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#but all lighting would suit him lbr
A review of Spn 5x20 "The Devil You Know" as part of the Crowley tour
See the link for more information about what episodes are for what days
What I liked about the street light scene
Crowley being absolutely dramatic. I also really liked how Crowley briefly had a pleading look on his face when he said "please." Emotional vulnerability isn't something you see often in demons and I would have loved to see more of that. Although the vulnerability might have been fake, as I will talk about below
I also loved the humour in that scene. Crowley gives a dramatic monologue? and then he says he's under a spotlight, like he's performing on a stage. It's this crazy juxtaposition because Sam and Dean are treating this seriously like it's real life and Crowley is acting like he is under a spotlight and Dean had the audacity to give him bad reviews. When Dean gave him one star and a "holy crap we don't care" Crowley upped his drama game
Also lbr Crowley had a point that he didn't make Sam & Dean bring Jody and Ellen
I love how Crowley's expression doesn't change in the slightest even when Brady said Crowley would be tortured forever. You can just tell that even though Brady won't talk, Crowley is absolutely sure of himself as we will later find out
Dean being beat up as part of Crowley's plan. Oof. Ouch. I loved how Crowley was so determined for Brady not to suspect anything, that he wants Dean to look confused and unsure. That way Brady wouldn't see confidence on Dean's face and think there is something more going on. Crowley did this by giving Dean false information. Truly delightful. It reminded us that Crowley is still a demon even if he is on their side. Might also have been punishment for Dean not caring about his pain
It is so unfair we didn't get to see the demon hive fight. However given that his suit got ruined he did also get into close quarter combat. So we know he doesn't just have to rely on his powers. I believe the short middle age of Crowley's vessel as well as him being a salesman means demons tend to underestimate his fighting capability. This would also suggest that Crowley went to combat classes as a demon, and I find it so funny imagining Crowley doing weekly krav maga, MMA and other martial arts with other humans
Ah remember that expression Crowley had on his face when Brady told Crowley Satan would torture him forever? Well, it turns out that was Crowley being inspired by Brady's words about eternal torture. It shows us that Crowley is able to use rants from his enemy to inform and inspire strategic moves. He got information from Brady that Lucifer wouldn't let him die and he knew exactly what to do with it. This isn't the only time Crowley is able to do this
Mark Sheppard and Jim Beaver bounce off each other so well. All of their scenes together are amusing
I would give the Crowley parts a 9 out of 10. The missing star is because they didn't show the demon fight
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sunflowerdigs · 2 years
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Again, I'm no expert in color theory in costuming or anything (and there are zero articles about how Succession uses color anyway), but I am fairly pleased at the darker tones of the colors that Roman seems to be in based on s4 bts pics. My hypothesis has been that Roman typically wears light colors because he waters himself down for easier consumption. Someone wrote a great meta about how Roman changes depending on which person he's interacting with, he doesn't hold firm stances for the most part, because his ultimate goal is to please. And that's reflected in his clothes. Always a pale shirt (typically blue, Logan's color), a forgettable tie. If he has a specific business goal he feels confident about he'll wear black. And all of it is very tight because, again, he's not comfortable, he's playing a role that isn't quite genuine. He did wear that red tie in 3x05 - it matched Gerri's suit so it represented loyalty to her. But the shade of red had dark blue undertones (I think that's the word?), meaning Gerri's ultimate loyalty (and Roman's) was still to Logan.
In 3x09, Roman had to make his first really big choice between people he loved that had major consequences and that's when wardrobe put him in that unusually bright and bold pink shirt (prior to that he wore a pale yellow that was a washed out version of Willa and Kerry's; the pink matched Kerry's pink almost exactly). Because he took a position that he felt in his heart was right and he stuck with it.
I've noticed that in the s4 bts pics, he's typically in darker blue shirts than his usual. The dark blue shirt from the first set of pics had thin white vertical pinstripes. And the tie he wore to Colbert was dark and striped as well. Stripes overall tend to represent inner turmoil/conflict, rebellion, change, though typically it's horizontal stripes rather than vertical (lbr, Roman would never wear horizontal stripes, he's probably married to that myth that they make you look fat, so a tie is likely the best we'd get in that regard). And the darker colors...they could represent a few things. If he's fucking around with nazis, it could simply be that the stakes are higher so even Roman's choices are carrying more weight. Or it could be that Roman himself is figuring out what actually is important to him and what isn't and he is finally making actual choices that aren't 100% dictated by Logan.
Idk. Either way, I'm curious and excited.
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goldenngore · 9 months
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what would your muse describe as their "essentials" for life? what's one memory your muses wishes they could relive over and over? if your muse was handed a $100 bill and told to buy anything they wanted at the store, what would they get? at restaurants, does your muse prefer to eat inside or pick something in the outdoor seating section?
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IN-DEPTH HEADCANON QUESTIONS / accepting / @azmenka
what would your muse describe as their "essentials" for life?
People: Ones that are loyal and have your best interests at heart. Someone that will have your back no matter the context, and is willing to get their hands dirty for you and vice versa. Because if you don't have those sorts of people, you're not going to survive westeros for very long lbr, especially in the court of kings landing where basically everyone is a snake waiting to bite. Love: Who didn't see this coming? Loras was raised in a very romanticised culture in the reach, that is full of gallant knights and romantic tales, songs and plays with love at their centre. it is like a fairytale kinda kingdom on the surface. So the importance of love in a harsh world like westeros has been a part of Loras' life since he was young, and the idea of being in love has always appealed to him because of all he saw and heard as a boy. But also, he's a third son. unlike the rest of his siblings, he has a bit more freedom with who he chooses to love---and would still do so even if his family didn't like it. He can win all the tourneys, win all the fights etc, win all the accolades. But it somehow doesn't mean quite as much without someone to share in those wins with. A good weapon: Speaks for itself really. A reliable a well balanced weapon, that suits your movements and fighting style is absolutely essential to Loras. And while he's well trained in the usage of most weapons, he is the most proficient with a sword. His sword has saved his life a good handful of times since this stupid war began, and it's something he would loathe to be without. That being said, and unrelated to this essential, he is a good improviser and will use whatever is around him to his advantage if he doesn't have a weapon to hand.
what's one memory your muses wishes they could relive over and over?
haha, hate you for this. because there are two memories that compete for the top spot. the day he knocked jaime lannister from his horse and the first time renly kissed him. (i'd love to add a first kiss with or realising he was in love with maron...but ngl, that produced feelings of dread at first.) So, the first big win, or the first big love? It's honestly too hard to choose---but, the kiss also now makes him feel sad since renly is dead, yet, it's still a very good memory. mmm, he says both. i don't make the rules here.
if your muse was handed a $100 bill and told to buy anything they wanted at the store, what would they get?
honestly, he probably wouldn't buy something for himself. it'd be something for someone he cared about. loras is not very materialistic, but if anything, he'd use it in a restaurant, that's not a store, though. sooo, I'm sticking with he'd get something for a loved one that they'd like instead. even an asshole has a very thoughtful side.
at restaurants, does your muse prefer to eat inside or pick something in the outdoor seating section?
the answer to this is dependent on various factors. if the weather is warm and the scenery is nice, he will opt for the outdoors usually. but preferably in a balcony or rooftop setting rather than just out on the pavement, he still wants that bit of privacy away from the public. if the weather is cooler or raining, he'd prefer an intimate inside setting, low lights, tucked away, where he and whoever is with him is unlikely to be bothered. but out of the two in general, I would say outside has a slight lead over inside.
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andy-clutterbuck · 4 years
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TWD | Inside 7x09
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jjungkooksthighs · 3 years
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Yearn for You | jjk (m)
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◊  Pairing: vice president and boyfriend!jungkook x secretary and girlfriend!reader x ceo!jimin ft. co-founder!taehyung
◊  Genre: fluff and smut / established relationship / office au
◊  Rating: 18+ / nsfw
◊  Word Count: 31.5k (honestly another whopper but are we surprised?)
◊  Summary: As a secretary, it is not proper to engage in intimate affairs with your superior, who is the one you are meant to be at their beck and call for in the business world. The world, however, means very little to Jungkook, the vice president of Bangtan Industries and more importantly, your boss and boyfriend of three years. In all that time, he has never cared for hiding your passionate affections for one another and tonight will be no different after a particularly amusing day of teasing you and watching you fall prey to your desires for him that he revels in amidst his fervid love for you. In that love that has shifted his entire globe in how completely and wholly he has fallen for you, he will do anything to make you, his beloved girlfriend, happy. So, after some efforts to toy with you, he allows you to have some playtime with a very special friend whilst he delights himself in your entertaining little game.
◊  Warnings: hard dom!jungkook, possessive/jealous!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, sub!jimin, lots of dirty talk, pet names,  lots and lots of teasing, praise, fingering, grinding,  thigh riding, phone sex (taehyung listens in on the threesome), masturbation (male and female), cunnilingus/oral sex, unprotected sex (reader has birth control implant in her arm and Koo hates condoms lbr), breast/nipple play, biting (there’s a bunch), marking through hickeys, sucking, pussy stretching, rough and possessive sex, anal sex, double penetration (this is a jikook threesome with reader y’all), cock riding, cock warming, begging, muscle kink, scratching, light choking, cum feeding/eating, manhandling, pinning down, multiple orgasms, wet and messy sex, degradation kink (koo calls you a slut/whore for him only like two or three times each), orgasm control, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, daddy kink, reader goes into subspace for a little bit, mild bdsm, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex and aftercare (from jungkook)
◊  A/N: Gosh, this one is finally here after two weeks! This fic is not like anything I have ever written before, but I know that there will be people out there that like this! It’s very hot if I do say so myself and it was such a joy to write in my lust-filled craze that I’ve been inflicted with in the wake of D’ICON Jungkook (even though that particular look is not part of this fic lmao). I blame Jungkook’s overwhelming sexiness that always has me ready to drop to my knees for this fic because honestly it’s all his fault.
Oh, and I know some of my readers have been waiting for COC, but because I have been tight on money, I decided to write this as a commission for the wonderful @jeonsjiddies. I hope you like it, babe! Oh, and that lovely banner you see above? That is courtesy of the fantastic @nightshadevinter. I thank the both of you for your continued support of my work and do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I was entertained by writing it.
As always, guys, please let me hear your thoughts on my work! There’s nothing that is more gratifying as an author than to get feedback on what you spent so much of your time creating! Finally, if Tumblr is crashing because the fic is so long, you can find the AO3 link right here !
The day’s hours wane amidst the sun that sets behind you as you watch the last of your coworkers slip through the elevator doors of the twenty-story building, your heels clicking against the marbled tiling of the highest floor in the corporate property belonging to Bangtan Industries, the most well-known architectural firm in the industry.
 In one hand you have papers fresh out of the printer, your eyes trained on the small font that outlines the topics of discussion and areas of interest for tomorrow’s meeting as you skim through them. As the secretary of both the vice president and the CEO of the company, you had always been the mediator of their affairs, which meant that you never had a moment of rest while at the office.
 Because your charge was attending to the ever incessant happenings between your bosses as the two most high-ranking individuals in the company, you never had a moment of respite (not that you minded). The constant hustle and hullabaloo that was dealt in their wake left you in an ever flowing state of motion and you liked the grind. It meant you never were bored by their occupancies at work, for they always ensured that you had something to busy yourself with.
 The fact that your CEO looked to have been brought to life by an artist’s brush in his beauty while your vice president (and consequently, your boyfriend after some years together) appeared to have been sculpted by the gods in his handsomeness surely was a bonus, however, for whenever your sight would begin to blur because of long hours spent drafting and writing across your computer screen, a simple glimpse at either of them had your visage instantly clearing in the clarity of attraction that perceived itself between your legs when they’d stare back at you in stolen moments of passing.
 As you scavenge the paperwork for any errs that you may have missed, you don’t notice the silhouette the crosses the cubicles hedging the floor as you navigate through the maze of them, your irises narrowing as you huff in the realization that you forgot to properly align the addendum toward the end of the files in your hurry to finish and be out of the office after six o’clock per the orders of your CEO.
 When you cross the threshold to your office, the walls of glass that are curtained with silvery gold silk are opened to allow the sun to bathe you in its comforting heat that settles warmly over your stiff bones as you drop the paperwork atop your desk and rest your hand on it as you let your eyelids fall over your irises with the sun that coaxes you to luxuriate in its golden rays in a momentary lapse of silent solace from the toils of the day’s efforts.
 Behind you, a shadow cloaks you before a deep, low-timbre voice swathes you in its hold as it teases, “Enjoying the afternoon sun, baby? You should really head on home right about now, hmm? It’s getting late,” his eyes trail down your back and drop to the swell of your ass that strains against the small, short pencil skirt it is pushed up against before he continues, “We wouldn’t want the boss to get mad because you broke rules and stayed past six o’clock, now would we?”
 “Vice President Jungkook,” you squeak, his voice stringing you up and twining you around the fingers that-after many years of dreaming about them- now touch you in your most intimate sectors of your body in his unceasing relentlessness of rapturous intent that drive him to find himself between your legs every night, morning and afternoon that he could entertain. You had once wondered how a man could possibly rival an incubus in how he seemed to thrive with the more that you gave him and before him, you’d been abstinent as a nun. He had quickly changed that once you’d succumbed to his dark promises that had been wrapped in sin’s lace as he’d covered you with them with a tongue too long to be anything but devilish. It’s been years since you first got together, but he still renders you to be in need of an exorcist in the spirit of sex that has possessed your soul in its binding to him.
 You put a hand to your chest in startlement before you turn to face him to go on, “I didn’t hear you come in. Is there something you wanted to discuss? I just was going to finish up Jimin’s,” you clear your throat under his constricting gaze that constringes you for a battle of air as you correct yourself, “the CEO’s itinerary for Wednesday after fixing up the topic outline for tomorrow’s meeting with the board of directors.”
 It was amazing how after several years together, he could still whisk your breath away from you with one glance.
 Your superior hums, “Mmm, busy girl as always, aren’t you?” He takes a step inside your office, the sun’s light beams a stark contrast to the dark suit he wears that is colored black like the night sky, the silvery stitching in thin lines along his coat shining like streaks of falling stars in the movement as he suavely exhorts, “Did you happen to have time to send to me my travel arrangements for the week? Make sure you clear time for yourself to attend the gala with me on Thursday. I meant to tell you that earlier when you were feeding me my lunch in my office,” he confides lowly as two hands grip the edge of the chair that sits in front of your desk while he carries on, “Thank you for that, by the way. My hand was so sore from constructing the miniature model of the new tower we are building. I’m so glad you were there to assist me in erecting it and that you could sate my hunger earlier today. I was ravenous, you see.”
 Your cheeks flame in remembrance of the way his deft, long tongue had wrapped around the fork you’d presented to him, the creamy alfredo sauce coating his pink lips suspiciously similar to the cum he’d expertly and easily draw out of you every time he ravaged you or the essence you’d taint yourself with during the forbidden hours of the night when you touched yourself to fantasies of him in the midst of his absence due to the longer hours that he was required to work at the firm.
 You’d never heard anyone groan from ‘the succulent taste of the meal’ as your vice president had, but you’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy every delicious sound that had dripped from his mouth as he’d opened his lips to welcome you when you’d draped the noodles across his tongue.
 Needless to say that after that particular encounter, you’d had to escape to the bathroom for about twenty minutes to relieve the ache between your thighs that had garnished and cooked your insides for him until you burned with the need to release the steam that wouldn’t escape you without his guiding hand.
 In all of that, you’d been entirely oblivious to the two sets of eyes that had been fixated on you while they watched you with utter absorption. With the visage of your cheeks that had reddened from the blood that had rushed to them and the slow, uneven walk you’d taken back to your office amidst your thighs that stung from your efforts, it had been all too apparent that you hadn’t really gone to use the restroom for the purpose it was intended to be used for.
 Jungkook himself had smirked at that and when his irises had switched away from you and to his own boss, the CEO, whom had his own workspace directly next to his own, Jimin’s teeth had gnawed on his lower lip until you disappeared behind the curtains of your office before resuming with the Skype conference with one of the company’s chairmen.
 With your head full of your illicit indecency that the man standing in front of you now had caused earlier, you try to fight past the fluttery feeling in your chest as you splutter, “U-um, well, it was no problem at all!” You croak as one of his brows lift in amusement as you fidget under his all-encompassing stare to blurt, “Always a, uh, pleasure helping you, Jungkook.”
 Truly, you don’t know how you managed to acquire a degree in English with how eloquence seems to suddenly be a foreign concept to your mind, but your vice president seems to be wholly unbothered and oppositely entertained by it as one side of his lips lift while he cocks his head to the side to divulge, “A pleasure indeed, Y/N,” his voice dips as he comes ever closer to you, his palms now splaying over your desk as his long, iron colored tie swings forward to dangerously dangle close to your own hand that twitches in the want to grasp it and pull him forward until his lips have nowhere to go but on your own as he urges, “You always take care of me so well. I want to return the favor to you, but I just,” his irises lower from your eyes to your mouth as you draw your lip between your teeth and when they rise back up once more, he professes, “can’t put my finger,” he drums his index and middle fingers along the timber of your desk, “on how I want to repay the favor.”
 Memories of last night filter through your mind like an echoing song as they tune your brain to the way he’d pummeled into you, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he’d ravished you after you’d begged him to let you ride his face and you’d dared to sit back and grab his cock in the midst of his attentions to your pussy. You’d screamed through the delicious pleasure that was too much to bear and he’d been more than eager to leave you a mess of limbs and cum on the bed in his wake as he’d fucked you so crazedly, his efforts guided by the need to see you ruined with his seed a success in how mercilessly he’d given it to you and how greedy you’d been to take it all.
 Heat floods your core at the anything but holy thoughts, for your boyfriend surely became a demon in bed that you would gladly fall to your knees to be taken by over and over again.
 “You,” you swallow past the lump in your throat and have to remind yourself to keep your legs locked together lest you succumb to the urge to rub them against each other as you give a choked answer, “you don’t have to do anything. My salary is payment enough.”
 “Oh, but is it? Is there nothing else I could give you to show you how much I appreciate you?” He looms closer, his raven’s wing hued hair kissing at the tips of his cheeks while tenderly embracing the sides of his forehead amidst the hands of oils that part it down the middle and slick it in their essence as he inquires, “Is there not some kind of bonus that you desire? Say it and it is yours, my beloved secretary. After all,” his eyes glint tellingly, “you’ve always been such a good girl for me. I want to reward you, beautiful. Will you let me?”
 “Jungkook,” your cheeks heat up as you whimper, “Please.”
 You try not to think about the implications of what your response might lead one to believe, but under his heady gaze, there’s little you can do but let your words tumble from your mouth.
 He’s called you beautiful a number of times whilst in the presence of other clients and coworkers and each time, your heart had done a flip against your ribcage. The fifth month after he’d become your boyfriend, you’d once questioned him why he called you that and he’d simply shrugged his shoulders before offering, “I should think you would know, pretty girl. It’s because I find you attractive.”
  You’d gone home that night after he’d vowed to bring you your favorite takeout food to make up for having to stay longer at the firm and you’d hugged him with the dumbest smile stretching across your features before turning to leave while he’d smiled fondly at you as you’d skipped like a lovestruck teenager all the way back to your apartment and wondered all night long what he might have been doing while you’d put on your favorite k-drama and bundled yourself up in blankets for your nightly binge of the show, your thoughts void of anything and everything that was not Jungkook in your straying attention from your tv session that was entirely your boyfriend’s fault.
 When he’d come home to you that night, he’d made sure you victualed atop his lap while you’d fidgeted with an ulterior motive leading your body, your moans of enjoyment for the soup he spooned to you all too loud and drawn out amidst your purposeful movements that had been quick to have him hardening beneath you and before you’d known what had happened, he’d thrown you atop the table and fucked you well into the morning hours.
 Now, in the silence that has seeped through the office in the lack of occupancy that is limited only to you and your two bosses, the word has an entirely sinful meaning in the deepness he’s pillaged it with.  
 When he darkly chuckles, mischievousness and everything that promises lasciviousness colors the sound as he pushes off your desk and stalks damningly closer to you, his much taller frame engulfing your own as he hovers before you to lowly inquire, “What do you want, beautiful? Say it,” he steers himself around the desk until he stands in front of you, anticipation welling up within you as he wraps one arm around you until one palm is pressed against the small of your back and in one fluid motion, he streams your body against his, your breasts cascading along his chest as you suck in a breath at the rocky plane of muscle laid over him even through layers of clothing, your hands-as if siphoned forth to him-planting themselves along his pectorals as he utters, “Tell your boss how bad you want it.”
 “Vice President,” your breath hitches when another hand boldly finds purchase along your ass before it slides down to cup your thigh as he pulls your leg up and around him so that it is wrapped around his slim, hourglass waist as you fight the mists of lust that cloud your abdomen as you try, “we c-can’t. This isn’t…it’s not proper.”
 “Do you think I give a damn about niceties when you’re fucking tempting me with how short that little skirt that barely covers your ass is?” He growls as he ducks his head, his lips ghosting along the sensitive junction just under your ear as the hand on your thigh trails upward, his digits just grazing your panties as you shakily sigh out while his other hand dives under your blouse before he husks, “Do you think it is proper to go in the bathroom and fuck yourself with your fingers after you fucking fed me with them? Huh?”
 “You were watching me, vice president?” You gulp at the realization that he knew, “I thought I had been discreet…”
 “Such a dirty little girl,” he muses as the fingers he’s snuck under your V-necked linen shirt run along your skin in languid circles before he blows a puff of warm air against your neck, your skin prickling in his wake as he noses at your jaw, “Did you honestly think that when you went to the ladies room for twenty fucking minutes that I timed on my watch that I didn’t know what you were doing?” His lips brush against the column of your neck as you let your head fall back in silent offering to him as he goes on, “Did you honestly believe that when you walked out of there and wafted the smell of sex across the office that I couldn’t fucking tell what you were doing in there as you fucked yourself while you thought about me?”
 Caught as you are in his hold, you cannot escape the mortification that drops like an anchor to your shoulders and then down through the bowels of your body in its infinite heaviness at the realization that he’s got you red-handed. Embarrassment is what has your lids closing in your inability to see the source of your lust swim in the knowledge of the waters of your sins that streamed from him.
 Despite it all, his digits draggle along your southward lips as he rubs them against your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing as he groans at the wetness that begins to coat your panties as he coos, “Fuck, you’re so naughty, babygirl. Look at that pretty cunt cry for me because it’s been neglected without the only one that really satisfies it,” his finger pulls the ruined cloth away from you and suddenly the hand that had been exploring the ridges of your spine dips in its exploration to pool around your hip and with a dangerous flash of his eyes, he pulls you down over a semi-hardening bulge between his legs, a moan slipping from your lips as he impels you against his member to grunt, “You like this, baby? Does it turn you on to know that I’m aware that you got off to me in the bathroom? Would’ve been so fucking hot to see you get fucked with your fingers, baby. God, it’s making me hard just thinking about it.”
 His dirty words soil you in as he covers you with them just as tangibly as you’d been spoiled by your own juices, your brain short circuiting in the jolts of heat he wracks you with as his touch thunders over your skin that begins dewing with the beads of sweat in the high temperature that he flusters you with.
From the very first time you’d seen him years ago in the shabby little bar where time had seemed to stop as you’d locked eyes with him while he passed you by, you had been under his spell and now, as he holds you to him with desire simmering in his gaze, you’re struck with that sensation of beating wings in your chest as you let him finally lay his lips over the junction of skin along your collarbone, the pillow of his lips bedding themselves over you lightly as the fingers of one of your hands curl inward into his shirt in your effort to hold onto something to ground yourself against the lightness lifting at your insides as you manage the only word that your mind can possibly internalize in the midst of your fading cognition with a whisper, “Jungkook.”
 Your vice president smirks against your skin as he bedecks you in his osculation. Saliva is left in his aftermath as featherlight kisses are flitted along your collarbone and when the hand on your waist pushes you down onto him to urge your hips into moving, you whine as he combines this with the stroke of his fingers at your steadily swelling bud of nerves that gardens the flower of your pussy.
 “Answer to me, beautiful,” he brings you both back until his back hits the glass wall, his hips instantly rolling into yours as he coaxes your other leg to join your other around his waist before he flicks a long, hot tongue along your mastoid that cords your neck as he declares, “If you want me to fuck you like I know you’ve been craving for me to,” he mouths against you, “Tell me how much you fucking want me, beautiful. Let me hear how badly you need me to take you because you can’t possibly be pleased by anyone else, pretty girl.”
 Heat swirls in your belly as he lazily draws shapes into your clit, his member hardening impossibly more for you when you grind yourself against him while you wrap both arms around him to brace yourself as you hump him like an animal in rut, the hand he’d had on your hip quickly cupping your ass to hold you up while he stares hotly at you.
 Knowing that you will face punishment in the bedroom later if you do not do as he asks, you try to wrack your brain for the string of words that you need to scramble out of their jumblement amidst the need that throws them into a whirl as you breathe, “Want you, Jungkook. I want you so badly. Please, let me-“
 “Oh, but do you think you deserve it, Y/N? Do you believe you should be allowed to have my cock when you denied me for so long today?” He taunts, his teeth taking your earlobe between them as he continues, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to put my cock inside that little cunt of yours? How many times I thought about bending you over this damned table and fucking you into oblivion?” You gasp in the risqué admission as he sweeps you over him, his wrist disentangling from your clit to pull your skirt up so that he has no obstructions while he shamelessly ogles your dripping cunt before you lower yourself down on him to earn a cautionary hiss from him, “Watch it, beautiful. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll take you right fucking here in the middle of your office. If I can wait all day to finally have the chance to fuck you again after you denied me, so can you.”
 "Why did you, ah-" he slots one thick thigh under you, a cocksure grin spreading over his features as he helps you thrust yourself over the thatch of muscles lining every inch of his leg, your voice cracking when both hands clutch your ass as he pulls you down and over him to brokenly whisper, "Why did you take all day to finally fuck me, sir-" your lips are suddenly captured in a heated kiss, his mouth roughly claiming yours as your head falls back while he flicks his tongue along the roof of your mouth to claim every bit of you before he pulls away to leave you heaving as you try again- "I-I wanted you to come to me earlier when I was in the b-bathroom,” your breaths are labored from the air he’s thieved from you to leave only your wanton admission, “wanted you to give me your cock and t-take me against the wall while I begged you to let me have your cum inside me...”
 "Such a little slut for me, aren’t you? You didn’t have enough cock this morning when I stuffed it between your hungry little lips and fucked your face? You know," he groans when one of your hands slides down his defined chest as you drag it to its destination before settling over the fully hardened member as you gyrate your hips atop him, " I taught you that when you want something, you ask, yeah? Could’ve had what you needed if you’d just been obedient and used that fucking mouth to request a good fuck, but instead, I had to use my fucking hand to imagine it was your pretty little cunt that my cock was in," you whimper at his confession, your fingers curling over his member as you swirl your hips up and down his leg in a frenzy, your core heating like a wildfire when his eyes darkly flash, " You're going to suffer as I did, pretty girl. You're going to feel how fucking desperate you made me while I jacked off to pictures and videos I recorded of you when you were innocently batting your eyes at me from all the way over here while I was in my office with my hand on my cock."
 “Jungkook,” you whine, “I don’t know if I can take that. Not agai-“
 "Oh, but you will, baby. You will do what I say because I'm the fucking boss, yeah?" One hand gropingly lifts from your ass to grasp at a bra-clad tit, a whimper falling from your lips when he squeezes hard and with his other hand, his fingers sink into your side as he pivots your waist down on his thigh, his muscles jumping at you and catching at your core as he urges you over him and in response, your fingers constrict around him to earn a hiss, "God, it was too easy to make you fall apart on me. Come on, baby," he challenges as he takes your lip between his teeth to nip at you, "Show me what you've got, yeah? Fuck yourself on me. You have sixty-nine seconds to finish before I pull you off me and go back to my office."
 With his demand, you’ve no choice but to obey and instantly, you bear your hips down on him with renewed fervor, the firm and solid thew tautening beneath you as clamp him between your legs while you sway yourself back and forth like a seesaw, a moan stuttering from you when he pushes aside your shirt to grip one breast in his hand, his digits expertly rolling your nipple between them as you teeter precariously atop him, your waist stammering amidst his ministrations when slams his mouth against yours once more, his tongue thrusting inside your warmth as he captures you under his osculation and possessively wraps his wet muscle around yours as he steals your breath away.
