#ignore the cropping mistake please I don’t want to make this again

[aegonomics]

incorrect house of the dragon 7/?

[regulus-blacks-lover]

“i've gotta get home and sleep with your brother”

(you know the tiktok sound ok)

Pairing these two prompts together because I was feeling inspired.

#85: “i’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that guys name” --and-- #90: “don’t fucking touch what is not yours”

2,036 words!!

Summary: With Regulus busy and ignoring you, what choice do you have but go to the person who annoys him most for assistance? Smut!! Includes Sirius as a relentless flirt, references to partying and drinking, and angry sex w/ overprotective, mean!dom!regulus. (I don't condone being toxic! It's just fun to write lol)

I put gifs in the body of the story, not sure if that reads well, but I had 4 gifs I wanted to use lol. Do the pics show up side by side in pairs of 2, or are they stacked? I want them to be side by side and can't tell how it'll look.

My prompts are tagged #prompt list - the currently active list is whatever is most recent, please send requests!

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You'd been sitting next to Regulus in the library for hours, barely speaking. "Reggie..." You said in a hushed tone. He hardly looked up from his book You ignored this, and continued, "There's an all-house quidditch party out on the quidditch grounds after curfew tonight. Can we go?"

"Evan and Barty have been hounding me about it all week." He said flatly, not answering the question.

You raised your eyebrows at him, but he didn't notice. He'd gone back to his book. "Reg, please? You've been studying all day and we've barely done anything fun this week."

It was true. He'd barely even touched you for days, and the ache between your legs was beginning to be unbearable.

Regulus didn't look convinced. "Reg, please," you tried again, "it would be good for team morale."

He snorted. "Since when do you care about the quidditch team?"

You rolled your eyes. "Since right now, when I decided that it would help me get you to come to this party."

Regulus sighed. "How 'bout you meet me back here after dinner? I'll meet you outside, okay?"

You nodded and made a quick exit before he could change his mind.

• ◦ • ⁃ • ◦ • • ◦ • ⁃ • ◦ • • ◦ • ⁃ • ◦ •

After dinner, you changed quickly and snuck back out of the common room, finding Regulus waiting for you outside the library, as promised. His gaze flicked down your body; you were wearing a crop top with a deep neckline and a short skirt you couldn't have bent over in without exposing yourself.

As soon as you got to the party, you were enveloped by a cheery throng of your friends. Regulus muttered something about going to get a drink as you were swept into conversation.

When the excitement of your arrival to the party died down and people began to be immersed in their own conversations, you snuck off to get a drink, and look for Regulus. You spotted him standing alone at the edge of the party, looking ready to leave. You weren't going to deal with that, especially not without having something to drink first.

You spotted Sirius Black and his usual group of friends huddled together, laughing. You locked eyes with him, and to your surprise he grabbed an extra drink from a table nearby and began to saunter over.

"Poor, poor little Y/N." he said with mock-pity. "I see my idiot brother is paying you no attention at all," he said as he handed you the drink. "A big mistake, I must say. You look absolutely ravishing tonight."

As you took a sip, you couldn't help the flush that spread across your face. Turning back to Sirius, you said, "Wanna help me get his attention?"

A devious smile spread across his face as he looked you up and down. "So naughty, Y/N. Didn't know you had it in you. What'd you have in mind?"

You felt a surge of guilt, but one glance at Regulus still stony faced in the corner convinced you of your decision. "Can you just- just flirt with me for a minute? I'm sure that'll make him angry enough." You said quickly, before you could change your mind.

Sirius didn't answer, but let his eyes wander down the length of your body, taking you in with his usual lazy confidence. "I think we can do better than just flirting, don't you?" He asked, stepping closer to you.

You let him reach towards your face and loop a strand of your hair around his finger. Your heart gave a small flutter and you leaned into his touch.

His other hand came to rest on your waist. Everything about Sirius was warm. He began to rub circles into your skin, his thumb trailing up underneath the hem of your shirt, just grazing the underside of your bra.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped you. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," Sirius said, leaning into you. "So beautiful. I bet I could get you to make all sorts of pretty little noises, if you let me."

His breath smelled of hot cider as he kissed your cheek. "But now my brother seems to have noticed our little show." he added, pulling away, but even then, he did not remove his hand from your waist.

Before you could say anything, Sirius was being shoved back, and a familiar hand grasped at your shoulder. "Get your filthy fucking hands off her," Regulus spat at his brother. "Don't fucking touch what isn't yours."

But Sirius was looking past Regulus and grinning at you. "When you get bored of my little brother, Y/N, come and see me." He said, and with that he turned back to the party and walked away.

Regulus rounded on you. "What the fuck were you thinking, flirting with my brother like that?" He asked, his expression dangerous.

You were past the point of caring however, and you merely said, "I guess I was just tired of waiting for you to notice me, and Sirius was there, ready to play."

Regulus let out a humorless laugh. "That's what you want? You want me to notice you?" He gripped your arm tightly, taking a step closer to you. "You want me to play with you?" He asked, voice deadly.

"I suppose you have time for me now," you spat.

You saw the muscles in Regulus's jaw clench, and knew you were going to get exactly what you'd bargained for.

"Come with me, right now," he hissed, his grasp on your arm tightening as he began to walk back to the castle, dragging you along with him. You walked in silence, knowing Regulus was plotting everything he'd do to you once you'd reached the school.

You hurried to keep up with his fast pace as the two of you snuck cautiously back into the castle and he pulled you to the door of the Slytherin common room.

It was completely empty, with everyone still down at the party. Regulus ushered you up a small flight of steps into his dormitory. He locked the door and you watched as he put up silencing spells around the entryway.

Then he turned, walking slowly over to where you stood by his bed. His eyes were dark with anger as his eyes trailed down your body, taking you in for the first time that night. He placed a hand on the back of your neck, running it upwards until he had a fistful of hair, which he tugged sharply, forcing you to look up at him.

"Did you wear your sluttiest little outfit all for me, hmm?" He asked teasingly. "Did you put this on just so I'd fuck you tonight?"

Already, you could feel wetness pooling between your legs. "Yes," you managed to gasp.

He leaned in closer, biting at your neck without warning. "I know you did." He whispered. "And now, you're going to get on your knees and show me just how much you want to be fucked."

You nodded, getting to your knees without another word. Regulus watched you, unbuttoning his shirt as you situated yourself at his knees. You reached up and palmed the bulge in his pants the way you knew he liked. But he wasn't in the mood for that tonight. He pushed your hand away and undid his zipper.

"Open your mouth." He said cooly.

You obeyed, wrapping your lips around his length. Regulus let his head fall back as you took him deeper.

A second later, his hand found the back of your head, using your hair as leverage while he fucked your mouth harshly. You let out a small choking sound and he merely grinned wickedly down at you. "What's the matter, can't my little slut take it?" He asked, pushing your head even further onto his cock so you could feel him at the back of your throat.

He held you there for a moment, watching as you struggled for breath. Finally he let you go, and you fell back, gasping and sputtering for air.

"Pathetic." Regulus said. "Get up."

Your legs shook as you stood. Regulus wiped the tears from your cheeks. You knew by now that your face must be smeared with mascara. Meeting his gaze, you saw a flicker of concern on his face. You nodded, reassuring him, and just like that the concern was gone.

"Take your panties off, then get on the bed." He commanded, and you did as you were told, watching him tuck your soaked underwear into the drawer of his bedside stand as you clambered onto his bed.

"Not like that," Regulus said quickly. "Get on your hands and knees."

Your face burned as you flipped over, lowering yourself onto your forearms and arching your back. You could feel the bed dip as Regulus knelt behind you. He flipped your skirt up, exposing your ass.

"Spread your legs a bit more." He said in that same cold voice he'd been using all evening, the voice that warned you not to disobey him.

Once you were properly on display for him, you felt his hand between your legs, grazing you with the lightest of touches, just enough to spread your wetness around.

"You're positively soaked for me, little slut." He said. Unthinkingly, you rocked your hips against his hand, searching for more friction.

This earned you a harsh slap on the ass from Regulus. You cried out, but he merely said, "Not tonight. Tonight you don't get to cum on my fingers. Sluts only get to come when they're being fucked."

Your frustration had reached a peak. "Fuck me then," you said desperately.

Regulus smacked your ass again. "Ask me nicely." He said.

"Please," you managed in a strangled voice, "Please fuck me."

