firmly with the other. he squealed and squirmed as you continued to pull at his thigh.

"you're such a slut, beomie. can't even sit still for five minutes without wanting something against your drippy little cock" said man sniffled again and bunched up his frilly skirt between his fists, fiddling and pulling to try and distract himself from the warmth of your hands.

" 'm not little ! just fucking touch me already !" he regretted raising his voice as soon as he saw your jaw clench. Beomgyu's eyes grew wide and he tried to splutter out an apology but before he could do so you grabbed his face and pulled it close to yours, mushing his cheeks together in the process. his eyes were puffy and red, his nose and cheeks the same hue as you proceeded to berate him.

"shut the fuck up. if you want me to touch you at all you'll be quiet and behave, otherwise I'll leave you here with blue balls, understand ?" he nodded and tried to ignore the flush of heat he felt when you glared at him, the shine of your lips when you spoke and the pulsing of his needy dick whenever you shifted underneath him.

"good"

unable to resist the temptation any longer you closed the gap between yourself and Beomgyu by pressing your lips to his. he reciprocated immediately, panting and licking into your mouth as soon as he was able to part your lips. and although your chest was flush against his, Beomgyu was somehow still trying to push closer to you, drool and tears were dripping off his chin and soiling his pretty outfit but you continued to let him smother you with himself anyway.

as much as you didn't want to admit it Beomgyu was starting to affect your composure. his constant whining and the way he was practically choking on your tongue —all by his own doing— was sending you reeling with pleasure as your stomach did somersaults.

"Beomie— shit. slow down, sweetheart." he whined in detest to your statement and began sucking the skin of your jawline into his mouth, making sure that it would bruise. he was leaving you breathless, which you could not have.

you gripped his hair like it was a kittens scruff and yanked so hard Beomgyu swore he saw stars, hips jolting upwards to try and feel something against him. "fuck you're so desperate. didn't I tell you to behave, hm ? what would your friends say if they saw you acting like such a depraved slut. you'd probably like it, you'd get off to your friends watching you fall apart ?"

"yes, fuck, please. need you so bad, wouldn't care if anyone saw me just need you to touch me." his hips were starting to twitch again, you could see him fighting the urge to hump you like a fucking dog. his eyes were just too pretty though, so glossy and cute you couldn't resist him.

"c'mon then, grind your pathetic little dick against me and make yourself cum."

the last piece of his self control fell away as soon as your finger tips grazed his perky nipples, his brain going haywire with pleasure so much so that you had to start moving his hips for him after a couple minutes. "oh —shit. thank y-youu, feels so good oh my god !"

tears, snot and drool were smeared all over his face now, hair glued to his cheeks and neck from sweat as well. every movement and every touch sent jolts of pleasure to his tummy. he could feel his orgasm building up at a humiliatingly fast pace, he blamed it on all your foreplay teasing."so pretty for me, beomie. so cute and dumb. look at you, your legs are shaking !"

this would be embarrassing if he wasn't so far gone. but instead all he found was satisfaction from your teasing. grunting, moaning and sobbing into your jugular he stuttered out ,

"cummingg, f-fuh. . fuck I'm coming !"

series mlist

tag list is open @cinnikoi @zzstar @mini-mews

[pseudophan]

some post wad weekend thoughts...

i just wrote all this on the plane and haven't read it through so apologies for any mistakes

first of all, this weekend was incredible. i usually just kinda sit at home doing not much of anything, and this was a much needed break to actually have some fun. london in general always lifts my spirits but i suppose that danisnotonfire guy contributed a little as well.

guys i think i've met more people the past few days than i otherwise have in years. like. holy shit. i started listing people but i'm petrified i'll forget someone so i chickened out, sorry about that. but you all know who you are. i've met friends i've had for years, people i used to know but haven't spoken to in what feels like a decade, newer friends, and a frankly baffling amount of people i didn't know yet but who told me they've followed me for ages. like holy fuck you guys lmao what the hell??? and i mean did the reaction ever get old no of course it didn't. bad for my ego i'm sure but totally worth it. there's something very amusing and incredibly surreal about being chronically lame in most aspects of life and then suddenly finding yourself in an environment where you're kinda cool???? SO fucking fun oh my god, but also i do kinda feel like i've tricked you all? but hey i'll happily let you keep believing i'm cool, that is more than fine with me.

most importantly though everyone was SO lovely. like i said i don't think i've spoken to this many people in such a short amount of time in years and every single person i talked to was awesome. guys did you know phannies are kind of great... don't tell anyone but, lowkey... everyone is so funny and cool and absolutely insane but in a good way (shoutout everyone left at the gates until the very end, we should probably get some help).

and then lastly of course, mr howell himself. i talk about this a lot i feel like but fuck me that man was born to perform. whether you think he's actually funny or not, nobody can argue he doesn't absolutely thrive on a stage. he plays off the audience so well and he's so very obviously having the time of his fucking life. i'd already seen the show twice before this, and i didn't think anything would top the previous london show but man... the first night he came back out after the show having clearly been tearing up backstage, apologising for being an inconsistent absent parent, and i can't lie the "i had daddy issues and THEN i subscribed to dan howell" got me cause yeah no literally dude, you nailed it, exactly, well done. i think something about doing this show again, his magnum opus as he considers it, now after the dapg return was very special to him. he seems genuinely surprised that so many of us were ready to just jump back in like nothing happened, i don't think he was expecting so many people to still be waiting and it's... man. he comes off so grateful for us all and it's so fucking sweet. and then on the last night, i think that was my favourite, when the show ended and he got the standing ovation and people throwing him flowers.. he was so HAPPY. and clearly overwhelmed with emotion which, i gotta say, there is something honestly kinda funny about daniel howell standing in front of you trying not to cry. like no by all means dude go ahead, please, you've made me cry an endless amount of times it's only fair.

ugh. i'm proud of him or whatever. dick. and i'm proud of our ridiculous fucking community. i'm not sure what 14 year old nora would say if you'd told me i'd still be kicking it in the phandom a decade on, but at almost 25 (fml) i'm so so happy to be here still. you know, we get a bad rep, but i genuinely think as far as fanbases go we're pretty solid. and i love you all so much.

i believe i will have to rob a bank or something because the next time dan and/or phil do a tour i think i'll have to just show up at every date like i'm sorry but this was too good of a high we need to do it again immediately

anyway. back to work 💪

(by which i mean giffing dan and phil. i am still very much unemployed. fr though i'm two whole videos behind this has never happened i feel weird. who am i)

[astarab1aze]

“   I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ” — Kai, one night when they’re both really high and haven’t gotten together yet

unhinged comedic relief

He glanced at Kai, half-lidded greys straining to focus on that stupid look on his face - and all he could think, between shades of gold and black hair, the twitch of his lips and the droop of his eyes, was that maybe Kai had bad taste. A proclivity toward making certifiably bad decisions with bad people, not that he was any kind of saint. That's part of what made him so attractive anyway, to him; Loux might've been a little more... honest with himself, recently, but he wasn't any good with words. A lot of the time, he was satisfied with things as they were - hanging out and fucking like rabbits when time could be afforded, and all the little things he was too high to think of off the top - and why ruin a good thing by opening his mouth?

