#and it morphed while i was writing it too bc i came up with a better angle

[silverislander]

something really fun and sexy adhd will do is block you from ever actually showing others what you're truly capable of. lol

[improbable-outset]

I hath a steamy scientist Miguel suggestion

Imagine he’s working on an aphrodisiac and is being as careful as he possibly can be. However he didn’t consider how his spider biology makes him immune in certain doses. So he keeps the cap on the bottle off for just a few moments. Enough for you to walk in and immediately get a whiff.

But you don’t notice at first and take it as some horniness, however the drug comes in waves. And as Miguel goes in to hug you. You can help but hump him. The rest you decide :3

I love this idea omg- I know I posted saying I was gonna post this on Friday but I got too impatient lol

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, Aphrodisiac influences, dry humping, innuendos. Reader just being extra horny lmao

𝐀/𝐍: You know, in my two and a half years of writing smut, I’ve only written a dry humping fic once (forest sex lmao a clusterfuck bc I stepped out of my comfort zone for that one) so it’s not the best 😭 but I guess practice makes progress

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a routine for you to come into Miguel’s lab every once in a while, but this time you feel a strong sense of arousal out of nowhere

You could see him through the big glass window that offered a wide view of his lab’s interior. He had his back facing you, perched on the swivel chair, but you noticed him tinkering with some test tubes on the bench in front of him.

Nothing new; he would always be working on something whenever you came here. He still hadn’t noticed you were just a few feet away from him, too engrossed in whatever it was he was working on.

You stepped towards the doors, clutching the paper bag in your hand with food you were planning to share with him. The lab doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, finally catching Miguel’s attention.

He craned his neck towards your direction. He held a hard gaze, obviously annoyed with whoever just barged into his lab, but that immediately morphed into a tender smile once he saw it was you.

As you stepped further into his lab, the sterile smell got stronger— a scent you were all too familiar with. But this time there was another faint underlying scent that you couldn’t fully capture.

It tingled your senses but you brushed it off as just another compound he was probably synthesising. Again, nothing new.

“Hey you…” he said, his voice rich like honey.

He peeled off his latex gloves and stood up from his chair abruptly in jubilant, the swivel chair squeaked from the sudden absence of his weight.

Your lips tugged up in a shy smile. “Hey there stranger,”

He had his lab coat on that shrouded the digital spider suit underneath. A testament of his dual life as a superhero and a scientist.

You’ve always seen him like this whenever you would visit him on the clock, but for some reason as he stepped closer towards you with long strides, you felt your heart rate increase and a sudden heat rushing to your core.

“Sorry about the mess, I didn’t expect you to come so early,” he finished his sentence by dumping the gloves in a nearby bin.

Your senses were tingling more prominently now and the new scent you smelt earlier was getting more apparent. There was a sudden alluring shift in the air and you couldn’t tell if it was the smell that was getting to your head or your husband's sudden accelerated sex appeal. Either way you could feel your mind slowly turn into mush.

“Are those for me?” Miguel asked, pointing to the bag. His question quickly forced you back into the present, away from your chain of thoughts.

You nodded quickly, too afraid to open your mouth. Instead you thrust your hand out with the bag for him to take.

He took the bag from you and peeked inside. “Tres leches cake?”

You could feel your heart almost leap out of your chest the way his face lit up. A sight you would forever burn into your psyche. He placed the bag down on the nearest bench and cupped your cheeks.

The coldness of the platinum from the wedding band brushed against your flushed skin as he held your face in his hands. His touches felt like fire to you, making you jolt ever so slightly.

“You're really spoiling me here, mi alma. Really helping me forget about how terrible today was going,” he uttered, slowly leaning his face closer to yours.

His words would’ve tugged your heartstrings but right now, you couldn’t fully focus on what he was saying. The tingling feeling was too strong for you to ignore now, and his gaze he had on you wasn’t helping either.

He kissed your lips, soft and tender, yet you felt like you were going to combust. Those few seconds his lips were on yours felt like a lifetime before he pulled away, but his broad arms now enveloped around your waist, keeping you in his warmth.

The close proximity between the two of you was making you dizzy. You were hyper aware of how his body was pressed against yours, and you could almost feel your clit brush over his crotch.

If you were to grind your hips right now, you could probably rub the sensitive bud just right.

You really didn’t want to ruin a sweet moment. He was just showing his appreciation to you but you couldn’t help yourself from rolling your hips against his crotch just once.

You weren’t surprised when you got no response. He probably just saw it as a mishap. Reluctantly, you did it again, a little rougher this time.

It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by him now because you heard a stifled groan against your neck. He pulled his face away just enough so you could see him.

“Mig…” you whispered. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going through your head. If only he knew.

There were several reasons why this wasn’t the best time to be doing this, in his workplace more specifically, but your mind was too hazy to even come up with one.

Your senses were thrown out the window and you started to grind against his lower half, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Easy…I’m-” Miguel's words were cut off when you felt a sudden jab between his legs. He was getting aroused just as you were. You angled yourself so you had better access to his hips, with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hardened dick gave the perfect pressure you needed.

“So, is this what you wanted? You missed me this much, hm?” The words escaped in a breathy tone, and you could see his fangs emerging from his canine as he opened his mouth to talk. You could sense the underlying teasing in his voice that had your wetness pool your panties.

You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from. You were actually fully intending on spending this time sharing the cake you made. But the euphoria was coming in strong waves and you couldn’t resist anymore.

Your clit was starting to throb as you felt his dick grind against your clothed cunt. Even if he only had a digital suit on that could easily disappear with a few taps of his watch, it still felt painfully restricted.

Your walls were clutching onto nothing, desperate to feel him inside you and reach every crevice.

You didn’t expect him to start grinding his hips onto you too. You had to bite back your desperate moan from the sudden shift in dynamics. The way he was rubbing on you made your panties press onto your slick folds as more of your wetness was spilling out of your cunt.

Your arms reached to his waist to pull his hips further against yours, a desperate attempt to get more friction out of him. Your knees were about to give in and you could only just about hold yourself up. A staggered moan was heard from him before he halted suddenly.

“The window.” He managed to spatter out. Your line of vision quickly turned to where he was looking.

The window, the first thing you would see before you would come into the lab. All the moisture dried up from your mouth and it was not just from your breathless moans.

There was a momentary pause in your arousal that was quickly replaced with frustration. You were so caught up in trying to chase your high, you weren’t focusing on your surroundings.

Any Spider Person could walk past here and catch you both. The last thing you wanted was your husband, a leader that had so many people relying on him, to be caught red handed in a predicament from something you initiated.

He withdrew himself away from you, taking all the warmth with him to pull up the sleeve of his lab coat. It was an easy fix, all he had to do was tap on his watch, turning the glass opaque and giving the privacy you both needed.

Just when he was about to pull you in again, he froze. Something else was on his mind. He turned his face to his bench where he was working before you came in. You frowned from his lack of attention.

“What now?” You huffed, your torment evident in your voice. Was he going to go back to work? Did he not want you here anymore? His sudden dismissal made you feel ill with unease.

“Shock, the aphrodisiac was uncapped.” He said as he swiftly moved to the bench. You blinked, trying to process if you heard him right.

“What?”

“The aphrodisiac, it was an oversight. Explains why you were acting so…needy just now,” he placed the cap back onto the vial, the scent from earlier slowly fading away. You cocked your brow inquisitively.

“Why are you messing around with an aphrodisiac in the first place?” You didn’t think he would need a sex enhancing substance as a geneticist.

Even after he secured the cap back onto the aphrodisiac, your clit was still throbbing and you were still desperate for some sort of release.

“It’s not what it looks like. I was working on an experimental chemical compound for a project. I guess I underestimated how strong the reaction could get,” he said sheepishly, turning back to face you again.

“My God, Miguel…” you sighed. It was all making sense now. You wouldn’t be feeling this turned on without some sort of stimuli.

“But we don’t have to stop. I could pause my work for a little longer for some ‘us-time’” he said before lifting you and placing you on a clearer bench. A smirk crept on his lips and you could see the lust swirling in his eyes.

Despite the air being charged along with your flared libido, you still didn’t forget the main reason you came in here.

“What about the cake?” You gestured to the bag that was still sitting on the other end of the bench.

“The cake can wait, we might as well finish what you started without any unintended side effects,” he ended his sentence with a tap on his watch, disengaging his suit.

Precum was already leaking from the tip…

Eager and pent up.