 When he pulls away, you chase him with growing hunger that latches itself to you, your mouth connecting to his in a softer kiss as you kittenishly lick at him while he kneads at your breast.
 Your core clenches around nothing when he pairs this with a harsh propulsion of his thigh into your cunt as his sinewy skin slides deliciously along your clothed cunt, the tingling friction finding every inch of your pussy as you avidly grind against him.
 You compress your fingers over his rock hard cock that has your salivary glands producing excess spittle in want of him and when you dare to start rubbing him there while you busily buss his jawline that you think might cut you in its sharpness if you aren’t careful, that’s when he growls out, “God, you’re such a fucking minx,” he angles his head back to welcome your lips against him, “Time’s ticking, princess. You have ten seconds.”
 “Jungkook, please, I…I’m almost there,” you cry out, “Please don’t leave me,” you blurt as you bounce on his thigh rapaciously while you fervidly litter his neck with the stains of your crimson lipstick, “I’ll do anything,” you beg as he smirks while he watches you with interest, “I’ll let you do anything you want to me later, just…please, let me cum. I’ve thought about this all day long, thought about you fucking me all day long,” you blabber as your pride is burned away by his searing gaze while he pushes his thigh impossibly deeper into you as you whine out, “let me finish, sir.”
 Perhaps it the fact that your boyfriend is quite honestly the hottest man you’ve ever seen walk the earth (really, how could you ever be satisfied with anyone else when your boss and boyfriend is a literal incarnate of sin and sex) or maybe it is because he’d edged you this morning in the shower, for his much longer and larger fingers had played with you like you were his favorite toy and that had you quickly winding up around him. Despite your cries, he’d not let you come after disobeying his orders to speak after he’d all but fucked your brains out following round four of your sexual escapades with each other on the kitchen table, the couch and the wall and then the bed. Maybe it is both of those, but you've never been so quick to rile up and Jungkook, the one who has his strings attached to you like you’re his damned puppet, well… it is easy for you to see why you are at the edge of the precipice he dangles you over with his strong threads.
 He observes with amusement the way that you work yourself avariciously over him, your lips insistent in lavishing him with your attentions as you line his throat with the red coloring you’d put on your mouth until he’s decorated with it like a painting you’d artfully drawn yourself. He lets the seconds pass beyond what he’d told you, delight lighting at his eyes as he sees the relief wash through yours in the slow surety that streams in your irises beside it in your thoughts that he’s going to allow you to find your end.
 It’s when your thighs begin tremble from the labors of your efforts and a low pant starts to push itself between your lips as you undulate yourself against him that the large hand on your breast twirls your nipple between deft fingers, fire flaring through your core as you moan out his name.
 “That’s it, baby. Say it louder for me,” he groans as he bucks his hips against you, a devious glint in his eye gleaming at you that only has you burning hotter for him as he husks, “Let Jimin know who you’re fucking yourself like a dirty little girl on.”   
 Your end is near and you’re so close to plummeting into your end, but he holds you from it and refuses to let you fall into it. Not yet, anyway.
 “Jungkook,” you whimper, “touch me.”
 Your boss hums, “Mmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pinches your nipple only to cause you to squirm, the slight pain shooting sparks down to your pussy that clenches for him. He growls at this, for the flutter of your southward lips against his thigh has his cock throb beneath your fingers that still stroke him and suddenly, his hand is gone from your tit and instead finds its place in your hair that he clutches and yanks you forward with so that your chest is pressed flush against his front as his eyes flash darkly and he hisses, “Too bad, baby. I let you fucking use me so I could see how desperate I could make you while you tried to get yourself off. Now that I have you,” he torturously extricates his thigh from between yours and you all but sob at the loss of him as he sets you down on the floor, the hand in your hair wrenching forward until he crashes his lips to yours and sucks your tongue between his teeth as if he wants to devour you and all the while, the hand on your hip sidles down and, while he’s got your eyes falling closed, they shoot open as you moan into his mouth when he cups your sex, his middle finger prodding your hole and when he pulls them both away, carnality dilates his pupils as he declares, “I’m going to make you my fucking whore.”
 Air evades you, but the fire lighting up in your core sustains the need for him as you attach your hands to his shirt to hold on for dear life in the midst of your weakened, feeble knees that have lost their strength in how much of it he’s sapped from you in your kisses. You shakily exhale what little of it remains as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, your shyness starting to return now that the haze of hormones clouding your brain is gradually rescinding in the lack of his touch.
 Breathlessly, you whimper, “Need you now, Jungkook. Please-“
 You’re effectively silenced when he presses his pointer finger to your lips to quiet you, your labored suspirations wrapping warmly around his digit as he croons, “Shhh…I know, babygirl. I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” his fingers enclose your wrist to coax you to put more pressure on his member and you do, your eyes fixing on how much smaller your hand is compared to his own as you urges you to run your hand back and forth over him as he groans, “Feel that? That’s all for you, baby. God, that little mouth felt like heaven around me this morning. Did I tell you that? Did I mention how beautiful you looked with tears falling from those pretty eyes? Fuck, you were so cute with spit dripping from those lips while you sucked me off like a needy little slut.”
 You choke a strangled sound out at that while you burrow your face deeper into his neck as if to escape from the filth he wants to dirty you with, but you don’t get too far with the way that his finger taps expectantly on your lip as he prods at you and you need no further instruction than that as you tentatively open your mouth to welcome the digit he promptly slides in as he praises, “There you go, babygirl. Such a good girl even when I deny you your orgasm. You know you deserve to have it withheld from you, don’t you?”
 You lick at his finger in answer as you breathe, “Yes, sir. I’ve been bad to you today, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” you try a new tactic in effort to release some tension that has coiled into a knot deep in your belly as you whisper, “Will you let me make it up to you, handsome? Want your big, fat cock inside me so badly…”
 You let your words be swallowed within your mouth as you close it around him only to suction your wet warmth around his digit, a grunt quick to release itself from him as his pupils blow wide at the sinful sight of his finger disappearing into your mouth. His mouth parts at the lewd sounds that escape your mouth as you take him inside you, your tongue flicking against him with precision as you lock your eyes on his and in them he sees the kindling of desire that smokes and hazes them over.
 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he watches as you innocently blink at him with your head still nestled onto his shoulder and when you swallow around him, that has him twitching under your hand that continues to palm at him, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he husks, “Are you that fucking gone for me? Shit, baby. If that’s how you are with just my finger, imagine how you’ll be with my fucking cock shoved in your pretty pussy.”
 “Want it,” you mumble around his finger as you lave at his digit,” want you so much. Please, Jungkook, take me.”
 “So desperate for me. Just how I like you, babygirl. If you want me that bad,” he pries his finger from your mouth, both of you watching the string of spittle that follows him before breaking off and only then does he lean forward, his lips just shy of touching yours as he commands, “Come to me in five minutes. I need to have a quick word with one of the representatives of the company for funding and then I’ll have the rest of the night to fucking ravage you, yeah?” He pushes off the window while he drags your hand away from him and you can’t deny the cold that is left in his absence when he moves away from you and you pout because of it while tucks your skirt back down.
 He grins at the way your knees buckle and, responsively, he helps you to sit down. One tattooed hand finds its place on your hip while the other splays possessively over your abdomen as he walks you backward and once he’s got you sitting, you catch the way his hands linger as if he doesn’t want to let you go, but with an imploring look you tell him more than your words would convey as you place one of your own hands over his while you urge him to stay with a small squeeze of your fingers over his.
 He’s utterly gone for the way you adorably purse your lips as if to plead with him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boss that you whine as he pulls away to chuckle to himself while he strides away from you. In his absence, your pussy yearns for him as it deposits even more of your taint into your ruined panties in his tormenting separation from you.
  By now, he’s at your door and before he disappears, he turns with his back still facing you to add, “Oh, and one more thing,” his irises dip down as he gestures to a dampened, wet patch on his pant leg where you’d been sat atop of earlier before he peers back up at you with a hooded gaze, “If I find out you finished yourself off in here without me,” his voice becomes brusque as he deepens it,” The only thing that cunt will have jammed in it for the next few months will be the vibrator you brought to work last week.”
 “How did you,” you clear your throat amidst the clog that has clumped itself in a ball within the middle of it,” you heard about that? You saw that?”
 “I’ve heard the whispers that all the women believe they are too quiet for me to detect, but you,”  He flicks a sculpted brow up as embarrassment mutes you, your cheeks coloring themselves red as the remnants of lipstick that still remain on your mouth as he pokes his tongue against his cheek in a sight that has you instantly wanting to get on your knees once more for him as he says, “you’re such a slave to your desire for me that you just can’t keep that little mouth shut, that you just can’t help but to tend to that needy little cunt because of me,” his eyes scintillate with sin, “you thought I didn’t notice you take that vibrator to the supply closet with you after I had you massage my thighs that you like to tell the other women that you love so much, but I did, baby,” he watches you rub your thighs together, a pained sound resounding from your lips as he finishes, “You put on such a show for me on the camera I have installed in there. God, you have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you senseless while you tried to stop yourself from calling my name.”
Your jaw just about drops at his admission, mortification causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as if that will make you smaller against the very large realization that he knew of your feral treachery and with a devastating grin, he leaves you a heaping wet mess on your chair as you try to figure out how one man could be responsible for turning you into a human succubus that needed sex with him as much as you needed air to breathe for your body.
 In the silence that follows your boyfriend and boss, all that can be heard are the perpetually unrelenting ticks of a small wooden clock atop your desk. They chink to the uneven beats of your heart that pounds against your chest as you clutch at it to count the breaths that elude your contracting lungs against the tethers that Jungkook himself had put there.
 Trying to focus now would be like attempting to look away from your boyfriend while he’s stark naked and lounging on the living room recliner in readied receival of you after being away from him for the three-week long and very lonely secretarial seminar that Jimin sends you to every now and then to keep you sharp in your duties that you were expected to carry out as the unofficial manager of both the CEO and Vice President of Bangtan Industries.
 It just doesn’t compute in your mind that has gone haywire in the wake of Jungkook that you can do anything but to keep your attention fixated on the little circular face of the clock, its spindly hands moving far too slow for your liking as you try not to think too much on the teardrops your sex cries in its grief of losing him. When you make the mistake of shifting and sibilate at how drenched you really are in the movement, you look away at your soaked skirt to find it ruined where your sex sits, a groan coming from you as you battle the urge to just bring one or two fingers to your clit to water the fire of need burning there.
 “Jungkook,” you whisper to no one in particular, “You fucking win.”
 Heat still washes you through in the fluidity and you clench your hands into fists atop the table as the waves of it try to ebb your hand down to relieve you of the need that swelters within your core and you are quick to lay your forehead against the desk in need of a colder landscape to battle the Sahara desert’s scorch that has manifested itself in your belly.
 “That’s what I thought, doll. Better not touch yourself, baby,” the familiar voice of your boyfriend chimes through the multiline phone system sat next to your computer, your eyes widening as your back straightens and you sit up with widened eyes, your hand quickly jerking away from your womanhood as you stare surprisedly at the red blinking button that signifies that presently, you are being recorded. He must have turned it on when he’d been sitting you down and, like a siren, you’d been entirely lulled by his distraction.
 “Jungkook, I-“
 “You don’t get to make excuses when I heard you fucking moan with how badly you must want to use your fingers to relieve yourself of me. It’s hard, isn’t, baby?” You can see the shit-eating smirk he gives you even from the other end of the line as he sonorously says, “I would advise that you don’t try anything without me, love. Because if you do,” his voice hardens,” I don’t think you’ll like the consequences.”
 “Need you,” you whine as you push your breasts against the wood in effort to stimulate yourself elsewhere as you try, “Please, sir, let me touch myself. I can’t take it without you.”
 “Oh, but you must, pretty girl,” he voice dips deliciously, “If you put so much as one finger on that little clit of yours,” he threatens, “I promise you’ll get none of this cock for a long time. I am a patient creature, beautiful, but you? You are not and I’m going to teach you what happens when you want to get me hard while I’m at work, you fucking vixen.”
 “But…” you don’t get to say much else because he’s fast to cut you off.
 “But? There are no buts, babygirl. Sit there and obey like a good girl. Got it?” His domineering tone captures you in its hold as you grimace in the banishment of sensation you’d been trying to quell with the aridity searing your core.
 He expertly extricates your own voice as you submissively tell him, “I understand, sir. I’m…I’m sorry I’m so needy.”
 “That’s more like it, pretty girl. Be daddy’s good girl, yeah? He’s almost finished and when he’s done,” he lowly admits,” he’s going to fuck you until you can’t tell the north from the south.”
 With that, the red button loses its light and fades with the end of the call and you don’t need to peer down to know that your skirt is beyond being saved by the air dryer in the bathroom.
 To divert your attention anywhere but at your sopping core, you open your new Macbook Pro that Jungkook had recently gifted you only to find three new messages that have come in, each sliding along the upper right hand of the screen only to glide away after presenting themselves to you.
 Two are from Jungkook and the other is from your CEO, Jimin.
 Curiosity awakens in you and has you tilting your head as you open the older one first.
          Jimin:
 [1:45pm] What were you doing with Jungkook for lunch? You two were in there awfully long just for him to eat some Italian food. I was going to ask if you could chat with me about agendas and travel plans for the symposiums, but you seemed like you were in a hurry, so…
 You chew at your lip at the memory of the way the off-white taint had dripped down the side of Jungkook’s lips and how he’d asked you to clean him up before pulling you into his lap so that you could lick it off with your tongue before he’d captured it in his mouth and given you the most passionate, intense French kiss you’d ever had as he sucked your wet warmth clean before pulling away ask for more.
 For the life of you, you can’t remember if Jungkook’s blinds had been drawn in your fixation on each other. Since his office was directly next to and connected with Jimin’s, it was possible that if he hadn’t closed them that Jimin might have seen-
 You click out of the message at the same time you cancel your thoughts from going down a network of ideas that would only make the unbearable pressure between your legs even heavier, your legs sticking together in your fidgeting movement as you hiss through the collection of your essence that coagulates there.
 When you skid your mouse over only to click down on the mousepad and the next message pops up, you nearly fall to the floor with how quick you are to lean forward, your fingers gripping tightly onto the table to keep yourself from making contact with the carpeted ground as you read the next text.
          Jungkook:
 [2:36pm] Thanks for the meal, babygirl. You took such wonderful care of daddy. That alfredo sauce was delicious, but not as succulent and sweet as that pussy when I’ve got my mouth on it. I hope that pretty cunt is ready for me later when I put my fat fucking cock inside you and split you open on top of me. I’m hard for you right now, doll, but all good things come to those who wait, yeah?
 [2:58] Oh, and I got you a dress to wear for that gala we are going to. I do believe you should have already made arrangements to attend, my precious petal. You’ll look so beautiful for me and I know you’ll be the belle of the ball. You’re going be all mine, pretty girl. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone before I tear that gown off you and show you who you belong to. And when you can’t walk anymore, I’ll carry you home and we can watch your favorite show while you lay on top of me so that I can play with your hair and tell you how exquisite you are while we eat macaroni and cheese and watch your k-drama that you like to put on so much :)
 Truly, you don’t know how your boyfriend can turn your insides to mush with just a light glance or even a few words to then, a second later, have your core fluttering in anticipation of his dark vows. You had not one inch of doubt that he would make good on his promises and excitement flits through every contour of your body as you smile fondly at the screen.
 The telltale ping that pongs through speakers set beside the two twin monitors behind your laptop bounces around the glass walls and suddenly your attention is ricocheted to those screens as your hand closes over the wireless mouse and you open the source of sound that you had chosen to alert you of incoming emails.
 Amongst the thousands of emails, the bulk of them come from your bosses and the next mass of them originate from the plethora of dealers that your bosses worked with that often had to go through you before acquiring an audience with either of them.
  Next were the intermediary reconciliations and discussions with coworkers outlining their status and progress on assignments within the firm that you were tasked with collecting and organizing before presenting it to Jungkook, who would relay it to Jimin. On occasion, you would report to Jimin first when he’d come to your office and sit down with you to discuss the overview of all the information, his eyes never straying from you even when you’d get up and walk about the room in your experiments to measure his interest in what you were talking about.
 Jungkook set your body on fire in his scalding affections and attention, but Jimin…Jimin’s soft gaze that was speckled by the sugar of sweetness around you, well…it was like night and day.
 You had come to love Jungkook as fiercely as the sun that has now ducked under the skyscrapers that rise high in the sky and Jimin had come to be someone you adored in the gracious geniality he swathed you in that contrasted so very much with Jungkook’s own feral ferociousness in how the latter had easily seized your heart in the palm of his hand.
 With tangling thoughts of the two of them in your mind, you open the new email that was just sent moments ago. You don’t really know what to expect as you watch the circling icon in the middle of both screens as the content of the email loads, but the longer that you stare at the rotating wheel that-with every pass- has inquisitiveness circumnavigating and spiraling around you, the stronger that the emotion builds in you as you wait, your eyes only now just processing the subject of message.
 Do you like this? Don’t think I forgot what you were telling me last week…
 It’s innocent enough in the initial reading of it, but your mind really can’t help but to soil a more pure intent in lieu of a darker one if Jungkook is involved, after all. The man was insatiable and had tainted you with that same craving for him during every waking moment of your consciousness (and subsequently in your unconsciousness through your dreams that had become borderline pornographic in what your mind would conjure up illicit indecencies wrought upon you by your boyfriend).
 When the spherical icon dissipates, so too does your last shred of self-restraint that is ripped away from you as you loudly whine out, your core clenching around nothing as you devour the eye candy.
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    Sweat sluices every bit of skin on both your boyfriend and Jimin, who are the models of the picture, and you’re quite certain that this might be the most profanely peccable thing that you’ve ever seen.
 Jungkook smirks wickedly with his head thrown back against the wooden panel, his eyes closed and mouth parted in pleasure and the white t-shirt he wears sticks to his muscled chest to suck away its color in patches of perspiration that display wet blotches of where hidrosis has penetrated through the thin material to display musculature that the god of lust himself, you are convinced, had a hand in decorating him with.
 His bicep bulges before the picture cuts off just below the upper half of his abs and you don’t need to think to know he’s jacking himself off with his face contorted into such a satisfied expression.
 It is a sight that has your thighs rubbing together, a whimper sounding from you try to calm your breathing that has instantly become erratic in the breaths that refuse to stay lodged in your lungs as your boyfriend expels them expertly without even being physically present to do so.
 It takes some effort to pull your irises away from Jungkook, who has you now on the edge of your seat as you rub your breasts against the edge of the wooden table in your need to feel his big, warm hands on you once again as you whisper, “Please…”
 You lay your head on the table to ground yourself against something of the earthly plane before your soul descends to the fucking nether realm, but in so doing, your vision trails along Jungkook’s other arm that is pushed against Jimin’s own. The slightly older man has his head tilted so that his nape rests on Jungkook’s shoulder, his full lips open to permit sounds you wish you could hear while his eyes, like your boyfriend’s, are shut in a countenance twisted by rapture and you wonder what it is that they’re thinking about that they’ve both succumbed to.
 Distantly, you want them to have been thinking of you, but self-consciousness nips at you despite it because how could two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen both be frozen in time like this through a picture of their pleasure amidst minds full only of you?
 You shake your head at the thought and choose to fixate your attention back on Jimin, who has you salivating in the open v-cut black shirt that, with its short sleeves, leaves little to be imagined in the mound of muscle mounted along his own arms. He’s sitting back, like Jungkook, and is in the midst of his own sinful delight in the way that one arm is curled around his body in the way that it snakes downward and just out of the frame where you know his cock is in hand.
 You make a pained sound in your solitude where neither of them can help you under Jungkook’s own order as you curse, “Damn you, Jungkook. You knew what this would do to me.”
 You really don’t know how you’re able to look away from the delicatessen that is them, but when you slide one hand under the cup of your bra to clasp your breast and tease at the nipple there while you push against the desk so that your other is not neglected, the movement disturbs your line of vision so that you see the words he’d torturously typed under the picture sent from hell.
          Don’t think that I forgot that you have a sweet tooth for our little Jimin, here, babygirl. When you got fucked against the walls in your office and I had you begging for your release, remember how I asked what you thought of him after he happened to walk in on us and then he ran away while I made you fucking scream so loud for me that he could still hear it even outside the building?
 His tongue had been four inches deep inside you while he’d knelt on the floor for you to eat you out and your cheeks burn in the memory of how he’d had you a crying mess atop of him and in that moment, with your climax so close, he’d played you like his favorite toy in the truths that had been so easy to spew with the slew of his wet muscle that had the threads holding you together weak in their stitching in your need for the one operating your body to fix it all by bringing you to your end.
 It had been purely an accident that you’d neglected to lock the door behind him when Jungkook had come to you with a dark glint in his eye that held only carnality in its iris after Jimin had kept you from him all day for meetings. The moment your boyfriend had snatched you away from your other boss, you’d fallen into his arms readily in the need for him that had tuned you like an instrument until you sung for him in your highest key.
 Lost in each other, neither of you had heard the chink of the door that had borne your coupling to an observer who had stood with his cock hardening at the sight of you both in each other’s ecstasy until Jungkook had thrown you over your desk only for him to face Jimin, your CEO. The man’s eyes had bulged big as saucers when he’d been caught and Jungkook had only grinned as he eyed the tent in Jimin’s pants that broadcasted his obvious arousal. Your walls had constricted around the cock plunged deep inside you and you’d hit your third climax with a deadly snap of your boyfriend’s hips into you all while Jimin had ogled you before running as far as his legs would carry him.
 Secure in the knowledge that you ardently cared about him after many confessions from you in the throes of passion and in the softer moments where Jungkook’s stoicism melted away in the wake of your praise and sweet utterances to him, he knew that you wanted to be with him and that you’d come to love him. It was why he had been so keen to tease you about Jimin in the following days upon realizing that you’d gotten off to being watched by the older man. If it meant your pleasure, he would gladly partake in anything and he’d professed as much to you on many nights (and mornings) in the tender aftercare he would treat you with, ever the doting yet adventurous lover that he was.
 It was why you’d been able to let it slip when he’d had his long fingers plunged in you last night that no one could make you feel as good as he could, but that you were interested in seeing what Jimin’s smaller ones could do and how delicious his plush lips might feel on you. Jimin had always been sweet as honey to you and, in his lathering of that over you in your many moments together at work, you’d discovered that you wanted to get even more of a taste for him.
 Never could you have expected that your boyfriend would do this and torture you with such hankering desire to be sated that it all but burned like a wildfire in your body, but you could hardly be expected to endure it in his absence.
 You make a pained sound as you look at the picture that has damned your sex with even more taint to drip between your thighs and you cross your legs over each other in attempt to get some kind of friction. The attempt is fruitless and when there is nothing to relieve you, you squeeze at your breast and imagine that it is Jungkook who is doing so while the ridges of the table dig into your other and you fanaticize that it is Jimin’s ringed fingers that are palming at you as you cry out in desperation’s grip for either of them to come save you from the agony of their absence.
 You moan at the cool, prickly sensation of your fingers on your skin, your nipple hardening amidst your digits that the cold air of the office has chilled as you seek more stimulation. Your boyfriend’s name falls like an icicle from your lips and when your voice pierces through the thin audio line that Jungkook had screenshared your computer to watch and hear you through Facetime with, he licks at his lips at your exposed cleavage as he watches you pop open another button as you titillate your tits and huff in frustration as you uncross your legs in some misguided effort to encourage friction that he knows you are incapable of granting yourself in your current situation by his own order.
 He feasts his eyes on you as your breasts are shoved against one another, the ‘y’ shape of them bursting from your bra now as you cup one between the fingers of one hand and the other is butted into the table as you moan once more and call his name.
 “Help me, Jungkook…” You breathe, your irises still sticking to the picture that has ruined you from wanting to do anything holy for the rest of the day, week or even month for that matter. With your head swimming in sin spurred by your boyfriend, all you can think about now is Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook and lastly, Jungkook.
 It is your voice that cracks your boyfriend’s fixation on the way your breasts rise and fall with your labored breaths as pulls his eyes from the trenches of your tits before peering up to your lovely face that is marred with the aching affliction he knows wracks your core, his own cock twitching with interest as you repeat his name like a mantra in what little else your mind can internalize with how your sex must be sobbing for him right now.
 Lust seeps through the rips and tears that have begun to open and enlarge your pores as it spreads through your fragile body in the trembles that have you shaking in your attempts to abstain from the slow destruction that has reduced the filling inside your core to wet, ruined fibers like a tainted toy. Without realizing what you’re doing, one hand skids over the wet patch of your essence that has stained your skirt, your palm aquaplaning through that to dive under your skirt and when you slot it between your legs and streamline it into your sopping core with the image of your boyfriend’s hand doing this to you in your mind while Jimin watches, you keen.
 “Jungkook,” you try, “n-need you. Want you to fuck me and let Jimin see how good you make me feel, daddy. Your doll is about to tear herself apart because you won’t play with me…”
 At that, there’s a low growl that booms through the speakers that amplify his voice that promises danger as it demands, “Get your little hand out of that wet ass pussy before daddy makes you regret even thinking about disobeying me,” his voice deepens as he orders, “Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, get the fuck in my office. Now.”
 Your core contracts at his dominance that is injected into each word and, per his command, your palms shoot away from you as if you were a puppet that he’d pulled on the strings of to whisk your hands away from where he knew you would damage yourself further.
 You rise from your chair on legs that wobble both from Jungkook’s earlier ministrations and your own, your extract dyed onto your chair as you peer back and your cheeks burn at the damned deposit of it that has seeped through your panties and skirt. One knee quivers dangerously as your joints fight to hold you up through the numbness that your boyfriend had left in his wake and you have to plant a hand on your desk to hold yourself up while you steady yourself for the moment.
 From the computer, your boyfriend glares darkly at you as he brings the window that his own computer records himself with to the forefront of your tabs, your attention being sucked like a black hole into him as he declares, “You’re going to sit in daddy’s lap and if you choose to be a bad girl and not listen to what daddy tells you, you’re going to go without cock for as long as I decide to withhold it from you. Understand?”
 “I…I understand, sir.” You nod as you will the strength back in your legs despite his words that threaten to steal it yet again.
 “Good. So submissive. Just how I like you, baby,” he groans as his irises settle on the gleaning mess painting across your thighs from the field of view the camera grants him, “You’ve got me so hard already. I bet that cunt must have drenched itself for me, huh? I guess we’ll find out in a little bit when I clean it all off of you with my tongue,” he has you whining at that as he brings a hand to his chin to rest his face against it as his eyes glint with lasciviousness as he makes a sound of consideration, “Or maybe I should use my fingers? My cock? Perhaps since you’ve been defiant and tried to please yourself, I won’t touch you at all, hm? How would you like that?”
 You reach out for him even through the screen, panic coloring your tone as you implore with pleading eyes, “J-Jungkook, please…don’t. I’m ready for you. I might just break down in tears if you deny me again, so please-“
 “You’ll get what I decide to give to you, babygirl. I gave you simple instructions and I expect that you follow through with them or that little cunt won’t be the only thing that cries for me tonight, doll. Now,” he states with no room for anything but obeyance, “get the fuck in here.”
 Your sex quivers at that and you nod in affirmation as he ends the call once more, your weakened, numbed legs reducing you to a tottering mess of limbs as you emerge out of your office and amble closely to the walls, one hand held out against them to support you in the dangerous dalliance between remaining upright and falling to the floor in your shuddering ligaments that are entirely the work of Jungkook. You don’t have to walk far, but in your slow pace, the seconds stretch on and every step has your slick lewdly dripping down your legs much to your mortification that takes its form in the heat that rushes to your cheeks in the blood that manifests itself there.