Maybe it was shitty of him, to find relief in Kai voicing even a hint of reciprocity first. Shittier, still, to think it ridiculous and stupid that he'd even implied with a question asked stoned out of his mind-- Insecurity? No. Immaturity? Maybe. Labels sowed drama, labels interrupted what would otherwise be entirely natural, instinctive. Unspoken truths were still true. Fucking Kai into a mattress until he couldn't cum anymore was the closest he would ever get to saying it out loud, and some part of him was bitter that it couldn't be enough in the moment, but - there was something about him. Something about Kai that made him consider it, the whole title thing. And maybe he was fixating on the wrong things, giving himself an excuse to avoid the subject at hand, deny deny deny and run away the first chance he gets- No, that wasn't going to happen, try as he might.

He liked Kai. All the little somethings about him, his smile, his scent, the sensation of his fingertips on his thigh, kisses and bites to the ugliest parts of him, naked, covered in blood, high, the faces he made, his voice - everything, really. But, most of all, in the whirlwind of contradictory, frustrated, affectionate thoughts, Kai could keep up with him. The party never really stopped for them, as long as they were around each other; He never had a bad time with him, rather sought out more fun with him, diving head-first into several bad decisions of his own just so he could show Kai something new, something strange, and experience even more with him, bad decisions made together.

Maybe it helped his dick was immaculate, and maybe it helped a lot. Maybe that made Loux a piece of shit, but he could never be with anyone who didn't fuck him right. Not for long, anyway. Kai...matched him, in every sense of the word. In idiocy, in criminal behavior, in sex, in all the things that did and didn't matter to the ever-shifting fox. No one had ever gotten him out of his clothes faster than Kai, and that had to have said something, all things considered... No one had quite gotten under his skin like him, either.

"Yeah, actually," he said, mouth going dry, palms a touch clammy. He ambled over, resting his head on Kai's shoulder, justifying it with his difficulty in keeping his head up. Kai was smarter than that, though, he'd know. "All th' time..."

Why wouldja wanna be, though? Nothin' special 'bout bein' mine. 'ma fuckin' pig. E'eryone I love dies, all tha' corny woe is me shit. Was jus' bein' a dick t' ya an' ya don' e'en know it... 'ow couldja e'er want me? I don' deserve it. Would be better if we ne'er met. M' chest wouldn't feel so fuckin' tight righ' now if we didn't, an' maybe ya'd find someone who can bring ya closer t' center. 'ma lost cause. Always 'ave been. I'll fail you too, an' tha's a wrong I'd...probably kill m'self t' right.

But he tried to play it cool, besides. Maintain some semblence of composure. Closing his eyes, nestling himself in beside Kai. Maybe if he pretended to doze off, he wouldn't have to deal with the onslaught of bullshit whirling around in his head. Maybe Kai would fall asleep right there with him. Let things lie until they were both sober enough to talk about this properly. Or maybe Loux's mouth would pry itself open and there'd be nothing he could do about it.

"D'ya wanna, yanno, try it...?"

[izzy-b-hands]

Rambling abt the half dream half nightmare that woke me up today below the cut. feel free to ignore, just need to vent it out somewhere. Probably going to include me talking abt Current Family Issues and Feelings so. yeah. TW for mentions of someone in hospital, death, religion, and overall family dysfunction lmao

I know that ultimately, right now, if something big and/or terrible happened medically to anyone in my family back in ND, I wouldn't be able to go see them. The money just isn't there (part of why I'm not going out there this summer nor are they coming out here at all.) I've accepted it, and I try not to think abt it.

That said, LOVE (read: HATE) my brain deciding a hyper realistic yet weird dream abt my mum winding up in hospital is the way to go this morning. Complete with:

-her bf refusing to speak to me abt it, and telling me not to bother going to visit her in the weird, somehow existing in both CT and ND simultaneously, hospital with a 'haven't you already been enough of a burden to her?'

-me staying in my grandparent's old house in ND, and for some reason that meant being wildly unable to get ready to go to the hospital. Finding my clothes was nearly impossible, but. all their old decorations were back up on the wall so even as I was searching for them I like. Didn't want to leave? As if the house would revert back to being sold like it has been irl, if i left it. Finally I wound up just stealing clothes from my grandfather's side of their closet (specifically his old 80s styled 'eagle on a tree branch' print sweater that he got forced to toss a few years ago bc it was becoming more holes than sweater, and one of his old, big leather jackets. somehow i found jeans that fit me, idk how considering i can't seem to do that irl rn but i digress)

-me showing up to the hospital FINALLY only for Noel Fielding?? to be sitting outside it with a friend dressed in what i can only describe as absolutely gorgeous future techno witch clothing. Unfortunately they were fucking dicks in this dream and scared the shit out of me by joking that 'it was so nice I'd shown up still despite the worst' and implying my mum had already passed. Noel did shout apologies as i stomped off inside and that as far as he knew she was still okay, but his friend is the one who handed me a wrapped in plastic, small, metal stool with a weird cartoon face on the seat so i could 'sit with her body, like sitting shiva, right?' (not like that at all to my knowledge, but then again my family has rarely to never fully followed any of the various religious rituals around death, we just. take the bits the dead person liked from them and ignore the rest, for better or for worse. Maybe that's just what happens when a family is a mishmash of various christian sorts from Catholic to Protestant with the hidden knowledge that actually, prior to ppl moving to the States, ppl in the family were Jewish but inter-marrying into Catholic families for safety-sake, and so any Jewish traditions used now are done wrongly and weirdly and in odd bits and pieces. At least that's as much as I've been told/have found out abt it, anyway)

-I proceed into this stupidly fancy and open concept hospital, to immediately find a hugr crowd mucking up the elevators (crowding the elevator bank and refusing to let others on.) That's where Con showed up, and helped me make it up the ridiculously wide, roundish staircases (think like. wide rounded stage steps, but for each level of this hospital), while also trying soothe me by telling me Housemate was already here and waiting for me, so were my grandparents and even Mum's bf (he promised to keep him away from me lol, it was v sweet in an otherwise filled with anxiety dream.)

-however, as we were struggling up the steps (also full of crowds, pushing each other around, so we literally had to hold hands and hold onto the railings and walls to avoid being shoved down the stairs), he kept hesitating on saying more abt mum. He tried to distract me by mentioning that, since I was here, the docs might want me to address some of my own health issues but that he wouldn't let them force me into any treatment i didn't want. Then he finally alluded to mum being in worse straits than I'd been told abt and said something to the effect of 'doing only what you can, not what she or others would expect of you' and 'not to set yourself on fire to keep someone else alive' plus admitting he was deeply worried my family was abt to force me into a big decision that absolutely wasn't the ONLY treatment option that would help mum, but it was implied to be the one mum's bf and my grandparents were pushing for.

-still dunno exactly what that option was, but just before i woke up i started hearing the latter part of the song Gethsemane from JCS (Housemate and I have been watching various versions irl this weekend lol), specifically the bit where Jesus dares/begs/etc God to see how he dies. This was accompanied by me finally reaching my mum's hospital room, and a stupid bright light emanating from it and like. Not to critique my own brain and the dream it created, but that was far too on the nose for me personally lmao.