I hope I did you justice here lol. A wise women (one of my fave fic writers) once said, your clit throbbing is your second heartbeat ;)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @mybvalentine @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @monarchberrysblog @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @safixiovi @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @rosegnome @ghost-lantern @famouscattale @maomaimao @ultravioletrayz

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @club-danger-zone @lauraolar14 @beckberin-xo

Made it this far? Help families in 🍉 here!! (Might as well use my platform here for something good)

[haetrack]

mark couldn’t help it. he couldn’t help but to place his hand over his pants, palming himself when the only thing racing through his mind was how pretty u looked today, ordering a coffee from the cafe that he worked at. he thinks about how u pursed ur lips, reading the menu in concentration, the way ur chest heaved up and down when u came running into the store, escaping the rain. a groan catches in his throat, knowing that this was so wrong, getting off to someone he’s never even talked to, but oh god did it feel so right when his hands slipped past his waistband, fingers curling around himself. the outline of his hardening dick was too prominent thanks to the plaid pyjama pants he wore. he bit his lip, inhaling deep breaths as his hand started stroking himself. he remembers the spark he felt when ur hands brushed his as u handed him ur credit cared, he imagined it was ur hands that were rubbing against his skin right now, ur hands that were playing with the warm pre-cum that was dripping out of his swollen tip. the little voice in the back of his head was still telling him that it wasn’t too late to stop, but all he could hear was how silky smooth ur voice was ordering a drink, he wished he could listen to all the pretty sounds u would make if he was buried inside u. his pace quickens at this fantasy, imagining that he was fucking u right now, not his right hand. groaning at the thought of how good he would feel surrounded by ur warmth, his hips thrusting up into his fist harder and faster. his grip tightens when he remembers how ur white tshirt had gone slightly see through from the rain, how he must’ve been the only one who had the honour to see the traces of ur blue lace bra before u threw a crewneck on top. he couldn’t help but smile at the fact that u were wearing his favourite colour. his deep breathing now morphing into shallow whines with how long the pleasure has been building up inside. it’s the thought of ur pure, innocent smile that pushes him over the edge. the orgasm causing a string of swears being grunted out. his hips sputtering at the thought of cumming all over ur sweet face. his hands continue stroking, milking himself for everything he has. the clarity starts to settle and shame creeps over him at that fact that he really did just get off to a total stranger. but the shame didn’t last long when he discovers that none of his cum spilled and he doesn’t have to change his sheets, grateful for the fact that he was so horny, he didn’t even bother to take off his pants.

ngl smoothie dance practice mark has me in such a chokehold i had three other scenarios i started writing for him but they were all getting SO long i had to stop myself 🧍‍♂️ mark pls hmu i want u so bad 🙏

- 🌱

GODDDDD WHY MEEEE... perv mark who doesn't even realize he's being a little perv... i need him. 🌱 anon get in line bc i need him FIRST!!!!!

he would tell himself it wouldn't matter that he got off to you. it was probably just a one time thing that you came to the coffee shop he worked at. if he doesn't have to see you, it doesn't matter that he came in his pants because he'll probably never see you again anyways.

except, there you are again, pretty smile on your face as you enter the cafe. you're not drenched this time, but you are wearing a low-cut top. you're quick to order this time, same order as last time. mark tries so hard not to stare too hard at your chest, but when you hand him your card, he takes a moment too long to grab it, too busy staring at you. you clear your throat, and you're met with a sheepish look as his face turns red.

he's trying hard not to mess up your order, hands fumbling all around in embarrassment. he's also trying very hard not get a boner at his job where quite literally anyone can see him. when he calls out your order, he swears that your hand lingers on his for a while, and he swears it's on purpose. he watches you walk away, saying goodbye to him as you go about your day.

he waves goodbye to you. although he said it was a one time thing, he might just have to fuck his fist again tonight because of you.

[smallestapplin]

I think it would be cute if a newbie pokemon researcher was trying to put a Pokemon that belongs on Mount silver back into it's natural habitat after they were stolen by poachers/learn about Pokemon on mount silver without disturbing them and like...ended up nearly dying from the cold trying to protect said/a Pokemon bc the cold is evil and I hate it

And Red stumbles upon this poor idiot, and notices that they're not:

1) trying to prove themselves

2) trying to find him

3) being a general overly proud dick about things

So decides to bring them up back to his cave home so they can study more pokemon (nicely and unobtrusively to the Pokemon's lives) instead of just dropping them at the bottom like he usually does with any idiot that climbs his mountain

Local mountain idiot gets a visitor but this person is be completely unconcerned about his existence (aside from studying his ice type traits) and he's living for being practically ignored

:D!!! Baby bro! It’s nice to have you here!!

First time writing in third person! So I hope I didn’t mess that up lol.

-

-

Red has never been so dumbfounded in his life.

Staring at the person with the same blank expression, but he couldn’t help but think they must be dense.

They come to Mt.Silver ill prepared, it’s obvious to Red this person has never been up a mountain like this before.

Yet as he gets closer to their fallen and shaking form, he sees what they are holding.

A Larvitar? The poor thing looks rough, but is hanging onto you for dear life.

Red looks to the sky, the blizzard won’t be letting up anytime soon. He silently sighs, he can’t exactly just leave you here.

He pauses in front of them, their eyes locking with his.

Yet they don’t move, they don’t say anything, only holding the Pokémon closer.

Do they not want to battle him? Is that not what they came up here?

He knows the Pokémon lives in the caves around here, so what are they doing?

He can’t just leave them here to die.

With a muted grunt he lets out his Charizard, letting the fire type carry them and the smaller Pokémon.

Looking at them, they seemed so weak, too weak to speak.

By the time they awake, they are in a warm den, surrounded by a Charizard and Snorlax keeping them extra warm, while the Larvitar sleeps on their lap.

Red offers them some soup he made. He watches their face morph into one of confusion, looking around, as if trying to find something.

“Thank you.”

They take his soup carefully as he nods.

Red finds the den much too warm, but he doesn’t know what this person wants, or even why they are up here.

Yet they sit in silence.

They seem a little antsy, but Red doesn’t seem to care.

Even after they were finished eating, they sit there anxiously.

“Um…thank you again, sir.”

Red nods and waved his hand, it was no problem.

“Actually I uh, I came up here to return this Larvitar to its home, and maybe study some Pokémon that live up here too.”

He eyes them suspiciously.

They haven’t done anything, haven’t challenged him, haven’t sassed him like that one brat, and have been polite.

What’s the harm in letting them stay a bit? Or at least visit?

When he signed this at them, he was expecting them to ask for paper.

But they grew excited.

“Really? Thank you! I know I’ve said that a bit now, but really!”

For the first week he kept an eye on them, making sure they don’t hurt any Pokémon, or get hurt themselves.

But they watch from a distance.

Half the time Red forgets they are there.

But when he catches them, it’s like they are studying him too.

He guesses it is weird, he is on a mountain top in casual clothes.

You’re probably trying to figure it out.

He silently snorts to himself.

This person is a strange one.

But he can’t help but find their company amusing.

Especially since you don’t realize what he’s frozen.

You’re a good kid.

You don’t question when his den is much colder than it should be, you only cuddle with his fire type more.

[maricabrera]

connections | headcanons | statistics | pinterest

ABOUT

Full Name: Mariana Valerio Cabrera

Nickname: Mari (preferred), Mariposa (Spanish for butterfly - her nickname from her mom & stepdad)

Age/DOB: February 18, 1991 (33)

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Gender: Cis Female

Place of Birth: Briar Ridge, SC

Neighborhood: Downtown 

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual / Biromantic

Religion: Agnostic, doesn’t really have any relationship with religion

Occupation: Songwriter, Former Event Coordinator at Firefly Brewery & 1/2 of the band Palmetto Drive

PERSONALITY

Goals/Desires: to learn to play the drums, to be comfortable playing in a group/duo again, stop using an alias when she writes songs for other artists, take more photos, stop leaving her favorite sweater at her best friend’s house

Fears: loneliness, death, heights, spiders, snakes, frogs 

Hobbies: binge watching 90s/00s tv shows, reading trashy romance novels, playing the guitar, songwriting, learning different instruments, paddle boarding

Likes & Dislikes: the sound of scratching vinyl, waking up to a sun drenched room, bonfires on the beach, the smell of honeysuckles, a freshly restrung fiddle bow, walkable distances, highland cows, soft music playing while it rains // the dentist, traffic, lying, being early anywhere, taking down her christmas tree or any holiday decorations, instruments that are out of tune, when you know the word you’re looking for but can’t remember it (#writerproblems am i rite??), mosquitos, stage fright dreams, blueberries

QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything very well)

Trigger Warnings: parental death, car accident, infidelity

Born & Raised in Briar Ridge

Dad died when she was 2 years old in a car accident

Her mom met the man who’d be her step-father a few years later in a single parents/grief support group and they married shortly after

Had a great childhood, is very close with her step sisters and tbh doesn’t consider them ‘step’ anything - they’re just her sisters

Was always really into music, her dad used to play for her when she was in her mom’s belly

Took up guitar to feel closer to her dad when she was in elementary school because he used to play, but the instrument was too big so she opted for the fiddle

Was a bit of a progeny when it came to the fiddle and her ability to play it so well and her love for it only furthered her relationship with music

Once she hit 8th grade she decided to put her focus back into learning the guitar- she took private lessons with one of her dad’s friends until high school, when she threw herself into it completely and took Guitar as an elective

It was here she met Rhett Dawson, a boy a few years older who would take her seemingly mundane, black and white world and throw it into technicolor

Initially, their relationship was strictly platonic. He was nothing more than an older student teaching her guitar lessons, but she felt an instant connection with him she’d never experienced before or since, and their hour long lessons quickly morphed into curfew breaking sessions and a blossoming young romance she hadn’t been expecting

Mari got through high school alright, graduating with a respectfully average GPA but school was never her true focus - that was always music

So it was no surprise that instead of heading off to college, she went on the road with Rhett, ready to take the music world by storm as the duo Palmetto Drive