 You hobble along the glass walls that offer the view of the city that blinks to life below you in the lights that wink at you while tiny specks of moving bodies bedeck the pavement and once, long ago, when you’d been but a freshmen in college, you’d stood amongst them as you stared in awe at the same building you now work within in. Time had passed but in an instant and when you’d met Jungkook by happenstance one night in a bar with your friends and he’d been quick to pay your tab before sweeping you off your feet and walking with you through the city, you’d had no idea how much your life was about to change when you’d gone home to discover the small piece of parchment he’d slipped in your purse when you hadn’t been paying attention with as distracted by his beauty both in body and soul as you’d been while the two of you had chatted about everything and anything that kept the conversation flowing as easily as the waters in a forest brook. You’d not hesitated in calling him the day after and he’d been eager to see you again.
 You’d gone on your first date with him that night and day after day, the two of you met again and again, for his company was as refreshing as the midnight air that caressed your skin after a long day of classes and before you’d known what had happened, it had been a year and it had only been after letting it out that you wanted an internship with a firm that he’d told you what exactly he did and what company he worked for.
 Your jaw had hurt with how wide your maw had opened in disbelief and when he’d offered to bring you in as part of the team, you’d been all too happy to accept. You really had tried to keep things professional, but Jungkook had not a care in the world for appearances where you two were concerned and your escapades in the bedroom soon made it to the corporate sphere. You could not deny him no matter how hard you tried. It was as if your body had been made to fall into his skilled hands and you would gladly grant him anything if it meant his appeasement.
 After all, you’d become putty in his palm while you had unknowingly wrapped him around your own fingers.  
 Perhaps that is why, when you finally reach the familiar double doors that permit entrance into Jungkook’s office, your hand quavers in the anticipation that has you in its clutches down to your very bones and there is not a moment of pause that stops you from opening them as your hand curls around the brass handle only for you to slip inside, the small clink of the knob resounding around you when you close it behind you.
 Covering the oaken floor, a rug that you’d picked to decorate the room is lain over it. Threaded and crafted in India, it was one you’d seen in the marketplace he’d taken you to on one of his business trips to meet with a dealer that had contacted the firm in their interest to have the firm build a hotel there. You’d taken one look at the ornate swirls colored black as night and red as a rose in the way that the pattern had intertwined in rotating spirals and whirls and your boyfriend had not missed your small whisper about how nice it was while you’d both walked by it amongst the bustle of street life that filled the area packed with people and vendors energetically trying to sell their merchandise.
 You hadn’t thought that he’d heard you, but he’d promptly asked if you liked it and you really hadn’t been expecting anything at all when you’d commented and that it would complement his office in his knowledge that black and red were your favorite colors. With a smile, he’d taken out his wallet (much to your surprise) and taken out a wad of cash that he’d easily passed to the unsuspecting vendor before buying the rug and turning to the group of onlooking teenage boys to pay them off in their efforts to carry it over to your lodgings on your way to the consultation with your dealer.
 Later that night, he’d taken you to a very nice and very extravagant firelit, poolside meal at the Giardino by the the Jai Mahal Palace in Jaipur that you both were sharing a room in. He’d had you giggling every other minute between the fond touches that he’d brush along your cheek or stroke your clothed thigh with from atop the high-necked silk dress that he’d bought for you and after, you’d both had taken a stroll by the surrounding greenery and woodlands beyond the pool. The stars had gleamed in your eyes when you’d peered lovingly at him and not for the first time, he’d been struck with that pang in his chest whenever you looked at him like that while you both had reminisced about how you’d met in that dingy little bar about a year and a half prior.
 When you’d both kissed under the cover of the trees, that feeling that flew around his ribcage had fluttered when you’d adoringly pecked the mole beneath his lower lip as you’d earnestly and heartfeltly thanked him for everything that he’d done for you. When you’d confessed that he’d quickly become the light of your life, he’d tenderly pressed his forehead to your own as he’d pressed his lips to yours once more, the word that had fled him for so long that foretold his own emotions finally surfacing through the depths of his mind.
 He’d declared then and there that he loved you with sincerity beating as fast as his heart through every word. He’d been quick to gently thumb away at the teardrops of joy that spilled from your eyes when he’d finally said it while you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck as you reciprocated the sentiment in a breathless voice that held so much affection for him that it made his chest swell with the emotion and in that moment, he’d decided that he wanted to give you something that-when you looked upon it and felt its weight on your skin- you would be reminded of who loved you that intricately and implicitly.
  He’d held you close with only the moon’s eye presiding over you both while he’d cutely nudged at your nose, his fingers interlacing with your own that you readily accepted and when he’d pulled away, a new resolve had settled in his pupils as he tugged you forward and soon you found yourself being ushered through the busy, bustling streets of Jaipur.
 Bordering on the desert’s boundary, it was a city that you are sure could have been taken right out of a picture in the pinkened sandstone that every store and building had been crafted out of. Ancient structures erected in times past still stood strong among the newer and more modern creations of contemporary origin and the contrast boasted of a rich diversity that had you wanting to learn more about it despite the books that your boyfriend had gotten for you in a homely little bookstore earlier in the day. Youths had run through the streets with vivaciousness tailing them like the dogs that happily ran with them while the old had shuffled along and chattered about their daily lives and it was a place that was dyed in the warm color its inhabitants adored it with.
 Distracted as you had been with the scenery that painted itself into your memory with artful amalgamation of colors, you’d not noticed where he was intent on leading until he was opening a door for you and coaxing you inside with a reassuring nod despite your confused quirk of your chin, you let him guide you inside only to have you gasping under the fluorescently lit store that was notoriously known throughout India for its high class bijouterie called Tanishq.
 Though you had never heard of it, Jungkook himself had been told about the company from a contact in Mumbai that he’d visited with you in their interest in building an additional wing within the library and, upon seeing the way that you both had been inseparable in the tendency to be joined at the hip at all times, he’d suggested the store to your boyfriend after you’d gotten up from your place on his lap to go explore the books that had been crammed on the bookshelf while they’d both watched you curiously tap your fingers against the aged spines of the books. The elderly man had seen fondness for each other well up in your gazes as whenever you and your boyfriend looked upon each other and, after telling Jungkook he only saw that kind of amity in a newlywed couple, he mentioned the name of the store that only the wealthiest of grooms would purchase jewelry for their beloveds from.
 It had purely been by chance that you both had happened to walk by the same store the gray bearded man had spoken to him of and amongst seeing the way your eyes had widened bigger than the largest diamond in the store, Jungkook had decided you were priceless in how cute you were as he chuckled and told you to pick out anything you desired.
 You’d crinkled your nose in confusion, your brows creasing as you’d told him that you were perfectly happy to just have the treasure of him, but he’d only brought his lips to your forehead as he’d mused, “You know, you really are so adorable, Y/N. I want to spoil you. Won’t you let me do that for you, baby? I want to decorate you in my mark so that everyone will know who your heart belongs to. Please allow me to do so, petal.”
 You really had not been able to resist the big bunny eyes as he’d coaxed you forward and so he’d sat down on the leather loveseat in the corner of the room, the business-suited employees quietly looking on as you moved about.
 Jewels of every size, color and cut were decoratively placed within rectangular glass casings along either side of the first floor of the trendy store swathed in white walls and artificial illumination. Set within the walls themselves were square nooks that housed singular pieces separated from the rest that were couched on plush satin. The entire place was full of glittering jewelry that beckoned the eye, but your boyfriend had been noticed the way that you bit at your cheek as you passed them all by in your indecision since the collection of necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets were all so pretty to you.
 When he’d risen to inquire about any other pieces, the store representative had seemed reluctant at first to give such critical information, but it had taken only a moment for the older woman to retreat to the back to retrieve one of the store’s most coveted pieces that only respected customers could have the privilege of even looking at after Jungkook had, without your notice, stuck his hand into the inside pocket of his Gucci suit jacket to pull out a thick wad of American bills and rupees, his Rolex watch revealing itself from under the sleeve of the black outer garment whilst he did.
 When the woman had returned with a black lacquered box in her hand to set it down on the four-legged glass table and told Jungkook that the necklace inside was one of the store’s most prized possessions, his interest had been piqued as he called you over and, with a questioning expression, he’d chuckled as he walked over to you to gently ease you forward with a hand on the small of your back you’d come to before the little chest.
 He’d been gentle as he’d urged you to open it as you stared at the box, ever the patient man that he was as he waited for you to finally lift the lid of the chest. You hadn’t known what to expect when you heeded him, but it certainly hadn’t been the article of jewelry inside as it immediately drew your eye as your breath hitched at the sight of it.   
 Sat on bed of velvet, you’d grown fond of it the second you saw it in the way it glinted with each sliver of light that seemed to be drawn toward it. It commanded attention in the way it glittered and glistened in the rays of light that bounced off it and innocently, your fingers hovered over it yet never touched for the fear that you might destroy something so fragile and delicate.
 You hadn’t trusted yourself with it, but Jungkook had been all too eager to lift it up and off its resting place to lay it over your neck before clasping it around you and telling you to look in the mirror at yourself.
 Beset in white gold, diamonds grew within two thin metal vines that trailed and wrapped around your neck amidst buddings of flowers that intermingled along each side, the pistils of gems at their centers made of rubies. Upon the dip of the necklace along the notch between your clavicles, a slightly smaller floweret sprouted a larger one beneath it and connected to that was a falling petal that dangled prettily just under your collarbones.
 “You look beautiful in that, my precious flower. Its charm becomes you well, pretty girl.”
 Upon his praise, you’d preened as you’d thanked him for the adulation and before you could do anything else, he’d slid his black card out of black snakeskin Gucci wallet before telling the associate to simply ‘run it through’ with no hesitation as he drew his lip between his teeth as he watched you lightly skim your fingers over the ornate piece of jewelry.
 The representative had informed him when she’d brought it out that it was a grand total of $37,713 and yet, he would gladly give that small bit of money to bejewel you so that you could shine like the gem that you were to him. You never asked for any material things nor expected them of him like other women once did in your poorer upbringing that had left you destitute and in debt when you’d met him and despite all of that, you never requested aid from him and it was one of the reasons why he enjoyed lavishing such gifts on you in addition to paying off your school of his own volition even amidst your efforts to tell him that he didn’t have to (and yet he always wanted to wherever you were concerned).
 He’d assured you once more how lovely you looked, your cheeks turning red as the rubies you wore as he came behind you to plant his mouth under the clasp of the necklace along your nape, one of your hands reaching back to intermingle with his own as you’d quietly let him know how grateful you were and that he really didn’t have to expend so much effort to show you how he felt about you to which he wrapped his arms around you to seep the waters of his truth into you as he’d answered, “ Nonsense, petal. I want you to accept this so that whenever anyone looks at you and asks who got this for you,” he’d let his lips wander along flowing foliage of gems and gold as he’d soiled you with his kisses, “you will tell them that your boyfriend, whom you love so much, was the one who got it for you,” his mouth had lifted as he’d inched close to the shell of your ear as you shivered in the hot breath that prickled at your skin, “When you’re torn away from me because of work or anything else, I want you to remember that you twined yourself around me like the vines on this necklace and that I fell for you as surely as the petal that descends from it.”
 You’d been helpless to whimper at that as you’d turned your head to the side to meet his waiting lips that had been all too willing to receive you as you smiled into the kiss.
 Later that night, you’d been sure to show to him just how thankful you really were as you’d ridden him well through the midnight hours only to wake him with your lips wrapped around the very cock that, even in sleep, he’d ground against your ass in his voracious appetite that he liked only to consume from you.
 When you’d found yourself sitting atop him, his back lain against the headboard as you’d fucked yourself over his cock while the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, the jewels had glimmered enthusiastically amidst the riled rotations of your hips over him. Seven months later, the same brilliant bijou envelops your throat as you look down to the floor submissively like your boyfriend had taught you to do upon entry into his much larger and grander office, your fingers linking together behind your back just as he’d always instructed you to do.
 Two flat screen televisions are perched atop onyx oak media stands on either side of the room, their screens set alight with virtual fireplaces that blaze within them. Between them and atop the rug Jungkook had had brought over from India is a mid-sized sofa the color of mahogany and flanking that are two lounge chairs of colored like cream and in front of them is a square glass table. Jungkook had made sure to test the durability of just about every piece in the room, for he’d fucked you over just about everything as far as the eye could see and had done so too many times for you to even be able to count anymore in his constant craving for you.
 There are wooden blinds that span the length of every glass wall, each of them opened to allow the moon’s silvery beams to filter through them amidst the lamps positioned precariously around each corner of the room, the lampshades that top them covering the sides of the room in golden ambient incandescence that softly lights the edges of the office up in a yellowed hue that reminds you of much smaller rays of sunlight despite the moonlight that coalesces around the central figure in the room amid your boyfriend’s command that calls it forth upon him.  
 Presently, Jungkook is sat in an expensive and executive leather chair the color of soil, his legs thrown atop the wenge wood desk that was crafted and imported all the way from Africa in the rare material cut from the tough bark of the legume tree native to the country.
 You see none of this and fidget uncomfortably in the steadily oozing taint of your arousal that continues to percolate down your thigh while a voice low as a baritone emits itself from the iPhone lain over Jungkook’s desk as your boyfriend eyes you with interest, a smirk twitching at the side of one lip as he takes in your debauched state while the caller on his phone fills the room with his thick voice in the midst of the business call that he’d been made to make.
 It’s not the first time he’s had you come to him in the middle of a phone call, but you have to fight the whimper that wants to wheedle its way out of you at the memory of how he’d called you in here but a month ago to suck him off while he’d been in the middle of one with a client, his need for you too strong for him to lay to bed when he’d watched you hungrily gorge yourself on a banana from your seat in your office.
 “Jungkook, I need answers as we near the end of the fiscal year. You had many opportunities for appraisals this quarter and those preceding it and as such, I want to know where our dealers and contributors were most dense and what their appeal was so that we can draft out potential areas of interest to focus our fixed assets on. Surely in all of the trips and consultations you had for the last several months, you already have a response on the tip of your tongue.”
 “On the tip of your tongue,” your boyfriend makes a sound of thought as he taps his finger against his chin while he devours you with his roving gaze, “Perhaps I do, co-founder Taehyung. Speaking of evaluations,” your boyfriend’s voice darkens, “my secretary has been quite valuable to us.”
 At the mention of you, your heart does a flip in your chest as you fix your eyes somewhere between your feet because you know if you dare to look anywhere else, you might just become a fucking puddle of limbs on the floor.
 “Come here, Y/N,” Jungkook orders, your back straightening straight as an arrow at the instructions.
 You don’t know how you manage it with your legs as feeble as they are, but you move forward unsteadily despite the threatening numbness that leaves your ligaments dangerously close to giving out on you in the strength that has been stolen from them by your boyfriend.
 The clack of your high heels reverberates along the walls and is loud amidst the blood that pounds in your ears, your heart racing amidst the heavy, hot attention that is as warm as the sun’s rays over your bared skin as your boyfriend looks on at you.
 You move as drawn to him like he’s some kind of magnet and in the attraction for him that pulls away any rational thought, you find yourself standing before him, his hands rising to swaddle your hips in his hold. His touch, even through the black button down linen shirt that you wear, is warm and has you melting the instant his palms leisurely drag themselves up and down your sides as you relish in his attention.
 Taehyung continues with an impressed snort, “Jungkook, Jimin has informed me all about your little secretary many times over,” your boyfriend’s digits curl inward to sink into your soft skin at that as he informs, “This is not the time to be rambling about how she’s snatched both your heart and cock in each of her hands. I want facts, not sentiments.”
 “Oh, but that’s the thing, Tae,” Jungkook lilts, his grip on you tightening as he ushers you between his legs that he spreads for you, your own bones liquifying like goo under his strength that he’s spent many hours in the gym working to acquire as you make a sound of startlement when he suddenly turns you around and whisks you into his lap, your ass sitting down upon the hardened bulge that readily receives you as Jungkook chuckles in the mess of your taint that darkens the fabric of his pants where your core is perched over him to amusedly offer, “ She has erected more than just my cock, however many times it has been, I’ll have you know. She was the one who orchestrated dealings with, hm,” one hand lifts from your side so that long fingers can coax your chin up and to the side so that the two of you lock eyes, “how many dealers this year did you have coming for me, darling? Tell Taehyung here. I think he’s underestimating how useful you’ve been to me.”
 “S-sixty nine,” you blurt as the hand on your chin descends down the ‘v’ of your shirt, his deft digits popping open the small buttons without pause and the plummet you’d taken in his dilating irises that promise nothing but sin, you have to climb along their edges only to realize what you’d said and quickly you stammer as you amend, “I-I mean, 669 contractors, T-Taehyung. I helped to orchestrate that number of dealers that were taken by the company.”
 “Everything alright, baby?” Your boyfriend husks into the shell of your ear, his teeth taking one lobe between them as the last button is undone, your shirt opening to reveal your bra-clad breasts as his hand flows freer than water in the way he draggles it along your abdomen until he possessively wraps it around one breast to give you a harsh squeeze, your head falling back against his shoulder as you bite at your lip to keep quiet while your skin pebbles at his touch.
 “Jungkook,” you breathe, “do something. Please.”
 “Mmm, you’ve been so good for me, so good for the company, petal,” He emphasizes as he trails his lips down the column of your neck and you turn into the featherlight touch of his lips and between them, he utters,” Don’t you agree, Jimin?”
 Your eyes widen at the name despite the heat that fertilizes your arousal deep in your core, but you don’t dare look away from Jungkook without permission. Your boyfriend nips at the tender spot along the base of your neck where the garden of jewels wrap themselves around you that he’d bought for you months prior and it is only when the hand on your breast slowly streamlines downwards to slip under the waistline of your skirt to slide between your sopping folds that he hisses into your ear, “Fuck, baby, are you that turned on in the knowledge that he just watched me do all this to you?” You moan, but it is trapped behind the hand he covers your mouth with while his fingers prod at your hole, your entrance begging him to find himself in your wet warmth in the way you clench around nothing as he rasps, “Look at him, babygirl. I want you to see what you’ve done to him because you just can’t resist me, can you? Go on, doll. Make him fall to his knees for you just like I did.”
 With your head still laid against his shoulder as he lavishes you in the brush of his soft lips against you, you shift your visage away from your boyfriend with some effort, your irises wandering from Jungkook’s deadly distending ones that are colored black as a shark’s in the predatory way he looms above you to those of the only other man in the room that might just be a puppy in disguise with the way his light brown irises implore your own for some much wanted attention.
 Dressed in a plain black suit that contrasts his unique beauty, your CEO wears a tie over a white dress shirt that you wish you could see through to gage which of the pair of them is more muscled between the two of them. His hair is carefully styled in its parting that leaves his entire forehead naked to your sight amidst the thick tufts that arch up along the left while the right side is pressed loosely along his scalp, his sideburns extending to the middle of his ear that is ringed with three hoops along each side. Perfectly sculpted brows frame almond eyes that beg for yours and lips that rival your own boyfriend’s decorate him below a straight nose. His lower lip is slightly thicker than his upper one and they are quite shapely around the thumb he currently gnaws at much like a chew toy, his tongue longer than a dog’s as it curves under the digit while he waits for his master to give him notice.
 Jimin is entirely lost in the way that his other hand is presently wrapped around the tie as if it is a leash that keeps his hand from going lower so that he can rut into himself like you know he must want to given the white of his knuckles that mar his skin as he clutches at the thin piece of silk. His hand appears so much smaller around the article of clothing, his fingers so much shorter than your boyfriend’s that clamp down over your mouth as one finger pushes into your hole, your walls clenching around him and the whimper that wants to escape never makes it out of you and when you see Jimin’s digits begin to tremble with how tightly he holds onto the tie, you wonder what they might be able to do to you despite their littler size.
 “That’s it, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you as he runs his tongue at the sternocleidomastoid muscle cording the base of your neck, your walls contracting within you as he drives his digit back and forth with his middle finger while using the others to run along your folds as he does, your face contorting into one of pleasure as your hips buck atop him all while Jimin bites hard onto his own thumb as he watches the both of you and it is then that Jungkook mutters lowly, “Keep doing that. He’s getting hard for you, petal. He could never get as hard for you as I do, but he’s getting there, doll,” your boyfriend nibbles at your now exposed shoulder to stifle the groan when you press your ass more insistently on him as he pulls your shirt off of you to give a sotto voce demand, “Use my fingers and get yourself off with them, pretty girl. Fuck yourself on me and let him watch you fall apart on top of me, Y/N.”
 You don’t need to be told twice and, following his instruction, you plant both hands in front of you with each on one of this thighs, your fingers curling inward to pitch themselves into the grounds of built up muscle that compose his legs to lift yourself up only to sink back onto his digit that easily goes all the way down to his knuckle in how deep his digit is plunged inside you. Your whine is captured by the hand he replaces with his lips in a passionate kiss that draws all your attention back to him before they flutter closed, his mouth overtaking your own as he glides his tongue along your lower lip before twisting around your own as he feasts himself on you.
 Taehyung’s voice cuts through it all as he huffs, “I don’t know what is going on over there, but someone better give me some answers,” there’s a pause and the sound of fabric rustling when your moan writhes itself between Jungkook’s lips that are held over your mouth when a second finger is added and he deliciously curls his fingers in a come-hither motion as your hips jerk atop him and when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth only to release your mouth and leave you in a dizzied daze amid the loss of oxygen he’d taken from you,  his lips lower to graze the nape of your neck as your head falls forward amidst the sudden jerk of your hips over him as Taehyung clears his throat, “Jimin, is what Jungkook said what you know to be true? If so, have you any idea where most of her accounts were set up so that we can look into stimulating more in those areas?”
 “So sensitive for me,” your boyfriend mouths at your skin, this thumb brushing your clit to have you stutter your hips as he works you open on top of him,” So fucking wet, too. Come on, babygirl. Show them how bad you want me. Make them wish they could fuck you every night like I do,” he husks as he impels his fingers back and forth inside you, your pussy clinging to his fingers in the lewd squelches that permeate the room and all the while, Jimin’s visage is tugged to the sight of your boyfriend’s digits disappear within your cunt as his own member begins to weep precum in want of you.
 “S-she um, well…yes, correct,” he flounders as words scramble in every direction within his mind as he observes a sex film right in front of him that is infinitely more arousing than any porno he has seen before in how receptively submissive you are to Jungkook who has you looking fucked out when he’s only just begun his ministrations on you.
 You, who has been in Jimin’s dreams and thoughts during many nights when he has been alone in bed with his only company being the pillows he’d rut into for some semblance of relief when his hand would become too tired to bear the burden of lust that you had inspired without even knowing.
 Helpless as an abandoned puppy, he can only look on as a rumble razes from between his lips s you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s digits only to fall back down on them as he scissors them into you with precision, each finger stretching you out around him as your own hands tighten their hold on his thick thighs amidst the whimper that is heaved from your lips when his thumb flicks at the bundle of nerves foresting your core to have your jerk atop his rock hard member that strains against the confines of his trousers.
 The fingers on your side bite into your skin as he constringes them around you while he leans forward to growl, “Watch it, baby. I never you said you could ride me yet,” you whine only for him to connect his lips to the spot just under your ear to suck the skin into his mouth and that has you keen as your hips careen into the fingers that have deliciously started to thrust into you as he hisses, “You want daddy’s dick, huh? Do you think you can fucking take it, doll? I’m not so sure… I think,” his thumb pressurizes itself into your clit in slight palpitations that are too calculated and measured against the rapid beats of your heart while a third finger is inserted and propelled inside to have you cry out as his tone bottoms in pitch amidst the way your back bows against him, “I think that since you were two minutes fucking late in getting here, you need to be taught a lesson about coming on time. Jimin, come here.”
 “You guys act like such children over your toys, fuck. I just wanted to have a normal business call for once,” Taehyung’s voice drones on, but there’s a slight tick to it that suggests he might not be as irritated as he wants to sound while he grumbles, “I don’t want to be privy to this. I’ve only heard Jimin’s voice get like that once when I took him to a strip club and I’m not going to stick around for your little threesome or whatever the fuck you all are about to do.”
 “Oh, but you will, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook’s hand rises from your hip to unclasp your bra and when he divests it off of your writhing body, it falls with a thump to the floor with the last of Jimin’s self-restraint, his fingernails digging into the silk of his tie to leave crescent moons in his palms as he rises to lick at his lips in the way that your tits sway temptingly to the motions as you jounce atop your boyfriend while Jungkook smirks, his lips hovering only an inch from your own shoulder as his irises flash darkly at Jimin when he asserts, “Jimin here has some nice, big lips and he likes to put them to use and run his mouth around me,” Jimin’s eyes widen as his teeth come down on his cheek while Jungkook’s smile lethally widens, “He’s told me all about what you did the night you came to the office in the supply closet with one of my receptionists and how you told him that you let a particular name slip from your mouth when you had your cock in someone else’s.”
Jimin’s back goes rigid as a rod and he stops midway in his journey toward you, the filaments of his tie near their tearing point with how tightly his hand is wound around it as his cheeks puff out while he peers pleadingly at Jungkook who simply ticks his head to the side, one brow arching in amusement as he asks, “What was the name again, Jimin? I’ll let you touch her if you tell Taehyung the truth. I know you must want to see how responsive she is under your fingers, yeah?”
 “For fuck’s sake, Jimin, do not listen to Jungkook-“
 “Y/N,” he softly says despite the rough hold on his tie in its stitching that has started to tear. With Jungkook’s heavy ultimatum resting on his shoulders, it really hadn’t been possible for him to crumble under its dense weight with the sweet serendipity of you that was so near that he could almost taste it.
 Your face lifts at the mention of yourself, your eyes meeting Jimin’s and in them there is surprise that is flecked by lifted brows, but it is soon smeared away by the desire that blotches them as Jungkook chooses that moment to let his tongue peek from between his lips only to trail it along the nape of your neck before closing his mouth around you to siphon you once again between them, your neck gradually becoming a woodland of reddened petals that rival the color of a rose in the passion that had been emitted in the making of them.
 Appeased, Jungkook hums, “Mmm, good boy. I knew you would listen to me. Come and claim your reward,” he husks as he circles your clit with his thumb the way he knows you like it, your end rapidly nearing as your boyfriend shoves all three fingers into you without pause at the same time that you frenziedly meet his ministrations in faltering jolts of your hips over him and when you watch Jimin tortuously pull his lower lip under his perfect buck teeth as he moves mercifully closer, you moan out when Jungkook’s middle finger prods at the cluster of nerves deep within you as your boyfriend groans at the way your slick drips down his fingers with how much taint you produce in want of them both before he goads, “Go on, Jimin. Touch her. Her tits were made by a fucking succubus. God, they’re so good for a nice cocksleeve aren’t they, babygirl?”
 “Yes, Jungkook…yes,” you breathlessly reply as your nipples harden in the cold air that prickles at your exposed skin, a dangerous jab of his fingers deep into you drawing a guttural sound deep from the recesses of your body that he expertly forges you with as his thumb swirls over your clit to leave you panting.
 In your labored suspirations, your chest heaves back and forth, your tits being pushed out and in to have Jimin’s fingers shuddering from their prison of their cage in his tie while his other hand mindlessly reaches for you.
 As he nears you, Jungkook speeds up his ministrations inside you, his fingers curving dangerously to rub against your walls that clench around him and it isn’t until Jimin hovers awkwardly by the side of Jungkook’s desk that he notices the way that Jungkook drags one hand away from your side to snake it around your abdomen and pull you flush against his chest as he clucks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jimin… did I tell you when you were allowed to touch her? Did you think you could just come over here and have what is mine without my permission?”
Jimin’s hand shoots away from you as if he’d been burned as he shamefully casts his visage to the floor as he speaks haltingly,” I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…she’s just pretty as a doll on your lap, Jungkook. Please, let me have her. I’ll be good to her, I promise.”
 “Did you both forget that I’m still here? Christ. I can’t believe you told Jungkook that I said the name of his damn girlfriend while I was getting sucked off, Jimin,” there’s a sound of a belt buckle opening as his voice hardens, “I guess I can’t really help it. You do have quite an eye for women, Jungkook. None more so than this one, though,” You feel the grin against you amidst the skin that is currently being suctioned between his lips as he decorates you in another necklace that blossoms in blots of purple and red under the one made of gems gleaming enticingly around you as Jungkook suddenly brings your ass down onto his clothed, yet colossal cock in time with digits that pierce you all the way to your g-spot, your eyes rolling back with your head that lands on your boyfriend’s shoulder as Taehyung cavils, “It’s her fault for getting my dick wet whenever I come to visit the office. You should thank whatever god is up there that you found such a loyal little girl to give herself to you," You preen at the words despite the fingers currently driving themselves ferociously into you as Jungkook agrees with a nod while he rambles, "I will say I tried making a move on her when I last came to the office and when she refused and instead went to your office, that's how I found myself in that supply closet."