-and I woke up thinking abt the call with my grandparents that I had on Thursday (didn't go super poorly but went. kind of weird and uncomfortable and confirmed again that like. they're happy for me being out here in CT, yet at the same time hold it and my happiness against me to some unconscious degree as originally outright confirmed by Mum in an earlier call her and I had like. Tail end of last year lmao. the main crux seeming to be 'why couldn't i find happiness in ND/what's wrong with all of them/why wasn't i willing to keep trying to make my life work in ND regardless of my happiness/don't i know how hard it is without my being there to help everyone whenever they ask/etc family bullshit')

And now I'm laying here thinking. If the Worst would happen for any of them, they would fully expect me to empty my bank accounts and do whatever else i had to, to get to ND not just to see them, but to help. to take care of as much as possible for them (mum and grandma get decision paralysed by sad/scary life events, my aunt is so uncomfortable with sickness and death she won't do hospital visits or funerals at all anymore for anyone, my cousins...are young enough they won't know how to handle it/won't want to, my grandpa tends to just shut down and isolate when things go to shit, and that's not to say that they all don't still get done things that need doing in these situations, but that they DO all usually need prodding and help and have leaned on me for that since i was a kid.)

And i would of course want to see them/help however i could, but. not to that extent. not to the point that I'd have nothing for myself, no money or help (bc they're not in a position to return that help or money to me, and they'd be so emotional as to likely be extremely offended and upset if i mentioned needing help myself.)

That said, I'm sick of silently daring them to watch me die just for their sakes, even tho i do still love them all dearly. and of course, that's entirely too dramatic but at the same time, Mum and I have had convos abt 'what if there's a shooting somewhere that we're at, how do we handle it, how are we attempting to protect each other' and Mum always says she would take a bullet for me, but she didn't protest when i say that I'd take one for her or anyone else in the family first. Last time she just nodded like. yeah. of course you would. so. Feelings, abt all of this.

If u actually read this full thing that was A. very sweet of u and i appreciate that u care abt my silly lil fucked up brain enough to do that (genuinely, I'm v grateful) and b. here is a pic of Nisha as what little compensation i can give for u reading this long ass ramble lol

[butwhatifidothis]

Omg, really that guy again!?, when you recommended that fic "Everybody leaves eventually" he putted a comment, wtf.

*sigh*

I tried, right. Didn't ever pay attention to this guy, never responded to his numerous replies, reblogs, asks, or mentions to me, trying to debunk or "debate" me. I only ever mention anything of him outright when he initially made that GameFAQs thread about me (which has since been deleted, funny that) and when he was actively gloating about harassing two people off of tumblr - one of those people happening to be a friend of mine.

I've been debating back and forth about whether to block him or not - I know it's gonna do jack and shit, considering his whole schtick is how effectively he manages to slime his way around blocks anyway, and blocking him would be giving him any attention more than what I was doing before. Plus I've literally never blocked anyone before, on Tumblr or anywhere else, so I have no idea if it'd even hypothetically work even if this guy wasn't known for evading them. And I thought, since he'd finally stopped incessantly trying to get me to engage with him, that maybe he finally took a chill pill and finally learned to stay in his lane.

But now I'm saying fuck it. I finally blocked R/axis - and that R/engor guy too, since I know they're buddy-buddy.

I made a post about 17 hours ago, 5:44 PM CST, that was mostly me recommending fics that I liked and thought deserved a bit more attention. R/axis, barely 20 fucking minutes later, leaves a comment:

He's not even subtle about how he came to the fic from coming from my post recommending it. And here he is, trying to fucking "um achktually" and debate someone who, for all I know, has literally nothing to do with anything regarding discourse. This fic doesn't even have 1000 hits, is tagged "Villain Edelgard von Hresvelg" and "this is very Edelgard negative" so you know from the gate that Edelgard isn't gonna get sugar shoved up her ass like the fandom is overwhelmingly eager to do in 99% of the fics she's in anyway, has no claims of trying to be ~meta~ like Cap'n's does, but lo and fucking behold, here this fucker is, probably thinking he's *~casting his pearls before the swine~* when in reality it's more like him shitting on the floor.

Since I know you're just going to evade my block of you, R/axis, and you're definitely going to read this somehow - maybe you'll have one of your buds screenshot this and send it to you, maybe you have another browser open on another account that isn't blocked by me - here's a heads up: don't fucking do this. Or, I guess I should say stop fucking doing this.

This fic has Hubert leaving Edelgard under any circumstances - the author fucking knows what they're writing isn't exactly a 1-to-1 match to canon. They do not need - and almost certainly do not want - you sticking your head through their door with your finger up and ready to wag at them for not being in-line with canon. This person has no influence in the fandom from what I can see, their fic is barely talked about or even known at all, and they make no attempts at saying that this is their genuine view on the game (and in fact straight up say in their comments that this is just what they wanted to see from these characters, which obviously means they know what they're writing isn't in these characters).

They don't want to debate you R/axis. No one wants to debate you R/axis. Shut the fuck up already.

And to the author of the fic: in the slightest chance that you ever read this, I'm sorry that I'd gotten some asshole stinking up your comment section. I never encourage people to leave unkind or otherwise "debatey" comments on any works, even ones I don't like, and I'm sorry that my recommending your fic did just that. Your fic is a really interesting AU idea and just a joy to read through, and it doesn't deserve some Reddit dick trying to "prove you wrong" about a damn-near two-year-old fic. Hope you're having a great day

[ask-teamplayer]

Other than Ronin who already answered this, what’s everyone’s favorite subject?

FATE: You're looking at mostly ELA kids, here. Me, Enzo, Seth, Cora, Vera- I think I can speak for all of those assholes, but yeah. We were always the best in English. Though Cora also really likes history. You can probably tell.

SETH: i mean im not really all that interested in anything!! i like cooking and playing keyboard, i get options for stuff like that in the future but right now its just,,, eh?

SETH: but if it were anything i guess it would be english! i dont get the kids who hate reading books to be honest, i actually like reading classics! gotta broaden my mind :B

ENZO: pretty on the mark yeah but i used to prefer gym for a while cause like physical dude

ENZO: but i dont think my actual swordfighting skills account for anything when im playing volleyball with annoying mean girls who keep giggling instead of playing the game

ENZO: or when i get hit in the face with a rubber ball which has actually happened a LOT

ENZO: to be honest i think im the only kid that hasnt died during the mile except nahla cause former track kid

SETH: I HATE THE MILE.

FATE: Can't imagine how the mile would be with people with boobs. I am so sorry. I'm lucky I didn't evolve.

FATE: It is horrible though. It should be considered actual torture - dammit, I know excessive amounts of cardio isn't actually healthy for kids who don't do it all the time! I don't want to break my muscles.

FATE: I'm not looking forward to gym next semester.

LILY: i loooove biology! math and ela, too, but bio is my favorite

LILY: or general science! i love taking care of plants, i actually have like fourty at home! they all have names!

LILY: like why do you think i evolved into a leafeon? honestly i think growing plants in third grade awoke something in me.

LILY: its really fun, but i do have trouble focusing on stuff sometimes. im kinda daydreamy hehe. i really need to get my grades up :( maybe ill see if i can join one of vera and fates study sessions. working next to other people i actually like and commentating in a funny way helps me do it faster.

FATE: You're always welcome. I wouldn't invite someone like Darin or Nahla, but I know you're actually smart and like working and aren't going to piss me off.

DARIN: i hate school :(((

DARIN: i dont like anything :((

DARIN: maybe i should get into sports thatd get me into college no problem itd be so much fuckin easier than this

CORA: You do have it in you, Darin. I believe there's untapped potential in academics.