And for years they did just that- traveled together while making and sharing their music with the world. She was living out her dreams and she couldn’t have been happier

But as the old adage goes, all good things must come to an end and this one came to a screeching halt as it hit a brick wall

Palmetto Drive was just getting their big break when her romantic and professional relationship with Rhett ended, essentially erasing the future the two had been planning together all these years

She’d caught him cheating with their opening act, an up and coming country artist, and it all snowballed from there. In the ensuing fight Rhett admitted that this wasn’t the first time he’d cheated on her, Mari’s entire world seemingly collapsing around her as he dismantled everything she thought she knew with each admission

It was after this fight and revelation that she left. She left the tour, her dreams, the love of her life- all lost in less than 24 hours as she took an overnight bus back home to Briar Ridge

After she left the tour she came home, spending months curled up in her childhood home, heartbroken

On top of it all, Rhett continued to play the songs she’d written, songs they’d written together, and capitalize on their growing success- except now as a solo artist and with his new girlfriend on his arm

It was as if in the blink of an eye her entire world had crumbled around her and she was left staring at the ruins of her dreams and her heart, with no idea on how to begin to rebuild any of it

But as time went on things got easier, she used her connections and her knack for tossing a party together to get an event coordinator job at a family friend’s brewery, where she built their customer base and filled their event calendar for four years

In that time she was able to reconnect with her roots, make friends who knew her without Rhett and the ghost of who she used to be, and move forward into a new era of her life that didn’t revolve around the boy who broke her heart

On a whim (and after quite a few glasses of wine), Mari applied for a songwriting camp in Nashville. She completely forgot about it until a month later when she got her acceptance, and suddenly she was leaving Briar Ridge once again with a dream

The move to Nashville was terrifying and was supposed to only be for the duration of the camp - two months and then she’d be back home. But as soon as she got there Mari knew she was where she was supposed to be at the time

She found somewhere she instantly felt like she belonged with a group of people who lifted her up and inspired her to find her voice and passion again

So instead of the two months she’d planned on staying, Mari stayed in Nashville for a year. Writing and recording music, reconnecting with an industry that she thought she’d never find a place in again, and once she got to a place where she could be doing her work anywhere she chose to come home again, to be with the people who know her heart and who deserve to see the best of her once again

POSSIBLE/WANTED CONNECTIONS

MISC — childhood friends, writing partners, old crushes, fwb, neighbors, open mic night regulars from when she ran it, old firefly brewery coworkers, friends like family, friends from her year in nashville, people she met while touring with palmetto drive, new friends- anything and everything, really!

EX — about a year or so after she got home from the tour that broke her heart, mari decided she was ready to date again (spoiler alert: she wasn't). she and this character started a very casual relationship that turned into something way more serious than she was ready for at the time. they were together for a year when mari, regrettably, cheated on this character with rhett when he came into town (hurt people hurt people, y'know?). their breakup was rough and mari takes full responsibility for it. it was actually this relationship that had her swearing off actual commitment. she's afraid she'll hurt someone again and she doesn't want to do that.

PLATONIC SOULMATE — this is mari's best friend ever since childhood. they have no secrets, no boundaries. they are the friends everyone assumes are sleeping together (maybe they are mind your business), strangers assume they're married. it's truly just all love. they fight but they always make up. her anchor in the storm that can be her life. maybe at one point they tried something romantic but really, they're just meant to be in each other's lives. just besties. ride or die. idk let's talk about it!

RHETT'S FAMILY — her big ex, the boogey man in her romantic life, the first person she ever loved and the one who seemingly ripped her heart out of her chest, is also from briar ridge. his family goes way back so i think having someone (or someone's!) who're related to him that mari, in her healing and revamp era, is going to have to learn how to be around. maybe the two used to be close! maybe this character knew about the cheating and mari feels betrayed. maybe they feel slighted bc mari came back to town and avoided them. so many options!

[qqtxt]

HIHIHI I really like your page :’)) can I request a pretty soobin fic going on a carousel ride where he confesses his feelings :( my birthday just passed and this is all I want 🫶🏼

(thank you for your time and efforts if you do 💗)

aw beb! belated happy birthday! 💖😛 i hope you got to have a nice time on your special day! i’ll say it right now that i don’t think i’ll be open to requests yet (bc i already started a bunch of things in my drafts and i just wanna get around to finishing those first!) but in future, i might have requests open!

as of now, if anyone does send anything in, just know that there’s a chance it might not get written as requests aren’t “officially” open. (bc again, my drafts is a nightmare 👻) so just a disclaimer if anyone does send anything in.

now! i couldn’t help but just write a small little thing here. hope you like it and again, belated happy birthday! ✨

[🐰] can’t take my eyes off of you 

✿ pairing: soobin x reader / non.idol!au / cheesy fluff / shy!soobin / mentions of food and eating / word count: 695 words ✿ in which soobin tries to tell you how he feels about you... but it doesn’t exactly go as planned... 🎧: can’t take my eyes off of you (cover–craymer, prd–aiivawn) [masterlist 🌸]

everything about today went right. everything except the one main thing that soobin hopes for with his fingers crossed, might as well try to cross his toes while he’s at it, really. the day you were born; the day soobin is thankful he’s met you and has the blessing to call you his friend... soon-to-be partner-in-crime, hopefully?

it was going well. too well. and he feels like his heart is going to fly out of his chest despite how slow the carousel was moving. the day was perfect from the start; a quiet moment in the library together, cafe hopping twice because you have to try that cake! and later you’ll have to try that drink! and the night was coming to an end at the small theme park just across town; nothing like a calming bus ride together before havoc soon ensues when two bunnies run around to the rides and food stalls.

that one! let’s go! you’re dragging him to the carousel but he insists on standing outside the ring to watch you hop on the robot horse. somehow, you’re the only one on the ride and soobin doesn’t know if it’s the sign from the universe to confess, this is the time, now’s the perfect time!

he tries to practice his speech in his mind as he smiles and watches you enjoy the ride with the music-box-like music that fills the environment. the lights twinkle and the movements of the horses up and down paint the scene straight out of a movie. soobin’s mind goes blank the more he watches you, even with the way you’re trying to do silly faces through each spin doesn’t navigate away how beautiful he thinks you look.

his nerves almost clamp down on him and he can feel himself restricting himself with the way his hands turn to fists by his side. he decides it’s now; when the music seems to be the loudest and–”i like you, y/n!”

...

...

the ride came to a stop and the music dies down, with soobin facing his horror when you stop right in front of him. eyes wide, gaping slightly, unmoving. soobin has never wanted to be buried six feet under until now; not with the way he can’t read your expression. every single heart beat that passes when you don’t say anything is adding to the pressure building up in his chest. oh god, he can feel that corndog coming right back up–”took you long enough, handsome.”

the way his face morphs is what makes you laugh the hardest. from being straight up mortified, he’s so confused that his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“w-what?”

“let’s go on the ferris wheel next!”

he had mentally prepared himself for the endless teasing, but nothing would’ve prepared him for the way you’re standing in front of him, holding your hand out for him to hold that he quietly fills the spaces of your fingers with his own, allowing you to pull him to follow your lead.

maybe... maybe it didn’t turn out so bad, afterall.

((the bus ride back to town wasn’t as awkward as soobin had thought. initially, he figured if the confession didn’t go well, he’ll just pretend like he’s asleep the whole way (or pretend he doesn’t exist). none of that is happening, though... when his dreams are a reality with the way you hold onto his hand, playing with his fingers on your lap. he instinctively shifts his shoulders lower just a little for you to rest on and his breath hitches when you snuggle against him.

he hopes you don’t move away when he peeks at you, watching how your eyes flutter shut to get some rest with a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. soobin does this thing with his face when he’s too happy but tries not to show it. he presses his lips together, dimples showing, eyes snapping shut momentarily as if he’s trying to memorise the image before he lets out the exhale he’s been holding in to gaze out the window.

in his own reflection, the stars spark brighter in his eyes with joy.))

[crispy-bonnie]

Fluff wolf x reader please *grabby hands*

lmao WOLF SIMP WOLF SIMP no but really , i’m willing to write that for ya lmao . hope ya like this ✨ reader is masc so that you can stim even harder over this . please don’t strangle me when we get back to school

oh and note — this is heavily based off of a bunch of character.ai things that i wrote with the hoxton bot because i’m a sucker for comfort things lmao another note , post-writing :: i tried writing this in third-person but i hated it lmao . next req is gonna be in second-person bc yes

Cushions — WOLF X READER

It was a quiet night at the safe house. Aside from the soft sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze, the only sound that could be heard was the clicks on a TV remote and the various channels that the holder was flicking through.

The person in question was Wolf, who had volunteered to stay at the safe house overnight. The only reason why he volunteered is because of his partner, [H/N], who was on a heist late at night. Wolf wanted to make sure that he would come home safe and so that the two could cuddle for a while since the safe house was pretty much left all to them.

His hopes came true as he heard the subtle noise of a vehicle's engine approaching the safe house gates, aforementioned gates soon swinging open before the sight of the vanilla white and mint green painted van rolled in. The driver, who was adorned in black and had an all-too-familiar mask obscuring their face, hopped out of the driver's seat for a moment as they went to shut and lock the gates.