 “So I heard from Jimin, Taehyung,” Jungkook muses as while he helixes his digits inside you without fail, the arm that still is enclosed around you pulling you back into him so that there is no space that remains between you as he hotly intones into the shell of your ear loud enough for them all to hear, “I fucked her maybe seven different ways that night because of that. She just couldn’t get enough of me, could she, babygirl?”
 You agree as you hoist yourself up only to heft yourself back down with a broken moan as Jimin turns to the table in the absence of you to rut himself into it, his face contorted into one of concentration as he tries to think about anything but how your pussy would feel around the cock that cries wantonly for you.
 “Look at him, baby,” Jungkook urges as he swirls his thumb over your clit, “he can’t even contain himself for you anymore,” he speaks up, “He just can’t take it, can he?”
 “Can…can take it, Jungkook, please. I need to feel her. Need to touch her,” Jimin manages despite the obstinate grooves of the desk that scuff and scrape his member rigidly as he tries, and fails, to simulate some semblance of relief without you as he attempts to say, “You’re t-torturing m-me. Let me do something to her, anything to her.”
 “Do you think you should be allowed to touch what isn’t yours so freely? She’s mine,” Jungkook growls as he curves his digits purposefully inside you, his own cock throbbing at the way your juices have now coated his entire hand whilst your walls flutter tellingly around him as you submerge yourself on his digits with thighs that now tremble with your rigorous efforts, a moan slewing from your lips as he slides his fingers so deep inside that they press skillfully at the bundle of nerves that has your back arching against him while he possessively wraps his hand around your throat that had been on your abdomen to keep you in place and when his thumb twiddles itself around your clit, that’s when you cry out for your boyfriend who then smirks knowingly, his eyes flitting from you only to sear into Jimin's as he arches a brow to ask, “She’s almost there, isn’t she, Jimin? How badly do you want to touch her? Beg for me and maybe I’ll let you have a small piece of her before she fucking gets stuffed full of my cock for the fourth time today.”
 Your end is so close, yet so far away. Like the waters of an ocean, it washes over your feet, but the waves of pleasure in the distance that roll deeper in the seas of rapture are too far away from you to reach as you sink into the sands that are grained with Jungkook’s control over you to keep you from moving toward it. With your end so close, you hardly even process what is said when Taehyung talks under his breath that has quickly become erratic in your sounds of ecstasy that have wrapped around his cock as he jacks himself off on the other end of the line.
 “Tell him what he wants to know, Jimin,” Taehyung advises, his voice strained through the strenuousness of his own indecent actions as he wishes it was your cunt that his cock was enveloped in while his voice deepens, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
 “You’ll both wait until I decide when Jimin can play with what belongs to me,” Jungkook professes, his fingers speeding themselves inside you and when you whimper at the way he slides his digits deliciously inside you at the same time his thumb strikes your clit, it’s enough to have you buck your hips as he tightens his fingers around your throat in warning while he orders, “You’re not allowed to cum yet, babygirl. Don’t even think about it. I want to put my cock in you so you can warm me up for later, yeah?”
 “Jungkook, I can’t hold on for much longer,” you confess through elusive breaths as his fingers constrict around your throat for daring to admit that.
 “You’ll hold on as long as I tell you to, baby. That cunt won’t get off on its own, will it?” He husks whilst his fingers deftly stroke your walls in curled motions as his thumb falls from your clit to ream the outer lips of your sex and you sob out at the loss of stimulation to the nerves crowning your womanhood as he watches your expression change in a myriad of different countenances before you settle on submission and nod knowing that you won’t get what you want if you disobey him after many lessons imparted to you in the bedroom.
 “That’s right, baby. Obey,” Jungkook groans as you clench around him and it’s when he hears Jimin call for him in a hushed tone that a devious idea unfurls itself in his mind and he doesn’t have to look over at Jimin to see that the older man is bent over the desk and is mindlessly grinding into it to resolving none of the tension that coils around his hardened member.
 This little game was far too fun to end so soon and so Jungkook chuckles darkly as you stretch yourself open atop him, his digits tracing the sensitive skin around your hole despite the three fingers that are knuckles deep within you as he starts, “As for you, Jimin, I believe I said you’d need to beg for her if you want her that badly You do want her, don’t you?.”
 The older man stops his movements at the referral of his name, his eyes glinting pleadingly as he turns his head to lay his cheek on the table, the bones of his hands pressing taut against the whitened skin he grips the sides of the desk with as he wracks his brain for anything resembling a coherent sentence and it is the sight of you with your eyes closed and mouth parted as you rebound up and down on your boyfriend’s fingers that has his own quiver in the wish to feel you himself as he swallows to comply, “I-I want her so bad, Jungkook. I’ll…I’ll do anything you want, but please, let me touch her.”
 Jungkook seems to be satisfied with that as he nods, his irises blazing in acknowledgement as he demands, “Kneel for her, Jimin. That’s what all men eventually do for her and this precious little cunt.”
 The words are barely out of his mouth before Jimin falls before you, his hands closing around Jungkook’s knees just inches below your own that squeeze your boyfriend’s thighs in a vise-like grip.
 Need saturates his eyes and shaking fingers as he waits patiently for Jungkook to give him the green light and like this, the view he is granted might just make him cum untouched in the way that Jungkook sinfully shears his fingers in your cunt as you come down on them in frantic sweeps of your hips, his hand entirely drizzled in your essence that glistens as if to tempt him in the soft light of the room.
 He doesn’t realize that he’s salivating like a fucking dog until Jungkook gruffly commands into the shell of your ear that he flicks his tongue against, “Open your eyes, babygirl. I want you to see how fucking desperate you’ve made our little Jiminie. God, you’re fucking hot, doll. I’m so damn hard for you right now.”
 Not wanting to disobey him, you let your lids flutter open, your breath catching at the sight of the pretty boy that is on his knees for you. His once perfectly styled hair is tousled after he runs his hand through it, his tongue darting between his plush lips as he stares at you like you’re food he wants very badly to eat.
 And how you’ve wanted him to do just that for weeks, though you know deep down that Jungkook would always take you to the seventh heaven without fail.
 Your hips stutter yet again at the visage of him when you lift your head, one of your hands lifting so that your fingers can trace the outline of his shapely mouth. You are slow to make contact with his lips that are softer than a feather yet rival those of the Bratz dolls you’d play with when you were younger. He relishes in your touch and even leans into you as if to grant silent permission for more and when you run your digit down his lower lip to watch it snap back up against his teeth, you moan at the thought of what it would feel like if he-
 Your hand is suddenly pulled away as your boyfriend’s long fingers enclose themselves around your wrist as he brings your arm back to marionette it behind you and when he brings your palm down on his weeping member that sobs for you even through his trousers, that’s when you suck in a breath whilst the fingers on your throat release you to grasp your chin so that your head is turned to the side, your visage instantly being pushed back to him as he gives a devastating blow to your pussy through the twist of his fingers in your cunt to have you whine out when he jams them inside you.
 “I believe I taught you to wait for my approval before I let you do anything, didn’t I, babygirl?”
 “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey,” you try even knowing that the last time he went unheeded by you, he’d left you on your bed to finish yourself off with your own hand.
 “And yet you did, baby. Do you think you deserve to cum now?” your boyfriend inquires, his fingers slackening inside you to have you whimper when he extricates them from you only to bring all three digits to his lips, his tongue laving at them as his eyes scintillate with fervor to have you clench around nothing and Jimin watches the way your essence oozes out of you without Jungkook to clog you now as your boyfriend’s irises simmer hotly into yours that he trails down your body and everywhere his gaze goes, the ire of fire is stoked in every crevice of you as he decides, “I think you need to be reminded of who really owns you. Take my cock out, babygirl. Do not make daddy wait.”
 With your back still flush against his chest, it’s hard to fight past the haze of arousal that clouds your mind. Your boyfriend knows this just by peering down at you and, taking pity on your afflicted state, he helps guide your hand to where his zipper is. With how unbelievably large he is, you don’t need to search for his cock in its obscene girth and lewd length. You don’t have to work at it his zipper for long, for it opens to you easily and really, you can’t think too much on the fact that he’s not wearing any boxers underneath his pants as his cock springs free and your fingers slip along it until you hold him in your palm.
 He’s heavy in your hand with the blood that engorges his member and your walls contract at the way his veins all but bulge out against your hand as you drag your hand down all the way to his base before gripping him to earn a groan from him that you swallow down your own throat when he draws you forward into a French kiss that leaves your tongue numb in how roughly he sucks it into his mouth.
 When you’re on the verge of losing what little breath you had left and you squeeze his cock, that’s when he releases you to rasp, “Good girl. Now, sit the fuck down on me and ride me.”
 Needing no further prompting, you raise yourself off him to line yourself up with him and when you sink down onto him and welcome him into your wet warmth, your head falls forward in the lack of ability to hold it up anymore, your mouth dropping open with the way that he fills you so wholly and completely that there is no room to think of anything but him.
 It is a lucky thing indeed that you have a birth control insert so that you don’t have to worry about anything in times such as these and it is pure bliss that pangs through every corner of your body the moment he finds his home inside you and you can only repeat his name with how deep his cock is lodged inside you.
 Below you, Jimin raptly observes how your boyfriend disappears inside you as you start to grind atop him, your hips eagerly canting him as he sits back and enjoys the show.
 “P-please, Jungkook, can I?” He questions, not caring at this point what Jungkook will let him do so as long as he can do something.
 “You know, you do have some really pretty lips, Jimin,” Jungkook considers, his irises burning into Jimin’s own in the view of him he’s given with your head down between your shoulders as you unthinkingly sweep your hips over him to have him grunt, “How about you kiss her with them?”
 A shaky breath trembles as it is dislodged from between Jimin’s lips, your eyes irises drawn to the source of the sound as you gaze into eyes that widen bigger than a Boston Terrier’s and you don’t have time to process what has just been said before a familiar hand wraps around the underside of your breast, a groan falling from your boyfriend’s mouth at how supple your skin is between his fingers as he holds one breast as if to offer it to the older man, your nipple hardening as his digits that have been chilled by the cool air cause goosebumps to raise themselves up over you.
 You watch as Jimin’s sight becomes entirely transfixed by the way that Jungkook’s hand completely closes around your tit whilst you continue to gyrate your hips atop him, a wantful moan releasing itself from your throat when Jungkook leans forward to take the clasp of the necklace he bought for you between his teeth as he pulls it back with him so that you follow him when he seats himself against the backrest of the chair once more.
 In the movement, your breasts sway while you pirouette your hips around Jungkook and, as if to entice Jimin, your boyfriend swirls his thumb around your areola that puckers itself out around the cold digit that draws itself around it.
 Jimin makes a sound akin to a wail and it’s what has Jungkook smirking wolfishly behind you as he taunts, “I bet it must be so difficult to just sit there and watch her get fucked so well, isn’t it? You want her, Jimin? Kiss her.”
 You observe the way that Jimin’s tongue swipes itself along his lips and the blonde haired man before you does not need to be told again before he slants himself forward and, all in one movement, opens his mouth to take the breast your boyfriend holds inside it.
 “Ah…please,” you whimper as his warm lips heat your cooled skin and your boyfriend chooses that moment to constringe his fingers around your breast to the same time that Jimin’s agile tongue flicks along the underside of your tit. His mouth and tongue are smaller than your boyfriend’s, but you’re beyond the point of caring as both men make it their motive to please you.
 When your boyfriend plants hot kisses to the tip of your spine right under your nape and below the fastener of the necklace he’d just been tugging on, Jimin seems to notice and suddenly, he’s hollowing his cheeks as he suckles from your tit like a newborn babe.  
 You splutter as your waist stammers atop of your boyfriend once more as he drives his hips into you, a grin lifting at his features as Jimin hums in satisfaction at the way your flesh melds around his mouth, the vibrations shooting like an arrow straight down to your cunt as your boyfriend impels himself inside you with a powerful thrust that had been drawn from the bow of his own hips.
 It’s enough to have you keen, one of your hands lifting behind you and back to tangle in the roots of your boyfriend’s tresses while your other cards through Jimin’s locks as you encourage both of them while you plead, “Please, don’t…don’t stop. I’m getting c-close.”
 “What are you guys fucking doing to her? She sounds like she’s about to break,” Taehyung comments against the slick sounds of his hand fastening its pace along his length as he chides, “Jungkook, it’s rude to ignore your superior when he’s asking you questions.”
 “You should consider it a privilege that I am allowing you to be part of this at all considering that you tried to take what will never be yours,” Jungkook groans when you pull at his hair while you swivel your hips erratically over him as you turn your head to the side to peer at him with a gaze that appears as fucked out as he will soon feel and he makes haste to attach his lips to the spot beneath your ear, his tongue darting along your sensitive skin while Jimin doubles his efforts on your breast to have you whining and when your boyfriend releases you, his other hand latches onto your neglected breast, his fingers expertly tweaking your nipple between them to have your own fingers tightening along your boyfriend’s thigh at the same moment that your walls contract around his member in warning whilst he amusedly discloses, “Since you’ve you been so complacent today, however, I think I will be merciful and let Jimin, your dear best friend, explain.”
 With your breast still in his mouth, Jimin’s eyes have become clouded by the lust that hazes them and Jungkook grins at the sight of the elder man’s ruin while he manages, “I…I’m sucking at her tit, Taehyung. Jungkook was right. They’re so soft in my mouth,” he draws shapes along your areola as he swallows and it’s only when you let your fingernails trail along his scalp that he is coaxed into continuing, “Jungkook is, well… she’s riding him and facing me so that I can see everything. You’d probably c-come if you saw this, Tae. She’s…she’s absolutely heaven in my mouth and her pussy just keeps swallowing Jungkook like it can’t get enough of him. It’s hotter than anything we’ve ever seen at the s-strip club.
 “Good boy, Jimin. So obedient for me. You may have your reward now,” Jungkook grunts while you bear yourself down on him at the same time that he slams his hips up into you all while he gropes at both breasts in his mission to have as much of you as he possibly can before he instructs, “Kiss her where she needs us most, Jimin. Taste her for yourself and see how fucking divine she is and understand why all men eventually get on their fucking knees for this cunt of hers.”
 The sounds of sluiced skin reverberate through the phone that lays innocently on the desk despite the sin unfolding around it and Jimin does as he’s told like the perfect little student and before you realize what’s happening, he liberates your breast from his mouth and delivers devastating osculation down your chest in flurried busses amidst lips soft as snowflakes as he descends down your body slowly.
 Your own movements atop your boyfriend’s member quicken in the rapid anticipation driving you back and forth on him and when you watch him pause his ministrations when he gets to the apex of your thighs, for you are entirely fascinated by the way that Jimin draws his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at your sex that greedily clings to your boyfriend’s dick.
 When his eyes roam upward and he meets your own, something flares in them to stoke the already fierce fire within you and when you curl your fingers in his locks to encourage him toward you, he relinquishes to you as if he’s merely your own plaything that you can do with as you wish.
 When his mouth finally affixes itself to the bundle of nerves that sit above your glistening folds, you cry out as your cunt closes around your boyfriend’s member, your fingers tethering onto them both as your thighs begin to tremble once more in the attention that is lavished on you between them.  
 Your boyfriend’s fingers find themselves winding around your neck once more as he draws your back against his chest and he croons, “Are you close, my love? Do you want Jimin to help you cum on me?” He hums when you nod frenetically to say, “I bet it must be really difficult not to let go and get daddy all dirty with your cum, huh? That’s alright. I’ll let you finish on me soon, but first,” his fingers constrict around your throat as he breathes into the shell of your ear, “What did I tell you that you need to do when you want something?”
 Language lurks somewhere in your addled brain and, as if to save you from punishment, Jimin lightens his ministrations to your cunt and instead airily pecks at your clit as you search your mind for what your boyfriend wants to hear.
 The longer you take, the more compactly his fingers curve around your throat and it’s when the hand still around your breast possessively squeezes you that breathe the air that begins to threaten to enter your airway as you respond,” Words, sir. You have taught me that I need to use my words to get what I want.”
 “That’s my girl. You’ve been so good for daddy, haven’t you?” He asks as he propels his hips into you in a harsh sweep of his hips that you readily receive as your walls welcome him.
 “Yes,” you suspire when his fingers release you around your throat to dive down and rest on your hip as he eagerly pulls you back down on him to earn a whimper from you, “I want..want to cum on you, daddy. Will you let your babygirl have her release, please? Want it so bad. Want you so badly, sir.”
 “Mmm,” your boyfriend hums, “I like it when it you beg for me. Since you’ve been so well behaved and let daddy do whatever he wanted with you, I will give it to you,” he says between kisses down your spine that his own bones will allow him to grant you before he straightens and speaks up, “Jimin, take her into your mouth once more, but this time, make love to her with your lips while her boyfriend fucks her tight little cunt, yeah? I want to see if she’ll squirt for us.”
 Jimin does just as he’s told, his mouth closing around your clit at the same time that your boyfriend crams himself inside you whilst his hand whorls around your areola as you squirm atop him. Jimin is tentative in the way he brushes the bundle of nerves with his tongue, but your boyfriend is surefire in the way he pistons himself up into you, your cunt fluttering around him in warning as you blurt,” C-close, Jungkook. Please-“
 “Cum all over me, babygirl. Get daddy all fucking wet and cream all over these pants that you fucking ruined because you need me so bad,” your boyfriend declares, both of his hands reaching for and trapping one breast in their hold as you fuck yourself over him before he husks, “Let Jimin see how good you are for me, doll. Show him how much you love my cock by coming around me and soaking me in your sweet juices, baby.”
 It is with a devastating swipe of Jimin’s thick tongue against your clit while your boyfriend tweaks your nipples between his fingers as he drives his hips purposefully into you that you throw your head back, your eyes rolling as you careen off the edge of the release you’d been dangling over for so long. It hits you like a watery wave that cascades over you and you scream out your boyfriend’s name as your walls swell around him and he throbs inside you while your walls clench repeatedly in their need to keep him locked within you until the last of your release has deluged you.
 Your essence pours down from the rainforest of your sex and you don’t know how long your womanhood ebbs and flows with it as your body is flooded with endorphins that liquifies your insides as Jungkook fucks you through it whilst Jimin sucks at your clit without pause, his tongue lapping at your sopping center that is doused with your taint like he’s a starved man eating away at the delicatessen that is you.  
 “That’s it, babygirl. Let him taste how fucking delectable you are,” your boyfriend croons, his lips securing themselves to your exposed shoulder to bring your flesh between his teeth as he too suctions you within his mouth as he coos, “She’s getting me all wet, isn’t she, Jimin? Does she taste as good as she looks? Come on, tell me, pretty boy.”
 Jimin releases you once he runs his tongue between your silken folds, his entire chin smeared in your essence as wipes it away with the back of his hand before licking away at that which has soiled his own skin as he peers with a hooded gaze up at you to confirm, “She’s sweeter than honey, Jungkook. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pussy that appetizing. I…I could eat her out all day.”
 “Of course you could,” Jungkook amusedly replies, one hand settling on your hip to still your shaking limbs as his aching cock sobs for more within you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your side while the digits of his other palm fondly trace the blooming petals of red and purple marring every inch of your throat and shoulders as he muses, “And what of you, babygirl? Did daddy take good care of you?”
 “Yes,” you try between labored breaths despite the way you lean into your boyfriend’s wandering fingers, “You treated me so well, sir. Felt so amazing.”
 Your boyfriend watches you lay your head back onto his shoulder, a smirk rising along the edges of both lips in amusement as he observes how your eyes flutter closed, your body sagging back against him despite the cock that is still lodged balls deep inside you.
 “I do hope that’s not all that you’ve got to give me, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you, the fingers along your nape ascending until he’s grasping your chin to urge your head to the side so that you stare into his simmering irises that are quick to light the fire of desire within you anew before he darkly declares, “because daddy’s not done with you yet.”
 Your breath hitches at that and Jungkook finds it adorable that your eyes manage to widen so largely while Jimin’s own just about bulge from his head at the insinuation.
 “D-daddy, I don’t know if I can take it,” you hardly manage to get out before he roughly consumes them himself, his mouth attaching to yours and drawing what little breath you had left away from you as his tongue glides across your lower lip before he nips at you in punishment.
 When he pulls away, you’re left entirely breathless as he taunts, “You will do what I tell you to because you want to please me, don’t you? You say that you can’t handle more, but you’re the same person that begs for my cock every night because you’re such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”
 “I…” You trail off when his irises dip languidly down your body until they souse themselves where you are still connected to him and underneath that, the collection of your slick that you’ve deposited over every inch of his nether region.
 “Cat got your tongue, baby? Or should I say cock got your tongue because of how needy for me that little cunt is?” He asks with a flick of a dark, sculpted brow.
 Despite the release that has just washed over you, you find the tide of lust soaking you through  with each word he speaks, your core dripping even more of your essence onto the pool of it that has accumulated over Jungkook.
 Jimin only looks on in rapt interest, his own cock quivering with the want that strikes him through at the spectacle of you spread open atop of your boyfriend.
 “Did she get off on you, Jungkook? Shit, that’s got me hard again,” Taehyung curses through the phone that had long been forgotten by you and Jungkook in the rapture that had befallen you both.
 “She did, Taehyung. She loved it, too,” your boyfriend affirms as you nuzzle him affectionately before he chuckles at your adorability, “She’s ready for round two now, I think. Jimin,” Jungkook’s blackened irises sear into the elder man’s, “You are to go to the couch over there and strip for her, but keep the tie on. Once you’re done with that, lay down on your back and wait for my precious doll to come to you when I tell her to. Got it?”
 “I-I understand.” Jimin responds as he stands, his knees sore from being on them too long as he leaves the two of you and begins divesting himself of his attire much to none of the notice of the both of you.
 Jungkook allows you to nudge his neck with your nose, your warm breaths tickling his skin and when you make the mistake of shifting, he hisses, “Careful, baby. You wouldn’t want me to take you right here again, now would you?”
 You lick at your lips while you stare openly at his, the hand that still is entrenched in his tresses sliding down to cup the base of his neck as you apologetically blink up at him to admit, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.”
 “I know you didn’t, petal,” he caresses your cheek with the knuckles of his hand before he helps you off of him only to turn you around in his lap, his still hard cock springing back against his chiseled abdomen and it is only when you face him that he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear to praise, “You’ve been so good for me, baby. Do you want me to give you a reward?”
 “You already have, my love,” you whisper as you lean forward to kiss the freckle beneath his bottom lip that you love so much before you tell him again, “You already have.”
 “So wonderful for me,” he adulates as he cups your cheek and runs the pad of his finger along it to utter, “Wanna make you come again, beautiful. Will you let me?”
 You nod, your own hand taking his tie between your fingers and twirling it around them as you bite your lip, “You already know the answer a thousand times over, Jungkook. I want to please you, too. Can I?”
 The hand on your waist wraps around you to pull you close so that you hover only an inch or so away from him and he groans at the way your hand closes around the base of his member to stroke him tortuously, his eyes flashing perilously as his own fingers enfold themselves around you to hold you in an iron hold as he husks, “You want to make me feel good, baby? Fine. Take off this shit covering my chest. I want feel you against me when I fuck you so good you’ll beg for me never to stop.”
 The ire of desire blazes at that within you, your fingers quickly moving to unknot the tie wound around the base of his neck. You make quick work of it, for you’d been the same one who had put it on him this morning after he’d taken you in the shower and bed. The coat is next and he has to let go of you for a tormenting amount of seconds that drag on agonizingly slow in the loss of you, but once you get rid of the suit jacket he’d had you pick out for him, the black dress shirt is mercifully the last piece of clothing that separates you from him.
 You salivate as you pop open the buttons that had already been opened down to the middle of his chest and with each iota of flesh kissed by the sun that is revealed to you, your salivary glands reproduce within your mouth to birth even more spittle as you hurriedly undo the fastenings of his garment. When the last button has been unsecured, that’s when you wet your lips amidst the aridity of desire that has dried them, your irises drinking him in as if drunk off of him as hunger coils low in your stomach.
 Muscle cords every inch of him and the six pack that proudly ridges itself along his abdomen boasts its vigor in the way that they jump against your fingertips that lightly trace along the tautened skin that is so eager to receive you against it.
 You push the shirt open thirstily amidst your throat that suddenly has become dryer than the Sahara desert as your irises roam upward to pectorals that must have been crafted by the gods in the thew of musculature that surrounds them.
 His darkly colored nipples stand to attention as you draw your fingernails over them to earn a growl from him as he takes both hands and pins them behind your back in one of his own while his other coaxes your chin up as he lifts your head so that you have nowhere to look but his eyes that burn with want into your own as he warns, “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to handle myself. Don’t you want to play with Jimin? If you want to toy with me instead,” his voice hardens as your walls contract around nothing, “I’m more than happy to entertain you myself.”
 You whine at his restraint and he simply clucks his tongue at you, “ I know that it’s hard to control yourself around me, babygirl, but wait just a bit longer for daddy, okay? Look,” he urges you to peer over at the couch that presents Jimin to you both and the man lies on his back as he’d been instructed to, his hand on cock as he palms at himself while he watches the two of you, “he’s waiting for you, doll. See what you’ve done to him?”
 You can only whimper at the sight of the erect dick that sticks out of the pants he’s left open, his own coat long discarded with his dress shirt to leave only his black tie that dangles just before his cock. He’s about half the size of your boyfriend (of whom has the most monstrously made cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of having inside you), but you have not a care in the world about that as you observe the precum that he swirls around the head of his member, his eyes hooded as he gazes at you and calls for you, “Y/N…please…”
 You hardly realize what you’re saying before the words leave you in stilted whisper, “Want you both. Want you to fuck me so well like you always do while I play with him, daddy,” you pull your sight away from Jimin to glance back at your boyfriend who is smirking cockily as you ask, “Can I have your permission?”
 “Since you asked so nicely,” Jungkook ghosts his lips along your jawline, “go ahead, baby. Go warm yourself up on him and get ready for me, yeah?”
 “Yes, sir,” you answer breathily whilst he attaches his mouth along the edge of your maw and flicks his tongue devilishly against you before pulling away to help you up, the hand that had been holding your own prisoner releasing you to find the zipper amid your backside only to pull it open, your skirt sliding down your legs to puddle around your feet.
 You thank whatever force of nature had made you decide on your white lace thong for the day because Jimin’s gasp from behind you is audible to your ears as you preen at Jungkook’s own hitched breath that is fast to deepen into a growl as each thumb hooks under the sides of the panties he’d bought for you, his irises dilating at the sight he’d been denied when he’d been fucking you earlier.
 “Can’t believe you were wearing these for me, babygirl. You really do want to tempt daddy into losing his fucking mind over that pussy, huh? Such a fucking whore for me,” he rasps as he pulls the pearled strings of the panties apart so that they too join your skirt on the floor as you rub your thighs together amid the finger he slides between your glistening folds, your own hands finding his shoulders and clutching onto him as you moan, your head falling back as he rubs his digit along your slit.
 “Only for you, Jungkook,” you tell him as he spreads your legs apart with his other hand whilst the one currently nestled between your folds drags along your labia.
 “As you should be, baby,” he announces as he collects your juices and brings two fingers to his mouth only to suck on them as heat floods your core at the damning view of that as he groans at your succulent taste, “Now go and prepare yourself for me. Rub yourself on top of Jimin’s little cock and when I’m ready, I’ll join you.”
 He waits for you to take a step away from him, your knees buckling under you as your weight makes them wobble after what your boyfriend has allowed to be done to you and before you have time to let fear grip you in your descent toward the floor, his hands are there to grasp each side of your waist to steady you whilst your own grapple for each of his wrists as you cling to him for support.
 A strong chest melds itself to your back once more as he chuckles, “Everything okay, baby?”