CORA: I've seen the way you talk about anime and shows you like. There's an actual brain up there, as much as you work to prove otherwise. I'm very proud.

DARIN: AY WHAT THE FUCK CHIEF

NAHLA: WOOOOW, You're allll nerds, huh?

NAHLA: Yeah, I'm in the camp with the traitor, sorry! I don't really like anything, but gym's cool! I like track and stuff, and I do like hitting annoying girls in the face with balls! Coolkid's just a coward and cant bring himself to hurt anyone. Pffft.

NAHLA: No worry! I'll do all the hitting for you guys. Someone has to!

CORA: Oh, Nahla, baby dear, may you hit Wade first? He's been getting on my nerves in second period lately...

NAHLA: Anything for you, honey sugar sweetie baby crystal dreamy dear! <3

NAHLA: Regardless of our totally real romance I just need an excuse to punch him anyway. Or throw balls at him in general.

ENZO: BALLS you say

RONIN: okay posts over before enzo makes another dick joke and cora and nahla start gay fucking on the table. im a little oversensitive right now, fate screaming is just going to make me kill someone. maybe in like an hour guys, wrap it up.

VERA: I also take a lot of art classes

VERA: I would like to get better at traditional because I would like have to have less reliance on stabilizer use

VERA: And doing things like ceramics is fun

RONIN: see? when i need someone to be normal on a stupidly derailed ask, i ALWAYS know youve got me.

RONIN: thanks, v.

VERA: The sentiment is appreciated but when have I not "got you" in your words

RONIN: never, v. never.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[miekasa]

bad romance

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genres and warnings: friends with benefits au, friends to lovers au (well i guess that’s open for interpretation lmao), modern au—college au?, explicit smut, mentioned/implied virginity

+ summary: friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school is probably a bad idea. friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school who you’ve also been in love with for the past seven years—all for the purpose of her gaining ‘experience’ so she’s not nervous to do it with some other guy she has a crush on—is probably a really bad idea. levi ackerman is not known to make great decisions.

+ word count: 3.5k

+ notes: truth be told, i don’t even know if i like this; i took this from an outline/draft of a series i’d planned but know i’ll never complete. it’s kind of unedited too heh, also if you’re a minor pls do not interact 

Levi doesn’t think anything of it when he finds you on his doorstep on a rainy Saturday evening. It’s very much like you to show up unannounced and attempt to drag him into whatever activity you want to do that day. He’s fairly certain that Hange picked that up from you. Someone should tell her that it doesn’t work so well unless it’s you tugging on his arm sleeve and interrupting his otherwise peaceful evening. 

So, for a while, everything is normal. You make fun of him for his use of, admittedly overpriced, organic butter when he toasts you a bagel; he makes jabs at you shuffling around his apartment like a semi-wet chihuahua, and all is right with the world.

Until it’s not. Because half-way into whatever stand-up comedy Netflix special you’d persuaded him into watching with you, Levi’s had enough of your nervous ticking. He doesn’t know if you think that he wouldn’t notice, but he does. And he knows it’s not the result of you still being wet or cold from the rain, seeing as you’ve long since dried off and warmed up. 

You’re focused on the show (ironically, focused to a point of distraction), you’ve been twiddling your fingers since it started, and you’ve been fidgety since you stepped foot into his house. Quite frankly, he finds it insulting that you think he wouldn’t know something’s up by now.

So, he bends his knee, turns his body towards yours, lifts his elbow to rest atop the edge of the soft, and presses his cheek into his palm: “Alright, spit it out.”

“Huh?—What do you mean?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes. He looks back at you with unamused, expecting ones.

You crack a nervous smile, attempting to laugh off his command as incredulous, but instead, your voice comes out in what sounds like a pathetic attempt to cover up a lie—probably because it is, “What? Can’t I spend sometime with my favorite, surly psychology student?”

Levi scoffs at your batting eyelashes. The look he throws you seems to do the trick as you drop your facade with a sigh and shift yourself to face him on the couch too, your bent knees almost touching.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” you sigh, hands resting in your lap, “You, um... you know how you said you’d help me with, like, uh... sex and stuff?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. Of course he does. He watches as your eyes dart around the room waiting for his response. It’s cute as heck, and if the topic of conversation at hand weren’t about to get so compromising, he’d have probably teased you about it.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… okay, so, you remember Jean, right? The guy I told you about?”

Levi hums. Yeah, he remembers Jean, but only because you can’t seem to shutup about him, not because he’s particularly memorable otherwise. He seems to be kind of a prick and a huge idiot, if you asked Levi; but, that’s kind of his default impression of most people. 

“Jean and I hung out yesterday, and it was normal, you know? We just talked and ordered food and watched a movie,” you rub your palms along the fabric of your yoga pants—another nervous tick he’s been observing, “I don’t know if it was a date or not, because he didn’t say it was, and I don’t want to assume, but Marco keeps saying it was, and that Jean wants to actually ask me out.”

Levi blinks. “And?”

“And if he does ask me out—or even if he just… I don’t know, wants to try something the next time we hang out, I don’t want to look like a complete idiot!”

He refrains from letting a noticeable grimace take over his features; and washes away the unsettling feeling in his stomach with a nonchalant comment, “I doubt he’ll try anything on your first date.”

“But what if it’s not a date! People hang out just to hook up all the time.”

“I thought you wanted to date him?” Levi questions, but his it comes out as more of a deadpan statement.

“I do,” you answer, your response a little delayed and drawn out, “But, I wouldn’t mind just sleeping with him, either.”

“Bold statement from someone who’s never slept with anyone before.”

“Have I told you today that you’re an asshole?” you roll your eyes at him, “Come on, Levi, you know what it’s like to just want someone, but not want them, don’t you? You’ve had one night stands before.”

That’s true, Levi knows it, but it’s different. He wasn’t actively seeking advice from his friends about how to pursue and potentially please his one night stands because none of that mattered—well, the pleasing part, probably, but not the pursuit, or the feelings that came with it. Besides, Levi hasn’t felt the desire for any of that in a long time.

“That’s not the same,” he responds, trying to dismiss the muddy feelings crawling up his throat, “Look, if your Jean guy gets horny when you’re hanging out, just make out with him—make him jizz his pants or something.”

“That’s terrible advice,” you frown, “Plus, he’s probably done that with a million other girls.”

“Probably. Sex tends to repeat a few basic actions here and there.”

“For a psychology student, you sure are a terrible makeshift therapist, do you know that?”

“That’s not even the kind of psychology I study, never mind that I never asked to be your therapist.”

Levi takes great amusement in your huffing and the frustrated pout settling into your features, though he does his best to not let his own smile shine through. It’s probably futile; you can probably see through his facade, anyways.

“I just don’t want to bore him, Levi.”

Any trace of his smile vanishes as those words leave your mouth. Levi doesn’t retain much about this Jean guy you keep going on about, and he doesn’t care to in all honesty—but maybe if he did, he could understand why you’re so hellbent on pleasing the kid.

Levi doesn’t like it, not one single bit. His own feelings for you aside, he doesn’t like how Jean has managed to worm his way into your head and make you think that he’s deserving of any kind of affection from you, whether it be platonic, romantic, or sexual. Because he isn’t; Levi might not know him, but he knows that much. 