It wasn't long before said driver was back in the van and slowly making his way to the now opening garage, the engine coming to a soft halt as soon as he rolled the vehicle in. The garage doors starting to close once more, Wolf observed as the heister who had been driving the van stepped out, slamming the car door behind him before undoing and tossing his mask to the side.

The Swedish heister couldn't help but let out a snort upon seeing his beloved's now somewhat crimson tinted cheeks and disheveled hair, his heavy eyes showing how clearly exhausted that the poor guy was.

"Hehe, you doin' okay? You look like you ran a whole marathon." Joked Wolf as [H/N] trudged his way towards the couch that he was seated on. His expression of amusement flickered to concern for only a moment as [H/N] fell forward and landed face-first on the couch that he was sitting on, his concerned look soon morphing into a warm smile as he carefully pulled his hood down from his head.

"Do you want to take a nap? It's just going to be us two here for the night." He offered, rubbing his beloved's back gently as he tried to encourage him to move just a little closer to him. All it took was [H/N]'s small noise of approval before Wolf gently gripped him by the torso, letting him grip onto his arms as Wolf pulled him into his lap gently.

[H/N]'s head was now resting comfortably on Wolf's thighs, his tense form seeming to relax into the other's warmth as the TV switched off. The only noises filling the air were the cool breeze from outside the windows and the soft breathing of Wolf's exhausted partner.

"There you go. Rest up, Älskling." He whispered softly, cracking a small smile as [H/N] relaxed his weight onto him. Though it felt like hours, it was only a few minutes before the two of them were fast asleep on the couch.

[somer-writes]

So, I have a million questions I want to ask you about deity stuff, but since apparently I can’t WORD this week, I’ll just ask you what comes to mind since I’m writing a fic with an adjacent question at its core, and I love so many of your stories and insights.

What do you think would make Sky completely lose faith in Hylia? How would he respond, in your opinion?

what a question mark

i got this though, had to hop back on my compooter for this one tho get that full keyboard swagggg

OK throughout many of the zelda games, its demonstrated that good and evil is a conscious choice and effort. some of them explore the characters' boundaries with these choices, others explore the idea of corruptive forces as a natural illness.

and some people might say "well the gods are exempt" except the gods are not! demise and hylia have agency. they make plans and active choices and sacrifices in order to get what they want in whatever fashion that is. even in twilight princess the idea that ganon receives the triforce of power is a cruel joke from the gods

often explored in zelda is this idea of balance. the triforce came from three goddesses and yet we routinely see power be abused or the wielder of power destined to do evil. would this then not mean that the goddesses are also weighing their own virtues against one another in an effort to maintain a harmonious balance of good and evil

i think at its core, the zelda series (perhaps due to OoT having its own overarching religious meta regarding japanese buddhism) explores this notion of an ever present balancing act of good/evil, light/dark, divine/mortal and further that one is necessary for the other

SO what would make sky, a mortal, turn his back on hylia, the divine?

i think hylia actively making a choice of cruelty even for the sake of "the greater good". and maybe further, bc sky is so baked into it from the start, it takes him a while to realize hes been utilized as a pawn to exact some notion of cruel fate on someone else

it could be something dramatic like hylia calling for the death of maybe another mortal, but i think it could even be something which speaks to skys protectiveness. what if zelda was slowly unravelling in a constant tug of war between her own mortality and being a divine vessel? sky watches the woman he loves slowly lose touch with her people but have no company in her righteousness either. if zelda has prophetic dreams, what if she sees her loved ones die? what if sky sees them too? what if sky pleads to hylia to just please show zelda a little bit of mercy and give her some peace and hylia refuses bc thats what zelda was born for

or even within the realm of the heros curse, sky realizing that the curse was never *his* fault the way hes felt, but the result of a struggle between greater powers that he had to intervene in bc hylia *lost*

i dont think sky is entitled in any way, but imagine him sacrificing what remains of his childhood, giving up his own peace and serenity, seeing the ugliness in the world, and hylia cant do him or zelda this *one* favor and let her get a good nights rest or comfort him when he sees the heroes who come after

and then as that begins to snowball, sky slowly dwelling on this idea that he has no choice and never did. groose changes of his own volition. groose morphs from a bully into one of links closest friends (or lovers depending on the hc). groose makes an active decision to become a better person and write his own destiny by entangling himself with zelda and links. zelda and link never had the luxury of choice to begin with. they are divine objects more or less.

link gets to see other skyloftians build lives their way. they pursue their passions and make a place in the world through active self exploration but links fate was written for him before he was even born

and hylias not perfect otw demise would have never needed to be resealed right? he wouldve been destroyed

i think it would be a slow unraveling that starts with just a thread. one bad dream too many, one out of touch remark, one instance of zelda pulling away and i think it unrolls into the rest of this insanity and ultimately leads to an identity crisis

bc perhaps link *does* turn his back on hylia but is that really a choice he has? what happens when hylia needs her chosen hero again? will he be forced to act or simply compelled bc if he doesnt he'll lose everyone and everything?

in a way, that choice gives link an opportunity to exact cruelty himself bc hylia needs him more than he needs her

as for his response to the crisis, i think he would actually grieve. hylia is a lot closer to skyloftians than other instances of hylians. i think link would go through the 5 stages

denying that hylia could ever be capable of doing wrong or making a mistake

angry that it falls on him, angrier that it falls on zelda

bargaining for some kind of answer or response

depressed over his own lack of agency

acceptance that he can still make his own path regardless of faith or not

and i think in the end link would end up in a sort of easy reverence of hylia. not necessarily blind worship of her as maybe he did previously, but a deeper understanding of the worlds natural current. i think ultimately it brings him peace to know that his life *does* mean something, that hes done something worthwhile, and i think he develops his own compass out of it

after all is said in done, i think he relies on hylia and a divine structure less and looks inward for reflections and instincts. to that end, i think he mostly gives up on the hero thing and is determined to form his own identity. hero is not synonymous with good person and i think at his core, link just wants to be a good person and he realizes he can do that without hylias guidance

so i guess the loss of faith isnt a total loss of faith. he would still have faith in hylia to some degree that things will work out but i do think he loses faith in hylias capability

ANYWAY sorry this was so long, hopefully it makes sense lmao

we could get further into legacy too with link realizing that just bc hylia and himself cant be separated, she has nothing on his legacy through say his children or the way the kingdom gets built

[thebindingofpillo]

Talk about your babygirl (Judas) more, a treat from me to you (~ uwu)~

Judas my babygirl the blorbo supreme, thank you for asking about him because I have SO MUCH to say about the man. I’ve already talked about him (at length) in a different post some time ago, and while it’s a bit old, most of it still kinda holds up. Anyway here’s even more stuff about him (AND A WARNING! MENTIONS OF SUICIDE BELOW!!) (this is gonna be very scattered too, I’m just gonna write stream-of-consciousness style)

Judas (or at least Judas in this current life) comes from a British family of middle-lower class. Both his parents died in a car accident when he was too young to really remember them, and he’s been living with his grandmother ever since. He’s always got a pretty terrible relationship with her. She was always the first to point out any flaws in him (perceived or otherwise) while being absolutely unbearable herself, never putting in the effort to ask for help while still expecting her grandson to drop everything and come to her every call and not speaking to him for days if he failed to do so. Suffice to say, they’re not really close as of right now.

Judas grew up an unbearable kid, considering basically everyone to be beneath him while at the same time being incredibly insecure. He found himself in middle school without a single friend, but he convinced himself that he didn’t need them anyway, so he buried his nose in every book he could find and patiently waited to school in general to be over. This is around the time he met Isaac and Magdalene, who apparently weren’t intimidated by his abrasive attitude and the three quickly became inseparable, with Judas even managing to grow up and not be a prick anymore. The trio stayed strong throughout highschool and college (when Azazel also came into the picture, but I’m not gonna delve into all of his relationships now). He’s currently working on his archeology degree, but kinda put his studies on hold to work so he could support Maggy’s writing. He’s a librarian.

Personality wise he’s… polite. Distant, even. He grew out of being a prick, but he still has a condescending aura about himself, like the whole world is bothering him on his lunch break. This is not true to his partners tho, who have first hand experience of the more chaotic and passionate sides of his personality. He’s also a pretty witty person, and oozes sarcasm from every pore, but doesn’t really like talking to people he doesn’t know, so only his close friends have seen him crack jokes and actually smile. With that being said, Judas would lay down his life for the people he loves, and the fact that in his first life on Earth he had a hand in the murder of his best friend eats at him immensely. So much so, that he usually cannot bear the guilt and usually ends his life before due time. Every single time. In the roughly 2000 years his soul has roamed the Earth, Judas has never reached old age. Belial is also a major factor in his suicides every time, and you can read more about him here bc this is getting long enough already lol.

Speaking of Belial, while not being overtly religious, Judas had a passing interest in the occult that kinda morphed into a quasi-hobby. He likes to collect weird artefacts, ancient tomes and the like, that he stashes in his studio, right next to his school books and dissertations. This interest of his actually meshes pretty well with his passion for ancient history, and he has written quite a few essays about the portrayal of demons, angles and God throughout the ages. He might have tried to use a Ouija board when he was a kid, but it never went beyond that. The only true dangerous artefact in his possession is the Book of Belial, a magical tome that seems to find its way to Judas every single life. He doesn’t even remember where he found it this time, maybe he’s always had it.