 “Yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
 “Think nothing of it, doll,” he lowers his head to whisper hotly into your ear, “When I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to walk, let alone stand, my love. Now, hurry along,” he ushers you forward and watches you stumble forth amidst the heels that you kick off in effort to reorient yourself with using your feet, a grin rising along his lips as he takes in your cuteness before his eyes flick down to the phone still sat atop his desk, “You’re being awfully quiet over there, Taehyung. Has the masturbation brought you that much satisfaction while you imagined it was my girlfriend that you were trying to fuck?”
 “Shut the fuck up, brat,” Taehyung huffs in annoyance.
 “Brat? Is that what you call the man that let you listen in while he fucked his soon to be fiancé? Interesting,” he muses as he runs a hand through his hair, his tongue poking against his cheek in visage that is not missed by you, your heart fluttering at the words he’d many times uttered to you in the tender aftercare of passionate lovemaking and you smile at that despite the gruffness to which your boyfriend speaks with next as his irises find and melt into yours, “Such an ungrateful prick that you are, Taehyung. Since you want to act like a dick, I think I’ll just leave you to trying to keep your own hard while I ravage my girlfriend. How does that sound for being a brat?”
 “Jungkook, do not hang up on me,” Taehyung cautions, “You’ll regret it. As co-founder of this company, I can take her from you.”
 Jungkook growls, his jaw clenching at the same time that you sex contracts around nothing as he ticks his head to the side in a habit you’ve grown fond of whenever he’s especially unappeased with something as he bites out, “You dare to threaten me, Taehyung? You have the audacity to challenge me for what has always been mine and that which fucking ran from you and into my waiting arms when you tried to make advancements on my fiancé? You’ve just awoken the fucking lion, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook spits out, “Try me and you’ll get the fucking claws. She is mine and I decide where she goes, got it?”
 “Such a child,” Taehyung laughs mirthlessly from the other end.
 “Such a fool,” Jungkook jabs, “to lose to the likes of a child that will now ravish what you’ve sought after for years and yet, she chose me. She’ll always choose me.”
 “Jungkook, if you end this call, I’ll-“
 The man never finishes his sentence, for Jungkook terminates the call with the press of a finger, his chest puffing out in a show of virility that has you wanting to whimper for him as his eyes lift from the screen to your own to raze your insides with heat of a wildfire as he demands, “Get on Jimin right now before I change my mind and take you home to screw you senseless into our bed until I’ve fucked all this irritation out of me.”
 Desire flares in your sex as you quickly plant both hands on Jimin’s much narrower chest and swing your leg over him until you sit astride him on the couch, your irises pulled into the magnets of your boyfriend’s eyes that attract you so even when you’re straddling another man.
 He stalks forward towards you and, needing to relieve some of the knotted tension between your thighs, you shift and seat yourself over Jimin’s smaller cock, your mouth parting as you rub yourself along his length only to plead for you boyfriend, “Jungkook…more. Come to me, please.”
 Your voice wraps around your boyfriend like cool water on a stinging wound and, promptly, the anger that had begun to well up within him is drained by you as you implore him with begging eyes whilst you drag yourself over Jimin’s hardened length and Jungkook is helpless to watch as Jimin’s veiny member slides between your still sopping folds as you draw yourself along his dick.
 The elder man stays quiet, his hand rising to cover his mouth to stifle the sounds he’d make so as not to bear the brunt of whatever Taehyung had done to Jungkook, for he knows full well that Jungkook could snap if you do not completely calm the storm that had begun to brew within him.
 Your boyfriend looms ever closer and, like a predator to its prey, he stands tall above your much smaller body as his irises distend over you and he devours the sight that is you as you work yourself over Jimin and lather him in your essence. His already rearing member prods at your hole on one particular sweep of your hips over him and your boyfriend catches the way your breath is shakily exhaled from you as you peer up at him and only him, for you do not dare to look away when he’s looking at you like you’re a five course meal he’d eagerly eat.
 And gorge himself on you he does, because in the next moment, he’s behind you and sitting on his knees as his fingers spread your ass apart to reveal a puckered hole for him. His dick twitches at the thought of what he will soon do, one finger tracing the rimmed entrance that borders the back of your ass and when his finger is replaced with his mouth, that’s when you moan only for him to shove his tongue inside you as he suckles at your asshole.
 “Fuck, you’re still so tight even after the many times I’ve fucked you right here. Relax for me if you want my cock, Y/N. You want it, don’t you?”
 “Yes,” you breathe, “want it so much, sir. Please, give it to me. I’m ready.”
 Jimin, utterly enticed by the way your breasts bounce in your movements, leans up to take one in his mouth while your boyfriend opens you up for him, your walls rigid at first yet soon they soften to grant Jungkook greater access as he preps you.
 The tight ring of muscle around Jungkook’s tongue loosens around him when Jimin dances his tongue along the floor of your tit that he welcomes into his mouth, pleasure lighting you up inside like dynamite as you buck your hips over the elder man’s length.
 “You’re not ready if daddy has to work this much to get you to open up for him, baby. No matter,” he hums even with his tongue still stuck inches deep within you to send vibrations at sonic speed to your core as he goes on, “I don’t mind fucking you with my mouth if it means you’ll be able to take my big, fat cock.”
 When Jungkook pushes in a finger to join the tongue that swirls around your asshole, that’s when your back bows inward as he strings you like the puppet your body is for him around his digits, his finger curling inside you devastatingly as his tongue whorls around it to have you stutter, “P-please. Don’t want to wait for you anymore, daddy. Need you inside me now.”
 “You want something to fill that little cunt of yours?” Jungkook’s tongue extricates itself from you only for two fingers to take its place beside the one he’d already put into you as all three scissor you and you can only make a choked sound until he orders, “Then try and see if you can fit Jimin’s fucking dick inside it and keep his cock warm until mine joins it in your fucking ass.”
 Your boyfriend’s fingers shear into you with precision as you obey, your fingernails biting into Jimin’s pecs as you align yourself with his thinner cock and finally sink down on it to sit obediently on top of him in wait of your boyfriend’s next set of instructions. When your boyfriend takes you like this, usually you feel like you’ll burst with how large he is and how wholly he fills you. Jimin, however, is a miniature version that is much easier to maneuver yourself on without the colossal member attached to your boyfriend that you’ve known to satisfy you for so long now.
 Jimin’s eyes shut as he releases your breast from his mouth only to litter the underside of it with light kisses. He’s careful not to mar your flesh with his mark, for you do not belong to him and he knows that doing so will only stir Jungkook’s wrath later on, so he chooses to be wiser and avoid that as your hips still upon the final inch of him that you seat yourself on as Jungkook’s hands grip your sides roughly for leverage as the three fingers he’s plunged in you are impelled into you in forceful motions that have you whining in want of him.
 “You listen so well, baby. Your ass is so fucking tense, but I guess it’s been a while since I fucked you back here, huh? I’ll have to keep it in mind to put my cock in your ass more often, I think.” He draws his fingers out of you, his fingertips grazing your walls on the way only for him to propel them roughly within you as you fight the urge to ride the man beneath you as Jungkook asks, “Are you ready for me? I don’t think I can wait for you any longer, baby. I’ve been without you for long enough.”
 “Please,” you beg as you present your ass to him the best that you can while you’ve got a dick nestled between your netherlips, “Want you so badly, Jungkook. Let me have your big cock. You always take me so well with it.”
 The words have hardly left your mouth before the fingers inside you are pulled out, the tip of his well lubricated dick prodding at your hole as his fingers tighten along your sides for him to apprise, “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop until you’re milking the dick inside you while you beg for the mercy only I can give to you. This is your last warning.”
 You feel the shift of the couch behind you as your boyfriend rises to his knees, his tip poking at your hole as he hovers over you.
 Your hand closes around his wrist as you look back at him to offer, “I won’t stop you. I won’t ever stop you, my love. Do it. Let me feel you inside me once again, for the absence of you is too difficult to bear,” you release a sigh of satisfaction as he inches himself inside you as you breathe,” I yearn for you, Jungkook. Let me have you.”
 You watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken as he taunts, “You want me, baby? You can fucking have me.”
 With that, he plunges his cock into you without pause, a slight burn searing your walls as he stretches you out with his member as you cry out his name. You’re jostled atop of Jimin in the power that Jungkook sheathes himself into you with, your sex riding Jimin’s member without either of you doing anything in the aftershocks of what Jungkook quakes your body with as his teeth bite at the nape of your neck whilst he pummels you ruthlessly.
Pleasure pangs through you as your boyfriend rocks into you from behind and, wanting Jimin to do something to quell the need that smolders within you, your fingers wrap around the tie still draped around his neck as you pull it so that he’s made to sit up as you narrow your eyes, “Fuck me, Jimin. Let me see if you can please me like my future husband can. No one has ever made me feel as good as he has. Show me what you can do to me, Jimin.”
 He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the movement and when your boyfriend thrusts violently into you to have your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jimin’s irises set determinedly before he impetuses his hips within you to have you moan out for them both.
 “No one fucks you like I do,” Jungkook hisses as he rams into you, your fingers constricting around the tie as you inhale the same air that Jimin releases in what little space settles between your lips as you bounce on the blonde-haired man while your boyfriend grunts, “And when I have you in our bed later tonight, I’ll make sure to fucking remind me you of that. The only reason he’s here right now is because I can’t say no if it means my babygirl will be happy.”
 You bob atop of Jimin as Jungkook continues to pound you, his dick far too little for your cunt that has become too used to the fullness of your boyfriend who splits you open every time he’s inside you and you whine in desire of more, your forehead resting against Jimin’s as you release his tie and drag his hand up so that it envelops your breast, his tiny fingers a stark contrast to Jungkook’s much longer ones as they stroke your supple skin while you part your lips for him and wait for him to take the offering you give to him.
 “Kiss me, Jimin,” you plead, your other hand laying itself over his cheek amidst the jerking field of vision your boyfriend wracks you in as you breathe, “Let me prove to him that your lips are as pretty as they look.”
 “My…my lips are pretty?” He swallows as you nod and he meets you willingly with soft, plushy lips that are soft as pillows against you and he’s much gentler than Jungkook as his tongue tentatively drapes itself over your own as it asks for entrance and when you grant it, his warm muscle dances with your own to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart, his digits splaying themselves over your breast to rub soothing circles into them as he holds you close, your whimper taken into his mouth as your hips rotate atop him so that his length brushes the very edge of the cluster of nerves deep within you that your boyfriend aids in pushing him further into you with alongside the shove of his own cock into your ass.
 Jungkook swivels his own hips into you while he watches Jimin tilt his head to the side to receive you, the two of you soon becoming enraptured with each other as he traces your lips with his tongue whilst you nibble at his bottom lip.
 “Keep going, Jimin, you’re making her feel good,” Jungkook husks.
 With each kiss, Jimin seems to grow bolder, his lips soon traveling southward as he busses your chin and then down the column of your throat as you lift your head to give him access. He’s sure to let his tongue brush your flesh as he goes, your core clenching around him when he laves his tongue over your nipple that you lower into his mouth.
 “That’s it, Jimin, keep going. She’s getting wet again, isn’t she?” Jungkook inquires, one hand dipping from your side so that his fingers slide through your soddened folds as he groans, “Fuck, she’s so wet for us, Jimin. She likes what you’re doing, doesn’t she, babygirl?”
 “Ah-“ you gasp when he attaches his lips to your abused breast, his tongue lapping at your nipple as he you gyrate your hips atop him before Jungkook pounds into you once more, “I like it so much. Your mouth is so much better than I ever thought it would be, Jimin, fuck.”
 “I’m glad you think so, Y/N,” he mouths from around the tit that is presently within his mouth, his lips caressing your sensitive skin as he says, “You don’t know how long I thought about doing this,” the hand that still enfolds your other tit warmly kneading at it as he licks at your hardened bud to continue, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you here, how much I wanted to feel you like this.”
 “Consider yourself lucky that I’m the one allowing you to do what you are to her, Jimin. If it were any other man she’d asked me to do this with, I’d have said no. Want to know why?”
 “Why?” Jimin mutters against the slick ‘pop’ that his mouth makes as he relinquishes your breast only to focus on the other, his hand draggling down your stomach to catch on the press of his cock against his palm from within you as you moan when he bucks up into you as Jungkook burrows brusquely inside you.
 “Because,” Jungkook smirks knowingly at the blonde-haired man as he damns you with his cock through a devastating blow of his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping sluicing the air around him as Jungkook confesses, “ You’re the only male that’s been around her for more than a week and not succumbed to her fucking charms that she likes to cast on just about everyone that owns a dick.”
 “It’s not my fault,” you pout and Jimin takes the opportunity to sweep his thumb under your lip as you turn your head into his touch so that he swipes his digit along your lip that you eagerly pucker your lips against in a fleeting kiss to his finger before you take his wrist to tug it down the line of your chin and along the column of your throat until he’s descending among the valley of your breasts while Jungkook jostles you forward and back. When Jimin’s fingers nurture the bud of nerves hedging the garden of your pussy, you moan, “How can I be blamed when I don’t even do anything but get their cocks wet for me, daddy?”
 “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? God, you look like a fucking ragdoll with how rough you’re being handled, babygirl,” Jungkook says as he slams his hips into you to give a grunt, “Of course it’s your fault when you look like such a pretty little toy that they want to fucking break. You only opened your seams for me, though, yeah?”
 “Yes, Jungkook,” you laboriously get out and it is only then that you feel your boyfriend’s chest press down over yours, his arms falling forward to cage you into the solid plane of Jimin, your own breasts falling over the blonde-haired man’s pectorals as you as you’re melded to lay flush against him. Your hips jerk when Jimin’s cock grazes the clump of nerves deep inside you at Jungkook’s powerful ministrations, your mouth dropping open and your eyes fluttering closed as your breath hitches, “O-oh…Jimin…”
 The blonde-haired man’s cock twitches inside you at the mention of his name, but in the following moments that Jungkook screws you without abandon, he watches your face contort into one of unadulterated pleasure as he whisks his middle finger over your clit that has become engorged with the blood that pulsates needily for him and the male above you. It is a wonder that the space between your bodies is just small enough to allow him this and he touches you like you’re a glass figurine while your boyfriend fucks into you like you’re his puppet.
 “Jungkook, you should see her. She’s so hot. Shit,” Jimin doesn’t know he’s said what he’d been thinking aloud until there’s a dark chuckle that consumes any other sound as it emits itself from between your boyfriend’s lips as he rails you against the elder man and when Jimin drives his hips into you the same way he’d seen your boyfriend do to meet him halfway in reducing you to a mess of limbs between their chests, you give a guttural scream that has the windows around you shaking in the shrillness pitching your voice that has them threatening to crack.
 “Ah, there it is,” Jungkook husks, his hot breath drifting over the crook of your neck as he teases, “I’ve got you screaming for me just as I promised I would,” his tongue laves at the nape of your neck before teeth nip the tender spot as he forges forward into you all while Jimin ogles you from beneath him as your boyfriend utters, “What of my other vow to you, baby? Can you fucking tell which direction is which or have I turned that upside down, too?” You shake your head as he plows into you, your world spinning as he corkscrews himself within you as he taunts, “Can you even remember anything beyond my name anymore, doll?”
 Your walls clench around Jimin, who hisses at the sudden succumbing of his member to your sex as you’re knocked repeatedly into him like the pendulum of a seesaw, one side of your thoughts swinging to the other as you try, “J-Jungkook…Jimin …I-again…n-need-“
 “Mmm,” Jungkook hums,” She’s close. She can’t even fucking talk anymore. Jimin,” black eyes raze his own, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”
 “What,” Jimin swallows as he watches the way your digits quiver around him as he skillfully skims his finger along the bud of nerves cresting your sex and your chest slides against his in the sweat that slickens you along him, the knot of pleasure deep in your core tightening just as your own hand does over the blonde-haired man’s wrist whilst your other grabs onto the twisted nodule of fabric at the base of his neck in your effort to hold onto something as you whisper his name pleadingly and Jimin is helpless to give you what you ask for at your glassy eyes that so resemble a priceless statuette as he adds a second finger to join the first to stimulate the button decorating your treasure as he asks, “what can I do to your beautiful little doll, Jungkook?”
 “Look at me while I fuck you, babygirl,” Long fingers curl around your jaw as he turns your head to the side so that you’re granted a glorious view of them both, your breath hitching at the way beads of sweat clamping to thick strands of tresses black as a raven’s wing falling perilously over your boyfriend’s eyes that glint dangerously at you, his own lips red as a rose from biting them too much as he snaps his hips ferociously into you, a moan drawn forth from you at the sight of him in combination with the frisk of Jimin’s shorter fingers along your clit as your boyfriend smirks, “As for you, Jimin, you may keep touching her where she needs it. I’m going to help you ruin her needy, pretty cunt and when I do,” you skin pebbles when Jungkook’s hot breath billows over it as he orders, “You’re going to damn her with your cock at the exact moment I decimate her with mine. Understand?”
 “Can she handle that, though? What if she-“ Jimin never finishes because Jungkook’s voice that is draped in certitude covers it.
 She will take it because she was made for me and will do whatever I ask of her, won’t she, babygirl?” As if to prove a point, his cock converges with your sex, your nipples poking into Jimin, who makes a choked sound as you rake your fingernails through his hair as satisfaction strikes you through whilst Jungkook’s fingers constrict just enough so that your attention does not stray from him and look away from him you do not when a familiar calloused thumb joins the two of Jimin’s that had been measuredly swiping themselves over your bud as Jungkook flicks a brow up in expectation, “Come on, baby. Tell Jiminie here that you can take it for daddy.”
 “J-Jungkook,” you implore with a nod, for the only language that you can possibly speak at this point is his name as he rocks into you while his thumb circles languidly at your clit alongside Jimin that are slower and softer in their ministrations, your eyelids drooping amidst the dark bliss the heavies them.
 “Good girl,” Jungkook praises and you preen at that, a dopey smile crossing your features in the vapors of lust that have settled over you while Jungkook’s thumb fastens its movements to reward you as he commands, “Jimin, match your pace with mine, yeah? Playtime is almost over for this one.”
 Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice with his own end on the horizon. With determination that twines itself through his eyes, his two digits that he has attached to you mirror Jungkook as if your boyfriend is the puppeteer of you both. Jungkook swirls his thumb expertly along your button while he marionettes his cock into you with fervor and you clench as he licks his lips to husk, “So beautiful, doll. You look like you’re about to fucking break,” he gives a sharp shunt into you, his balls slapping against your ass as you clench around Jimin, a strangled sound coming from between his lips and Jungkook doesn’t have to be in your cunt to know that you’re just as near as Jimin looks to be with the way that drool pools along the sides of his mouth and, with a grin, Jungkook’s irises string from yours to the blonde-haired man’s as he winds you up around him and when he hastens his fingers over you to have you whimper, that’s when he orders, “Now, Jimin. Screw her with your cock while I fuck her with mine until she cums all over you.”
 “Fuck,” Jimin curses, his hips twisting up into yours at the exact moment that your boyfriend deliciously drills his own dick with into your plushily lined sex as you’re reared against the blonde-haired man and geared like a fucking machine between the cogs of them both that grind into you and when Jimin’s cock throbs tellingly within you while your boyfriend stares down at you with danger flashing in pupils that dilate automatically for you, that’s when you fucking scream.
 The glass rattles as your voices pierces the air around you while you’re battered like a stuffed animal between two rough children and Jungkook’s eyes strike you deep with the cocks that fill you up as they devastatingly pair their thrusts together and when your boyfriend’s fingers intertwine with the one you’d unknowingly been clutching at the couch with, that’s when he grunts, “Come on, baby. Want you to come for daddy. Can you do that for me? Can you show Jimin how beautiful you are when that pretty little cunt finishes all over his cock while you look at me?”
 With the wind that is continually knocked out of you, all you can do is blink up at him in answer as you wrap your fingers around his at the same time the digits of your other hand tighten and tug at Jimin’s scalp only for the blonde-haired man to peer up at Jungkook as you’re dangled over the edge of your precipice once more, your walls fluttering in warning and Jimin, through irregular breaths that are drawn out of him in the rigorousness of his efforts, understands enough to let your boyfriend know, “She’s about to meet her end, J-Jungkook. Sh-She’s squeezing my dick. It feels so good.”
 “Feels like heaven around your cock, doesn’t it? Of course it does,” Jungkook groans as he plunges himself into you while Jimin rolls his hips, your head falling forward so that your temple rests against Jimin’s forehead while your mouth parts as their fingers quicken against your clit as you moan only for him to husk, “Shit, you’re so good for us, baby. I think I’ll let you cum for me in a minute, but first, what do you say when you want something from daddy?”
 Your mind has become wired only to the pleasure that pangs through you with each sweep of their cocks within you, but somehow, you wrack your brain to find the only other words that you know always appease him to pant, “Please, Jungkook…n-need you.”
 “That’s it, baby,” he rasps as your boyfriend runs his finger ruinously between Jimin’s own digits that draw shapes into your button and when Jungkook’s digit suddenly drags itself in hard figure-eight motions along it to the same time that his cock cataclysmically crashes impossibly deep into your ass, that’s when you’re thrashed against Jimin. The elder man perfectly times the buck of his hips into you so that his cock arcs against the clutter of nerves hidden precariously inside you, your irises jerking over the him before they’re threshed to your boyfriend that lodges his cock once, twice and then three more times within you to finally command, “Cum for me, babygirl. Get Jimin all fucking soaked because of what I let him do to you. Give me your fucking orgasm, doll. Give it all to me and let him watch you, yeah?”
 With the sin he spews, you release is swift to unravel you as you come undone, your walls spasming violently over Jimin and he hisses at the way you contract around him as if to pull him in, his own end quick to follow yours as your sex shudders around him amidst your trembling thighs that shake with the rest of your body as you shriek shrilly, your fingers constricting around Jungkook’s own as you hold onto him for dear life.
 When Jimin shoots a hot rope of seed inside you as his member twitches erratically, you hardly have time to moan at the sensation of it before your boyfriend possessively curls an arm around your front to pull you up and against his chest as he sits back on his heels to have Jimin’s own dick slip out of you and the other man throws his head back against the armrest of the couch to stroke himself needily as he hastens to replicate the feel of you around his member while he continues to spill all over himself amidst the pool of your own juices that you’ve splashed all over his dick.
 “You’re mine,” Jungkook’s other hand releases your own to wrap around your throat so that your head falls back against his shoulder as he crazedly crams himself into you again and again, the palm on your abdomen resting where his much larger cock pokes against it before trailing up to grab one breast as you whine while your own orgasm still forcibly strikes you through in unending sparks that electrify you as your boyfriend powers into you from behind before he growls, "Let him fucking see you fall apart for the only cock that you'll ever love, baby. You belong to me. Say it."
 “Y-yours, Jungkook…yours,” you cry out and it is that that has your boyfriend descending into his own end as he gives a guttural groan that you engulf when he urges your head to the side so that you can swallow the sound through the attachment of your mouths and he keeps his sealed against you until you kittenishly slide your tongue against his lower only for him to open his mouth to you and suck your tongue, along with any remaining air that you had, between his lips as he feasts on you until you have no oxygen or saliva left to give him.
 Jimin observes it all, heat stirring in his abdomen as he rubs furiously at his softening length that even now still oozes with the cum both you and he have drenched it with.
 Infatuation influxes the blonde-haired man at the way desire rings itself around the corner of your eyes from you in the cords of pleasure you’d been fibrously instilled with whilst Jungkook holds you close, your brows scrunching together as you bite your lip between your teeth in the aftershocks of your orgasm as your chest heaves over your boyfriend’s, the petalled marks that Jungkook had left over you blushing your flesh in your labored breaths.
 It’s captivating as a current and Jimin is pulled asunder for you all while Jungkook watches the emotions ripple across the blonde-haired man’s face, amusement lifting at your boyfriend’s lips at how easy it had been for you to capture yet another man in the palm of your hand.
 When Jungkook carefully extricates himself from to lay back on the opposite side of the couch with you still in his arms, he chuckles to himself as you silently nestle yourself against his side to snuggle up to him, one arm draping over his chest as you peer adoringly up at him while he makes room for you beside him to entwine his own limb around yours as he croons, “You’re so adorable after you get fucked, baby. Always have to cling to me afterward, huh? You know,” he traces the marks he’d left behind and you sigh with satisfaction as he does, “You’re cute, petal. Have I told you that today?”
 “Mhm,” you purr as you turn on your side to give innocent pecks to his chest while your eyes close as fatigue pulls at them and you affirm, “All the time.”
“I think someone’s a little tired, doll. Do you want me to carry you to the car?” Jungkook asks as he brushes an especially red mark that has purple smearing itself around it and you lean into the touch as a smile lifts at your lips while you stare at the brands he’d left on you.
 “’S fine. I can stay awake a-“ you yawn, your mouth opening only a little as you stretch your arms out before settling back next to your boyfriend –“little while longer.”
 “Yes, you sound awfully convincing, don’t you?” He teases as he sits up and you immediately whine until he laughs and helps you onto his lap as he urges, “I think it might be best to take you home now, baby. You’re about ready to fall asleep. Help me zip myself up, will you?”
 Responsive to him as ever, you tuck his member away before fastening his pants so that he looks presentable should someone see you and when he tucks you inside the blanket you’d hand-stitched and made for him for his birthday, you link your hands around his neck as he cradles you, his irises softening as he peers down at you while you whisper, “Thank you.”
 The double meaning is not lost on him as you have always said those words whenever he’s done just about every single thing for you and he drags his knuckles along your cheek as he offers, “You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”
 You giggle as you beam up at him with the toothy smile that still has his heart flipping in his chest to let him know, “I do. Do you know that I would do everything for you?”
 He kisses you along the tip of your charming little nose as he nudges at your cheek, “And how could I ever forget that?”
 He carefully swaddles you in the fluffy fabric until you’re completely covered and all the while, his fingers lovingly caress your sides as he gathers you up and stands with you swathed in the safety of his arms. With his attention captured by your irises that swim with devotion for him, he starts moving forward and with his back to the other man that still is splayed along the couch, he glances back to say, “Ah, and I did not neglect to acknowledge that you’re here, too, Jimin,” he winks, “You did well. I can tell she enjoyed herself. I’ll be in touch. Please make sure you lock up, for I have more important things,” he peers back down at you with affection crinkling his eyes for you, “to attend to.”
 Jimin waits until the two of you vanish until he allows his own lips to lift out of joy born from watching such domesticity manifest itself in the form of two individuals that clearly were in love with each other with the way the emotion had so colored both of you and, with that emotion lifting his own heart, he dresses and locates his phone amidst the piles of clothes (both yours and his) that had long been forgotten.
 Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to walk, Jungkook had decided that foregoing your outfit would be best and so, as he carries you through the halls like the bride you will soon be to him, he smiles as he gazes tenderly at you, your eyes closed as you snooze comfortably in the cushions of his body as he holds you.
 You sleep peacefully in the passenger seat of his Mercedes S-Class Coupe and he glances at you every so often, your skin glowing amidst the emerald greens and ruby reds your skin shines with under the traffic lights as the city passes by in a whir with the constant to it all being your slumbering figure that gives him so much strength and stability in a ceaselessly churning life.  
 You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen even from the first time you’d caught his eye and now, after so much time has passed, you still remain the most priceless jewel to ever gleam for him amidst the dull, dim passersby that pale in comparison to your transfixing bright light.
When he’s pulled into the quiet mansion that stands tall in front of the richly hewn garden you have tended to that borders an impressive watering fountain that cost him thousands, none of it holds a candle to the treasure he takes into his arms as he withdraws you from the car and gently brings you upstairs. He’s careful not to make sound so as not to wake you and when he sets you smoothly on the bed, you do not rouse until the sound of water from the shower in the adjoining master bathroom trickles over your ears.
 You divest yourself of your covering in search of the kind of warmth only your fiancé can grant to you and when you join him in the shower, he welcomes you and washes your hair before his hands trail along your body to clean that, too. You sigh in satisfaction as you thank him once more and with some insisting on your part, you do the same for him even in his concern that you might be too sore to do so. Mindless touches turn into something not so sinless as your hands wander along his chiseled figure that has the power to have you salivating with only one glance.