He slid into you without warning and you whimpered at the sudden intrusion. You heard Regulus curse under his breath, his hands moving to grip your sides. He began thrusting in and out of you at a merciless pace. "Gonna fuck you so hard you forget that bastard's name. Gonna fuck you so hard all you can think about is my cock." He said.

"This is what you fucking wanted, isn't it?" He continued, his fingers digging harshly into your hips, hard enough to bruise. "Wanted me to fuck you like a filthy little whore?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a moan.

Regulus moved one hand between your legs, rubbing at your clit with an unbearable amount of pressure. Your legs began to shake, and Regulus said, "Answer me."

"Yes!" You managed to get out, panting. "Yes! Wanted you so badly."

"That's right," Regulus crooned, his movements never ceasing. "You're mine. You're only mine. No one else is gonna make you feel like this, huh?"

"Just you." You said breathlessly.

"That's right," Regulus said again.

"Reg, 'm gonna cum," You said, and his movements against your clit sped up.

You could tell he was getting close by the way his rhythm was starting to falter slightly. You pushed your hips back to meet him with every thrust.

"Fuck, angel, yes. You're so good, so good for me, just like that." He said, urging you to keep moving. Soon his thrusts grew sloppy and he grabbed you by the hips again, burying himself inside you completely as he came.

As you both came down from your highs, he rolled you over onto your back and looked down at you. "My girl." He said possessively. "So so beautiful. Wasn't too rough, was I? You're okay?" He looked suddenly unsure.

You shook your head. "No Reg." You pulled him down into a kiss, relishing his scent.

His hands were on either side of your face as he pulled away to look at you again. "Don't flirt with my brother, ever again." He said.

"Don't ignore me ever again." You shot back with a grin.

"I mean it, Y/N." He said.

You beamed up at him. "But it had such a fun result." You said cheekily.

"Next time, the results won't be fun." He grumbled, but leaned back down to kiss you again.

▢

[rafesproactiveprettygirl]

Chapter 1: A not so normal sunny day || “The Pogue Prince and Kook Princess” || Series ||

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of drugs, flirty jokes, bitchy main character, arguments, groping, cat calling, slut shaming, JJ is kinda a dick for this chapter, implied sex, drunk reader being taken advantage of? (i think that’s what you’d consider it?

Summary: A normal first day of summer, well mostly, it’s never a normal day with a pogue around.

A/N: This probably isn’t proof read lmao, so i’m sorry for any mistakes! Also i’d like to say that i’m sorry if this makes it seem like i hate pogues, i promise i don’t and i love the pogue to death. If I was in outerbanks i’d definitely be a pogue. enjoy! please ignore the fact i don’t know shit about boats🤞also i apologize for the fact i may spell pogue wrong like 500 times

Y/N/N = Your nick name

“So what are you going to wear?” Your best friend, Sarah asks from your bed. You jut your hip to the side resting your chin in your hand. “I’m not sure.” You respond back. “I want to wear something i’ll look hot in, but I also want to be comfortable.”

Sarah nodded in agreement. “A sundress?” She asked. You shook your head. “I wore a sundress yesterday.”

“Shorts and a tank?” You shook your head again. “Too basic.” Your friend giggled, “You could always add some jewelry.” You ignored her and scanned the closet again until you found a perfect thing. It was a white thin strapped crop top with a short flowy white mini skirt. “Perfect.” You smiled to yourself before heading towards the bathroom to change.

While in the bathroom you added some pearl earrings and a tight seashell necklace. You walked out and spotted your white tennis shoes by the door and slipped them on. You put your hair in a way that would stay out of your face but some of your baby hairs stuck out, you pushed them behind your ears and turned to Sarah.

“Are you finally ready?” Sarah asked getting up and tucking her phone in her back pocket. You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “Yes Sarah I’m ready, now come on. You grab the blankets and pillows and i’ll grab the basket.” Sarah nodded as you headed downstairs. You saw Topper and Rafe watching some basketball game as you went to the kitchen to grab the picnic basket off your marble counter when Rafe noticed you, he eyed you as Sarah walked over.

“You two going somewhere?” He asked, throwing his arm around the back of the couch, man spread. You turned to face him and dryly replied, “We’re going on an adventure.” While waving the picnic basket in the air. Rafe chuckled at your sarcasm and you smirked. “You better come give me a kiss before you leave.”

You handed Sarah the basket as she went to put the supplies in the back of your jeep. You walked over to Rafe and stood between his legs. You rest your hands on his thighs as you leaned forward to give him a kiss. One hand gripped your waist and the other held your throat, bringing you closer to him. He gave you an opened mouth kiss as the hand on your waist moved to squeeze your ass which caused you to giggle.

“Dude can you stop groping my sister right in front of me?” Topper groaned in disgust. “And Y/N can you move? You’re in the way of the game.” You turned to stick your tongue out at your bother before kissing Rafe one last time. He gave your ass a light tap, “Don’t be gone for too long.”

“You know I won’t. You can’t stand not having me around.” You teased. “Damn right, that ass is to sweet to be away from me for so long.” You smirked once more before waving to Topper and heading outside to see Sarah smiling down at her phone. You hoped in the car and peered over the console to look at her phone. She quickly leaned it away and gave you a warning look.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you buckled up and started the car. “Sexting Top?” He face grew red. “What? No! Y/N!” She said embarrassed. You laughed. “Chill out Sarah, i’m just fucking with you.” She rolled her eyes and connected her phone to the speaker of the car and started playing “Afterglow” By Taylor Swift. That was both of you guys favorite singer at the moment.

Sarah sung softly as you tapped along to the beat. You drove around the figure eight and pulled up to the docks where Sarah’s family boat was sitting. You both stepped out, letting the car door slam behind you, letting everyone know you were there. You heard Sarah’s giggle and turned to face her, she was looking in the distance at something but you chose to ignore it.

You and Sarah both went to the back of the car and grabbed your supplies before stepping onto the wooden dock. You heard Sarah’s flip flops snapping against the wood from behind you. You were approaching the boat when you heard a loud whistle from behind you. You felt anger bubble within you immediately knowing who it was.

You dropped the stuff down, completely ignoring the cat calls and grabbing the blankets from Sarah as she boarded the ship.

“Going for a swim ladies?” JJ fucking Maybank.

You turned to glare at the blond and his brunette friend. “Does it look like it?” You asked, referring to the stuff on the ground. JJ shrugged. “I don’t know, I assumed what you were wearing was a bathing suit. But now I see it’s just another one of your slutty outfits.”

You felt your face heat up at the insult. “Yeah well at least I have enough money to buy this slutty outfit. This probably costs more than that shitting boat you own.” You snapped back, venom in your voice. You turned, clearly done with the conversation, but JJ wasn’t.

He threw his hands up in defense. “Sorry Princess, didn’t mean to strike a nerve. Don’t get your panties in twist.” You rolled your eyes with a grimace and handed Sarah the blankets and pillows. JJ continued, “I don’t know why you spend that much on clothes. You know Rafe will just tear them right off anyways.”

You spin around and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t, talk about Rafe like that.” You knew it was true, which is why you got so defensive. But you didn’t need everyone in the island to know that. “And don’t call me Princess.” You huffed, turning to face Sarah. She took the basket and placed it on the deck as well. She reached out for your hand, you took it and she pulled you up onto the boat. You felt your skirt rising up from the wind and pulled it down, the furthest it would go was to your mid thigh, and you suddenly wished you’d picked out a different outfit.

“What’s wrong? Don’t feel like flashing anyone today? That’s new.” You knew JJ wouldn’t actually be looking at your ass, no, as much as you hate each other he’d never do that, he’s too much of a gentleman.

You gave him the finger. “Fuck off Maybank.” He chuckled and finally nodded for him and John B to leave. They walked away cackling and you’ve never felt more humiliated. “Hey,” You felt Sarah say as she placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he was just messing with you, dont take it to heart.” You shrugged her off and grabbed the basket and she grabbed the blankets.

You two walked up to the chairs in the front of the boat and sat the stuff down. She set the blanket on the table to avoid the burn of the table, from the heat. You set the basket down and opened it up. You pulled out a couple sandwiches, fruit, celery sticks, ranch, and most importantly, wine.

“Where the hell did you get wine from?” Sarah asked with a laugh. You shrug, “Found it under my moms bathroom cabinet.”

“Why does she have bottles of wine just sitting in her bathroom?”