More stuff that I didn’t know where to put so you get it here lmao

He sounds incredibly posh when he talks. Dear old grandma thought his accent was too lower-class (and by extension, hers too, but she would never admit it) so she was quick to point it out every time he spoke and ridicule him. With time, she managed to beat it out of him, but his accent still comes out when he’s very stressed or angry. He hates it.

He is also freakishly strong, but as durable as a wet paper bag. He could easily punch a hole in a wall, but would shatter all of his bones in the process. Couple this with a sour attitude and a complete disregard for his own safety and safe to say he’s been in quite a few fights. He’s won some of them, even if he woke back up at the hospital a couple of times.

His hair loss is supernatural in nature, due to the influence of the BoB (and tied to his body being weaker and more fragile that a normal person’s). His hair started to fall out around highschoo, but it’s not a case of simple alopecia like Isaac’s, Judas is completely hairless, doesn’t even have eyelashes.

Cannot stand to have anything around his neck. He even stopped buttoning his shirts all the way up because it was too uncomfortable. Just the lightest touch on the neck is enough to trigger horrible flashbacks and send him into panic

Despite knowing both God and Jesus exist (and the devil too) he considers himself more of an agnostic. For him, knowing God exists and having faith are two completely separate things. This goes the other way too, he doesn’t really believe in Satan either. And if Azazel is to be believed, the guy sucks and isn’t really worth praise anyway.

Tea is also one of his interests. He could talk for hours about the right temperature for brewing and the like, and has to be physically stopped from filling the cupboard with nothing but tea.

Isaac is his best friend, he loves him like a brother. Seeing how things are going with Magdalene, they might even become brothers-in-law too.

Speaking of Maggy, the two of them started dating after highschool and are still going strong. They seem to gravitate towards eachother in every single life. Judas is convinced it’s because they lived in the same period, Maggy prefers to think it’s destiny and stuff like that.

[adorerdraco]

Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈  Find your solemate! 

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pluviophile-imagines]

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

[retrievablememories]

U.N.I. | doyoung (m)

title: college love pairing: doyoung x black!reader genre: fluff, smut, college!au request: There’s suddenly a foreigner in his class (University of course). He teases her and always seems to stick to her side. The kick is, is that she finds out he likes her by eavesdropping [I wanted to give you room to flex that brain of yours bc your writing is like magic] word count: 6.3k warnings: emetophobia warning, alcohol use, sub!doyoung, handjob, oral (female receiving...and a little bit male receiving?), thigh riding a/n: shout out to anon for the new title idea cuz i be struggling lmaoo

Doyoung is curious. 

You are new to his class, having joined a couple weeks after the semester had already begun. You’re certainly not the first foreigner he’s seen, considering that the university is an international school that sees a wealth of students from other countries every year.

But still. He’s curious.

You both sit in the same row, with you a few seats down from him. That makes it harder for him to sneak glances over at you without being too obvious or receiving weird looks from the other students who think he’s staring at them. Mostly, he contents himself with hearing your voice when you answer questions or occasionally talk to your other classmates.

Doyoung tries to think about how he might also get to talk to you without seeming weird or too random, which makes him feel even sillier because he usually doesn’t have this much anxiety over talking to new people. However, he doesn’t have to ponder over it for much longer when the professor decides to split each row into groups for an in-class assignment.

You and him and three other people from your row gather together in a circle, and there are a few awkward introductions—as is the norm with classmates who haven’t truly interacted with each other before.

“I’m Y/N,”  you introduce yourself, glancing at the others sitting across from you.

They nod in acknowledgement, and Doyoung responds with, “It’s nice to meet you.” He makes sure to give his best welcoming smile, which you return.

Despite all five of you being in the same group, it soon becomes apparent that Doyoung is the best ally to have on your team. The other three students couldn’t be less motivated about the assignment if they tried, mostly gleaning answers off the two of you.

By the time the period ends, you are more than ready to get the hell out and go to your next class. You can only roll your eyes at knowing they’ll get credit for work they barely even helped with. However, your bad mood is momentarily interrupted by your only other partner who bothered to help—Doyoung.

“Thanks for that,” he says as you pass by his desk. You stop and turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You know, for...that.” Doyoung shoots an icy look towards the other people in your row. Only one of them meets his eyes, though they pointedly try to pretend like they never saw him as they gather their things and leave.

You watch the awkward exchange and can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah, no problem. It’s nice to have someone who actually cares enough to help.”

Doyoung instantly thinks your laugh is pretty, and he decides he wants to hear more of it.

“You know, if you ever want to work together again, I’m here,” he suggests. “I mean...you’re new here, right? So if you need any help with anything...just ask.”

You smile, grateful for the offer. “Oh really? That’s nice of you. I might just have to take you up on it...because I really don’t know a soul here.” You check your phone. “Shit, I should be getting to my next class. See you later. Thanks again!”

Doyoung waves as you leave the classroom, wanting to say more but knowing you’re busy, and he hopes that you really do consider his offer.

The next class doesn’t involve groups this time, much to your relief—and Doyoung’s as well. Doyoung still finds a way to talk to you without having to do group work, though; and the best part about it is that he doesn’t even have to do anything.

“Hey Doyoung,” you say, coming to stand by his desk at the end of class. He perks up in his seat at your presence, giving you an amiable smile.

“Hey Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, though I do feel a little lost at the moment.”

Doyoung’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s the matter?”

You laugh and shake your head, a little embarrassed to tell him. “Okay, like, I have a map of the campus and everything, but I keep getting lost trying to go to classes and it’s kind of annoying...plus I don’t need a bunch of tardies in my first month here.”

“Your professors still care about that kind of stuff?”

“Yep. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any of the cool ones who don’t give a fuck about someone coming in late—for a class I’m paying for. Amazing.”

Doyoung smirks. “So you need a tour guide, is that it?”

You shrug. “If you’re up for it. I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, you know, if you’re busy. This campus is unnecessarily huge.”

Doyoung gathers his bag and stands to his feet. “Of course I can help the damsel in distress.”

“Damsel, huh?” You snort. “What’re you then, a knight in shining armor?”

“I can be if you want me to be.”

“You a comedian or something?” You give him a look between incredulity and amusement, a bit surprised at him being so brazen. “Let’s go then, brave knight. Help me find out where the Student Affairs office is before I completely lose my mind.”

Just as you asked, Doyoung leads you right to the Student Affairs office—and to a bunch of other places on campus, which you’re not entirely sure you’re going to remember. At least you have him to walk you through it until you memorize everything. 

Finally, you both stop in a grassy area of campus with a few benches nearby, standing under the shade of a tree. Doyoung turns to you. “I’ve dragged you all over this campus now, so I guess the least I could do is buy you a coffee or something.”

“You did it because I asked! But...if you’re determined to pay, I won’t stop you.” You laugh.

“Do you remember where the coffee shop is?” Doyoung asks, like he’s a professor giving you a pop quiz. You sweat because you’ve already forgotten, and you screw your face up in mock concentration.

“Umm...that way?” You point in a random direction and he chuckles when it’s wrong. He grabs your arm and guides it to the right direction, which is behind you—right in the area you just came from.

“No, it’s here! Let’s go. We’re gonna need to spend some more time out here later.”

By the end of the day, you’re surprised by how comfortable you already feel around Doyoung despite only talking to him for the first time in your group assignment the other day. He appears to think the same of you, if him sliding you his number is any indication.

“I know we have a class together, but if you want to talk outside of that…you know where to reach me now.” He taps his fingers against the table you’re both sitting at. “I think you’ll definitely be needing another tour soon.”

“I tried my best.” You sigh dramatically, placing your chin in your hand. “But thanks. I’ve got your number now, so don’t feel a way if you see me bothering you more often.” You flash him a teasing grin.

Doyoung shakes his head goodnaturedly at your statement, taking another sip of his coffee. “Somehow, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

Though you do call on Doyoung to help you get around campus a few more times, he ends up hanging around you a lot more often outside the guise of being your personal tour guide.

Whether it’s to go to the library, visit a fast food place off campus, or even see some sports game, he’s never far away. During your first month of being at school, he’d simply explained it as wanting you to get familiar with the sights in and around campus so you wouldn’t get lost again. However, it quickly culminates in him randomly asking you to go places just because he can—and because he wants to.

You’re glad for his company—much more than you’d let him know, not wanting to come off as too clingy. Though Doyoung seems like the type to be all about his studies—which he mostly is, and it’s not a bad thing—he also knows how to have fun and how to make you laugh, even explaining jokes in Korean that go over your head. 

He makes you feel remarkably less alone while adjusting to living in another country, far away from home. It also doesn’t take you long to find out that he’s good for teasing you to no end, which often makes you want to roll your eyes or flick him in the forehead, but even his banter reminds you of your friends back home. You’re incredibly grateful for that small piece of familiarity.

After a couple months of finally settling into the campus life, you, Doyoung, and a few of his friends decide to go to a frat house party, along with Seulgi—a girl you’re becoming close to in another one of your classes. You’re not entirely sure what to anticipate, but the experience is quite similar to what you’d expect to see back in your home country—the same drunk dancing, endless shots of alcohol, loud music, and men who are far too grabby for their own good.