 He’s hesitant at first because he knows you ache from the strenuousness of the night’s illicit activities, but in your want to reassure him that you are not as fragile as you appear, you fall to your knees before him and take him into your mouth, his groans heating you up as you rut against his leg while you suckle him. You eagerly devour his seed that you’ve come to love so much when he is ready to feed you and once he helps you rise from the ground, he’s sure to give you a kiss that would rival that of the one in the most beloved romance story before he dries you both against your ailing and feeble legs that are weak for him and when he sweeps you off your feet once more, he still kisses you like his hunger will never stop its craving for you.
Even when he lays you down like you’re a glass doll that might shatter if he’s not careful, he still treats you like a piece of art as he looks at you reverently whilst he makes love to you amid your breathless admissions of love for him while he fills your canvas with his seed until he can give you no more of his paint to taint you with.
 And when the breeze blows against your sweat sluiced skin as you lay over him, your chin resting on his sternum while you innocently let the pad of your fingers brush his chest, he asks you, “Did I please you tonight, my love? Did you have fun?”
 “Sweetheart,” you press your mouth to the dip between his collarbones before you breathe, “whenever I am with you, those two things are always a given.”
 His heart dances in his chest at your admission and the fingers that skim your sides splay out to hold you closer as you stare fondly at him.
 “Such a wonderful girl for me. Have I told you how perfect you are for me lately?” He questions, his thumbs drawing shapes into your skin as he goes on, “I don’t know if I have or not. I suppose you’ll have to remind me.”
 "Every morning," you brush your lips against his own in a soft kiss before you pull away, "and every night, my love. Not a day goes by that you don't tell me that or how beautiful you think I am," you smile at him.
 "It's because it's true. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and this, "he holds up the phone to show a text from Jimin you’d both missed in the middle of your lovemaking as he kisses the crest between your brows, "was for you, pretty girl. Whatever you want, I will always give it to you."
 "You're too good to me, Kookie. I really am so lucky to have you," you caress him, your knuckles tracing his jawline as you stare tenderly up at him, "You've always been the best for me and when we marry," you coax him toward you and he heeds your urging fingers along his maw as he meets you halfway to connect your lips to his own, but this kiss is one that he takes control of and you let him, your lips parting for him as his tongue dips low into your mouth to reclaim every contour of you in his touch before he disconnects from you for you to vow, "I enjoyed messing around with Jimin, but once marriage binds us together forever, I will love you and only you until the end of my days. No matter what, I will always yearn for you."
 "God, I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you and put a ring on your finger so that everyone knows that you’re all mine," he ardently declares as he rests his forehead against yours to breathe in your air as he confesses, "They say that happy marriages look to the future and not the past," he lays back and brings you with him so that you're lain across his chest, his heart beating to the same rhythm as yours as he grins, "but baby, you are what I want my time to be filled with. You're my past, my present and my future and what we have together, my beloved flower, will never wilt."
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effeminateboyninja · 3 years
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hiii!!! i hope you’re doing okay 🥺 your writing is so cute and good <3. may i request hidan’s reaction after an argument w his S/O. it can be hc or one-shot, whatever you like~ ty already 🧚‍♀️
aw thank you honey!! I’m doing okay, just getting through the end of the semester. I hope you like it! 💚
Shot thru the heart - Hidan hcs ♡
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arguments with Hidan are usually petty. he’s a bit of petty guy, lbr. he has a cutting tongue at the best of times, but when he gets in one of his moods he can turn that venom on you and say some pretty harsh things
which on one hand is nice because you don’t often have serious fights, but on the other, it gets tiring sometimes having to deal with his naturally abrasive attitude
and he feels bad about it, he really does. but he’s not used to admitting he’s wrong, or owning up to his actions or any of that boring stuff
relationships are new to him, ya know? the life of a travelling cultist/ninja gang member doesn’t leave a lot of time for romance after all
one night you’re sitting in the hideout between missions when Hidan storms in, slamming the door behind him and throwing his scythe across the room hard enough to knock the few pictures that you’d scattered across the walls to make the dingy safe house more homey on to the ground
“hey!” you snap “what the hell?!” but he doesn’t even acknowledge you, moving to the hideouts kitchen and swinging open the fridge
“no fucking alcohol... of course, there’s never anything good in this shithole,” he grumbled, rummaging around looking for something to take the edge off his day
finally, he turned to you, and instead of saying hello or apologizing for his childish outburst he just sighed loudly and began complaining, “Kakuzu was riding my ass today,” he drawled on but you didn’t listen, hands propped on your hips as you scowled at him and waited for him to notice your displeasure
eventually he took note of your sour expression. “what’s the frown for doll face? it doesn’t suit you.”
you rolled your eyes, motioning to the picture frames scattered on the floor by his weapon. his gaze followed your hands to the mess and he scoffed, “big deal. if it bothers you so much why don’t you clean it, huh? I’m not your bitch,” he spat out the last word and you stepped back involuntarily
it wasn't his words — you were used to him coming home in a state after a particularly tough job — it wasn't even the mess. it was the way he didn't seem to even notice about the discarded picture that lay amidst it, the only one you had of the two of you
"fuck you, Hidan!" you screamed, turning on your heel and stomping towards the bedroom where you promptly slammed the door and locked it behind you
"fuck you too, sweetheart!" he retorted, trying his best to maintain the sting in his tone from earlier but it was no use, the guilt crept in all the same as he caught a glimpse of your tears before you had a chance to hide them
he let out a frustrated groan and crossed his arms in a pout that didn't at all suit his intimidating appearance, pacing for a moment before the photograph caught his eye. his heart sunk and he leaned down to pick it up, smiling in spite of himself as he cherished the memory
"damn it," he hissed, cursing the softer side of him that you brought out as he trudged towards the locked door, dragging his feet in a futile effort to prolong the time until he had to reduce him self to an apology
"princess?" he called sweetly through the thin wood, hoping your favourite petname would soften you up, but it only earned him a muffled, "go away!' and the heavy thump of something being thrown against the door
he slumped against the doorframe, letting himself slide down to floor with a dramatic sigh before trying again, "c'mon, baby you know I didn't mean it." after a beat of silence you answered, "you really hurt me, Hidan."
his heart panged at the way the fight had completely drained from your voice. he'd always prided himself on being a heartbreaker but but it's the last thing he wanted to do to you
that's when he had a "brilliant" idea. his heart. then, without taking another second to think, he pulled out the extendable rod he used to torture his victims from his cloak and plunged it into his chest
from inside the room you heard a pained cry, and your curiosity got the best of you, pulling you to your feet and towards the noise. when you flung open the door you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, blood gushing from his self-inflicted wound
"hey princess," he looked up at you, his mischievous smirk only slightly marred by his wincing, "I hurt your heart, I heart mine - now we're even," he offered
your mouth fell open in disbelief and you sat beside him to start tending to his wound with your medical jutsu. "this is the stupidest thing you've ever done," you muttered, "and that's saying a lot."
"I know," he chuckled softly, his smirk turning down into a rare serious expression, "but I'm not good at apologies, or any of this,” he trailed off, motioning vaguely between the two of you. "this is my way of saying... I'm sorry."
he spun his head around, a light pink creeping over his cheeks at the admission and your anger softened just a bit. he was right, this was new to both of you and he was trying in his own demented way
you cupped your face in your hand and sighed, “you’re lucky you’re handsome, you know that?”
his wide grin was back in a flash and the next thing you knew he was scooping you up into his arms and pulling you to your feet. “I love you so much, thank Jashin you put up with me.”
you giggled as he spun you around, placing a myriad of kisses wherever he could reach. “and I love you too, but put me down! I haven’t finished healing you yet!”
but he was already moving towards the mess of broken glass and picture frames. “a little pain never killed anyone,” he joked with a smirk, “besides, we have to put that picture back up, I want everyone to see our pretty faces whenever they come back.”
at his words you relented, and you spent the next half hour watching him clean up. and by the time he finished hanging the photos, the one of you two placed proudly in the centre, the argument from earlier was far from your mind
you smiled across the room at him and he crossed the space between you in two long strides, taking your face in his strong hands for a passionate kiss. it was hungry and deep like all of his kisses, but underneath was a new softness, a sort of wordless apology hidden in the way his tongue ran over yours and the uncharacteristically gently way his hands found their way to your hair
things with Hidan might never be someone’s idea of a fairytale relationship, but that was never what you wanted anyway, was it?
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cheeriecherry · 4 years
Note
Can I request bakugo, kirishima and shoji with a reader who has adhd? It's totally fine if u can't, but I love seeing hcs about stims and stuff,, thank u :) !
//raises hand// u mean me <:3c I have adhd so prepare for a lot of uhhhhh habits that I have-
BAKUGOU KATSUKI
-This guy knows fuckall about ADHD lbr
-He’s the guy who can sit down and study and stay focused, who keeps a regular sleep schedule, who sits still in class (for the most part). Sure, he’s shouty, but he’s not got a clue about what you deal with.
-Before he really gets to know you, he thinks you’re a pain in the ass ngl. Like, why can’t you study, it’s not that hard? What do you mean you didn’t go to bed until 3am because falling asleep is ‘boring’? Sorry when was the last time you showered - what do you mean you thought you already did it?!
-It’s probably frustrating to deal with his remarks. Like, he’s judging you for something that’s out of your control.
-It’s best to just lay it out flat for him; call him out for being an asshole. Not only because he’s just being rude, but because he’s being rude about things that are out of your hands.
-He’ll feel guilty about it, but he won’t say anything. Which kind of sucks, because an apology would be nice but...be patient with him also, he’s still learning.
-He would probably take it upon himself to learn what the heck adhd even is, and how it affects people. And what kinds of things you can do to help with it!
-He’d be quieter around you after that, and more lenient. He’d still help you study, but he’d be less gung-ho about shoving your face in a book. Sometimes he’ll read the paragraphs to you while you follow along or make notes, and he’ll help you make summary pages that are organised and colour coded for easy access.
-He finds a neat little fidget toy online and orders one for you, it’s like. A little cube with buttons and switches and little rolly things on each side, very good for when you’re in class and your leg is bouncing and you’re twirling your pen around while staring at the ceiling.
-He definitely can relate to the emotional side of adhd tho. Feeling Everything or Nothing, not really being able to control or get a handle on intense emotions, having outbursts sometimes. He doesn’t really know how to help you with that, because he is, in fact, a loud boi. It’s probably pretty common that you’ll yell something and he’ll yell back, but it devolves into a basic conversation at a high volume.
-Once he gets to know you and starts dating you, he’ll think your mannerisms are cute. The way you sway back and forth while you’re standing, the little wiggly thing you do with your hands when you’re excited for something.
-He also really likes watching you train, and training with you. Your brain goes fast and the rest of you follows, so it’s pretty common for you to lay waste to your opponents. When you don’t doubt yourself, your instinct shines through and you’re incredibly clever.
-It carries over to conversations sometimes, where you’ll always have some quick remark to smack somebody with when they talk shit.
-He’s seen the downsides of adhd, but he also sees the kind of pros it can have, and he sees how hard you work to get things done in spite of it. He thinks you’re pretty cool.
KIRISHIMA EIJIROU
-He also doesn’t know what adhd, not really.
-He’s heard of it, but only the stereotypes. The ‘can’t sit still, always talking, not very smart’ stereotypes. So he probably sees your behaviours and doesn’t connect the dots.
-He notices you staring out the window a lot in class, and not really giving much to group conversation. Plus you sometimes need people to repeat things, two or three or four times, before it clicks with you. He doesn’t think you’re dumb, not at all (he’s seen your grades and you’re definitely not dumb) but he does wonder what’s up with you.
-He’ll probably ask you one day, after seeing you watching a movie with subtitles on, despite it being in your native language. Just be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you have adhd.
-He’ll probably be the guy to say ‘but you dont act like you have adhd’ because all he has to go off of are stereotypes. It’s important to set him straight. Tell him what it’s really like, the good parts, the bad parts, the ugly parts.
-The ‘not being able to tidy anything up because the stars aren’t in alignment’ parts. The ‘everything looks horribly disorganized but you know where everything is’ parts. The ‘I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days because I lost track of time’ parts.
-He already thought pretty good of your before, but now that he knows you really have to fight to be where you are, he’s in awe. You’re such a strong person, which he really admires.
-If you do something that’s ‘weird’ he’ll ask you to explain it. He’s honestly just curious, and wants to learn more about you and what drives you, so don’t be offended by it.
-But he’ll definitely like the fidget toys you have, particularly the squishy or stretch ones. And he finds that your study tricks really help him in terms of paying attention, and he’s able to absorb the material better. You guys always make sure to create study sheets together that are laid out well and easy to access.
-He also really like the energy you have during training, and often seeks you out to partner up. Whereas sitting in a classroom isn’t your strong suit, being out on the field and moving around is. You’re got a quick wit and a smart brain, and when you’re using your body at the same time, it’s easier to keep track of your thoughts and put them into action.
-10/10 loves the shit out of you and lowkey brags to everyone about how good his S/O is.
SHOJI MEZO
-The quietest and most understanding of the bunch.
-He -like the others- probably also doesn’t know much about adhd, but he’s far more relaxed about it when you tell him. He’s kind of just like ‘oh, okay’ and it doesn’t change his opinion of you.
-But when he sees how it really affects you, that’s when he starts to think differently. 
-He’s not a bad student in terms of grades. he’s pretty mediocre, both in hero training and classes, and he’s okay with it. But he sees how much you bust your ass just to be where you are, and he’s certainly not envious.
-When you tell him what other kinds of fun things you have to deal with, he probably feels a little bad for you at first. He’s already self conscious about himself, so if he had to go through the things you do, his self esteem would probably be pretty low.
-but he really respects that you’re owning your adhd, and working with it instead of trying to ignore it and make it go away. 
-Plus, with cons come pros, and you have so many of them. It can be hard to get into things sometimes, but once you do? He’s seen the way you get when you hyperfocus, and the amount you can achieve when you’re in that state. He’s learned not to bother you until you’re done whatever you’re doing when you’re focused, knowing that once you lose it, it’s gone and you’ll never get it back.
-And the way you enthuse about your interests is adorable. he admire you passion and knowledge about certain subjects, and the lengths you’re willing to go to in order to learn about them.
-He doesn’t usually like being your partner during training, mostly because you kick his ass using sped and intelligence alone. Plus your stamina and unwillingness to stay knocked down is...something. Something real good.
-He definitely sees the appeal of fidget toys. After he tries yours, he’ll probably get one for himself, and keep it in his off hand while he’s working. I mean, six arms, y’know? That’s like four more arms to not be busy with when he’s working, and four more arms of sensory input. Having something to fiddle with actually helps his concentration too.
-Speaking of sensory input, this guy gives the best hugs when you’re overstimulated by something. A good squeeze calms down the sympathetic nervous system, and he’s hands down the best at hugs. He holds you tightly and blocks out whatever light and noise that he can, until you’ve calmed down and are more equipped to deal with things.
-You two mesh pretty well together, and there’s a lot he can learn from you. He respects you and cares about you!
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shirtlesssammy · 3 years
Text
4x17: It's a Terrible Life
How have we not recapped this yet? Man, this one holds a special place in Boris’s heart -- even if it’s a Cas-less episode. (Natasha: I LITERALLY said the same thing.)
Then:
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This is just gratuitous
Now:
Okay, by this point we know the premise of this episode. I’m just going to list all the Well Respected Man things Dean Smith does. 
He wakes up at 6:00am to an iPod. 
He steams his rice milk.
He wears suspenders and cufflinks. 
He drives a Prius.
He turns off the hard rock for NPR. 
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Dean Smith is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge and Iron. 
He types memos in Word.
He uses a headset to talk on the phone. 
He plays office mini-golf while schmoozing on said headset. 
He watches Project Runway (Ok, Dean Winchester totally watches that too, lbr.)
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HE EATS SALAD.
He says the word ‘vis-a-vis’.
His boss Mr. Adler is very impressed with him. Good stuff!
He works late.
He is thinking of doing the Master Cleanse. 
He leaves at 5:30 (or really a couple minutes before, rebel!)
On the elevator ride out of the building, another passenger asks if he knows Dean. Dean, focused on his Blackberry, does not recognize the dude. The other dude won’t let it go and Dean tells him to “save it for the health club” before leaving. 
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Sam Wesson works in the Tech Support section of Sandover. He mainly tells people to turn it off and back on again. Works every time! Sam and another buddy, Ian, head for coffee. They ask Paul, another worker, if he wants to join them. He’s busy working! Okay, okay, wait one moment. Paul got caught surfing porn on company computers and he still has a job!? WOW. 
Ian grabs some office pencils in the break room. (And we get a nice little intro shot from within the microwave….very nice easter egg for us second (and beyond) viewers.) He then asks Sam about the dreams he’s been having. Sam tells Ian that he dreamed that he saved a grim reaper named Tessa from demons. Ian finds that HILARIOUS. 
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At his clown car sized cubicle later, Sam drifts off, only to have vivid visions of murder and monsters --and Dean’s in them. He bolts awake, and looks around disconcerted. 
Sam takes a walk and ends up in the same elevator as Dean again. They eye each other warily. Sam asks Dean what he thinks of ghosts. TOTALLY NORMAL ELEVATOR TALK. Dean hasn’t really given them much thought. Vampires either. Sam decides now is a good time to corner a perfect stranger and tell him about his CRAZY dreams. That’s what a journal is for, Sam! Dean dismisses this crazy man and exits the elevator. 
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Sam starts researching (AW BABY) the monsters he’s been dreaming about. Ian interrupts him and tells him that he got an email telling him to report to HR. He’s not too worried as he heads off to his fate. Sam then hears Paul freaking out because he just lost a whole day’s work. 
Paul stays way past closing time trying to find his lost files to no avail. His breath puffs. They must turn the temp down after hours at Sandover. He heads to the breakroom, sticks a plastic fork in the door of the microwave and sticks his head in the microwave, and hits cook. GOOD STUFF. 
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The next day, as Paul’s body gets carted away, the entire office looks on, including Sam Wesson and Dean Smith. Dean thinks there’s something weird going on. He looks up Paul’s personnel file (um, like whoa, how did he get access to that?) and learns that he was set to retire in two weeks. Curious. 
Sam is curious as well, but Ian is too busy working to engage. Dean calls Ian up to his office. Dean points out that there were just a few errors in a form he filled out yesterday. Ian is very remorseful. Dean doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. He just wants him to fix the errors. Very un-Ian-like, Ian starts freaking out over his mistakes. Ian runs to the bathroom and Dean follows. He finds Ian staring at himself in the mirror. His breath frosts just before all the water and soap turn on. He insists Ian leave with him. Ian turns to look at Dean, and stabs himself with a pencil. GUH. Dean sees the reflection of an old man in the bathroom stall door as Ian dies. Dean calls for help. 
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Dean is relaying the events to the authorities when he sees Sam looking on. Later, he calls Sam to his office. 
For Thirst Science:
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Sam and Dean learn that they both started working at Sandover three weeks prior. (Dean! You picked a hell of a week to start the Master Cleanse!) Sam asks Dean if he saw something when Ian died. Dean doesn’t quite admit it but he saw a ghost! Sam wonders about the suicides. “What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?” 
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Sam brings up his dreams again. “So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?” Lololololol. No, OF COURSE NOT. Sam shows Dean emails that Ian and Paul got that sent them to HR on the 14th floor --the HR office is on the 7th floor. Hmm. They decide to head to the 14th floor and room 1444. 
Mr. Blandface McBlanderson heads there first. It’s an old storage room. The air gets frosty, electronics buzz on. Sam and Dean rush down the hallway after hearing the man’s cries. The door is locked but Sam Fucking Wesson just busts it open. Dean is duly impressed. Sam is too. 
The ghost old man attacks Sam and Dean but Dean smashes him away with a wrench (an IRON wrench).
Decompressing back at Dean’s place, Sam longs for beer. “I’m on a cleanse,” Dean explains as he gets him a water. “I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” Oh DEAN.
At the end of this cleanse you chalk a pentagram on the floor, light a black candle, and barter your soul to get rid of those last five pounds
They compliment each other on their ghost fighting prowess. Sam “Boy Wonder” Wesson briefly tells Dean about how he feels out of place in his life. That’s SO MUCH oversharing, Sam! They decide to hit the research track. Dean finds………..the GHOSTFACERS. 
We montage our way through Smith & Wesson’s research, interspersed with Ghostfacer tips. A guy named Sandover turns out to be the ghost - a workaholic who lived for his company. Turns out he’ll kill for it too. They trace a number of historical deaths to Sandover employees. It turns out that the room with the ghost attack was Sandover’s office. 
The Ghostfacers continue to educate Sam and Dean on the finer points of ghost hunting: SALT. IRON. GUN.
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Dean absorbs this, then wonders where one might even purchase a gun. Isn’t there a waiting period? Oh, sweet summer child. This here is the United States of America and it’s far too easy to get a gun. The Ghostfacers lesson continues...
Ed: The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.
Harry: Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.
Ed: It's illegal in some states.
Harry: All states.
Ed: Possibly all states.
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Smith and Wesson return to the office to search for pieces of non-cremated Sandover. Sam gets cornered by a baby-faced security guard, leaving Dean alone to continue the hunt. In Sam’s elevator, electronics start to glitch. It’s probably nothing! The guard pries open the elevator door and crawls out onto the next floor.
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The elevator slips and the guard falls victim to the blood cannon. Sam adds this incident to his list of Terrible Things That Happen in Elevators.
Sam and Dean reconnect by a historical display which includes Sandover’s gloves. Those gloves seem like likely candidates for remnant DNA...and in short order the ghost proves them right. Old Man Sandover zaps in as they break the glass. They fight!
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Sandover looks like he’s got the upper hand, lowering his brain-zapping fingers to Dean, when Sam lights the gloves on fire. Sandover goes up like a torch.
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Smith and Wesson are amped up after the fight! Sam wants to hunt ghosts full time. Dean scoffs at this. “How would we get by? Stolen credit cards, eating diner food drenched in saturated fats, sharing a crap motel room every night...You don’t want to go fighting ghosts without any health insurance!” Wise words. 
For Look at this Well-Prepared Sunshine Science:
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Sam confesses that his hunting dreams featured Dean as well. “What if that’s who we really are?” Sam wonders. 
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Dean defends the reality of his life. HE WENT TO STANFORD. His father’s name is Bob, his mother’s name is Ellen, and his sister is Jo. Excuse me. I’m just going to….stand outside my door and HOWL MOURNFULLY about this with the local coyotes. 
“We’re supposed to be someone else.” Sam tells Dean that he started at Sandover because he broke up with Madison - but now her number leads to an animal hospital. (I swear to god, I’m gonna chew off my own arm at this show.) Sam says that Dean’s more than just a corporate suit. Dean shoos Sam from his office. 
The next morning, Sam’s back at the daily grind. He steps back from his phone and then swings a crowbar at it, Office Space style. 
Upstairs, Zachariah smarms his way into Dean’s office and clucks that he looks tired. He’s heard good things about Dean and offers him a generous bonus.
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Zachariah hints that a big promotion could happen in 8-10 short years of constant work and sacrifice. The joy in Dean’s eyes fades. Dean turns it down and tells Zachariah that he plans to quit. “I have some other work I have to do,” Dean tells him. “This - it’s not who I’m supposed to be.” Zachariah smiles and zaps Dean’s brain. The camera desaturates.
“My god am I hungry,” a confused Dean observes as Zachariah chuckles. (Stop reading Goop, Dean! Get off that cleanse!) Zachariah explains that he’s Castiel’s boss, and he’s on Earth to ensure that the Winchesters fulfill their destiny - as hunters! 
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“You’re a hunter,” Zachariah explains. It’s in Dean’s blood. (I hiss at this.) And if Dean works hard enough, he’ll do everything he’s “destined to do. All of it.” GUH. Zachariah urges Dean to embrace his life. It could be worse, after all!
Semi-quote Kinda Life, Baby:
Good stuff
Did you try turning it off and then on? 
Look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and let you know that you overshare
How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?
I don’t believe in destiny. I believe in dealing with what’s right in front of us 
Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things
 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!
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ixalit · 3 years
Note
EVANSTAN. DADDY KINK. COCKWARMING. SMUT. Dear lord Max you’re gonna kill me
Oh nonnie I’m killing myself with this one 😩
Nonnie. I just—
Seb waking up in Chris’s home in Boston, walking out into the living room sleepy and still riding high on the memories of last night. Still in (Chris’s) pajamas.
He’s fully expecting a sweater-clad man to greet him with a big warm hug and maybe some coffee, but instead he gets this.
He’d forgotten Chris has a lunch meeting at the Massachusetts capitol later that day, and of course Chris had taken the opportunity to wear one of his new suits.
He looks like a goddamn meal, sittin’ there with his newspaper and custom suit while he waits for a (much less put together at the moment) Sebastian to come out and join him. Like he’s some sugar daddy Sebastian doesn’t need...
Ugh. Yeah I’m feeling that. Here, have a bit of evanstan roleplaying mean daddy stuff (as much as Chris can play a mean daddy lbr). Although there’s no actual “daddy” kink in this snippet.
“You, uh… You look really nice today,” Sebatian says, and even he can hear how wrecked he sounds, voice gone all needy and breathless. He might as well be holding a sign advertising his thoughts in big block letters.
“Mm, you think so?” Chris asks, turning toward him and scratching thoughtful fingers through his beard. “I wasn’t sure if the plaid would be too much for politicians.”
“No it’s, um,” Sebastian gives Chris a quick once-over and licks his lips, eyes snapping back to Chris’s face. If his brain was working, he might say something like the plaid actually distinguishes Chris from the mundanity and makes him stand out in the best way possible. As it is, Sebastian’s brain isn’t even close to working. “It’s definitely not too much,” he finishes, and it still comes out shaky despite his best efforts.
If the signals weren’t crystal clear before, they sure are now; strong enough that Chris is absolutely picking up on them. A slow smirk spreads across Chris’s face, a dark glint in his eyes even as Sebastian watches his cheeks redden above his beard.
“Yeah? Not too much? You sure about that?” Chris asks, light and teasing in that way that never fails to make Sebastian squirm. Chris watches him, expression growing more predatory by the second, and waits. He waits until Sebastian is practically wiggling where he stands, toes curling against the hardwood with the effort of staying still stomach has tied itself in knots. Then Chris cocks an eyebrow and flicks his hold on the newspaper. “Somethin’ you want, baby?”
Sebastian swallows roughly, still looking anywhere but Chris’s eyes. His tiny nod is almost imperceptible, and Chris’s smirk just grows.
“Use your words, Sebastian.”
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risingsouls · 2 years
Text
R: The Lost Chapters: 1
[I’m not stalling writing the Android Saga what do you meeeean.
You’re half right. I need to go rewatch it and I haven’t felt up to it. BUT it’s also because I’ve had this idea swirling around in my head about Nabooru meeting the rest of the Cold family while working for Frieza so. Here it is. I’m sure I butchered King Cold and Cooler, but lbr. We have so little to go on, that I think I at LEAST did a passable job of writing two assholes :3
ANYWAY. I’ll be posting this on my writing blog with the rest of my bullshit.]
Dinner
The entirety of the atrocious day followed the deranged script of a fever dream that commingled her past and present into a horrific nightmare.
It began with Zarbon entering her quarters unannounced (“A perk of my status. In case of emergency,” he informed her), sent by Frieza to ensure her appearance not only met his day to day expectations but exceeded them for the special occasion of dinner with his father and brother. The general nitpicked every aspect of her person, from her ponytail needing to be an inch higher and shifted very slightly to the left for symmetry and picking more “palatable” shades for her makeup to directing her attention to her armor being slightly askew and one of her stockings rolling at the top. Unlike the maids tasked with helping her dress for her first formal event at Hyrule castle, he at least didn’t suggest she “lighten” her complexion or cover her accent.  The only points to his credit she would allow him. 
Their trek to meet Frieza and Dodoria at the ship’s gangplank was filled with the same types of warnings she heard from the servants or, to her greater annoyance, Ganondorf: do not speak unless spoken to. When you do speak, keep your responses short and remember your manners, or whatever excuse you have for them, and then forget them because they’re probably not good enough. Make as little eye contact as possible unless you have been addressed then be sure you make eye contact. Mind your posture, but don’t be too prissy about it; acting too uptight could be considered an insult, as could seeming too relaxed. Don’t brag too much even if presented with the opportunity. Compliments go a long way, but don’t come off as insincere. No sudden moves. Use your passable beauty to your advantage and smile.