You shrug getting annoyed with all the personal questions. “Drink away the pain? I don’t know. Here.” You half joke handing her a glass before pouring your own. You both cheers before you start drinking, you practically chug yours as Sarah watches and takes slow sips of hers. “Jesus Y/N calm down, we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.” She laughs as you pour another.

“I am enjoying myself.” You reply downing the drink immediately. She shakes her head, smiling fading as you both sit down and eat. You take a celery stick and dipped it slightly in the ranch before chewing into it. You cringed at the loud crunch and cover your mouth as you chew.

Sarah enjoyed a sandwich as you made small talk.

“Aren’t you and your family going on a two week trip?” You ask Sarah. She nodded. “Yeah, not for a while though. Sometime in July.” She said with her mouth full. You nodded. “I wish I could take you with me. But my parents want it to be strictly family.”

You nodded. “I get it Sarah, don’t worry about it. I’ll just miss you.”

“Yeah but you’ll miss Rafe more.” She joked with a smirk. You chuckled slightly, shaking your head. You stared out into the ocean, your eye caught something white and moving swiftly along the water. You groaned and poured yourself another full glass of wine, immediately knowing you were going to be drunk for this.

“What is it?” Sarah asked leaning over to get a better look.

“The HMS Pogue.” You grumped drinking half the wine. “Okay Y/N really I know your upset but please be careful with the wine-“

“I’m fine Sarah. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“I’m fine.” You repeated before turning your head towards the water again at the sound of laughter. You see the four pogues, the 3 boys shirtless and Kiara in her bathing suit. Your eyes raked down her body and then over JJ’s. You watched as JJ did a front flip and how they all laughed as he landed in the water. Kiara followed after and her and JJ started having a splash fight. You turned away from the scene to see Sarah smiling in their direction.

You knew she was smiling at John B. It was no secret to you, she had to have the biggest crush on that boy. You see the way they look at each other but said nothing. You can never find it in yourself to be mad at her, even if she did like a pouge. Though you did feel slightly bad for Topper. But honestly he never treated Sarah right, and as his sister and Sarah’s best friend, you can say that.

You took another swig of your drink as you leaned back and closed your eyes, allowing the sun to tan your skin.

————————————————————

A few hours had passed and multiple more drinks were in your system. You were completely wasted but convinced Sarah you were only a little tipsy. You felt dizzy and hungry. But your mind slipped as you noticed the sun setting. Sarah noticed this too and started packing everything up. She decided it was too much work to carry the supplies and you to the car so she shoved everything under that table and came over to you.

“Come on Y/N/N, it’s time to go inside.”

“Five more minutes.” You groaned. She shook her head and grabbed you, wrapping an arm around your waist and helped you stand. Your legs felt weak and your head was spinning. To you and Sarah’s surprise you were mostly able to walk by yourself. Sarah’s hand stayed around your waist as you stepped onto the dock, legs wobbling.

“Too much to drink?” You hear a voice call out. Your mind was too blurred to recognize the voice. You felt Sarah’s head shake as she told off the guy. “Come on Y/N, let’s get you inside.” She said as you two walked to the car. Once inside you sighed heavily and leaned against the seat, not feeling like buckling up. And before you knew it you were home.

“I’m assuming Rafe is staying in your room?” Sarah asked as you two got out of the car. You nodded and she insisted that her and Topper would sleep downstairs on the sofa to give you guys some privacy.

You got inside and went upstairs to your room. You walked inside just as Rafe was getting out of the shower, towel wrapped against his lower body. He looked so good. “Hey sweetheart,” Rafe smiled as you walked over to him. “How was-“ He was caught off by your lips smashing into his. Your kiss was hungry and needy, you could both feel it. His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist and yours went up to his hair and tugged, causing him to groan and pull back.

Your groaned and opened your eyes. “Woah, slow down there.” He laughed. “What’s gotten into you?” He examined your face and how sweaty you were, your hair sticking to your forehead. “Oh, your drunk.” He said matter-of-factly. “Rafe please.” You said pulling him towards you. “I need you right fucking now.”

Rate allowed the towel to fall off his waist and carried you to the bed.

PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE!!!

@ajaxisbae here’s the first part!

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Spring 2023 Anime

Now that’s more fucking like it. I was feeling pretty down on anime after a disappointing winter season, but spring has come in like a freight train to remind us why this medium is so damn important (just in time for summer to let us down again because my god this new crop of shows is looking thiiiiiiiiiiin). Making the choice not to stick with shows I wasn’t enjoying just for the sake of completion was clearly the right call, because not only did that leave me with fewer bad shows sucking my my free time and motivation, it meant I was able to much more happily appreciate the bevy of excellent offerings that Spring 2023 had to offer. From an absolute top-tier run of rom-coms to a slew of entrancing fantasy series, I was never at a loss for things to enjoy. I’ve already shared by thoughts on Vinland Saga’s flawed but excellent second season (8/10) and the abysmal, overrated trash heap that was Oshi no Ko (3/10), as well as quick thoughts on all the series I ended up dropping. But if you want to know my thoughts on the other shows I watched to completion? Then read on, and see which spring offerings are worth checking out!

Uma Musume To the Top: 4/10

One of these days, I’ll be able to better articulate why this franchise leaves me so cold. What is it about Uma Musume that made fans go gaga for historical racehorses anthropomorphized as cute anime idol horsegirls that I’m not getting? Cause from where I’m sitting, the whole thing is just a bloated, overwrought exercise in hacky melodrama and shrink-wrapped moeblob pandering with the occasional actually pretty decent sports anime arc thrown in there. The whole thing just feels so cynical and calculating, from its lazily slapped-together premise that feels like three random popular anime genres shoved in a blender with no rhyme or reason to the obnoxious soap-opera histrionics that define its attempts at tugging your heartstrings. And while this 4-episode OVA certainly has the best, most exhilaration animation of the bunch- seriously- it is stunning how good the racing looks- it also makes the unforgivable mistake of having zero Gold Ship content. They got rid of the funniest character in the show and I will never forgive them for it.

Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible: 4.5/10

I think 2023 is the year that something officially snapped in me. I have just entirely lost patience with middling rom-coms that exist for no other reason than to sell the fantasy of a perfect manic pixie dream girl who’ll love your totally bland forgettable self. I mean, not like I had much patience for them to begin with in the first place, but watching Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible felt like staring the futility of mindless wish fulfillment itself in the face. Does it have some good jokes? Yeah. Is the animation pleasing enough? Sure. But between the embarrassingly forced whimsy in the soundtrack and the treacly sweet presentation that tarts up this bargain-bin Takagi-san like some sweeping, romantic ideal, the inherent emptiness at the heart of the fantasy it’s selling just becomes impossible to ignore. Boys, I beg you: get higher standards for yourself and the shows you watch. You will not cure your loneliness by losing yourself in the illusion of a perfectly sweet, doting girlfriend who’ll never ask you to outgrow the things you hate about yourself. You deserve better than settling for endless self-indulgence at the hands of an industry that doesn’t believe you’re capable of more than that. Or just, you know, at least only watch anime of this kind that actually are good, compelling stories in their own right with more to say than “Gee, wouldn’t it be great if Kana Hanazawa was the only person in the whole world who I mattered to?” There’s even one of those later in this list! You don’t have to settle for mediocrity! Seriously!

My Home Hero: 4.5/10

I feel bad for this show, because it’s one of those cases where it’s obvious you’re getting a vastly inferior version of the story. The concept of a cat-and-mouse thriller where the protagonists are just a normal family of everyday middle-class busybodies trying to outwit a yakuza conspiracy after killing one of their goons is a pretty unique one, and the writing goes a long way to sell out on the fact that these are just an ordinary middle-aged couple thrust into a hectic situation and doing their best with the limited skills at their disposal. Even if the writing can be overly convenient at times with how much they’re able to plan ahead, there’s some good stuff here. Unfortunately, it was adapted to anime by Tezuko Productions, one of the most bafflingly incompetent studios to still get reliable work. So the animation falls apart any time it has to depict anything more complex than characters talking and walking, the art direction is uniformly ugly and stilted, and the horrendously conceived score tries so hard to sound epic and edgy that it turns every potentially gut-wrenching moment into a laughingstock of poorly executed melodrama. If you’ve got any interest in this story at all, just go straight for the manga and forget this turd exists.