Speaking of that last point…

You and Seulgi dance together amongst a flood of bodies, which is fun for a while until random men keep trying to drag you away from each other to dance with them instead; some of them are more agitated than others about being rejected.

“College guys are dangerously horny.” Seulgi laughs, though she also cuts her eyes at a small group of men nearby who’re giving you both ravenous looks.

“Kinda wish they’d go be horny somewhere else,” you say, and then you roll your eyes when yet another hand brushes against your waist. You turn to see who the culprit is this time, but it’s only Doyoung, and you’re palpably relieved to see him. “You’re back! Seems like you’d disappeared forever.”

“Yes, I am. Someone’s excited. Did you miss me that bad?” He smirks.

“Oh, please. I’m just happy you’re here so the creeps will go away.”

When you say this, his expression instantly morphs into one of recognizable concern. “Is someone bothering you two?”

“Not really, these dudes are just weirdly pushy.” Seulgi giggles, trying to wave it off. The last thing you all need is to start an argument or a full-out fight with one of these frat guys.

“Forreal. Therefore, you should act like you’re my boyfriend until the night is over.” You declare this unabashedly, linking your arm with Doyoung’s. For a second, he seems flustered at your suggestion, and then his face settles back into the same cool countenance as before.

“Fine, since you want to be next to me so much.” You elbow him at that. “That’s a good save for you, but what about Seulgi?” Doyoung asks, looking at the other girl. She is unbothered, though, and casually grabs his other arm.

“Poly relationship. Ever heard of it?” Now he really is flustered, and you laugh out loud at his expression.

You spend a good portion of the night like that, all three of you linked together as the perfect “throuple,” with some people at the party giving you interesting looks. When Johnny sees you all, he throws you and Doyoung an expression reminiscent of a grin—but somehow more devious—and Doyoung only twists his mouth up in a sneer. You don’t know what any of that interaction means, though it makes you wonder.

Seulgi eventually decides she prefers Johnny to be her fake boyfriend instead of Doyoung and goes off with him to do...whatever it is they went to do. You’re sure you can take a guess, though.

After the other two take their leave, you and Doyoung eventually end up on the back porch. It’s a little cooler out here than it is inside, though still a bit crowded with lingering couples and groups. You’re both bunched up in a small corner against the side of the house, leaning over the railing to look out at the backyard—which is mostly just trees and bushes.

“Well, how are you enjoying your first college party?” he asks, casting a questioning glance your way.

“It’s fun. I think I could see why some people end up spending all their time on this instead of studying, ha.”

“Hey, don’t become a party girl ‘cause I’m not gonna do all your homework for you.” Doyoung snickers.

“Oh, Doyoung. I wouldn’t expect you to, you’re not even good at science.”

He sucks his teeth and tucks his chin into his arms to hide the grin playing across his face. It’s quiet again for a little while, or as quiet as it can be with the others on the porch talking and laughing.

Doyoung peeks at you from underneath his fringe and thinks about what he should say next. Something like...not that, but…well, what if he did? Would it be terrible if he said it now, right here at a crowded frat party on some rickety back porch? Maybe, but…

Doyoung pushes himself off the railing and looks at you, tracing your profile with his eyes. Maybe the alcohol has taken more effect on him than he initially thought. “Y/N…” he starts, and you glance at him.

Just then, a red-faced dude who’s obviously incredibly smashed stumbles over to where you two are and promptly throws up on the floor. Some of it gets on Doyoung’s shoes, which causes him to jump back and curse loudly.

“Are you a fucking idiot?!”

“That’s disgusting,” you groan, turning your face away from the mess. You’d probably laugh if it weren’t so gross—and wasn’t right next to where you were standing. The guy doesn’t pay either of you much attention, though, because he’s too busy slumping against the railing like he’s going to pass out. Maybe somebody should worry about that, but it won’t be either of you.

“Ugh, for fuck’s sake...come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and carefully steers you around the mess, heading back indoors and maneuvering through the thick of the party. You’re not sure where he’s going at first until you both end up in some cramped bathroom, with him pulling his shoes off and running them under the tub faucet. You lean against the door, feeling like you need to stand guard so no drunken couples will burst in, even though it’s already locked. You’re not quite sure why he brought you along for this little ride, but you’re not complaining; it’s better than being left outside.

You look at him sitting on the edge of the tub and angrily wiping his shoes as best he can with toilet paper, and you giggle, though you try to keep it quiet. However, you can’t stop more giggles from pouring out at his comically pissed-off expression. Doyoung looks up at you with his eyebrows creased, a confused and irritated look coloring his features. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, unable to speak for a few moments. Doyoung tilts his head to the side and looks at you impatiently while you try to catch your breath, though his upset face only makes you want to laugh more. “I’m sorry, but from where I’m standing...th—this is pretty hilarious.” You burst out into laughter again. “I’m locked in a bathroom with you at a college party while you scrub vomit off your shoes. If this doesn’t make us friends for life, nothing will.”

To your surprise, he actually cracks a cynical grin after a few moments, shaking his head and sighing. His shoulders heave with the gesture. “I hate university sometimes.”

Doyoung tries not to think too deeply about that “friends for life” comment, though to his irritation, it stays in his head for days after the party. Even after he’s nearly forgotten about the shoe incident.

You go to the library one night to find an academic journal for an upcoming paper. You’re not happy about having to make the trek, especially in this digital era when everything imaginable is usually readily accessible online, but it is what it is.

At night, the library becomes more of a hangout spot rather than a place for studying, and you don’t entirely expect to get much reading done in there. You’re hoping there’s an empty room or something you can duck into to take some quick notes on the information you need.

Finding the journal takes a bit of searching, but you finally locate it on a shelf near the back of the library. You’re about to leave the aisle and find somewhere to read it when a couple of people walk into the aisle in front of yours. By their voices, you know it’s Doyoung and Johnny.

You decide to peek over and say hi, but before you can get to the end of the aisle, you hear their heated conversation. You stop in your tracks and listen, which you probably shouldn’t be doing; but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt this talk they’re having once you hear what they’re saying, either.

“You’re being ridiculous. Just tell her!” Johnny hisses under his breath like he wants to talk louder but doesn’t want to be too distracting in the library. Ever so courteous of him, but you doubt anyone else really cares at the moment.

“Hyung, not everybody is like you. It’s not easy to just go up to someone and say you like them.”

“You act as if you’re gonna be talking to a stranger. She knows you and you know her, you hang out all the time. It’s more likely that she does like you than she doesn’t.”

“...You really think that?”

“She lets you tell all your unfunny jokes without much complaint, so yeah, I’d say she must be head over heels for you.”

“Shut the hell up. Unfunny jokes? You’re one to talk!”

You listen to the conversation intently, wondering who this mystery girl Doyoung apparently likes could be. He’s never told you about having a crush on anyone, nor has he made it obvious that he likes someone else. Although you know he has other friends—Johnny’s obviously one of them—you’re not sure what girl he hangs out with all the time besides you.

Johnny chuckles. “Don’t be mad that Y/N laughs at my jokes more than yours.”

Your eyebrows raise at this. Wait. What does this conversation have to do with you? Unless.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to laugh at a clown,” Doyoung retorts.

“Whatever, Doyoung. You just do what I told you. It’s seriously so sad watching you pine over Y/N like there isn’t an easy solution for this.”

You’re reeling with shock by now, but their voices are also getting closer to the end of the aisle like they’re about to walk into the very one you’re hiding out in. You run away before they can spot you, though you do end up drawing a few peculiar glances from some other library goers.

You eventually find a quiet, uncrowded space to sit down and take notes in, though you can hardly concentrate on the work at hand with this new information in your mind. Doyoung likes you? Doyoung likes you. Then that must be why he always messes with you, and why he’s practically been glued to your side since you got there.

Your hand tightens and loosens around your pen repeatedly as you mull over this knowledge. The longer you think about it, though, a smirk grows on your face.

The week after, you and Doyoung have one of your regular study sessions together. You’ve dressed up for it more than you normally would—the same thing you’ve been doing throughout the week, too. Even if Doyoung doesn’t know what you know, you get a bit of fun out of dressing up to catch his eye. And it definitely works.

He always steals glances at you when he thinks you aren’t paying any attention, and you get infinite amusement out of whipping your head around to try to catch him in the act. The light blush on the tips of his ears and his startled bunny look is worth it every time.

“You got so dressed up just to study? You’ve really been going all out this week,” Doyoung comments as you sit down at your usual table in the library. He gives a small smirk as he scans your new outfit for today. He does this as if he’s only teasing and evaluating your clothes, puckering his lips in concentration, though it’s also an excuse to check you out.

“You could just say ‘you look so fucking fine this week, Y/N.’ I know you want to say it, anyway.” Doyoung’s cheeks flush a little, and he shakes his head.

“You’re something else. Okay, you look pretty. Does that satisfy you?”

“Well. You forgot the ‘fucking,’ but I’ll let it slide.”