Unlike in Hyrule, these she didn’t once consider breaking to appease her rebellious nature and remind her hosts her people would not be controlled as well as they thought. Not when they could kill her with as little as a flick to her forehead.
The interior of the Imperial Palace combined the regal opulence of Hyrule Castle with the pristine yet cold, technology-based motif of the bases dotting the empire and the ships used by those it employed. Stunning but intimidating, like the barest breath would bring it toppling down. Two stiff guards stood at every door, only bending deep at the waist and mumbling a greeting to Frieza as they passed by. Their footsteps made no sound on the plush, royal purple rug beneath their feet that ran all the way to a large pair of doors at the back of the hall, where two figures, one gargantuan and the other miniscule in his wake, stood awaiting them.
"Ah, father! My dear brother! How wonderful it is to see you!" Nabooru followed Zarbon and Dodoria and sank to one knee, head bowed low. "I do apologize for my tardiness. There is no rest for an emperor, as you both well know."
"It is of no consequence, son, despite Cooler's complaints," King Cold drawled. When the other two generals rose to their feet, she followed suit. Frieza's father and the retired emperor indeed towered over everyone present, and Nabooru marveled at how his height rivaled if not surpassed Ganondorf's. He wore a cape draped over the shoulders of armor that surprisingly matched the design of a mere soldier. Horns jutted from the white armored flesh surrounding his head like a helmet, the deep blue dome at the center of his cranium shining in the light overhead. He shared his son's piercing crimson gaze.
Had Frieza not called him brother, Nabooru never would have pinned the elder Cold sibling by sight alone. Though he shared their crimson eyes, that was where the physical similarities stopped. He lacked the horns and armored skin around the wrists and ankles as well as his father's bulk, but that did not take away from his menacing presence.
"Come along then. Our dinner should be ready shortly."
The second he turned to the door, a pair of servants bustled over to push them open, sure to bow deeply as the king and princes walked by. A long table cut the opulent dining hall in half, only the seats at the far end set for the meal. Tubes of colored light lined the walls at intervals and stretched toward the high, pointed ceiling, the shades shifting within the confines. A dazzling chandelier hung over the center of the hall. Paintings of previous Cold rulers hung in the gaps between the tubes. As she observed each one, she certainly saw the family resemblance in each one to varying degrees.
Dodoria remained at the door while Nabooru joined Zarbon at the table. She pulled out Frieza's chair while Zarbon poured wine into the emperor's glass, taking a sip before setting it down before him. They bowed and backed up a few steps. Close enough should they be needed but far enough back to allow the servants room to attend to their tasks and show respect for their betters. A blonde general followed the same routine across the table behind Cooler.
"Ah, I always feel such elation when the three of us find the time to come together for a meal," King Cold said at last. He tapped a utensil on his glass, and servants poured out with platters of food from doors hidden by large statues in the back of the hall. "It brings back memories of when the two of you were children."
"Feeling sentimental, are we father?" Frieza drawled, taking a swig of blood red wine. "I hope you didn't invite us to inform us of some staggering news of your poor health and impending death."
To Nabooru's surprise, the king wore a mirthful smile and laughed. "Such wit you have, Frieza. I've always admired your cut throat tenacity and ambition."
Cooler seemed far less impressed, alabaster brows low and obsidian lips downturned. "Too bad, Frieza. You will have to wait longer for our dearest father to pass and you inherit the factions remaining in his control."
"Come now, Cooler. If you intend to be bitter throughout the entire meal, I would prefer you excuse yourself."
Cooler's gaze narrowed slightly at his sibling across from him, and Nabooru could picture the smug smirk Frieza wore. However, he bowed his head to his father. "My apologies, father. It will not happen again."
"Excellent. I will be merciful as I know you've been dealing with some troubles in a few of your quadrants that have likely put you more on edge than usual." He tipped his glass to his lips, the cup seeming far too small in his large hand. "Perhaps you and Frieza could discuss it after our meal concludes. He has made large slides with more rebellious factions of late. He may have some pointers for you."
"I would be more than happy to impart my wisdom to you, dear brother."
Cooler's muscles tensed. Nabooru was surprised he didn't break the utensil in his hand. "I would welcome his suggestions."
"Wonderful. Now…" Cold turned his attention back to his younger heir. "I see you've brought a new guest with you?"
"Don't flatter her, father," Frieza replied with a chuckle. "Guest is far too generous a term for my new general." He waved a hand. "The aesthetic nature of my retinue felt...off. Unbalanced. Nabooru fixes that very well. Not to mention she has proved quite obedient and useful when she puts in a little effort. Zarbon and Dodoria have no doubt been a more favorable influence on her than the Saiyans."
Nabooru clenched and unclenched her hands behind her back, struggling to maintain an otherwise unbothered demeanor. The difficulty of it only exacerbated when Cold added, "Is she your new pet project, then? A replacement for Vegeta?"
Frieza mulled over his response as he chewed whatever delicacy he forked into his mouth. "In a way, I suppose. I hadn't given it much more thought. She shows potential." He swallowed. "I wouldn't call her a replacement, however. Vegeta still has much he could learn from me."
"Well, she is at least far easier on the eyes than the monkey prince. Or any other of his barbaric race," the king said with a wicked chuckle. "Where did you pick up this sparkling diamond?"
"A planet called Hyrule. An undiscovered gem until recently," he answered with haughty disinterest. "Rich in resources, and her race is one of warriors. Similar to the Saiyans, only they're all female save for their king and far more refined culturally, though that isn’t saying much. Still quite backwards and behind the times. I aided her race in conquering the planet and in exchange they oversee the planet for me and, as insurance, I added Nabooru here to my ranks."
That was at least for my skills, she thought bitterly, twisting the end of her ponytail in her fist behind her. If pretending to need to find the bathroom or throwing up in her disgust at the current vein of conversation wouldn't get her killed, she might have made a beeline for the doors.
A notion further clipped as King Cold rested his chin in his hand, attention set firmly on her. She made eye contact for only a second before bowing her head, blood boiling as she felt his gaze still glued on her. Her certainly eyed her as if she were a twinkling, precious gem.
"What did you say her name was? Nabooru?" 
"Yes, father."
"Very good. Nabooru, would you do me the honor of taking the seat next to me?" She forced her shocked expression back to one of neutrality before lifting her head again. Crimson gaze still on her, he waved a hand. "Cooler, please move down a seat to make room for our intriguing guest."
Cooler's jaw tightened, and energy crackled for just a moment around him. He did not protest and moved his plate down a spot, shifting into the chair behind it. His tail slammed the ground behind him as he did. King Cold gestured to the abandoned seat with a flourish. "Sit."
Stomach churning and nerves next to shot, Nabooru bowed low. "It would be my honor, your majesty."
To keep from garnering suspicion, she rounded the table at the opposite side of the Cold family, allowing them to keep their eyes on her all the way. She skirted behind Cooler's general and lowered herself into the seat with a gracious nod. As many diplomatic feasts as she attended with powerful men of Hyrule, with their judging or lecherous stares, their upturned noses and prejudices about her and her race, she would take that over the unease and discomfort she felt seated at the table with the most powerful and merciless  family in the empire. One wrong move, and it would be her head on one of those platters, though as she tried to remember Zarbon's advice, she could have mistaken it for her scouter being on the fritz for his words came through her memory as static.
Smile. That she remembered. And so she did.
"Tell me about yourself, Nabooru, and your home planet."
She took only the barest second to search his face for motive, but all she found was a predatory gleam in his blood red eyes and an easy, unbothered smile that, when she glanced to Frieza, she found mirrored on his son's onyx lips as he sipped his wine. Unreadable, and she didn't know if he looked at her with disdain or true interest. If he wanted to listen to her tale, kill her, or, with how he stared like the nobles of Hyrule, fuck her. Maybe it was all three. She wasn’t even sure if Arcosian anatomy allowed for the last one, but it did little to soothe her.
"As Lord Frieza stated, I came from a planet called Hyrule from a race of warriors called the Gerudo," she started. Zarbon's words slowly made headway in her consciousness, and she reminded herself to keep it short and not to brag too much. "I served as our second in command before I was graced with the honor of joining your son's army."
"Ah, that would explain why he chose you from the rest of your clan, then," Cold affirmed, "is that right, son?"
"Yes, father. The soldiers training them to utilize ki reported she was impressive and learned quickly. Her rank helped, even if it was to an unrefined race like her own."
Nabooru swallowed her biting retort, ensuring her smile did not falter. Speak only when spoken to. He didn't say anything about ripping horns out of heads…
"They had no knowledge of ki?" Cold turned back to Nabooru. "I suppose it's not unheard of, but at least three quarters of the universe's armies use and are aware of its utilization."
She nodded. "Lord Frieza said it best when he mentioned that our planet was...quite behind much of the universe. In that regard, technologically. I don't believe there was much study into what lay beyond our planet's surface, either." She felt sick as she added, "If not for his decision to train and aid us, my people would have been killed. Slowly if not outright. Our enemies far outnumbered us, a gap no amount of skill we possessed as warriors could close. Ki gave us more than enough of an edge, I imagine."
King Cold clicked his tongue. "Frieza, you didn't allow her to stay and witness her people conquering their enemies? What a pity."
"If I may." Cooler injecting himself back into conversation surprised everyone, and Nabooru was almost afraid to turn to give him her attention. His ire wafted from him in distressing waves. Cold nodded. "Thank you, father. Tell us what being a second in command to the...what did you call your race? The Gerudo? What did that position entail?"
"I acted as leader in the event of the king's absence," she began. What felt like a snake coiled around her right ankle. She cleared her throat to camouflage her surprise when she realized it was no serpent but Cooler's tail. "I also acted as an advisor to the king and a general of our army as well as head of our Elite."
The last syllable came out half an octave higher and accompanied by a snap as Cooler's tail squeezed her ankle with crushing force. Pain ripped through her from the site of the break and the continued pressure on it. Not the worst pain she had ever felt, but it made it increasingly difficult to maintain her smile when a grimace wished to overtake it.
"Intriguing." Cooler's tail constricted tighter. Another snap and flare of pain. None of the parties seemed bothered by it. "It seems you found a well-rounded brute this time, Frieza. A far better base to work with than your Saiyan pet."
"True, brother. If I could merge the two, taking her experience in leadership and combining it with Vegeta's raw power and ruthlessness, I truly would have the perfect general." He sighed. "But I take what I can get in this lowly universe. She can still be molded into something close."
Cooler squeezed again, and Nabooru dug her nails into her thighs. Finally, he released her. She didn't need to look to know her ankle was shattered. "And with more reason to remain loyal to you, with that magnanimous decision of yours to rescue her race. They'll sing your praises for eons to come. Isn't that right, Nabooru?"
She relaxed and focused on the task at hand. On not being killed for making a face. Though she clued in on his words. More reason to remain loyal than Vegeta...Was he confirming the prince's suspicion about Frieza's involvement in the betrayal and destruction of the Saiyans? "That is correct, your highness."
"A marvelous addition to your posse, to be sure," King Cold rejoined. "More proof that the spoils of our conquests are not always drenched in blood or brutish warriors looking to make a name for themselves or foolishly dethrone our family. Some simply wish to show their gratitude to their benefactors."
The urge to vomit returned, but instead she simply flashed the king and his younger son a charming smile and a bow of her head. The image of demure fealty. It worked in Hyrule, and both conquerors seemed satisfied with her display. Benefactor. Gratitude. For being made a slave to the whims of a violent and tyrannical emperor who would kill her and her people for her slightest misstep. She was more grateful for her busted ankle.
"Perhaps once she has worn out her usefulness to me, I can gift her to you, father," Frieza suggested. "Since you seem so fond of her."
"So thoughtful, Frieza. I believe she would make a fine addition to my royal company."
"Very well. For the moment, I need her to aid me with keeping the monkeys busy and on task, but once that is no longer a necessity, we can see about her transferring here."
Nabooru's heart sank straight to the pit of her stomach. Helplessness stoked her rage, but reason quelled it to a dull roar for the sake of her life. To them, she was no more than a commodity to be passed around like a child's toy. Bent, used, and, once she broke, tossed aside and destroyed. She had no agency, no say in her future. With such a promise, her chances of ever seeing her home again dwindled further than ever.
More than ever, she manifested, pleaded with whatever god would listen, for Vegeta's and Nappa's success on Earth. Only with Frieza's defeat would she ever see her people again.
The rest of the meal continued without returning to her as a topic of conversation and no further bodily harm to her person. She maintained a docile and delighted presence despite her inner torment and the usually horrendous topics they discussed and dubbed “the business.” When she left the hall with Dodoria (Zarbon and Frieza would remain at the palace for the night while Nabooru and Dodoria returned to the ship to check on the crew and prepare for their leave the following day), it took significant effort to mask her limp. But her failure to do so piqued Dodoria's curiosity and annoyance. Citing it as a training injury, he scolded her for not taking care of it before and sent her to the medical bay. He promised that she would be making the time up to him by taking on some of his duties over the next week. She didn't argue. She was simply glad she wasn’t asked to spend the night warming anyone’s bed.
Healed and finished with her appointed tasks and the extra drudgery Dodoria added on, she returned to her quarters well into the night. The increasingly frigid temperatures of the planet crept into the ship, though, despite her disdain for the cold, she hardly felt it as she fell onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, tears of rage flooding her gold eyes. It was nothing new, but her blood boiled with indignance, shame, and the further shredding of her pride. Her heart broke in fear for her future and with the helplessness of her situation. She was disposable and unappreciated. Another number, another cog. As easily replaced and shoved elsewhere as the next person. She had no value. No worth. No agency. And she could do nothing about it. If Frieza wanted to hand her over to his father to serve him instead, whatever that would entail, she would have no say in the matter unless she wanted to worsen the situation or be killed. She could be abused and belittled, killed by his kin or anyone else, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. But the worst of it all was that she could do nothing about it. She wasn’t strong enough to, even if her people’s fate wasn’t on the line. Trapped between obligation to the Gerudo and self-preservation.
The Gerudo. The only thing that kept her from succumbing to madness or offing herself to preserve her pride. How she missed them. She missed the Saiyans, too. Raditz, who she would never see again. Nappa. Even Vegeta. Her fingers twitched at her side, and she considered swiping her scaouter off her dresser where she dropped it and calling her former comrades, just to hear a remotely friendly voice. Nappa’s likely. Vegeta still refused to speak with her if he didn’t have to.
Instead, she yanked the pillow from beneath her head and screamed into it until her lungs gave out.
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xrosebloomx · 3 years
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[DANIEL GILLIES, FORTY, CISMALE ]. who is that walking through lennox? oh, it’s just [ NOLAN POIRIER ]. [HE/HIM ] is/are originally from [ QUEBEC CITY, CANADA ] and they’re apparently a/an [ MOROI ]. did you hear they’ve lived here for [TEN YEARS ] ? you know, they remind me of [TAILORED SUITS, GLASS OF RED WINE, CALM BEFORE THE STORM, WELL MANNERED ETIQUTTE] 
(banner made by Lea)
BASICS
NAME: Nolan Poirier AGE: 40 BIRTHDATE: May 14, 1981 SIGN: Taurus SPECIES: Moroi GENDER: Cismale ORIENTATION: Bi-romantic , bisexual PROFESSION: Doctor RESIDENCE : Lennox LOCATION: Acadia ELEMENT: Air
PHYSICAL
HAIR: dark brown EYES: light brown HEIGHT: 5’11″ MARKINGS: none
FAMILY
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single   SIBLINGS: Younger brother PARENTS: mother (deceased), Father (unknown)
SKILLS
PHYSICAL PROWESS: Lean, average weight, muscular, toned, in physical shape. ABILITIES: can fight hand to hand combat, knows how to perform deadly kills, he is very organized, perfect almost. He can disarm and move so quick one would miss it if they blinked. He doesn’t like violence, but will use it if necessary.  SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, French, Italian, Latin, and Spanish. HOBBIES: he enjoys the library, reading, he also likes to paint in his spare time. He is also collects vintage pieces, very into the 1900s era.
TRAITS
POSITIVE: poise, respectful, attentive, organized, polite, thoughtful NEGATIVE: forward, assertive, unpredictable, reckless, impulsive, impatient
PREFERENCES
COLORS: any dark colors that look good in a suit, if he is wearing bright colors, it’s usually his scrubs or white coat. SMELLS: Fresh coffee in the morning, the fall breeze, cinnamon, wood burning. Fresh bakery foods, bread. The ocean breeze, red wine. DRINKS: Red wine, all wines. (lbr) FOOD: not picky, he’ll try anything.
OTHER
FUN FACTS: He has a bit of a dark side, a side of himself that he doesn’t like to tap into but he will if it means business. This side of him was triggered because his mother expected perfection and well he was always corrected. So he never makes a mistake.  Right now his focus is his job and profession but everyone has a past. He’s done somethings he’s not proud of. He likes to take risks, travel, and always a book in hand to learn anything. He does enjoy music, so he attends concerts and orchestras. a night owl and will find him out and about even late in the hours. 
CHARACTERS:
TWILIGHT : Carlisle Cullen The Originals: Elijah Mikaelson KDRAMA: Vincenzo FEARS: to be forgotten. TRIGGERS : n/a
BIO  -, tw death, tw violence
Growing up in the household of Poirier, it was a well structured and concise family. Nothing was out of place, nothing could be said wrong of the member of the family. However, what goes behind closed doors, remained within. Nolan was the eldest, the prime example of family, chosen by his father. He had a younger brother who he protected. His mother however, she was not of nobility, nor was she classy. Matter of fact, she was just the opposite. While his father was for appearances, his mother only showed command, and strict rules. His childhood consisted of being perfect. No mistakes, and if one was made. Punishment.  The talk of the small town in Canada would whisper of the kind of woman she was. However, people knew better than to speak ill of his father’s bride. They likely ended up dead. They were Moroi after all. A name to uphold.
Though he did his best to remain close to his brother, his father was one to separate, the strong from the weak. His father was high in politics, high upper class, he ran a business.  Which often involved many known people, and in business comes money. It tend to draw in the wrong kind of crowd, but deep down, it was a dirty business, one of power, death, and violence. No later did his father find himself in business with the mafia, and it was kept under wraps for a long time. Nolan traveled as a kid, to all the best places. One in particular was Puerto Rico, there he met a prince by the name of Reuben Garcia. Even if Nolan himself was not royal, there was a connection, a bond, one could say of brothers. Nolan attended all the best schools, his mother wanted law, however, he chose the path of Medicine. 
Nolan had graduated, become a doctor, a general surgeon even, and began to practice Medicine. Trouble does not always travel alone, and is never too far. Nolan didn’t want to become nor be involved in any business of his father. But his family was well know, Poirier, you couldn’t turn his father down, no one would dare to. The connections and names that would follow his family would not leave. He was tied to it, with no way out. So Nolan had to run the brunt of it, that was where he learned to fight, he was exposed to hardships, and well, caused him to be away from his brother. His father fled, when he owed big money to one of the bosses, his mother was used as the sacrifice. That’s when he first came in contact with strigoi, within the crimes of this world. They were hidden, among others. (he’s seen other species throughout his time.)
Proving his worth, he earned the respect of even the most terrifying criminals. Throughout his life, he had come across dhampirs that have sworn to protect him. But failed nonetheless, because death would become them. Not out of his doing, but in the name of the game, to live or to die. He has also seen his share in violence, death, although composed, he is quite broken inside. Many years passed, and eventually Nolan wanted to start somewhere new, grow in the profession he enjoyed. He had found Acadia, and there, learning about the species that blend within their world. 
PERSONALITY
He is well mannered, polite and often times patient. His approach to others is composed, open, he doesn’t talk in a manner that offends others. He is quite curious of the different species around. Many would be curious about him, as he has this air or aura about him that draws others in. Nolan has no tolerance for those who do not take things in a serious manner and he is about respect. If he feels that he does not have the attention when being spoken to, or ignored, he will pretend as if you don’t exist. He can switch from one emotion to another, and he doesn’t apologize for it. There is a heart deep down, however not many get close to it.
CONNECTIONS
Brother (x-inspo) : the one person who knows him best, and he swore to protect him. No matter what the world threw their way, he would always be there for him. Best friend (x-inspo): Taken- Reuben Garcia : You’d fight anything, and anyone for your best friend. He is as close to you as a brother is. Not by blood, but by friendship. You protect one another, no matter what. at odds (x-inspo): perhaps your muse just rather argue, even if it can be playful, or even jabs. Regardless , it is amusing, and passes the time. I’d fight for you too (x - inspo): Taken - Lyria Yarwood: Nolan doesn’t trust many, but yet, you’ve shown your true self, no lies, no barriers. You see the other behind the facade, masks, and protect one another. I’ll take you in (x - inspo): your muse is fond of Nolan, almost a parent like relationship, you see him as someone you look up to.
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swordmaid · 3 years
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you think brienne has a higher chance of dying than jaime! why bestie. i don't think brienne's purpose is to die after doing something heroic it's to live as a lady and a knight and knowing she's loved. jaime has lived long enough and it would be very unfair to keep him alive after all the bad things he's done and for the best character in the series to die in his place. And the weirwood dream foreshadows jaime's death. not brienne's death.
because i just like exploring all her possible outcomes!!! and a death is certainly plausible and she is not immune to that kind of ending lbr. but to be clear though i don’t think that her ending would lead up to her dying, i just think that it’s something plausible for her. i think being recognized as a lady, knight and being loved, etc. are all scenarios that can definitely happen before she dies, but i do agree that it seems cruel allowing her to experience something such as that *finally* then suddenly killing her off. i think the reason for her death would have to justify it. like i could see it happening if she has another no chance and no choice moment but this time she doesn’t survive it--that’s what i mean when i talk about the plausibility of her death.
anyway that logic doesn’t make sense to me though? like there are plenty of young characters in this series who are still killed off despite not being old enough, and plenty of old characters who still survive despite their age. i think there’s a chance of jaime dying too but for me, i see his ending as someone who’s going to reform the lannister’s name and inevitably bury tywin’s regime with ruling with love than fear. and for that he has to survive the war bc i def don’t think house lannister is going to fall lol. def think tyrion could be suited for that role too but with jaime’s focal point being about love, i just think it’s fitting and a Neat ending for him.
i also don’t think the weirwood dream foreshadows jaime’s death too. there’s def things that alludes to the future like cersei/tywin/joff being in the shadows, but i think for the most part, the whole thing is an introspection of jaime and his psyche. we see an insight of his failures and his fears, and brienne is present to shield them from it because of how he considers her as his protector. we see him seeing brienne in a different light compared to how he saw her before, brienne holding a light in his darkness, brienne defending him when his demons come out to get him and i think it’s more of a where his inner self is + how brienne impacted him and less of a literal foreshadowing of what’s going to happen in the future.
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aviv-kasyanenko · 3 years
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NEW YEAR’S EVE 2020 [1 of 3?]:
You’re going to think I enjoyed writing this, but please know that I didn’t.
Date: December 31st, 2020. About 11:30pm. Warnings: Idk, mob stuff. I don’t want to spoil it but if this is too much for you then why are you even here reading Russian shit rn lbr.
Well, he had to hand it to them: they could sure carry on a party in the face of just about anything.
Though Vorya had been plunged into darkness—not unlike the rest of the city, if stories recounted by drunken tongues were to be believed—the Russians had point-blank refused to allow their New Year’s Eve celebrations to be interrupted. The alcohol continued to flow as freely as one would expect from them, and even those who weren’t affiliated with the Vorshevsky family in some way had decided to stick around and ride out whatever was going on. It seemed unlikely there would be a better time to be found anywhere else.
Naturally, his immediate reaction to the blackout had been to blame the weather.
When hushed whispers started to circulate a rumour there’d been an explosion on the other side of the river, however, his mind wandered into uncomfortable territory only another glass of vodka could put to ease. The anxieties he’d been trying to avoid since he’d landed in the shit hole he now called home were only compounded by the text from their boss; evidence in itself that the man wasn’t worried about whatever this was.
Bombs were hardly the style of the French, and the Rutherfords had no reason to make such an ugly scar on the face of a city they were still battling desperately to keep under their control.
So if there had been an explosion the three main culprits weren’t responsible for, it really only left two options:
Either Arkady gave even fewer fucks about London than he’d initially thought, and would jump on just about any tragedy that he thought could be of benefit, or a not so unfamiliar enemy was rearing its ugly fucking head on a country it’d already spent years tormenting, and the old man already knew it was coming.
Aviv’s relationship with the HCA was well understood to be a complicated one. Whilst he couldn’t begrudge the Russian mob doing business with them—money was fucking money, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered—that didn’t mean he hadn’t made his aversion to their goals abundantly clear. Those who affiliated with the Vorshevskys varied in their opinions; some of the Russians sympathised with the group’s goals, where others thought they were fucking insane. For those who’d originated from the former USSR countries the terrorist organization once again sought to control, however, it was a little more personal.
The Ukrainians, in particular, had been dealt a shitty hand by those cunts. Maybe the Kurylenkos had been in Launceston so long it didn’t matter to them.
Aviv didn’t much feel like looking past it, though.
Though he’d been sat at the bar in relative silence, enjoying a moment’s calm from what he was sure would be a party that carried on until the sun was all the light they needed to get home, it was interrupted just as he was about to request another refill.
“Aviv, can you help me with something?”
The Israeli had turned to the Kurylenko loyalist with a glare that said: No.                                
Even in the dimly lit room, it didn’t take long for him to realise that the expression he wore carried more anxiety than any of the inner turmoil he’d been fighting. All it took was a second for his gut to sink. The expectation had loomed heavy over all of their heads after the shit show that had been last year’s celebration, but now, as he looked back at a man visibly sweating, he was sure that their night was finally set to unravel. Something was very wrong.
Deciding the spare the others any concern until he was absolutely sure it was necessary, the fighter got to his feet and followed the green-as-grass security kid out to the back room.
The scene he was met with was not what he’d been expecting.
A second Kurylenko loyalist was stood in front of them, shining a torch downward to illuminate a pristinely wrapped Christmas gift; gold ribbon holding it together like it was the most innocent thing in the fucking world.
Were they joking?
“Bit fucking late for Chanukah, boys,” he mocked.
The man with the torch said nothing.
It was then Aviv noticed that his hands were red.
“We didn’t open it, but—”
Words seemed to fail Artyom, the man who had come to find him at the bar, at that point, and instead he gestured toward the box as if to say ‘take a look.’ It was rare that Aviv ever found himself feeling apprehensive, but as he realised the same red on the hands of the man opposite had since pooled around the bottom of the gift, it was impossible to ignore.
It looked like blood.
Hesitant to touch, he reached out just enough to tilt the label into view.
It read simply: ‘Joyeux Noël.’
“Who delivered this?” Aviv snapped, looking to each of them in turn. “Where’d you find it?”
“Some guy in a suit left it on the doorstep.”
“French?”
“I don’t know, he sounded American. I—”
With each word, Aviv could feel the blood in his veins begin to boil.
“What did he look like?”
“Uh, I don’t know. It was dark, he—” Artyom stuttered.
“Average height. Beard,” the other began in an attempt to save his friend from getting his head slammed into the fucking wall, “expensive looking suit.”
Didn’t narrow it down in the fucking slightest, but who else but a French piece of shit would’ve left such an obvious ‘fuck you’ right at the height of their party?
After a moment’s hesitation he usually wouldn’t have allowed himself, he finally untied the ribbon and removed the lid of the box. The smell hit so fucking fast he was surprised that the container had managed to hold it until now. Unmistakeable every time, pungent and assaulting, the kind that could make anyone sick to their stomach: it smelled like death.
As he looked down into the depths of the box, the view of whatever it was holding was obscured by plastic wrap; bloodied, and obviously not fit for fucking purpose given the swamp it was now sat in. Aviv never had a weak stomach for these things. His time working with the Vorshevskys had desensitised him to the most violent depths of a man’s imagination and the havoc it wrought. It wasn’t the idea of what he was going to find that bothered him, but more so who. The French had taken a lot of hits lately and he’d been glad for every single minute of their suffering. But it seemed unlikely that however they chose to finally get back at their biggest enemies would be anything short of personal.
It’d started with Svetlana, and would end with this.