Yuri is My Job: 5.5/10

Something to know about me: I hate cringe. And if there’s one type of cringe I can’t stand above all others, it’s watching performers mess up on stage and ruin the show for the audience. As a former theater kid, nothing makes we want to curl up in a ball and die more than a stage play going off the rails and the actors being left lost and adrift while the audience stares and murmurs in worry. I say all this to tell you that I watched Yuri is My Job- a show that is primarily focused on watching actors almost fail in live performance over and over again in the messiest. most emotionally charged ways possible- and I almost managed to make myself like it. What can I say, I’m a sucker for subversive yuri deconstructions that explore the liminal space between ambiguous Class S-style stock yuri tropes and real feelings of lesbian love. Especially when they’re willing to let their characters be this messy and difficult. But man, there were times I had to watch this show with my hands over my eyes from sheer concentrated cringe. Do not let the yuri fool you into thinking this is just another soft and sweet gay girl romance, this shit gets rough. But as long as you have a stronger stomach than me for this kind of thing- and if you don’t ask too many questions about what these girls’ lives are like when they’re not play-acting for customers in a yuri schoolgirl cafe because we never fucking leave this location- you might find something really worthwhile here.

Otaku Elf: 5.5/10

Every season, there’s one anime that sneaks under the radar at first but slowly accrues more and more good will over time, establishing itself as an underappreciated gem for anyone smart enough to go looking for it. And this season, that show was Otaku Elf, an inconsistent but enjoyable blend of chill slice-of-life antics- centered on a young shrine maiden looking after the titular shut-in elf who serves as her temple’s local deity- and bite-sized history lessons about the life and culture of people in Japan’s Edo period. It’s got some surprisingly warm and nuanced character writing for its two leads, and their relationship as they push and pull from different perspectives on life leads to a handful of emotional moments I’d genuinely consider magical. Sadly, the further the show strays outside that central relationship, the less interesting it gets, with most of the side characters- the maiden’s perfectly angelic younger sister, other elves enshrined as deities as their caretakers- coming off as half-baked in comparison. It’s a bit of a crap shoot whether any given episode will pluck at your heartstrings or bore you to tears depending on what it chooses to focus on. But when it’s good, it’s really good, and it’s worth a look for anyone who enjoys historical trivia mixed in with their comfort viewing.

The Ancient Magus’ Bride Season 2: 6/10

In retrospect, I’m really glad I went back and re-evaluated my opinion on Magus Bride season 1 before this new entry came out. Not just because it helped me realize how much I’d underappreciated one of the most captivating fantasy anime of the modern era, but because it drives home that this second season’s sluggish pace is, in fact, an issue. Magus Bride has always been a very slow and ruminative series, trickling through moments like streams through a mud-clogged riverbed en route to its big character moments. But even by those generous standards, this has been sloooooooooooow going. Lots of table setting, lots of new characters with new conflicts, lots of buildup for multiple different plotlines that don’t always feel meaningfully connected and will require a damn good payoff to make this slow start worth it. Luckily we’ve got a second cours coming in the fall, so there’s still plenty of time to turn Chise’s experience at magic college into another worthwhile entry in this powerful series. Until then, I’ll hang tight to the things this series still does well- its primordial depiction of magic, a wonderful soundtrack, the complexities of Chise and Elias’ relationship, Chise’s continued journey toward understanding and cultivating her self-worth- in hopes the end result will be just as magical as what came before.

Birdie Wing Season 2: 6/10

Is there a point where a series who’s primary appeal is how brazenly over-the-top it goes starts to run out of steam? Believe it or not, being stupid and bonkers is an art unto itself, and it takes real talent to sustain. For every Akiba Maid War that constantly ups the ante until it blows its stack with an absolute barn-burner finale, there are countless Highschool of the Deads that slowly dribble away their incredible manic energy over time, leaving nothing behind but the same tired anime cliches as always. And as much as I enjoyed seeing the rollicking madness of Birdie Wing come to close, I can’t deny that I felt my interest starting to slip as this second and final season went on. It just doesn’t do enough to surpass the bar it set with the insane high-stakes golf mafia death matches in the first season. Which I acknowledge is a high bar to clear, but for all the hilariously overdramatic soap opera twists and sudden power-ups that dominate the matches in this season, it never quite manages to measure up to that wonderful madcap energy that made its first season such a lightning-bolt success. Or, I dunno, maybe they shouldn’t have split up the main goddamn couple for basically the entire season. Especially when the same studio was already doing another, much better handled lesbian separation arc over in G-Witch. Seriously, Sunrise, anything you want to get off your chest? I feel like you might have some issues.

Ranking of Kings: Treasure Chest of Courage: 7.5/10

It feels like we’re heading into a very bizarre trend in side story “season 2″s lately. First Ranking of Kings, Horimiya next season, and the Quintessential Quintuplets somewhere down the line, so many shows are spending entire seasons on side content going through stuff from the source material they either skipped over or rushed through. And I can’t help but worry that sets a bad precedent for anime adaptations; we seriously do not need to legitimize shows hacking their source material to pieces for the sake of modern broadcast standards any more than they already are. On the other hand, though... man, it’s hard to complain when the end result does such a great job living up to its source. The Treasure Chest of Courage is every bit as whimsical, emotional, and gorgeously animated as the first season of Ranking of Kings, all the same heart and imagination in bite-sized pieces exploring the finer details in ways that make you appreciate the base story even more. It even fixes a few of my big issues with the main show’s back half and sets things up for an apparent proper season 2 sometime in the future! We’ll see if Horimiya and Quints can keep up those high standards, but for now, this is an exceptional interquel that’s bound to make you fall in love with one of anime’s best modern fantasy yarns all over again.

The Dangers in My Heart: 7.5/10

If you started watching The Dangers in My Heart only to drop it after the very first scene, I can’t blame you. The prospect of putting up with a school-shooter level misanthropic loner of a protagonist gleefully fantasizing about brutalizing his crush was almost enough to make me nope out right away. But thank god I kept watching, because once you get past that horrifically unrepresentative opening scene, it quickly becomes clear that The Dangers in My Heart is actually a genuinely wonderful little rom-com that fully understands just how much edgelord middle school nonsense is just insecure kids trying to figure out their place in the world. So few rom-coms like this really get the precise blend of hormones, awkwardness, insecurity, and cringe that defines so many middle school foibles, let alone one that understands the interiority of its female characters well enough to make them feel more fleshed out than trophy wives. But this show nails that early adolescent hellscape without ever coming off exploitative of it (well, almost; there are some obnoxious fanservice moments that really didn’t need to exist, thankfully few and far between). And really, who else but the director of the similarly true-to-life Teasing Master Takagi-san could pull that off so well? Just make it through that opening scene and you’ll very quickly find yourself falling for these idiots just like I did.

My Love Story with Yamada-kun at Lv999: 8/10

God, it’s so fucking good to have shoujo rom-coms again. We went through such a drought period where the genre basically faded into nonexistence save for the Fruits Basket remake, but it feels like they’re finally coming back into fashion. And what better way to remind the world how marvelous the world of shoujo romance can be than another collaboration between the studio and director that graced us with the masterpiece My Love Story back in 2015... with another show called My Love Story? You couldn’t ask for a more surefire winning formula, and sure enough My Love Story with Yamada-kun at Lv999 is a delight from start to finish. It’s nominally about failgirl extraordinaire Akane meeting the socially awkward and emotionally distant hot boy Yamada through the RPG they play together, but the game stuff is actually a pretty small part of it. At heart, this show is about the messiness of young adulthood, and the ways people fumble through the highs and lows of coming of age as they develop into fully concrete people. And it captures that chaos with all the sharp, creative direction, thoughtful character writing, and feel-good romantic fireworks you should expect from this creative team. It’s a gut-busting, feel-good, achingly sincere gem of a show, and I recommend it to everyone in need of a little more whimsy in your life.

Skip and Loafer: 8.5/10

It’s absolutely insane to me that the Skip and Loafer manga is published in the same seinen magazine as Vinland Saga, because this is one of the most authentically shoujo teen coming-of-age delights we’ve had in a long time. Small-town girl Mitsumi moves to the big city to excel at a prestigious high school and make her dreams of rebuilding her hometown come true, only to have her perfect plans derailed by the chaos of growing up, from friends to crushes to high school curveballs. It’s so rare for a story to capture adolescence this authentically, the moments both big and small that define our paths toward maturity as we begin to figure out who we want to be. Watching Skip and Loafer made me reflect on my own high school experiences, good and bad alike, and be grateful for all the steps I took that brought me to where I am today. And any show that can get me so introspective about myself is a show worth celebrating. Plus it’s got the legendary Tomoyo Kurosawa in the leading role, and it’s got a prominent adult trans side character (Nao-chan is perfect and needs more screentime in season 2 or I riot), and the OP makes my cheeks hurt from smiling too hard... yeah, PA works has once again knocked it out of the park. Somebody stop them, they’re growing too powerful!