Still, he sympathizes with you. He understands the pressure of navigating dating and hookup culture, especially in a university setting; never mind the additional expectations set on you as a girl. It’s shitty, all of it; the stupid feelings, the sense of uncertainty, the dumb-ass college pricks. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. 

“You won’t,” is Levi’s simpler response, “Just don’t crush his dick in the process.”

“I wouldn’t do that, fuck you.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve never been the most coordinated person in the world,” he taunts, “If that’s what you came here today to ask me to help you with, it’s fine.”

“Really?—I mean, okay, I know we said that’s okay, and stuff, but I didn’t know if—well I don’t know what’s on the table or not? I do want to do that with you, but I also wanted to know if we could do… more? But I didn’t want to ask for too much and make you uncomfortable! Do we need a lesson-plan of sorts, because I can make—”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Stalling,” Levi tells you, “You know, how when you get all nervous and ramble, then run out of breath or things to say, then get super quiet, and let the conversation die and be awkward again.”

You throw daggers his way with your eyes, and Levi has the audacity to smirk. “Forgive me, it’s not every day I ask my best friend if I can suck his dick for practice.”

“You can,” Levi replies, a little too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “If you want. I don’t mind. As for a lesson plan, that’s weird as shit, so don’t do that.”

“Really? I can?” you question again, an ironic child-like glimmer of joy in your eyes.

Levi chuckles lowly at your enthusiasm—your appreciation is so genuine, he finds it nothing short of adorable. And oddly enough, he’s a little turned on by it, too.

“Yeah,” he nods his head shallowly, “You can.”

You still have that gleam in your eyes, but Levi can feel the hesitation creeping up on you, and offers his guidance before he loses you to a shell of yourself. He shifts over to you just a bit, loosely holding your right wrist in his grip; holding eye-contact, he carefully pulls you up to stand in front of him.

“You can start,” he says, slowly tugging on your wrist, “By getting on your knees and taking off my pants.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, you’re already kneeling in front of him, and the sight is already enough to have Levi semi-hard in his pants; an almost embarrassed flush washing over his body as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s thought about this visual more times than he cares to ever admit.

You fumble with the zipper of his jeans, pulling them, along with his boxers to pool around his ankles. Your actions are careful and calculated, but you seem comfortable—maybe not with your skills, but with Levi.

His eyes stay glued on you, when you finally hold his length with a single hand, the other resting hot on his thigh. He leans over again, this time to rest a comforting hand on the back of your neck, eager to wash away any remains of your nervous resolve.

“Start slow,” he instructs, feeling your thumb swipe along the head, “Just move your hand up and down a bit, like—ah, yeah, like that.”

You seem follow his words carefully, focusing on the way his dick jerks in your hand. Levi observes you carefully and mentally notes that while he’d have liked it, not making out with you before this was probably the right call—he’d probably have creamed his jeans before this could have begun.

“You can grip it harder,” he tells you. You listen, applying slightly more pressure to your grasp; and it makes Levi groan, short, but strangled, above you.

“Okay?” you question, the genuine concern in your voice enough to make Levi’s gaze soften.

“Yeah, that’s—you’re doing good,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the nape of your neck habitually, “Twist your hand a little when you go up, you can—fuck, okay, yeah, that, like that.”

You snap your head up to look at him when he lets a moan slip through; nothing but pure enthusiasm and satisfaction dancing in your eyes. Levi grits his teeth when you do it again, your thumb sliding over the tip when you reach the top of his dick, and, Christ, you’ve got to stop looking at him like that.

You work your way into a steady rhythm, letting Levi’s moans guide your movements. You feel him harden to full length under your touch; and when he does, you move your hand faster, twisting your wrist around the length and squeezing just a pinch harder at the tip, without instruction.

He watches through lidded eyes, using his thumb to press lightly into the back of your neck. You move your free hand from his thighs, eager to add it to the mix, but Levi freezes.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head.

It prompts you to stop your actions, tilt your head and look up at him, and Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so sinful. Your complete focus on him, neck craned obediently, eyes twinkling under your lashes; your position makes him want to kiss you or choke you or something in between.

“What—did I do something wrong?” you ask with wide and innocent eyes that make Levi feel bad for worrying you, yet send an erotic pulse throughout his body.

“Not at all,” he reassures you, fingers treading into the hair at your nape.

He’s setting himself up for failure, and he knows it, too—because, really, who agrees to teach a friend how to suck dick? Having you on your knees in front him, crane into his touch, and keen to all his desires, does nothing to mask the painful fire in the pit of his stomach.

It’s stupid to be this hungry, this possessive over you when he knows you come to him in hopes to learning how to please another man. But one, precious thought is enough to cloud over all of that, enough to put that sadistic smirk back on his face.

“You said you wanted to give me a blowjob, right?” he questions, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at the shallow nod of your head, “Okay. Open your mouth for me, yeah?”

He barely pushes the tip past your lips when your head dips forward, tongue peeking out to lick the very top. Levi sucks in sharp air between his teeth, relaxing into the couch when your head bobs further, enclosing the tip of his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice hoarse when his hardened cock rests against the velvet wet of your tongue, “That’s it—just keep going, like that.”

He watches intensely as your head bobs onto him. It’s hot and wet and so much more than he’d imagined it would be; and he’s not too shy to admit he’s imagined this with you. He moves his hand to brush away the flyaways of your hair, smoothing them back and tangling his fingers at the back of your head. He carefully guides your movements.

It’s slow and steady, and normally, it’d take him a while to cum like this, but with the visual of having you on your knees for him, Levi can feel a faint warmth of his orgasm already beginning to bubble inside of him.

“This is okay, right?” you pull back, a thin line of spit trailing from your mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he answers immediately, unaware of his tightening grasp on your hair.

With a shy smile, you continue, taking more of him this time and carefully gauging his reactions. You move your head further down, testing your own limits, until you feel like you’re choking. You pull back again, with an embarrassed cough.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says softly, rubbing soothing circles into your neck with his fingers, “Guys can’t actually tell the difference between a regular blowjob and being deep throated, no need to choke yourself.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, resting you bum against your heels.

“You seem so surprised.”

“That’s just so… disappointing,” you crinkle your nose, “Men and porn make deep-throating seem like the end all be all of giving head.”

Levi chuckles in genuine amusement, “Well, it’s not, trust me. If any guy insists on being deep-throated just to cum, he’s a fucking liar. He’s getting off on the submission, not the actual feeling.”

“The submission?”

“Getting someone to be willing to listen to them, telling them what to do, how to please them,” he shrugs, “Makes you feel like you’re in control.”

“And that… that works?”

“Yeah,” Levi says, “But, judging by the tone of your voice, and how willing you were to suck my dick three seconds ago, I’d say the idea of being dominant doesn’t really appeal to you.”

You scrunch your nose again, “Does it appeal to you?”

Levi pauses, thinking over his answer, before giving you a simple, “Yeah. Most of the time.”

“Oh,” you hum, “I… I don’t think I’d like that.  I think I’d rather be told what to do, seeing as I don’t really know what I’m doing, anyways.”

“Ironic, considering you’ve never once listened anything I tell you do.”

“I was listening when you told me how to suck your dick,” you correct him, “You seemed to enjoy that.”

Levi pauses with a raised eyebrow. You don’t seem to back down, that matter-of-fact smirk on your face still mocking him. He leans over slowly, using his right hand to guide your head closer to him, and uses his left hand to grab your jaw between his fingers.