You both get into your work and a calm quiet settles between you, punctuated with you occasionally asking each other questions about the assignment. At some point, you grow a little bored with staring at the text for so long, and you stop and simply look at Doyoung sitting across from you in one of his favorite hoodies and his glasses. Something tender rises in your chest, a sensation you hadn’t quite given a name to until now, and you put your cheek in your hand, grinning slightly.

“I wonder why someone like you doesn’t have a girlfriend yet.”

Doyoung looks up as if he’s not sure if you’re talking to him, then furrows his eyebrows. “Someone like me?”

“Aw, you know, you’re handsome and caring and smart, and you can even be a little bit funny—even though you get on my nerves sometimes.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at the last part, though you know he’s preening at your compliments.

“I don’t know, I’m busy with studies.”

“But isn’t there even one person you might like? Or might be interested in?” Doyoung’s not looking at you anymore, his eyes dropping back down to instead focus on his book, but you notice how his fingers tighten around the textbook’s edges.

“Um—well, I haven’t really thought about that…”

“Really? No one in your dorm or your classes has caught your eye?”

Doyoung shifts a little and clears his throat. He shakes his head in response to your question, though the movement is hesitant. “What about you?”

“Changing the subject, huh? Excellent method of evasion…” You flip a page in your notebook, pointedly avoiding Doyoung’s gaze even though he’s peering up at you again. You wait with your lips clamped together, trying not to laugh as his expression grows more impatient.

“Well?! Aren’t you going to answer, after forcing me to?”

“I will when you tell the truth.” You slap the notebook closed, which causes him to jump, and this time a laugh does slip out. Doyoung’s eyes dart around your small section of the library like there might be someone else listening, or like he’s searching for a prank camera.

“The truth about what? I already told you!”

“Then what about what you told Johnny?”

Doyoung freezes for a moment, and various emotions flit across his face. He finally settles firmly on embarrassment and disappointment. “...He told you? I’m going to kill him.” His voice is softer now, like he would disappear completely if he could.

“No, I—okay, don’t get mad at me, it’s not like I did it on purpose, but I heard you two talking in here a week ago…”

“Oh...shit. You—you were there? And you didn’t say anything?!”

“Yeah. Not very discreet, huh? Maybe you want to do that in your dorm room next time.” You’re still smiling. Doyoung shifts nervously again, as if he just wants to get up and run the hell out.

“So, um…you know, then.”

“Yep.”

“If you don’t like me, you can just say so,” Doyoung blurts out. “I...it’s fine. I don’t expect anything of you, so we can really just forget all about this. I promise I won’t make things weird, Y/N. I just...I just found myself really liking you as we got to know each other.”

“You can’t make things weird when you’re already weird.” You giggle and place your hand over Doyoung’s, grasping his fingers. “So...let’s date, then.”

He looks at you questioningly, surprise taking over. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” And now you’re a little embarrassed yourself, but you continue, “Doyoung...I like you too. I guess I don’t totally hate all your teasing. But don’t get cocky about it.”

Doyoung rearranges your hands so your fingers are now laced together. A relieved smile makes a home on his lips. “Well, too late. Now you’re never going to hear the end of it.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” Your response is sarcastic, but the smile on your face is totally genuine.

That weekend, Johnny leaves the dorm to go visit some of his other friends in town, which means Doyoung will have the room all to himself for those few days. Normally his plans would consist of studying, trying to catch up on sleep, or seeing what his other friends are up to, but with you as his new girlfriend, he wants to spend that time together.

“So, this is your dorm,” you say, holding Doyoung’s hand as he leads you into his shared dorm with Johnny.

“Home away from home, I guess,” he says, leading you over to his bed so you can sit down. Before he can let go of your hand, you tug him to you and gesture for him to bring his face closer to yours, like you’re going to whisper something to him.

“What is it?” he asks. He’s quickly silenced by you pushing your lips against his in a kiss. When you both separate, it’s reluctant, and Doyoung pecks your mouth once more before straightening up again. You laugh at the slightly goofy grin on his face.

“What should we do?” you ask, getting more comfortable on his bed and leaning against the wall.

“I had movies in mind, but we can do anything you want.”

“Movies are fine! Hurry and start it up, I’m gonna get cold without you beside me.”

Doyoung gives an overexaggerated cringe, and you hide your face. “And you complain about me being cheesy?!”

You both make it through two and a half movies before you start getting antsy with sitting in the same spot for so long. Doyoung is still lying calmly beside you, his arm around your shoulder and the other behind his head as he continues watching the movie. Deciding to act on a whim, you abandon all pretenses of watching any more of the movie and swing your legs over his own so you’re sitting in his lap. When you situate yourself in his lap, he seems a bit starstruck, as if he wasn’t expecting this to happen—like, ever.

“Y/N…” Doyoung’s voice is surprisingly soft, like the day you revealed your feelings for each other. It’s a noticeable departure from his usual demeanor. He blinks at you for a couple moments.

“What?” you say innocently, copying his actions and blinking back at him.

Doyoung swipes his tongue across his lips, though it’s more of a nervous gesture than anything else. “You’re...you know.”

You chuckle. “‘You know’? Let’s use our words.”

“You’re, uh...s-soft,” is what he stammers out, like it was the only thing he could think of at the last minute.

“And you should be hard, but you’re not yet. So let’s fix that. If you want to?” You quickly tack the last sentence on, trying to give him an out if he really doesn’t want this. However, the hands that suddenly go to your hips make you think otherwise.

“Do it, then.” He provokes you, trying to regain his usual confidence, though it still comes out less forceful than intended.

You bring your hand to his crotch and palm him over his pants, and Doyoung takes a deep breath. You bring your lips to his, kissing him deeply and adding to the pleasant feeling. He kisses you back eagerly, flexing his hands on your hips and gripping you more tightly. You end up making out like that for a little while, and he grows underneath your palm as you tease him.

Eventually, you want more than simply feeling him over his sweatpants and pull them down, exposing his bulge. You don’t touch him for real, not just yet; instead, you trace your finger along the shape of his dick underneath the material of his boxers. Doyoung whimpers against your lips at that touch, very quietly, but audible enough for you to hear it over the TV in the background.

“Don’t get all sensitive on me now.” You pull away from his mouth and laugh. “What happened to all that teasing you love to torture me with?” You drag his underwear down so you can release his member, which is still growing underneath your caresses. Precum is already beading at the tip, flushed with need. Doyoung looks down at your hand holding his dick and worries his lip as you begin stroking him earnestly now.

He leans his head back against the wall, and you watch his throat work as he swallows and tries to keep his sounds quiet. The soundproofing in these dorms certainly isn’t the best; the people on the other side of the wall have kept him awake enough nights to know that. The few moans he does let go are low and pretty and soft, and they fit him perfectly.

Though you are stroking him mostly for his own pleasure, you do take the time to explore his dick while you have it in your hand—running your finger over a vein that stands out against the hot skin, sliding his precum between your fingers and using it to get the rest of his shaft slick. You take your time with him, but he doesn’t seem to mind the leisurely pace.

“Do you wanna come in my hand?” you ask him, and his body tenses as you reach further down to tease his balls. Another bead of precum runs down his shaft.

“That would be a waste,” Doyoung huffs, and he shifts his leg a little so his thigh is tucked between your legs now, your heat pressing right down on him. He moves his thigh back and forth slowly across you, and you let out a long, shaky breath at the way the muscles of his leg flex and release against your clit.

“Then where do you wanna do it?” You still your movements on him for a few seconds but keep your thumb on his tip so you can tease the sensitive slit there, and another choked groan comes from him.

“T-take a guess,” he says, and pulls on your hips again so he can drag your pussy over his thigh more firmly. The friction makes you whine.

“Maybe I should just make you cum like this, since you seem more interested in making me ride your leg.” You go back to steadily stroking his cock, tightening your grip on him. His mouth drops open a little at your actions.

“Y/N,” he whispers breathlessly, and lifts one hand to pull at your sweater. “Take this off.”

“Then take yours off.” Doyoung strips his sweater off as soon as you say it and waits for you to do the same. His mouth goes to your breasts once they’re free. You grin at the pleasurable sensation and run your hand through his hair, pushing him closer to your chest. Your other hand goes back to his dick, and it twitches when you make contact. “I really think you could cum just like this, with you sucking my tits and me jerking you off. Wouldn’t you like that, Doie?”

Doyoung’s face flushes at that claim, though he doesn’t deny it. He simply keeps sucking at your nipples and leaving marks across your chest, flexing his thigh against you for added stimulation.

You want him to come first, so you spit in your hand for more lube and stroke him faster, the slick sound of your hand on his cock filling your ears. His moans are more frequent now, though he still tries to hide them; all the while, you try to pull more out of him. If the people next door know what’s going on, they’ll just have to enjoy the free entertainment.

“Y/N,” he pants against your skin, and his body tenses up more underneath you. You pull his head away from your chest so you can tuck your face into his neck, placing your lips over his beating pulse and feeling the way his muscles jump under the slight touch of your mouth.

“You don’t wanna come in my hand, right? Where do you want it, then?” You keep your lips close to his ear and slow your pace to make sure he doesn’t come too soon.

“I…um—”

“Don’t be shy now, you’re about to come, aren’t you?” You twist your hand over his tip and he groans low in his throat; the sound vibrates across your lips.

“I...in your mouth.”