Heavenly Delusion: 8.5/10

To summarize Heavenly Delusion in a single sentence is, I’m afraid, impossible. I could say it’s a post-apocalyptic mystery thriller that feels like the love child of Shinsekai Yori and The Promised Neverland, but that doesn’t quite do it justice. I could say it’s a dizzying double-track story that does a better job than pretty much any other series as letting you pick up clues on your own, but that’s doesn’t tell you enough either. I could say it’s host to one of the most staggering, masterpiece anime productions ever put to television with no shortage of the greatest singular episodes and individual cuts I’ve ever seen, but even that falls short. I could even say it’s a deeply flawed, intensely problematic series that’s trying to unpack so many different ideas about gender and sexuality with no guardrails to keep it from hurtling off track, but even that leaves out so much. Ultimately, though, the only way I can describe Heavenly Delusion is that it is Heavenly Fucking Delusion, and it’s one of the single most mesmerizing anime I’ve ever had the pleasure to watch. It’s a tour-de-force capital-E Event the likes of which we so rarely get nowadays, and if you think you can stomach the dark places it goes in its exploration of humanity’s corrosion and reconstruction, then you absolutely owe it to yourself to give it a watch. Just be aware there’s a content warning for an incredibly upsetting scene of sexual assault near the end, and I mean that seriously. I like to think I’m pretty desensitized and even I felt kind of sick and unclean by the time that scene was over. Watch at your own discretion.

Insomniacs After School: 8.5/10

So fun fact: this is the rare series where I’ve actually read the manga before the anime was even announced! One of my Discord friends introduced me to Insomniacs After School, and despite my normal aversion to manga, I fell helplessly, recklessly head over heels in love with it. And if this adaptation made you feel any inch of that magic, then you owe it to yourself to check out the manga right away. Not just because there’s more story to cover beyond the anime’s admittedly pretty perfect stopping point, but because Lidenfilms’ workmanlike production is only able to capture, like 70% of what makes this series so special. And this stirring tale of two insomniacs learning to navigate the trauma of their sleepless nights together deserves to be experienced at its full, unblemished power. It’s an absolutely wonderful slow-burn romance that captures the nuances of teenage friend groups and coming of age like so few series I’ve consumed, and its portrayal of Nakami and Magari’s growing companionship under the night sky is sure to melt your heart into a sugary-sweet puddle. It’ll make you learn for your lost youth more palpably than any other show you’re likely to watch this year. And even in a season already jammed to the gills with exemplary rom-coms that really, truly get what it means to be a teenager or young adult, this slightly subpar take on the material still stands head and shoulders above them all.

Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch from Mercury Season 2: 9/10

Be honest: did any other show even have a shot? For all the wonderfully realistic rom-coms and ambitious seinen mindfucks this season gave us, there was only ever one true contender to the throne. And I’m thrilled to say that after a fantastic first season putting all the pieces in perfect order, Gundam: Witch From Mercury stuck the landing with a riveting second season that smashed the game board and  sent everything spiraling out of control in the best way possible. It’s like Ichiro Ookuchi took all the right lessons from his work on Code Geass- a seamless blend of high school melodrama and gut-wrenching mecha warfare, dizzying plotting that leaves you gasping for breath at the end of every episode, a sheer unrivaled confidence in the chaos of love and war- and refined them to a razor’s edge, delivering a never-ending roller coaster of jaw-dropping battles, explosive emotional payoffs, stunning twists that all make sense in retrospect, tears, laughter, hard choices, flawed characters overcoming their weaknesses, and a true coronation of Suletta and Miroine as one of the all-time great anime yuri couples. At times you can’t help but wish for more time to explore the many worldbuilding details and side characters that fall by the wayside as the chaos takes hold; two cours just isn’t enough to do justice to all the complex, interconnecting ideas this series is juggling. But the fact it works as well as it does, and bring it all home for such a satisfying finale, is proof of just how damn miraculous this series has been from start to finish. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect introduction to this storied franchise, and I couldn’t be more excited to see what this creative team will come up with next. And if you somehow haven’t gotten around to watching it yet? Fix that as soon as possible. You won’t regret it for a second.

[howl-fantasies]

If your requests are still open may I request how the Gotham Villians would react to their S/O getting catcalled or hit on in public?

Also, your Jervis Tetch content cleared my skin, watered by crops and gave me a full 8 hours of sleep so thanks you for your service 🥴🥴🥴

A/N - They indeed are still open and I would be glad to work on your idea, I like it! I'm happy my babbling is to your liking and help you to sleep peacefully, it's important you know, for the body and mind! 

So, here we go, how would our favorite antagonists react when you're catcalled / hit on in public by some horrid boor.

Hope you'll like it!

Warning : terrible riddle, english mistakes, it’s not my first language, I'm working on it. Mention of blood and torture, it's Gotham and Gotham villains after all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Little note : Also, dear friends, never let catcalls and morons make you feel bad. They are the ridiculous and rude ones, they should be ashamed by their unacceptable behavior. I’ll talk from personal experience, I usually yell so hard at those idiots they prefer to flee with their tail between their legs. BUT, 1) Please be careful if you do it, it can be dangerous. 2) Even if you don’t say anything THAT’S OK, you don’t have to and don’t have to feel miserable because you decided to ignore the morons. 

Keep your energy for people who deserve it, let idiots burn in their own sexual misery, and try to enjoy your day despite their stupid existence. Sorry for the long note but I hate seeing this kind of things when I’m outside. Have a beautiful day, full of love, respect and positive vibes, you deserve it sweetheart. 💐 

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GOTHAM VILLAINS WHEN YOU'RE CATCALLED / HIT ON IN PUBLIC

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EDWARD NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

Sorry WHAT? He was on his way to join you in a cute little coffee to share a romantic moment, saw your beautiful person emerge from an alley, when the unforgivable happened. Some low life dared making you uncomfortable and self conscious with some horrid catcall. 

He would be BOILING, like really boiling. Ed is an old fashion guy and a romantic, hearing those disgusting whistles and remarks would give him the urge to stab the dumbass to death. 

He would be beside you in a second, checking if you’re ok with a glance, before confronting the punk. 

“What is breathing when it shouldn’t be, and must start running before its blood would be setting free?” He would ask in his most sinister tone with Riddler low voice. 

Two possibilities here : First, the punk recognized The Riddler and became livid, opening and closing their mouth quickly, too shocked to say something before running like a madman far away from you. Spoiler : they would die after losing their mind trying to escape some giant puzzle with probably a mechanical shark tearing them apart. Second : He wouldn’t give a shit about him and start insulting you even more for being “a villain whore”. 

Fortunately for you and unfortunately for the thug, Ed wanted to show you his magnificent new Riddler cane, with the infamous question mark knob. You would see him swiftly throw the cane in the air, grab the thin metallic part and offer you his best swing, smashing all the punk teeth with the golden question mark. “Try to say something now”, he would hissed. And it was just the beginning of the disrespectful person misery. “See my dear, since I’m more brain than brawn, I put a little something in this”, You will see your boyfriend smashed the staff again on the side of your aggressor face and the punk suddenly contorting in pain, hit by an electrical shock. Spoiler : you may or may not see our dear Riddler, make a quick call asking his goons to fetch the scum and prepare the mechanical shark... 😌

Would 100% let the person on the sidewalk after that and just turn to you with a large smile, present you his arm to take, then guide you to your destination, patting your hand lovingly and whispering how beautiful you look and are as a person and how he can’t wait to spoil you rotten to make you forget about the insignificant shaved monkey who dared to importune you. 

Riddler would let Ed be more present, just to be sure his clumsiness, which you find endearing, makes you smile and lift your spirit up. 

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OSWALD COBBLEPOT

Dear Lord. Oswald invited you on a date at the opera - absolute romantic boy #2 - He was patiently waiting for you when he finally spotted you in a magnificent and refined outfit, he was on cloud nine until some disgraceful whistles and names were heard and brought him back from his personal heaven. The low life was disrespecting you, in public, and made you totally miserable. NO FREAKING WAY. 