“You can be such a fucking brat, you know that,” he all but whispers, pursing your lips together in his hold, “Since you like listening to me so much, then shut up, and we can finish what you started.”

You blink, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression. He’s right that under any other circumstance you’d probably run your mouth off about him telling you what to do. But something about the way he knows what he wants and tells how he wants it makes you listen without an argument.

You nod, slowly wrapping your lips around the tip again, and bobbing along his length. Levi’s breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks slightly, a rough hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

“You’re really—god, okay, you’re good at this, you know,” Levi praises you, letting his right hand resume its position at the back of your neck.

If you had any doubts before about being submissive, the look on Levi’s face seemed to have wiped them away. Watching him throw his head back, his fingers gripping at your nape, his cock in your mouth—pleasing him seemed to be enough to please you, too.

“I wanna make you cum, Levi,” you voice your thoughts, letting a hand lazily jerk him off in the mean time, “Tell me what I have to do to make you cum.”

“If you keep going, I’ll cum,” he answers too quickly, a groan slipping through his words, “Trust me.”

“Come on, Levi,” you push, rolling your thumb over the slit of his dick. It makes him inhale sharply; you’re getting a little too good at that; at all of this. “Can—I mean, do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Shit, shit. Don’t say shit like that,” he curses, blunt nails raking and scraping at your scalp, “You don’t have to—I can just—”

“I want you to,” you tell him earnestly, “Please?”

Fuck, he was pretty fucking certain he’d told you to stop saying shit like that. Levi bites the inside of his cheek, paces himself; uses both of his hands to hold your head gently, while you use yours to wrap around his cock.

He grunts with a shake, and rolls his hips up, pushing himself further into your mouth, but not so much as to hurt you. It’s soon after that hot strophes of cum wet your tongue, and Levi lets you lazily jerk him off until you’ve milked his orgasm.

The room is silent save for his low moans and the squeaking of his thighs against the leather couch. When he’s finished, he slouches back, looking at you through hooded eyes, sweaty and panting, when you close your mouth and swallow.

You use your fingers to collect any remaining cum from his softening cock, and hum contented as you put your fingers in your mouth. Levi locks eyes with you again, cheeks flushed as you pull your digits out of your mouth, and he has to grip at his own thigh to gain the self-control to not get hard again.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him some day.

He shakes his head when you move backwards with a cute smile and pulls his boxers up, then his pants as best his can, not bothering to zip them up. When he’s done, you stand to your feet then straddle him on the couch, laughing lowly at his post-orgasm haze.

He doesn’t think twice about the way your hands clasp at the back of his neck, or the way his find their way to rest on your hips. You grab ahold of his jaw with both hands, holding his face in place. He thinks you’re going to lean in, but you don’t; just stay like that, your eyes roaming his glassy eyes.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me all day?” he questions, lips pulled into a knowing grin.

“Can I?” your question makes him frown in confusion, “Dunno, I heard some guys don’t like that after getting head.”

“Bunch a fuckin pussies,” he grumbles, leaning forward to close the gap between your mouths. He can feel you smile into it, and mimics your grin when you begin to press short, repeated kisses against his lips.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

He laughs when you continue to press quick kisses on his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You kiss him on the cheek, wet and dramatic. “Love you, Levi.”

Your face is right in front of his, but he averts his gaze, a different kind go warmth spreading throughout his chest when you flash a smile at him. He lets you kiss him again, longer this time, but still slow and sweet. He likes the feeling of you resting against him, affection lingering on your tongue when you kiss him.

It’s dangerous, but he likes the way you spark a fire in him. Sweet or sinful, it makes him feel boneless, wanted, loved.

Levi leans forward, rubbing his hands up your sides, and captures your lips in another languid kiss before pulling away to peck the corner of your mouth. “Love you, too.”

And he means it of course, but if Levi thought he had it bad before, he’s in deep shit now.

[magniloquent-raven]

steve's always known that he likes kissing boys. when he was ten a friend he made at summer camp planted one on him. he threatened to break steve's nose if he told anyone, but the kiss was still nice. when he was fourteen him and tommy got well and truly drunk for the first time, and ended up fooling around in the harringtons' dining room, clumsy and splayed out on the cold floor.

things like that kept happening to steve, and he was fine with it. as long as no one knew it was just some harmless fun.

because the thing is, he knows that's all it can ever be. he knows it. men can't ever love each other the way he loved nancy. it's just not how things work.

everyone says so, right. that it's not love when it's two men. it's just...sexual perversion or what the fuck ever. and steve's cool with that. he's not a prude. people can get all shitty and judgy about him sleeping with men because they think it's wrong but it's no different than people calling the girls he sleeps with sluts and getting all uptight about sex in general.

and sure, just because everyone says so doesn't make it true, but...well you just know some things, right? it's a gut instinct. he's never gotten butterflies over a guy, never gotten all warm and sappy with one the way he did with nancy. so it just makes sense. that's the way things are.

which...is why it's really confusing when billy asks him out.

they're friends now. they hang out. he actually likes billy, wonder of wonders. the whole mind flayer thing really mellowed him out. it's sad, sometimes, how much it broke him down, but steve can't help being selfishly grateful because he knows they never would have gotten to know each other otherwise.

and they've...y'know. had some fun too. billy kissed him two months ago, sloppy and urgent, still tasting like the beer he shotgunned. it was just the two of them, on the porch outside hop's old trailer—now billy's. and it was nice. it was fucking awesome, actually. and so was everything else they did after that.

billy was a little weird about it the next morning, so steve made sure to let him know he wasn't gonna freak out or anything. he'd done this before, they're still friends, it'll stay a secret, etc. etc.

it didn't help much, 'cause billy didn't talk to him for like, a week after, which sucked immensely, but steve's forgiving. it was probably billy's first time with a guy or something.

anyways, they worked it out. stayed friends who sometimes touch each other's dicks. it's all good. maybe a little intense sometimes, the way billy always clings to him right before he comes is honestly the best thing ever, the desperate way his nails dig in and he curls his whole body into it. and lately they've been getting a little less rushed, a little more familiar about it. but steve's never slept with the same guy this many times, so maybe that's normal.

what isn't normal is the nervous tension in billy's shoulders and the way he bites his nails and stumbles over his words, and then asks steve out.

because. like. why?

he just...doesn't understand. any of it. why billy's looking at him like that, his usual cool mask cracked down the middle, vulnerable bits shining through, making him all soft around the edges. why his stomach clenches, tumbles over itself, anxiety and something sour twisting in his gut. why his hands are shaking, and he can't quite breathe, and the thought of this ruining what they already have is digging its claws in.

and he can't...he just can't. can't give billy what he wants, because he doesn't even know what that is, and...he can't wrap his fucking head around why this is even happening.

it hurts when billy closes off and walks away, his quiet nevermind, i—forget i said anything hits like a punch in the chest.

he goes home that night thinking about every time they ever touched. every time billy looked at him with something in his expression that steve couldn't put his finger on. something warm that he wanted to reach out and hold.

he calls robin at one in the morning. she's annoyed until she hears his voice. then she promises she'll be there in ten minutes.

steve hasn't cried in front of anyone since he was six. but that night he curls up with his head in robin's lap and sobs, trying so, so hard to let it wash away all the things he's gotten muddied up and confused over. but when he's out of breath and out of tears, there's still a knot in his chest that he has no idea how to untangle.