You sit back to look at him, grinning devilishly. “So that’s what you like? Fine then, baby boy.” You remove yourself from his thigh, which is noticeably damp now, and position yourself between his legs with the tip of his cock pointed towards your mouth. You lean forward a bit to take the head between your lips, rubbing your tongue against the sensitive underside of it, and Doyoung comes quick with a soft cry. His cum floods over your tongue in thick, salty waves, and you keep sucking the tip until he has no more to give.

You get back onto the bed after you’ve swallowed everything, and before you know what’s happening, Doyoung has turned you on your stomach and is pulling your panties and sweatpants down in one fell swoop. “Doyoung—” Your sentence breaks when he lifts your hips up and his tongue parts your lower lips, sliding through the slickness and pushing into your hole. Your words melt into a moan as you arch your hips more to get closer to his face.

“Doyoung, y-yes, please—” You curl your fingers in the fabric of his comforter, panting harshly against the material as Doyoung dips his fingers and tongue into you like he’s starving. His tongue on your clit is maddening, circling back and forth and making your legs shake as you try to balance yourself in this position he’s tugged you into.

His fingers find what they’re looking for quickly and he teases your g-spot, thrusting into it only sometimes and leaving you wanting all the other times. In the very back of your mind, you wonder if what he said about being too studious for relationships is true, because how else would he have learned to do all this? God.

When you get close to coming, Doyoung takes some mercy on you and crooks his fingers into that soft spot more consistently now, and you cry out as you tighten around his fingers. It’s beautifully, wonderfully satisfying. The soft sounds he releases while he eats you out make you even weaker, as if he can’t hide just how turned on he is from tasting you.

Your climax hits you suddenly, and by the end of it you are laughing softly with the intoxication of how good you feel, how good he’s made you feel. When he finally pulls back from you, you let your body fully collapse against the small mattress, and Doyoung rests his head against your thigh momentarily, as if he himself is exhausted.

“I...wanted to do that for a while,” he says, and you can’t see his face but you think he must be blushing, with how sheepishly he admitted it.

It takes a bit of shuffling but you eventually end up lying side by side, stripped bare and looking up at the ceiling. The movie has long gone off, and there’s nothing but Netflix’s slideshow of new shows and movies playing on the screen now.

After a few more moments of nothing but the sound of heavy breaths, you say, “We are having round two, like right now.” 

“You’re already addicted to me, huh?” Doyoung chuckles, dragging his knuckles over your side and making your skin tingle. You smirk and throw your leg over him, and he groans at how your pussy slides over his hardening length.

“By the end of the night, you won’t be able to get enough of me.”

[dammitlogan]

Can you please do a request where the brothers accidentally walk on on mc naked I just discovered you and I really love your writing keep up the good work!❤️❤️❤️

a/n: of course! Thank you so much omg. You’re too sweet <3 

tw: mentions of slight nsfw

Demon Bros walking in on MC changing/naked

Lucifer

I honestly can’t see him entering a room without knocking. He just doesn’t strike me as the type lol

But for the sake of the story, let’s just say he's impatient this time around

He had just been super stressed out with all the work Diavolo had been piling on him recently, so he sought you out to relieve his stress

Just having you by his side was enough for him. Your presence was calming enough

He knocks and opens the door without waiting for a response

He opens his mouth to ask you to accompany him in his study while he works 

But uh

He stops, mouth agape because

There you are

Naked

He freezes for a split second, a blush lightly rising to his cheeks

However, he quickly recovers from the shock

He shuts the door behind him, giving you a smirk that told you everything you needed to know

Hope you weren’t planning on doing anything for a while

Never mind the work waiting for him. He has other plans ;)))

Mammon

Okay but he NEVER FUCKING KNOCKS

Honestly, it’s a surprise this hasn’t happened any sooner

It takes him a moment to process what he just did

His jaw drops and he knows he has to look away, close the door, and leave, but he can’t make his body move

You don’t even notice that he’s there at first

That is until you hear some weird, strangled sound he makes in the door way

His face is bright red as he stares at you and he feels himself start to pop a boner

Your face flushes as well, and you’re about to tell him to get out

But he slams the door almost immediately after catching your attention

Does not apologize, but that’s only because he avoids you like the plague for a while instead

You probably won’t see him for the rest of the day

He won’t be able to look you in the eyes for a while bc every time he does, he remembers seeing you naked

noT THAT HE’S COMPLAINING

Levi

Poor, poor boy

He just wanted to show you this trailer for a new anime he’s excited about

Burts in the room without thinking, a wide smile on his face as he calls for you

It takes him a while to actually realize what he just did

As he processes what happened, his face slowly morphs from one of excitement to one of horror

He is absolutely mortified

Doesn’t know whether to cover his eyes, his blush, or his rock hard boner

Jumbled words and apologies tumble out of his mouth

He starts rambling about something you can’t really understand

You have to tell him to get out for him to finally leave

Once you do, he fucking bolts to his room and barricades the door

He will not come out for DAYS

Please check on the baby. He’s so worried that you hate him now.

Satan

A gentleman

Does he like what he sees? Abso-fucking-lutely

Does he immediately apologize and close the door anyway? Yes :)

It all happens so fast

Once second, he opens the door about to ask you about the novel he lent you

Just as quickly as he appears, he’s gone

You just kind of stare at the door. Do you say something or...

Meanwhile, he stands at the door for a moment after shutting it and processes what he just did

Like he’s basically rebooting

He clears his throat in an attempt to compose himself and quickly returns to his room

A vicious blush fights its way up his neck before he can stop it

He tries to get his mind off of it by picking up a novel but he can’t focus

He needs a cold shower

Asmo

This little shit probably planned it

Oh? You casually mentioned that you’re going to take a shower? Hmm he suddenly needs something from you in a few minutes

Walks in right as you’re taking your shirt off

Does that thing where he covers his eyes but peeks through the fingers

Teases you about how good you look

“Might I say this is your best look yet!”

He’ll close the door behind him since this view is for him and him only

Will begrudgingly get out if you tell him to, but he won’t go without complaining about it

So whiney if you tell him to leave

He’ll just wait outside the door until you get him when you’re done

Then he’ll tease you mercilessly about how good you looked

But if you don’t tell him to get out... well

I think you know what to expect

Beel

A gentleman pt. 2

He goes “oh!” and leaves immediately

He's a little embarrassed and turned on but won’t mention it

Unless you bring it up

Or invite him back in??

He won’t complain if you do wink wink

He’s flustered when you come back out fully dressed

Pink tints his cheeks and he can’t look you in the eye for a while

But he quickly recovers when he remembers he was going to ask you to come with him to Hell’s Kitchen

Happily munches on the food and forgets about what happened

Until he’s alone that it ;)))

Belphie

Does not give a single shit

Like he’ll  just kind of look at you for a minute 

He appreciates what he sees, don’t get him wrong

If you tell him to get out, he’ll say he’s too lazy to

He can’t walk ALL the way out the door. He’s tired :((

Flops on your bed and gets comfortable

He does grabby hands to pull you in to cuddle him, but will huff when you  shoo him away

He tries to nap, but he can’t stop himself from sneaking a few peaks as you finish changing

He came in to take a nap with you but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to now

He keeps shifting, trying to get comfortable despite the growing boner in his pants

This is totally your fault. How dare you ruin his nap time

Now he wants to do other things if you catch his drift. It’s the least you could do after taking away his precious sleep

[zhuhongs]

okay but like. mushishi is sooo different from a narrative standpoint when u compare ep 1 to the later eps. like as someone who mostly remembers the tone and feel of zoku shou, rewatching the first season is like. oh.. like ginko feels so much younger and is treated more like a kinda rouge hero. the plot is intriguing but also its closer to most Japanese folklore supernatural sort of shows that are fun but dont really stick. as it progresses however, thats when mushishi really comes into its own and distinguishes itself from the rest of its genre. it needed to mellow out. what sets it apart is its exploration of what it means to be alive and people relationships with themselves, each other, and nature. By exploring those themes rather than only focusing how ginko saves the day this episode, reallly makes it different from other episodic series. its a beautiful study on how interpersonal relationships fall apart and mend in extraordinary circumstances and how nature shapes humanity. but also how humanity and nature are one in the same and can coexist but sometimes at the detriment of the other and this is no ones fault most of the time. they are both simply trying to exist.

The series explores many different relationships while never getting too hung up and any one dynamic. its insightful, its refreshing and its downright captivating. i can go on bc i love mushishi but its so nice to watch and rewatch esp now that im older and can appreciate it more. i loved it at 13 and i remember when the announcement for shou and zoku shou came out and i was like !?!!! omg real?!! but its so much better as an adult. Ginkos slow evolution as the series goes on is a treat to witness esp bc its so slight you hardly notice until you return to a different point in the series and ur like OH. like his personality is the same but he really mellows out. He goes from someone who seeks out ppl that are rumoured to have extraordinary circumstances but later just passes through and helps where he can. the transition from active to passive is so seamless i rlly didnt even notice till i rewatched it. the series progresses natural like the season. it starts like a vibrant spring and morphs into summer, fall and winter. i feel like this was a natural progression of urushibara's writing but if it was calculated than omg. props. its just beautifully paced and such a treat. yea. mushishi.. Mushishi