Peeling back the barrier, the first thing he noted was the hair; beautiful blonde, eerily reminiscent of his dead girlfriend, albeit matted with so much blood it was hard to discern.
A fucking head.
Now that was absolutely a French fucking MO.
“Jesus fucking Christ…” Artyom muttered.
“Watch your mouth,” Aviv countered quietly, though unwilling to look up from the hair in his hand.
He almost didn’t want to touch her. But they needed to know.
“Who is it?”
As he eventually pushed back the hair to reveal the face of the victim, he realised that even the worst case scenarios his brain had been cycling through hadn’t been close. All at once, the striking pain of loss returned with unimaginable force and it felt like his chest was being fucking crushed. All the air in his lungs left him. Even if he’d wanted to answer their pig-ignorant question, he wasn’t sure he could’ve found the words to curse them to fucking hell.
Did they not know the place in which they stood?
Aviv wouldn’t pretend to not understand why their enemies had done this, but for what possible reason could they have chosen her beyond pettiness?
“Go and get Maksim,” he finally said. The sound of his own voice seemed foreign to him. “Andrei, too.”
If anyone was going to break it to the family, it should’ve been them.
Maksim could soften the blow for the Kurylenkos, and Andrei was almost certainly better suited than him to tell Mikhail that another one of his sister’s was dead.
“Aviv…who?”
The man didn’t even have it in him to be angry at the persistence.
Aviv had already lived through the pain of losing family once.
Not nearly as much as they had, though…
As he finally tore his eyes away from the decapitated head of Katarina Vorshevsky, he had only three words left to give:
“That’s my sister.”
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screechthemighty · 4 years
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FR Octane is 100% one of those characters where I can see all the building blocks of WHY he behaves the way he does, but also acknowledge that his behavior is...Bad, it’s not great. And guess what, I accidentally wrote an essay about it if anyone cares! (Listen, I paid a lot of money for an arts degree, if I can’t over-analyze everything then that money was wasted, humor me) ETA: also if you’re thinking of dragging me for this post, please read this first and consider not doing that.
 We’re going to be looking at two big aspects of his character for this analysis. One is more subtext than actual text, but since all the evidence is there (and, if how they handled Wattson’s autism is any indication, will likely never be canon regardless of all the evidence) we’re just going to treat it as canon for the sake of argument. The other one is paracanon which, to be fair, isn’t as canon as “evidence actually in the text”, but again, for the sake of argument, we’ll treat it as such.
Fact the first: Octane, most likely, has ADHD. From the way he behaves, I’m assuming it is either undiagnosed OR he was never adequately taught how to manage his symptoms. The most relevant symptoms to this discussion are his seeming overreaction to Lifeline teasing him (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria being a common ADHD symptom), his persistent and VERY canon inability to handle boredom, and his equally persistent and canon poor impulse control (especially related to the boredom but in this case it also goes hand in hand with the previously mentioned RSD).
Fact the second: He grew up in an emotionally neglectful and dysfunctional home--his dad had multiple re-marriages (and lbr, probably was cheating on his current wife with the next wife every single time), he was raised more by an assistant who didn’t care to learn his wants and needs, so on, so forth. IMHO, this fact does explain both his larger than life personality AND manipulative behavior. If he stands out and acts out, he gets the attention he craves. If he’s manipulative, he can actually get what he wants/needs from the uncaring adults in his life. He behaves badly because of childhood trauma.
So, with all of these facts in mind, here’s the sequence of events:
Octane is relegated to a task he considers painfully boring (keeping in mind that boredom is one of the worst sensations for the ADHD brain). He is forced to stay in said task by an authority figure who doesn’t listen to his input about what he’d rather be doing or what tasks he might be better suited for.
On top of that, he is teased by someone he considers a close friend (practically family by his own admission) in a way that a) makes light of the situation he finds uncomfortable and b) compares him to an “accountant”, something that is anathema to what he wants to be. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria kicks in; the comment becomes genuinely hurtful and not just slightly unfunny but well-meaning ribbing.
His intolerance for boredom says “no, we’re not doing that task anymore, let’s go do the fun thing.” Poor impulse control and no buffer to mitigate the effects of poor impulse control say, “the first thought to pop into my head is right, let’s get that dopamine!”
His manipulative tendencies say, “If I make a big fuss, do something stupid, and let Ajay know it’s partially because she was mean to me, then she’ll understand that she hurt me and feel bad about it.” Unresolved trauma means that he doesn’t even THINK to communicate that to her, which would be the HEALTHY thing to do but likely not a method that has ever worked for him in childhood. Instead, he leaves an emotionally manipulative letter and peaces out. 
As of right now, we don’t know what the ULTIMATE outcome is (my money is on him getting his ass kicked TBH). But the IMMEDIATE outcome is that Lifeline feels responsible for something that isn’t her fault and now she and Gibraltar are both going to be put at risk of getting hurt. Octane has also put himself in a position where he’ll probably be hurt. This isn’t going to end well, is what I’m getting at.
NOW. Here’s the thing. The two facts I listed up above are not his fault. Him having ADHD? Not his fault. Him not getting the right help he needed as a child? Not his fault. Him growing up in a dysfunctional environment that had a negative impact on his emotional and interpersonal development? DEFINITELY not his fault. Everything about his behavior based on those two facts makes sense, and I’m not gonna sit here and act like he’s a bad person for being a neurodivergent abuse victim.
But, to paraphrase the very smart Jessica “How to ADHD” McCabe, it may not be his fault, but it is his responsibility--in this case “it” being how he treats other people, which is very much within his control. I get WHY he did it, but he IS being an absolute ass to Lifeline for the second time (that we know of), and that IS wrong. He HAS to learn at some point to not be like this. It’s already temporarily lost him a friendship, and it COULD get him or someone else killed this time around. He’s a grown adult, and despite my/the fandom’s jokes, he does have all his brain cells. At some point he’ll have to realize he can’t treat people like this and adjust his behavior.
To be fair to Octane, I completely understand and acknowledge that getting help and admitting to the things clogging up your brainspace is incredibly hard. Trust me, I have firsthand experience with this one, and my problems are small potatoes in comparison to what’s going on with him. So he’s not necessarily a bad person for not having taken those steps, especially because I’m still not sure he REALIZES he has a problem. Now, if he knew that he was hurting people and continued doing so because “that’s just who I am, they’re the ones who are wrong, actually” against all evidence, then that IS him shirking his responsibilities to other people and himself and I could criticize him for that. But I don’t think he’s at that point yet. Right now he just seems oblivious, which, yeah, we’ve all been in that position where you’re oblivious to your problems even as they’re slowly burning your house down (I cringe looking back on childhood me exhibiting early anxiety symptoms that went unchecked until now, when I’m well past college age).
I also think it would be helpful if someone told him in a CONSTRUCTIVE manner that his behavior is worrying and was able to help him get to that place where he can realize that himself and get help (not saying they should bear the majority of the emotional weight, AM saying that he seems like he needs the extra help and that’s valid, all things considered). Unfortunately...pretty much everyone in Apex Legends is their own flavor of messed up and they ARE in the middle of a crisis, so they’re likely either unable to see it or unable to help because y’know, lot going on.
In conclusion: I say none of this to demonize Octane? I say it because a) I think his character is really neat, flaws and all, hence me referring to him as a “problematic icon”, and b) because I think it does a disservice to his character to ignore his flaws. I don’t want him to be turned from a complex character with a lot of neat stuff going on to an uwu tortured sad boy who’s never at fault. I haven’t seen anyone do that YET (everyone seems to love him for being a trash baby and that’s valid), but, y’know, doesn’t hurt to start the conversation preemptively.
(QUICK sidebar that I didn’t think of until I was tagging his: his privilege as a rich child from a rich family definitely is a contributing factor to his behavior and another stumbling block to him getting help for a lot of reasons? I won’t go into all my thoughts on this because that could be its own essay but tl;dr Rich People often don’t believe in consequences as it is and don’t like to admit to being wrong, and some of this definitely wore off on Octane and is exacerbating the rest of it.)
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typewriterghcst · 3 years
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Title: But For Me It Was Tuesday Rating: also G-ish, but some allusions to probably what we would consider child abuse in the modern day lbr Characters: one (1) OC, Baron, Natori, Yuki Summary: The events of The Cat Returns, but told through the eyes of the smallest-- oh, sorry, my mistake— the youngest kitchen maid in the service of the Cat King. No romantic pairings. A crush or two may be mentioned, though. Notes: Written for the 2020 TCR Birthday Bash, even though I emphatically missed the deadline rip. This one was for the prompt of ‘Movie Extra’, which I took to mean, well, pretty much just what I wrote— the events of the movie as a backdrop to another character’s everyday life, lmao This is another one that isn't Entirely Finished, but I've been working on it since June-ish and I've just lost all motivation to finish it. Though, unlike the last one I posted that was unfinished, the only part missing from this one is the ending.  There's also a part in here involving Natori that needed to be changed, but I liked the wording and imagery of it, and never did get around to figuring out where else to put it, so some of the pacing in here is Off rip
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She oversleeps. That's the first unusual misfortune that happens to her on this particular day. Opens the day, no less, she  thinks to herself as she forlornly stokes the ovens' gently smoldering fires. Her ears are still ringing from the boxing she'd received— the fact that Cook had had to include a little hop to even reach them means what little pride she has feels just as bruised.
Were she a more superstitious, flighty sort, she might even have taken this setback as the first of likely many portents of an upcoming stressful day. But instead she is only Topolina, the youngest (but emphatically not the smallest; more on that later) kitchen maid currently languishing away in the employ of the illustrious royal castle of the Cat Kingdom.
Of course, it’s there she stops herself. It’s only the chaos of the morning that has her using such bitter language. She should try harder, she tells herself, not to linger on the unpleasant aspects of her current existence, and instead focus on… on… well, she supposes there’s something to be grateful for in all of this. 
Like…
Oh! She has a home. A relatively nice bed to sleep in. And meals, every day.
...Meals which she is most often forced to wolf down in the kitchen in solitude as she tends the fires and keeps a watchful eye on the simmering pots.
Ah.
Perhaps she needs a bit more practice with this gratitude thing, is all.
It’s entirely possible her recent light resentment had begun with her very name, Topolina, a name which had been quite fitting when she stood at least two heads shorter than all the other kitchen maids, one she'd even perhaps viewed with some fondness for its endearing quality. And yet, alas, it now exists as a name which seems only heavily ironic— that is, now that she's hit the tender age of fourteen and found herself towering over all but the very tallest of cats. It feels to dear Topolina like some massive, omnipresent joke that she remains her old timid, meek self, still eager to fade into the background and disappear... now without even the faintest hope of being able to do so.
Metaphorical salt in the wound is the undeniable fact that her pinafore's hem, once perfectly aligned with her ankles and cutely poofy, now drapes awkwardly far above its original position. Perhaps it’s comparatively trivial atop all her other complaints, but when she finds herself thinking back to her old unassuming silhouette, she can’t help but feel at least a little crestfallen. Nowadays, she feels quite akin to a pitifully overgrown shrub, no matter how many well-meaning words to the contrary she receives.
All in all, she imagines such a thing might make anyone feel rather less than appreciative.
It’s as she’s sitting there alone before one of the nine stoves in the palace kitchen, contemplating her rotten luck, that she hears— well. She’s not sure, exactly. It’s something of a crunching sound, like rusted metal grinding against itself, and she can’t imagine what its source could be. She stands, and gingerly inspects the oven itself from every angle she can think of. She even studies her fire iron. Yet still she comes up empty-handed.
Defeated, she flops back down in her original spot.
And then— she squeaks, because the ground under her is moving, slowly twisting back and forth as if she’s sitting on a lazy top. She leaps (falls is more accurate) off the emerging ground once her mind comes back to her, once it stops panicking, and stares in confounded shock as the very spot she’d been settled atop transforms into what appears to be a long-forgotten manhole covering. How long had that been there?! She’s never been made aware of an old servant’s tunnel in this area!
Her perplexion only deepens when she spies just who has made use of this abandoned tunnel— a cat much like herself, though she thinks that he looks quite a sight better than she would have had she just crawled through a dirty tunnel. His off-white suit is pressed and smart, for one, and hardly has a tear nor even a wrinkle to show for the abuse he’s no doubt just put it through.
His sharp gaze falls then on her, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of her ill-fitting, nearly threadbare pinafore, the scuffs of dirt and soot smattered across it, and her probably unkempt fur, smudged and mussed from fire-tending. Oh, if she could just will the earth itself to open its maw and swallow her up—!
“Ah,” he starts, in a much gentler voice than Topolina had expected, turning to her and offering a hand to help her up, “I apologize. It was not my intention to startle you.”
“N-No, it’s okay,” she stammers, taking his hand without thinking. (Were she in a right state of mind, she’d never do such a thing— the very last thing her poor Young Maiden’s Heart could stand is for a handsome gentleman to struggle to lift her.) He pulls her up with little difficulty, though, and in her chest she feels a very peculiar thump, and then a flutter.
“A-Are you here for the king..?” She asks impulsively.
He doesn’t answer immediately, appearing to think that over for a fleeting moment, perhaps aware of the myriad of ways the pairing of her question and his response could be interpreted, before he makes his decision.
“Yes. I would like to have an audience with him. It’s a matter of utmost importance.”
“Y… you’re not here to kill him, are you?” She whispers, perhaps irrationally afraid that the king himself might be listening in on her. And yet, not too irrational— she’s seen his spying Cat’s Eye floating languidly about the castle on more than one occasion.
There’s something pitying in his gaze, she thinks, but he replies graciously enough. “You have my word, miss. I am not here to usurp or otherwise harm your king.” Then, while dusting some nonexistent dirt off his clothes, “I do believe I will need a change of wardrobe, however. It won’t do to adress a king while clad in anything less than my finest, will it?”
He says it without flinching, and in such an earnestly straightforward fashion, that Topolina herself is almost led to believe there really is some flaw with his clothing that she simply can’t see.
“Oh!” She says then in sudden inspiration. Without explaining herself first, she scampers to the open alcove behind him, separated only by an unfinished wall. The kitchen servants have long used the area as a makeshift coat rack, and one particularly bizarre ensemble has been there for as long as she can remember. She comes back around the wall bearing the large hat and cloak before offering it to him, embarrassed now that she realizes that, judging by her actions, this is what constitutes ‘his best’ for her: an absurd hat and a dusty, worn cloak.
He himself appears no less than enchanted at her offering, however, and when he stands before her with the hat cocked just slightly on his head and azure mantle thrown over his shoulders, Topolina finds she’s again being assaulted by those odd, vexing heart palpitations. Is she really such a nervous thing? ...Yes, she answers herself firmly. Yes, she is. But she’s far from convinced nerves are to blame in this instance.
“Oh,” she breathes eventually, clasping her paws together and resting them against the edge of her cheek. “You look like you came out of a storybook.”
Well… that was more childish than she meant it to be.
“Then it’s perfect,” he says succinctly. Then, removing the hat and inclining his head to her, he adds, “Thank you for your assistance, ah—”
“Top— erm, Lina.”
“Miss Lina, it is. I’m quite grateful for your help. I am sorry only to startle you and then run without so much as a token for your assistance, but it’s imperative I make good time.”
Topolina shakes her head. “It’s okay— I-I don’t mind!”
And with a final bow, he leaves her and the kitchen behind.
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Peculiar dashing stranger aside, the rest of her day passes in relative normality. There’s a clamor about the servants some time later, and she catches snippets of an excited buzz about something happening with the prince (something that ties in with a group of special guests, but she’s yet to put together how) as she goes about her duties, but in all, for how bizarre the day started out, it all strikes her as rather uneventful.
She’s instructed eventually to scour the floors in the audience chamber in preparation for a banquet, which means filling an old rusted tub with hot water and soap, and then carting it to said room. She’s no stranger to the task, of course, and thinks nothing of trudging through the hall with this metal burden in her arms.
Perhaps as penitence for her lack of investment in the day’s continuing  Wonders, another ill-fated obstacle is tossed onto the tracks before her. In this case, literally. 
Earlier that day, a courier had accidentally overturned a loose stone in the hallway floor. Scratching his head, staring down at the disturbed piece of clay as though it had personally insulted him in the most obtuse way possible, he’d eventually looked from one end of the corridor to the other and quietly snuck it back into place, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed.
Unfortunately, Topolina notices.
With a decidedly unfeline-like squawk, she trips over the rogue stone; the tub in her arms ends up the victim of gravity, as we all so unfortunately are.
And who should turn the corner then but Natori, just in time to be the unwitting second victim of her bad luck— drenched by the ensuing sheet of warm, sudsy water and so jarred by it, it seems he can do little other than look rapidly from his own sodden person to her no-doubt horrified countenance for near a full two minutes. In the fraught silence that follows, his glasses clatter to the earthen floor, and the tiny sound echoes in her ears like a gunshot. Trembling, Topolina instantly drops to her haunches, paws clapped together in desperate and tearful pleading.
"I-I'm so sorry, sir! Please, I beg your pardon— I didn't mean— i-it was an accident!"
"...Topolina," Natori finally interrupts quietly, gently, even, but the hum of exasperation vibrates just underneath his patient tone like a trapped butterfly, "—retrieve a mop and a towel, please.”
“Of course, sir! R-Right away!”
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It’s afterward, as Topolina does her best to mop around him while he tries to dry himself without incurring any extra… floof, that Natori deems an appropriate time to address his reason for coming this way in the first place.
“It’s possible that Cook may have instructed you about this task already, but the kitchen staff will likely be needing every pot and pan that can be spared for today’s dinner, so do ensure that you tend to the ones that have been, er, languishing in... that corner.” When she chances a glance at him, she sees that his gaze is inconspicuously trained on a particularly infamous corner of the palace kitchens, one where abandoned cookware is just shy of creating its own ecosystem by now. For a brief, heart-pounding moment, some measure of indignation rises in her; she’s so very close to telling him she isn’t the one to blame in this instance! ...At least, not the only one.
Ah. Alas, once more. Her courage withers in the face of this culpability, small as it may be. Instead, she goes back to her doleful mopping. Still, there is at least enough nerve left in her to present him with one continuing question on the topic.
"Is it... is it for the special guests?"
Natori pauses, giving her something of a searching glance. "...It is, yes." Then, after a few seconds spent appearing to think this over, he continues ringing out the bottom hem of his robe. It seems at some point while she was distracted, he’d laid the drenched towel at his feet. "I see word spreads fast through the kitchens."
To herself, she thinks that he has no idea how true that is, nor precisely how fast it truly does.
Finally satisfied with all that the towel can accomplish in drying him off (and evidently feeling his now damp robe will no longer leave any puddles as he wanders through the castle), he returns it to her. "Now, Topolina, please try to keep the mishaps to a minimum. We do have an exceptional guest today, after all."
She only nods frantically, all too aware of her ears flapping up and down. To this, he gives an approving nod of his own, and then finally turns on his heel and leaves. Secure in her admittedly paltry position for at least another day, Topolina breathes a sigh of relief as she puts the mop away.
...An exceptional guest, he’d said. Curiosity flares again, this time stronger than before, and she can’t stop wondering just who they could be. For the most fleeting of seconds, she remembers the cat who had interrupted her delayed routine this morning, but he’s quickly waved away.
Honored guests did not arrive to their own commemoration by climbing through old servants’ tunnels.
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Once the dirtiest, most grime-caked pots and pans are finally scrubbed to perfection, she peeks around the corner in search of Cook or Natori, wondering what other (insignificant) part she may have to play in the care of these exceptional guests. To her consternation, however, the kitchen aside from her seems rather empty, present only to the sound of a maid or two prepping extra portions of stuffed mice on the off-chance they’re requested.
Cautious as always, Topolina all but tiptoes through, still careful not to draw attention to herself, and— once she’s certain she’s not being scrutinized— peeks out of the kitchen itself into the servers’ hallway. There’s music playing, muffled, down the hall in the great dining room— something elegant, bouncy. A waltz, perhaps. She wonders distantly who it is that might be dancing, and if the well-spoken cat she’d crossed paths with earlier is anything of a dancer himself. She could imagine him dancing… Oh, the flutter is back.
“Lina—”
“Yes!!”
She jumps impressively high, her hackles on edge and tail fluffed out in alarm.  Yet, when she whips around to face her unexpected company, she’s met only with Yuki. Another of the kitchen servants, Yuki has existed as a consistently friendly, warm presence, to the degree that she’d willingly adopted Topolina’s attempts to shorten her, well, newly embarrassing name, something a few of the other servants (and Natori…) were still having trouble with. Her fright abated, Topolina tries to greet the smaller cat with a smile, but it wavers.
“Oh— Yuki, it’s you.” She’s carrying a large glass bottle, freshly-filled with some unfamiliar pink-tinged liquid, Topolina notices.
“I’m sorry,” Yuki starts in reply. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I-It’s okay!”
“What were you looking at?”
Oh. That.
“I was looking for Cook,” Topolina admits reluctantly. “Or maybe Natori. I’ve finished the dishes they wanted me to clean earlier today.”
“I saw The Corner was all clean. It must have taken a while.” Yuki sounds impressed, perhaps. Topolina doesn’t mention it, of course, but deep down she’s a little tickled. “Natori’s already taken his place in the dining room, though, so I don’t think you’ll have any luck getting more directions from him.”
“Oh…” Thinking back now, she realizes she should have surmised that already. At least, if the banquet has progressed to the point that entertainment is warranted. “What about Cook? Have you seen her?”
“Sorry, I haven’t.”
After a short silence, it suddenly occurs to Topolina that Yuki seems… a little distracted. Troubled, even. Fidgeting, she gathers her resolve for the third time that day.
“...Are you okay? You look like… um, something’s on your mind.”
Just the mention of her evident disquiet is enough to erase its presence from her expression; Yuki almost instantly brightens some, shaking her head gently.
“No, no. I’m fine.” And then, before Topolina can press the issue, “How about this? Stay here— I have to go back in and serve refills. If I see Cook, I’ll ask her what else she wants you to do and then fill you in when I come back. Okay?”
Topolina is just about to enthusiastically agree (leisure time in the sparsely occupied kitchen? Not being the one to personally ask Cook for more work? Of course she’d be on board!), but a sudden eruption of screams and breaking glass from the direction of the banquet room means the two of them are turning their startled attention to the ruckus instead.
“Wh— what could it be..?” Topolina wonders aloud, shaken.
[ and that's it rip the ending i had in mind was that yuki tells topolina to find a safe place, topolina cowers probably in the kitchen the whole time, especially upon hearing an Explosion. and the next day there's all kinds of rumors and tall tales about baron and The Daring Rescue he pulled off. topolina connects the dots and. well basically becomes haru 2.0 crushing on him and indulging in fantasies where she's also swept off her feet by a dashing hero fjfjkda; ]
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8241991 · 4 years
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Would it be too much of I asked for all the hearts of the ask meme for moonriver?
Fam, you got it 100%, thank you so much for this. This probably took forever and I am so sorry I’m on mobile rn but I will do this to the best of my ability.
1. Who is more affectionate in public? In private?
I think both Near and Light are reserved people so this is a tough one, but after thinking over their characters they would be uniquely affectionate to each other in private. I could see Near crafting things for Light, making models and heartfelt gifts. Near is not one for random physical affection really, but I could easily see him stroking Light’s face or holding his hand gently. Light would be the type to return this with other kisses and caresses, but again they’re both very reserved people even in private.
In public, I think they would still be reserved but it’d be equally unique. Light and Near would probably do more activities suited for the both of them (hello art museums) and I think that would be their way of showing affection to each other in public, by genuinely showing interest in each other’s hobbies and creative passions. I know this is a ‘which one’ question but I think they’re both rather similar in how they approach affection!
2. Who is the bigger romantic openly? Secretly?
Tbf, Light would be more openly romantic. Not saying Near doesnt have the capacity or capability, but I think he can be rather wrapped up in his tasks or whatever activity he’s doing sometimes to be openly romantic. I can see Light being more conscious about what Near would enjoy romantically and not worrying about enough reciprocation- he knows how Near is and it doesn’t bother him, it’s why he does it.
As for secretly, I’d definitely say Near. Near is a sensitive person for starters and while as I said earlier he can be wrapped up in whatever he’s doing, he feels things a lot heavier than most people would imo. So while he may not be outwardly romantic with his words and actions, he certainly feels these things heavily when it comes to Light.
(Sorry if this is weirdly worded this one was kinda hard to answer!)
3. Who is more likely to initiate hand holding in public?
Light would, tbh. I can see it being a slow transition- Near definitely isn’t opposed to the idea, but I can’t see initiating romantic gestures (especially in public) as being something Near does. He’d be able to do it later on, especially if he felt the mood was right or needed comforting, but I believe Light would initiate it in a pure romantic sense at first.
4. Who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?
Tbh, neither. Not saying they won’t make declarations of love, but they’d be unique and way quieter. As stated above both are reserved and can control their emotions well. A ‘huge’ declaration of love between the two (especially in public) is not something that would happen. I feel as if they know it’s not something that needs to occur. However, when it comes to quiet gestures they’re like, kings. Kissing discretely, soft leg rubbing, that sort of thing.
5. Who developed a crush on the other first?
While I believe they both would have a mutual interest in each other, I think Near would develop feelings first. Near would probably realize this once he started thinking about Light more and it started affecting his crafts and hobbies- making things he think Light would like, shaping things after him. That’s besides the point, but I think Light is one of those people who needs more time to understand his feelings for another person in a romantic sense, while Near can feel these things sooner and it would start affecting him in different ways.
6. Who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?
Near and Light are both fairly confident people and understand what they both like, so while I can’t see it being really a big deal for either of them, I think Near would be more thoughtful as he’d want to make something for Light. Light isn’t an established artist (I don’t think he even draws once in canon), so he’d resort to buying things. Near would want to plan out what to make for his partner. He appreciates gifts that are bought for him, but believes to make gifts for those he cares about as a sign of affection.
7. Who initiates the most physical contact?
Light. Again, we both got two confident people here so when I say Light or Near I’m not doubting the abilities or expertise of the other, but I’m simply stating who is more likely. Especially in private, I can see Light being highly sensual with Near. Shoulder rubbing (especially after a hard day), hugging, playing with the others hair etc.. Near is receptive and often reciprocates.
8. Who is more likely to send cutesy texts to one another?
Oh man, define what you mean by cutesy. If you mean playful, I can see that being a Near thing. He has a sense of humor, and would probably enjoy teasing Light over text. However I can see them very rarely texting as I can see them working together (BOTH ARE GOOD DETECTIVES OK...) and living together so. When you’re around a person that much texting is limited. But yes, Near.
9. Who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?
And again, this goes to Near haha. He has some sort of spiritual side, he indulges in tarot so I could definitely see him looking into astrology. Now I don’t think he’d put the entirety of their relationship into it, he would tell Light interesting facts about their zodiac signs and how they get along. Also in rare fights he’d probably say ‘god you’re such a fucking pisces’.
10. Who is more protective?
Oooooooooh man, this is also another tough one. Lbr: both are scrawny and underweight so physical protection is kinda hard to determine. Near wouldn’t win in this because he’s so tiny, so I guess Light would feel a need to be more physically protective, but both are willing to protect each other when it comes to their emotions. Especially with how sensitive Near is, even despite his confidence, if you manage to hurt him I could definitely see Light coming for your ass (which is like, a rare moment where I kin Light).
11. Who tends to get sick more often? Who takes care of the other better?
I can see Near having a weak immune system really, and he would get sick more often. Light wouldn’t freak out about this because he’d probably just get light colds and maybe something a little bit more serious, but Light would be more competent in the caretaking department. He’d know what to do and would put intense research into it, haha.
12.
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(Took a screencap because I didn’t want to remember and type this lol)
They both say ‘I love you’ rarely because they don’t really feel the need to say it, but if it were up to me I think Light would say it first. Near would certainly feel love for his partner, but wouldn’t always verbalize it. Light would want to wait for the right moment, and he’d make it meaningful (possibly on a special occasion).
13. Who believes in soulmates?
I could see this with Near, but I don’t know how much weight he would put into it. He’d probably go back and forth, but more leaning into ‘we’re soulmates’ territory once their relationship was further along, you know?
Again, thank you so much, I hope you like my answers. Pls feel free to ask me more ❤️
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