He would limp as fast as he could until being just behind the scum and clears his throat loudly. “What do you think you are doing, you idiot?!” He would ask in a dangerously low voice. The punk would jolt a bit and turn around to face Penguin who would glare hard at him. “Mister Penguin”, would whisper the rude person now sweating bullets and probably all the armory. 

“Are you deaf, you imbecile?! I said WHAT do YOU think you are DOING?!” Now yelled the little man. “No catcalling is allowed with my misconduct license, do you even have one?” Truth be told he doesn’t care. He would let the scum beg for his forgiveness, ignoring him of course, and would walk in front of you to take one of your hands and kiss your knuckles. “Are you ok my dear?” He would ask in a soothing tone. 

He would wait for you to confirm until considering the low existence of the punk again, then call Gabe and Butch. “Gentlemen, this person doesn’t understand the basis of politeness. Would you please escort him to Victor?” 

Oh boy, the scum would shake like a leaf and beg again, this time for their life. Anyways, their are 100% dead after what they’ve done to you. 

You would see Oswald taking his phone and dialing someone then heard : “Hello Victor, how many graves did you dig tonight?” and a muffled “Two... but they are roomy”. A sinister smile would appear on your lovely boyfriend face “Great, I send you another guest.” Followed by the three most lethal words he could say: “Have fun Victor”. 

Would be a perfect gentleman with you after that, offering you his arm, guiding you inside of the opera, buying EVERYTHING you want, and would still offer you an expensive gift or two after the representation. 

Do not worry, Y/N, this is the last time something like this happened to you. Yes, indeed, because from now on, you will be escorted by four guards and have a personal chauffeur. 

Also, Oswald was so pissed by the offending demeanor of the scum he would put a condition on his licenses : NO catcalling, NO hitting on Gothamites in public or the license is cancelled and the very existence of his owner too. His popularity would raise greatly after that let me tell you. 

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VICTOR ZSASZ

Victor has many flaws but nobody can say he’s not polite. It’s important and his late parents, as well as his dear Bubbe raised him well. 

You were supposed to join him in a secured place to go grab a milkshake when someone started to whistle and and call you names loudly behind you. You rolled your eyes and ignored him until the fucker started to explain in details what he was going to do with you. 

Victor was early and decided to enjoy his inner stalker by watching you getting to your rendez-vous, until he heard it too. 

You would suddenly hear another whistle, two in fact, that you knew very well. It was low, dangerously low, and would bring the punk and you to turn around sharply. 

“Hi” Oh god... That one was the “You have 60 seconds to flee before something atrocious hit you, your body and probably your sanity too.” 

“Victor Zsasz”, would whisper tensely the bastard while being mocked by Victor little shake of his hand in a “hello” way and his sadistic smile. He lost it the next sec though, and added in a terrible flat voice : “You made my lover uncomfortable.” Poor (nope) scum would be as livid as the ghost of a ghost and shake badly. “Your... your... Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t know...” And would point at you with their index. 

Bad move. A *BANG* would shrill in the alley and if you’re attentive enough, you could see said index flying like an eagle far away from its hand and land on the dirty pavement. Then a horrified “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”. 

 The punk would be double up on the floor, watching their missing index with wide eyes and their mouth still opened in shock. 

You would then heard Victor purred “What do you think, Y/N should I call the girls to take him home and play a bit with them?” Spoiler : he will do it anyways. You would see two girls pop up from nowhere to collect the still shocked scum. 

Zsasz would walk to you, take your shoulders and scanned quickly your face and body just to be sure you’re ok, and you will see his sinister toothy grin again. “All  this talking’s made me hungry. Let’s also grab a Pepperoni on our way, ok?” He would ask, then put his arm around your shoulders, kiss your temple and guide you to the milkshake and pizza truck. 

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JONATHAN CRANE 

Just this once, you wanted to go to a little halloween candy store next to your flat. Too happy to share this moment with your boyfriend and find some cute and spooky treats to work on growing some terrific cavities. 

Perfect date with Jonathan uh? Well yes, until some whistles and names shrilled just behind you, despite your boyfriend being right next to you holding your hand. 

Jonathan would frown hard, the nerves of the scum who dared making you uncomfortable! He couldn’t tolerate this kind of awful behavior and would go out of his comfort zone just to confront the punk. “You should be ashamed of your ill manners you idiot!” He would hiss angrily while glaring at the other person hard. 

Yes he wasn’t wearing his costume, but any human being would have paused when seeing the dangerous glint in his eyes, survival basis. 

But maybe it was just a coincidence uh? The dude was just a lean and skinny teen, what could he do after all? So the scum would continue to hit on you heavily without acknowledging him anymore. 

Terrible mistake. Jonathan would jumped on them, a syringe in his hand and plant it hard in their neck, making them cry in pain. “You like to scare people with your catcalling, now it’s your turn to be afraid. Tell me, what scares you the most?” He would ask between gritted teeth with a sadistic smile, tossing the now sluggish body on the pavement. 

He would stay until the person totally lose it, giggling and grinning like a kid. When the screaming stopped, he would just lift up, hit them hard on their side a last time and turn to you. “Are you ok my love? I am so sorry you had to hear that, do you want to sit a bit?”, He would hug you lovingly, stroking your hair delicately and kissing your forehead, “Shh it’s over, I will never let someone disrespect you or make you scared, I swear. Shh, everything is ok, here take a chocolate.” 

Would put a protective arm around your shoulders and guide you back home, where he would make you sit on his sofa with a plaid, because shocked people are always cold, aren’t they? And a hot chocolate with tons of heart shaped marshmallow floating on the top. “Want to watch a movie Y/N? How about My Bloody Valentine?” 

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JERVIS TETCH

Sweet baby Alice, Jervis would totally lose it. Like Ed he’s a gentleman AND an old fashioned dude. Respect and Politeness are the main fabrics of his suit you know. 

He was super excited to go with you to a brand new tea shop inspired by Alice in Wonderland, with rabbit and cat pastries, infamous cakes with ‘eat’ me write on the top... full Alice package. So he rushed to be in front of the shop and, since he was a bit early and knew you were always punctual, waited for you patiently with a book (you know which one don’t you? 👀)

But his favorite Cheshire Cat’s monologue was interrupted by stupid catcalls and he had to look around with a frown. It transformed in absolute rage when seeing YOU were the one being targeted by a crass idiot and that you tried to maintain your personal dignity as much as you could. 

He would be next to you in a second, “Y/N my dear, are you ok? Just wait a minute my sweet, could you please hold my precious book? I promise that it’ll be quick.” 

You would just have the time to nod before seeing your well mannered boyfriend remove one of his gloves and use it to slap the punk cheek hard before throwing the fabric at his feet. 

“What the fuck are you doing dickhead?!” Would yell the scum. Oh boy, here comes the other glove, thrown at this feet too after it slapped them on the other cheek. “This, you absolute rude person, is a challenge to a duel. You flouted my lover’s honor and that, I cannot tolerate.” He would say in a dangerously low tone. “Prepare to die”, He would add in a more airily tone, and a toothy grin. 

You would see the punk try to tackle Tetch, but your boyfriend is swift and agile, dodging with ease his attempts. You don’t know how, but he would manage to stab the person right in the ribs, making them cry in pain, then would hit them once or twice before drawing his pocket watch and hypnotizing them. “Listen to me, and listen well, you’ll go inside of the first sewer you find, you’ll then find enough dirty water to drown yourself to death. Now go, scum.” He would demand. 

After that, he would go to you, stroke your cheek lovingly and put a respectful kiss on your knuckles. “I hope this punk didn’t fret you too much my sweet, come, I’ll treat you with all the pastries you wish. Only the best for you, my beloved.” 

Epitome of gentleman with you, you would leave the shop with many boxes, books, teas, costumes, plushes... he would literally spoil you rotten.

. 

JEROME VALESKA

Jerome is the only one authorized to whistle to gain your attention. When he asked you to join him in front of the new circus in town - where he plained to wreak havoc -, he didn’t expected to hear some low life catcalling you next to the huge circus tent. 

Worse, the fucker even dared to grab your arm while explaining all the dirty things he wanted to do to you. 

You would just see a dagger fly straight between your and the scum heads, making the person back off in surprise. 

“Your performance is pretty lame, mate”, would say Jerome a few meters aways, with two other daggers in his hands. “And Y/N is not entertained by it, which is a shame.” he would add dangerously. 