~~tag liiist ppl sorry for the angst lol @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful 💕~~

[flying-nimbus-cloud]

Aight Peter Maximoff stans, I want to point out some plot holes and unanswered questions about "Ralph Bohner"

WandaVision Spoilers:

(I am in currently listening to Sweet Dreams/80s music while writing this very drunk, determined and in immense denial. 😁🤘)

(Pls read, my drunk smol brain worked hard on dis 😘👉👈)

Ralphs name. Why doesn't Ralph Bohner have a hex name and a real name? Unless "Pietro" was essentially his hex name. But I truly believe that Wanda unintentionally or otherwise wouldn't name some random civilian "Pietro", right? Like how Sarah was named Dottie at random, wouldn't that be the case for Ralph also? From what was shown it made it out to seem he's called Ralph Bohner in and out of the hex.

From episode 1-5 Agatha spoke about Ralph like he was her husband for some reason. Why did he only appear in episode 5 if she had Ralph under her control to use to her benefit from the very beginning? It's just odd.

Agatha's abilities. Agataha had shown Wanda that can perform illusions(like how she turned a bug into a bird). So... why didn't she make Ralph look like Wandas brother if she can make illusions? Especially after going through the trouble of picking a guy that acts nothing like Wandas brother and giving him powers? Agathas power scale confuses me so much.

Why did Wanda recognize Ralph Bohner when he showed up at her door? The explanation "Cause magic" would feel so cheap. I seriously don't understand this. Wanda despite her fragile mindset would be like, "Who are you? You don't look like my brother. You don't act like him. He's dead(Wanda definitely knows that internally.) The only thing you both have in common is the superpowers. Y'all move fast." Now if it was Peter Maximoff from another universe I'd assume that Wanda can sense he's her sort-of brother but not really. Almost like somethings a little off....at least that's what I thought, but nope. He's a random person apparently, so there isn't that instinctual connection. So then why the recognition at all?

The alarm. In episode 5 right when Ralph appears at Wandas door some random ass alarm goes off at Swords base outside the hex. Why?? Peter Maximoff fans and myself thought that was him possibly entering the hex somehow. But apparently not...so what was that exactly?? Of course that was never explained.

Ralphs superspeed. So, y'all telling me that Agatha had not only forcibly put a necklace on Ralph to control him to be her "eyes and ears" BUT ALSO gave him LITERAL superpowers?? All of that is completely glossed over. Mf at Marvel will probably say, "Cause Magic" smh.

Jimmys missing guy. There's unfortunately a lot to debunk this theory, but I could still see it being a possibility. Jimmy along with Monica and Darcy all saw the TV when Ralph was on it, but Jimmy never said a word. An interesting point though is the fact that this witness protection person was never brought up again, which is really fucking weird. More shit left unanswered. Could it be "Ralph"? We don't know.

The house. Ralph Bohner is supposedly a struggling actor. At least that's the explanation many have said is the reason as to why he has a random headshot of himself laying about his man cave. But then how does he live in that big ass family home? Plus that house ain't actually Agathas, she came into WestView looking for Wanda to find answers about the hex. That wasn't originally her house. With Ralph looking like the broke ass himbo he is...how could he afford to live there if he supposedly lived as a civilian in that town to begin with??? Make this make sense lol.

Ralph chuckled at his name. Aight aight I know this is a stretch, but hear me out; If you had a dumbass name that sounded weird, you'd probably be used to people making fun of it or saying it wrong, right? You'd maybe even get tired of hearing the silly name your entire life. But when Monica said Ralphs name, he chuckled like one would at their silly fake name and not their real name. That's at least how my dumbass would react to someone saying a funny name I choose for myself. And honestly "Ralph Bohner" truly sounds like a name that Peter would choose lol. Unless WandaVisions writing team said, "Evan, we want you to laugh at your name like you've never heard anyone pronounce Bohner like Boner before." Or maybe Ralph didn't know his own name because he was under Agathas control still...or something.

Why "Ralph Bohner"? K so lets just say we all accept that they stunt casted Evan Peters and he is and always will be a nobody named Ralph Bohner. Marvel knew- no, knows that fans of Evan Peters Quicksilver and the X-Men would get hyped up bout him when they made that glorious reveal in episode 5. So they really dragged that expectation out for 3 weeks, to leave it off on a dick joke? Nah, Marvel/Disney can't be that stupid right?....right?

They gave us some hope and hefty amount of evidence(that isn't listed all here) that Ralph could be Peter Maximoff because of some Multiverse shenanigans....

But then they left it like...this?

Tis very strange of Marvel to think people wouldn't notice how they kinda, sorta baited fans if left like this.

I literally had no crazy theories for this entire show, everything Marvel I take with stride with almost zero expectations...then my boy Evan Peters showed up and my ass finally had some hope to see my comfort character make an appearance in the MCU...which ironically ended in a dick joke. The universe said, "Nah fam, you can't hope for shit lol 🤡"

Anyways, I'd like if this could give some evidence to those still willing to believe that Ralph Bohner is Peter Maximoff. With so many unanswered questions and plot holes with his character, it just feels wrong for him to be nobody...y'know?

Also I'm sorry if this gives you false hope lol.

Love y'all, Peter Maximoff stans are sweet as heck. 💕

[actuallysaiyan]

Sasuke Uchiha Spicy/N-S-F-W alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sasuke isn’t very into aftercare like some other people might be. He’ll probably just get himself cleaned up, and he’ll give you a washcloth or something like that. Afterwards, he just goes back to doing what he normally does. He might give you a sweet, little kiss and if you want to shower with him, he won’t say no. Don’t expect too much from Sasuke after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sasuke would probably say his eyes are his favorite body part. It’s kind of an obvious answer, but that doesn’t bother him one bit. His eyes have an amazing prowess and he’s not going to let anyone tell him otherwise.

On his partner, he hates to admit it, but it’s always going to be their smile. It’s warm, sunny and makes him feel wanted and loved. It’s his one weakness in a partner, and it has to do with the fact that people who love and care about him always smiled at him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

All Uchihas have a breeding kink, and that’s the hill I will die on. Sasuke definitely wants to pump you full of his cum, and he’ll definitely hope you’ll get pregnant so that he can continue his clan. He needs you to help carry on the Uchiha name, and he’s not afraid of fucking you for hours and pumping you full of cum.