Everybody knows Jerome, I mean his laugh and peculiar smile was on every Gotham’s TV during weeks. The punk would let you go and put their hands up in a poor defensive way. “Look, dude, I didn’t know they were your bitch, I swear-...” He wouldn’t even have the time to continue, another dagger would land directly in their thigh. “Nuh-uh, I don’t fucking care about your poor excuses, you disrespect Y/N, you’re disrespecting me and we can’t have that now, can we?” 

He wouldn’t wait for an answer and throw the last dagger in the person’s shoulder than grab it harshly. “Y/N, did you know that my mother used to have a snake? They have pretty sharp senses, those cute little creatures. Wanna enjoy a snake charmer performance?” He would grin sadistically. 

And you’d have it. Jerome would then attack the tent, make everyone hostage and use the stupid thug with the tigers and lions, threatening the only human (the punk) on stage with a whip to force them to jump through the fire circle, put their head inside of the mouth of the lion. 

Scum last performance would be his head being crushed under an elephant paw. *clap clap clap! Bravo!* (Don’t do that IRL please, elephants paws are too good to be soiled by scums. Let those amazing animals enjoy their wild life with their elephants pals).

Jerome would then make you his very special giant cotton candy with edible hearts, rainbows, purple clouds and glitters. Would be glued to you until the two of you are at home and even make an effort to be extra sweet with you. 

. 

JEREMIAH VALESKA

Jeremiah, like Oswald, is greatly attached to elegance and good manners. You can be a dangerous psychopath but, like Cobblepot said, good manners cost nothing you know. 

He asked you to join him on a date at Gotham Industrial Museum, since he needed to see a few machines for his new grand villain plan. As a genius engineer, just a look at the mechanisms should be enough to answer his questions. So here he was, patiently waiting for you to arrive when sudden whistles and names made him grimaced. How rude. 

When he saw they were directed to you and the uncomfortable face you made, he would be furious. You looked lovely, and deserve HIS compliments only and absolutely not some lewd and disrespectful comments. 

As Riddler, he has his dark cane and wouldn’t even let the scum the time to notice him, before he strikes hard. You would hear the cracking sound of the punk’s jaw and their cry of pain, then the low voice of your lover. 

“Who do you think you are and what do you think you are doing, you pitiful excuse of human?” Uh-oh, Jeremiah is truly pissed. He would maintain the person on the dirty floor, looming over their sorry form with his cane planted in their stomach. “You were ready to ruin an important meeting just to satisfy you miserable sexual urges. We cannot have that now, can we?” Spoiler it wasn’t a question. 

He would snap his fingers next to him, “Ecco, take some time to instil good values inside of this low life’s brain before they die.” He demanded. 

Don’t worry, you would never see or hear about them ever again. Maybe be just in the journal, to inform people that a person mysteriously disappeared and a few days later that a corpse in shambles was found and that the police was working on assembling this human puzzle. 😬  

Jeremiah would lift a galant hand in front of you as an invitation to take it and follow him. But before you resumed your activity, he would take a good second to scan your face, just to make sure you are feeling alright now, then would give you a small nod and guide you inside. The GCPD won’t be there before 2 good hours after all, he imagined something to keep them busy before inviting you earlier. 

Would be super attentive after the incident, checking on your mood and even make an effort to listen carefully if you want to talk about it. 😌

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A/N - I hope it was to your liking! Again, thank your for the request, have a lovely day 💐

[ares-the-strange]

Alone After Dark

Pairing: Poly!Lost Boys x GN!Trans Queer Reader

Warnings: F slur, T slur, transphobia, queerphobia, swearing, no violence

(A/N I’m writing this cause it happened to me today and I’m trying to make myself feel better :/)

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The nighttime breeze had a chill to it, the noise of various animals chittering and rustling was the only thing breaking the silence. Usually you would be with the boys this late at night but they had warned you they’d be late tonight. So here you were, platform boots thumping against the pavement as you walked. The fierceness of the bitter air started to increase, causing you to curse to yourself about the choice in outfit. You knew it would be cold but decided to wear ripped pants and a crop top, convincing yourself that the fishnets would keep you warm. It didn’t help your situation that the boy’s cave was so far away from your house, again cursing yourself for not doing your driver’s tests earlier. 

Footsteps. You had only just realised that there were footsteps behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up. The place you lived wasn’t a rough place or anything, in fact it was filled with snobby white people. People who didn’t take too kindly to queer people. Especially not you, you were their worst nightmare, not only were you queer, you were trans, goth, AND poly. Basically you were screwed. Maybe they would be cool and leave you alone, you tried to reason, but the approaching sound of barking shattered that hope. 

Quickening your stride, you tried to get to the cave as fast as possible but it was crucial that you didn’t let them know how scared you were. 

“Hey emo! What are you doing out so late huh?” One of them shouted, trying to ignore them. You just kept walking. 

“Ey tranny, he’s talking to you!” You felt a hand on your arm, yeah you couldn’t just ignore this one. Turning on your heel, you faced them, it was as you expected. Four teen boys and two girls. The boys sported the eshay uniform of terrible mullet, board shorts, black hoodie and joggers. The girls were the stereotypical ‘pick me’ type. If you weren’t so scared you might’ve found humour in the irony of the fact the people who harassed you always looked the same. 

“What?” You responded, doing your best to sound unbothered, there was a dangerous glint in one of the boys eyes that made you nervous

“We asked what you’re doing out so late” 

“I’m going to go meet my partners” that was a mistake. You should not have said plural. 

“Oh, partnerS huh? Can we join? I’d love to have an orgy with you, even if you look like a corpse” The smirk on their stupid faces grew wider at the disgusted grimance you gave

“What? You don’t want us? Would you prefer we beat the shit out of you?”

“I think we should, unless of course you want to take up our previous offer?” One of the girls giggled, obviously thinking this was hilarious, your confident act had begun to shatter as true fear set in. 

“Please just leave me alone” You spoke, it came out much more timid than you had meant it to

“And why should we do that? You should be grateful, who the fuck would want a freaky fucking fag like you anyways?” They had began to come uncomfortably close, tears threatening to prick your eyes, there were a lot of them, and what the fuck were you supposed to do? You were shorter than all of them and had no idea how to fight. 

“That would be us” A familiar voice answered the previous question, the tension in your shoulders almost immediately releasing. David walked up to your side, the other boys joining him on your other side. “It seems you have a problem with our lover?” There was a venomous undertone to his cocky words. 

“Yeah because they’re a fucking freak!” 

“It seems stupidity finds confidence in groups, isn’t that right boys?” David smirked, the condescending look in his eyes effortless as he stared down the group. The boys could easily see through their tough act, afterall vampires could smell fear. 

“Maybe we need to give ‘em a lesson?” Paul added, his arm around your shoulders with his head resting possessively on one of them.

“I think so” Marko’s smile was gleefully wide, taking great pleasure in the discomfort of these teens. David and Paul joined Marko as they stalked up to the group, Dwayne took Paul’s place besides you, his dark eyes soft as he gazed at you. Placing his arm around your waist he spoke “Are you okay little dove?” his voice was impossibly caring, taking note of the obvious signs you were highly stressed and shaken up. You only looked at him with your jaw clenched, knowing if you responded, you’d burst into tears. Dwayne understood this and pressed you a little more into his chest, his face pressed against yours, watching as the others dealt with the bigots. 

Screams made you jump into Dwayne slightly as the group took off running, completely abandoning both the bad boy act and each other. The boys cackled through fanged mouths, piercing eyes watching with delight as the others basically piss themselves upon seeing their monstrous faces. A kiss was pressed to your temple by Dwayne as David, Paul, and Marko approached. “Can we kill them later, doll?” Paul asked, almost certainly going to do it anyways but wanted your seal of approval. A small nod was all you managed, the furious desire to not begin sobbing still present. David made quick eye contact with Dwayne, communicating through looks he was assured you were physically unharmed. 

“I don’t want you to listen to a word they say, okay kitten? They have no idea what they’re talking about” David’s gloved hand gently cradled your chin, the sincerity in his eyes and tone doing its job to reassure you. 

“Yeah I know, it’s just…” 

“No buts baby, you’re perfect how you are, and we’ll always love you” Dwayne spoke up, rubbing his face against mine like a cat

“Yeah also you’re so much hotter than them so y’know” Marko smiled, as Paul wolf whistled to add to his point.