As for you, he’s going to enjoy overstimulating you. Just the thought of you whimpering and whining as he fucks you over and over, making you cum for the umpteenth time...it’s just something that absolutely drives him insane. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would absolutely never admit it, but he’s interested in maybe having a threesome with you and Naruto. The idea of the two of them dominating you is something he fantasizes about more than he’d like to say so. It’s not like it’s something he’s going to beg you or Naruto to do, but if the situation were to arise...well, let’s just say he wouldn’t say no.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sasuke isn’t experienced, but he is quite the prodigy with almost everything else. He’s very naturally talented at so many things and he enjoys practicing and training until he gets insanely good at something. So, he’s definitely going to know what’s going on before he even gets to try it. He’s just that good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is a toss up between cowgirl or the mating press. The man wants to fuck many babies into you, but he also enjoys watching you ride him like crazy. Just seeing you bounce up and down on his cock, he’s going to be watching you with intent.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sasuke is hardly ever goofy or humorous, but he might make a dirty joke. It comes out very sarcastically, but it’s very sexy when it’s coming from him. He’s very serious about sex and life. You won’t see him joking around much, but he may crack a smile from time to time while having sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sasuke is clean-shaven down there. He doesn’t like the way it feels when he has sex, and he also doesn’t have a whole lot of body hair. The body hair he does have is very dark, and so the carpet definitely matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sasuke is very serious during the moment, and sometimes he can be very sweet and caring. Most of the time, he treats you a little bit like a sex slave that’s basically an incubator for his children...which is something you both agreed to when you got into the relationship. He will show you he cares often, but it’s not always what you need to hear or what you need to see. Sasuke has a hard time being romantic, but he does try as best as he can.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This isn’t something he does that often, but if you aren’t around and the mood strikes him, he’ll find a nice quiet place to do this. It’s just not his favorite thing to do, as he’d rather be doing the act itself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

What kinks does he not have? ^^’ He loves creampies, breeding kink, tying you up, BDSM...the list goes on and on. He very much enjoys dominating you and showing you a very good time. One of his all-time favorite kinks is overstimulation, in which you are just a moaning and whimpering mess beneath him and you’ve drenched him in your own cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Sasuke prefers doing it on the bed, but he’s not against doing it in other places. He enjoys taking you on almost any surface that he can, and he’s not opposed to having semi-public sex. It makes him so aroused to have the risk of almost getting caught by passersby. It’s something that really fuels him on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As stated above, Sasuke likes being fueled on by being almost caught by someone. He also will get so turned on if you whisper in his ear...but something that really gets him going is if you show him lots of affection. He likes to pretend he hates it, but in reality, nothing turns him on more than you showing him how much you truly love him. It makes his heart race!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sasuke is pretty much into almost anything, but he does like to have your consent before trying anything new. He doesn’t seem the type to want that, but he is that kind of guy. If it doesn’t fly with you, it’s not going to happen. He loves you and cherishes you, so he needs to make sure you’re enjoying yourself as well.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ohhhh Sasuke absolutely adores oral. He actually loves giving it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like receiving it. If you get on your knees in front of him and start sucking him off, he’s going to basically crumble in your hands and turn into putty. If you look up at him with your doe eyes as you deep throat him, he might actually cum right then and there.

As for giving, he enjoys licking and sucking you until you cum all over his face and chest. He’ll keep stimulating you until you’re basically fighting him off of you. It’s just something that he enjoys, and if you whine and whimper, it adds to the whole act of course.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sasuke loves being rough but also teasingly slow. He loves switching it up on you, and he doesn’t hesititate to switch up the pace during sex. Seeing you gasp in surprise or moan in confusion if he tries to change the pace on you. It’s always surprising, but you absolutely adore it. It’s something you admire about Sasuke, and it never gets old.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sasuke enjoys quickies and if it’s all he has time for, he won’t say no to them at all. It’s actually one of his preferred methods of having sex. Having you bent over a desk, a sink or even in some crummy bar bathroom, he’s going to take you to pound town ;) He loves how aroused you get quickly for him, and it spurs him on.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sasuke gets motivated to fuck by the idea of taking risks with sex. Whether it be getting caught or getting you pregnant, it drives him crazy. He will be consumed by lust if you let him take risks during sex. He loves to finger you while other people are around or even using a pair of vibrating panties on you while you’re in public. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sasuke can go for quite a few rounds and his refractory period is AMAZING. This man can fuck for hours and make you cum so much, and he’s barely broken a sweat. This is how he enjoys fucking you anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sasuke has tons of toys, for the both of you. He likes to get off by having a vibrator strapped to his cock, while he presses a vibrator to your clit. He’s not opposed to toys and it’s actually one of his favorite ways to get off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sasuke adores to tease you. If you whine and whimper, he will call you a brat and pull away from you. Sometimes, he likes to tie you up and tease you for hours. Hearing you beg for him to do something is like music to his ears. It doesn’t get old and he’s not going to stop doing it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sasuke loves it if you’re loud, but he’s not overly loud himself. He will make little noises to let you know he’s enjoying himself, and he’ll curse and swear if it feels really good, but he’s not super loud.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sasuke likes to be babied if he’s not feeling well. He’ll come seek you out and ask you to play with his hair and make his favorite food. He may seem like a completely independent person, but he does need love and affection most of the time. He’s just not going to show it always.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sasuke has a big dick. All Uchiha men have big dicks. It’s curved a little and the girth is amazing, but the length is where it’s at. He’s a good 8.5 inches ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sasuke has a high sex drive, but it doesn’t distract him from his everyday life unless he absolutely lets it. It’s something he enjoys doing with you a lot, but he’s not going to drop his passions to have sex whenever he can. He likes to plan out his sex with you, or be spontaneous when you least expect it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to watch you sleep after sex. It soothes him to watch you cling to him, telling him you love him and then you drift off to sleep. It’s one of the only times he gets true peace in his heart...so it takes a little while for him to fall asleep.

[jackrrabbit]

cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

[xjoonchildx]

last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv​ special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn​ made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get.  Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

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Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan.  The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention.  You can’t blame them, really.  It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile.  And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave. 

Suckers just like you.

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

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you.  The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar.  Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it.  Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise.  Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot? 

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.  

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass.  But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.  

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

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

Something strange happens a few nights later.  

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room.  Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar.  He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear.  His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.  

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next.  Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile.  You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you.  “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you.  “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot.  “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible.  “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently.  How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.  

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask.  Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs.  “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile.  “Well, thanks, again.  Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.  

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook.  “I’ve never paid with a credit card here.  I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.  

“Is that right?”

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

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head.  “Keep your voice down.  Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails.  “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth.  Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.  

It would be, actually.  The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like.  Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.  

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed.  You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron.  She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you.  His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her.  “The man is trying to fuck you.  I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

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

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on.  No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time.  He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait.  And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash.  No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception.  From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.  

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here? 

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen.  Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place. 

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds. 

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave.  You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face.  Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.  

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open.  You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal.  His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night.  The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases.  “My vision is 20/20.  My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh.  “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation.  “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence.  Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I  -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts.  Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence.  “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar.  He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them.  You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses.  He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.  

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins.  The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.  

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move.  He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath.  Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless.  “That depends.  Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans.  You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses.  His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back.  This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on.  Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips.  You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.  

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed.  Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close.  You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs.  “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt. 

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton.  You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off.  You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups.  He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple.  You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar.  You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier.  You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples? 

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold.  “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.  

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat. 

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast.  His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud.  “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol.  “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin.  He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties.  Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar.  You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop. 

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties.  In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life.  Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs.  The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue.  You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.  “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases.  “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.  

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth.  But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.  

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side.  You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs.  Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper.  He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication  --  but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel.  The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.  

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar.  Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth.  He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you.  Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight.  “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar.  Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train.  Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans. 

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return.  When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile.  “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt.  “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath.  He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long.  Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing.  His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar.  You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips.  “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim.  Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him.  “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock.  He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth.  He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe.  “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop.  You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar.  You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance.  One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip.  He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.  

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you.  After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip.  Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock.  The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper.  “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time.  His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror.  “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track.  He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic.  “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs.  Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.  

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it.  His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning.  But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you.  You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you.  Inside of you.

 You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath.  He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

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

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs. 

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.  

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story.  That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life.  And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

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