“C’mon doll, let’s go back to the cave and show you how much we love you” placing your cold hand in David’s gloved one, you walked with the boys back to homebase, feeling much much safer now.

[odetojeons]

Will You Punish Me If I Don’t? — Jeon Wonwoo

request:  a lil drunk reader × possessive wonu angry sex pls

tags: fem and brat!reader, dom!wonwoo, edging, semi-public sex, angry sex, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), a tiiiiiny bit of light degradation and spit kink, unprotected sex (stay safe), wall sex (oh yes you read that right), a whole lot of dirty talk, JEON WONWOO IN A CROP TOP BYE, established jeon wonwoo x reader

a/n: this took me a whole fucking day to write it 💀 i think my soul left my body on the meantime and now i’m just a spirit,, but i love this so much, pls, possessive wonu is one of the biggest moods ever 🥵 also i’m sure i made a lot of stupid grammar mistakes that i didn’t realize even after proof reading it, so you’re just gonna,, pretend you don’t see those :)) i hope you enjoy, i made this with all my heart JDJSJDJS

word count:  6244

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You know very well you’re being annoying and petty today.

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You both have been on this damn party for a while and you tried to get Wonwoo to leave and fuck you for at least five times now. You tried dirty dancing on the dance floor; nope. You tried sitting on his lap when he was talking to his friends; nope. You even tried to make out with him; but it only had lasted for a few minutes.

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It had you even more horny and angry. And that is never a good combination when it comes to you.

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But can people really blame you when Wonwoo is looking that good? You have been making a great amount of effort not to stare too much at Wonwoo’s abs peeking from his black cropped shirt, the sharpness of his V-line more visible than it should be legally allowed — it’s bad for your poor heart after all. But you do a poor job of hiding how the whole outfit affects you, because Wonwoo was looking and he had this known glint swimming inside his eyes and it’s got you licking your lips. 

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But still, he didn’t do anything.

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Well, not until you used your last resort.

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Your mind threw back to the memory of Wonwoo’s big hand resting on your inner thigh earlier when you were sitting in his lap, the veins in the back of his palm tracing a dirty path up to his forearms. And there’s always a strength, even a possessiveness in the way he holds you, his other hand squeezing a little hard against your waist, grip tightening every time someone stares at you for a second too long. There’s something so raw in the way he acts, like it’s almost unconscious, and it turns you on without a doubt.

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No matter how you looked at other people and tried to rile him up, Wonwoo still remained in his stupid composed behavior, this little acts being the only proof of his jealousy. 

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But not tonight. Tonight you were going to make him snap, no matter what. You were gonna make him fuck you rough and fast and give you as many orgasms as you wanted.

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Oh, but you were so wrong. Things totally backfired at you.

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You started by going into the dance floor again, after a few shots of some liquid courage. Swaying your hips at the beat, you tried your best to throw sultry looks at where he was sitting — manspreading, your brain unfortunately added, because he looked so hot doing that — in one of the sofas, eyes set on you like you’re the only thing that he could ever look at.

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You smirked, pleased with his reaction, before proceeding with your plan. Hands reaching forward, you touched the shoulder of the first guy you saw in front of you. It doesn’t take long for him to turn around and smile. He seemed genuinely nice, so you felt a little bad for using him to make your boyfriend jealous, but when you looked at him the guilt disappeared in two seconds.

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His head was hung low, eyebrows frown and fists clenched in where he supported his arms on the sofa. You winked at him and clearly saw how he seemed to almost visibly snarl at your teasing, knowing very well what was your intent with all of that; Wonwoo looked at you like he was about to consume you whole in front of everyone just to prove who you belonged to — and you felt your legs tremble at the idea of that.

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It was a game to see who would give in first; you to your frustration and horniness or Wonwoo to his possessives and jealousy. You couldn’t stop staring at him, the both of you shooting daggers into each other, especially when you turned your back to the guy and swayed your hips obscenely for him. 

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But it was when he put his hand on your waist and glued his lips to your ear that things started taking a turn of events; in the next second, Wonwoo was standing right beside you. The air grew thicker quickly, and your breath was knocked out of you at the sight of your — very pissed off and very hot — boyfriend looking down at you. 

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“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo’s voice had rang through your ears, loud enough to make you mewl softly even through all the music going on in the background.

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“Dancing?” you asked with fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him. Wonwoo groaned, grabbing your wrist.

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“Um,” the guy from before started. “I think I should be going now?”

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He waited for an answer, but you and Wonwoo were too busy looking at each other intensively to even care, so he cleared his throat and left.

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“Let’s go,” he stated simply, pulling at you through the crowd so you both could go outside. You giggle a little when you trip on your foot, a bit tipsy with the shots you took.

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And that’s how you find yourself currently being guided until you were both right in front of his car. Your mouth opens, ready to make a clever comment that would surely rile him up and give in to what you want, before he turns around and gets all over your personal space, so suddenly that the words get stuck in your throat. The scent of his cedarwood cologne invades your lungs, sending your mind into a little haze.

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“What were you thinking, letting another man touch you?” Wonwoo says, voice rough and firm, lips pressed into a thin line like he was still holding something back.

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And you don’t want him to.

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“You took too long, and I have needs,” you retort, stepping up into his space too, not wanting to back down even when the sight of Wonwoo’s dark, dark eyes bleeding with lust made a very noticeable shiver run down your spine.

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“What kind of need would even make you want to rub yourself all over someone else that—” he stops himself, closing his mouth before groaning, annoyed. You smirk at him, knowing what he was going to say.

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All over someone else that isn’t me.

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“Hmm, let me see,” you giggle, face centimeters apart from his, your breaths mingling with each other. “A need to get fucked hard, for starters.”

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The intensity of his gaze growing exponentially dark wipes the smile off your face in seconds. You try not to gulp when he scoffs, taking one messy step back when he takes one further.

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“So that’s what this is about?” Wonwoo questions, tone suddenly mean and sarcastic, and there’s heat licking and pooling at your lower belly faster than you expected. His deep voice never fails to leave you trembling. “You’re so desperate to get railed that you couldn’t even wait to get home before throwing yourself at some random dude.”

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Your cheeks tint red in shame and arousal, realizing this wasn’t a question. It was an affirmation, like he knows exactly how horny you are, and you try to remain composed. You are not going to give up until he loses it.

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“Maybe,” you say, a single finger trailing through his torso distractingly, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you look at his abs peeking from behind his cropped. Wonwoo’s face hardens at that, and you smile internally in victory. “Why? Are you jealous, baby?”

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He laughs, throwing his head back, but it only serves to make you even more satisfied. That’s exactly the reaction you expected him to have.

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“You’re drunk,” Wonwoo answers instead, and you think it’s endearing how he denies so hard that he’s not possessive.

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“Nope,” you press your finger in his chest again, but he doesn’t even buge from the place. Fuck, that’s hot, you think, licking your lips and watching Wonwoo’s eyes zeroing in the action. “A little bit tipsy? Yes. But drunk? Not at all.”

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Suddenly, you back away, trying to ignore the way your body protests against the lack of warmth, the lack of Wonwoo.

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“So if you’re not jealous, then you wouldn’t mind me getting off with someone else, right?” you trail off, feeling proud of yourself when he looks at you like you just made something emerge from the ground with psychic powers.

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“What?” he asks, tone furious, and you jump a little in place with the intensity of it, but soon recovers with a pout.

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“I mean,” you start, acting like you’re not saying the biggest stupid thing you could ever think of saying, shrugging at him. Of course it was all a lie, there’s no way you’ll ever want someone else other than Wonwoo. “You’re always telling me to wait and wait and wait, so if you’re not that jealous, then maybe I should get someone else to fuck me when you can’t.”

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Wonwoo moves so fast your brain takes a time to understand what he just did; in a second you were standing with your glorious bratty attitude, the next you were pushed against the car, one hand squeezing your jaw tight in place and the other holding your wrists behind your back. His bigger and broader body pins yours against the door, and you have a hard time breathing now.

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Now that’s a way to sober up.

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“No,” he grits out, sounding more like a growl than an actual word. Your heart is hammering like crazy against your chest, and you gasp softly when he pushes your jaw backwards until the back of your head hits the car, neck exposed for him. “No one should be allowed to touch you like this. No one but me. No one.”

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Then Wonwoo bites the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so hard you think the mark is gonna be there for days. You moan at that, hips kicking and shocking with Wonwoo’s.

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“You know nobody could fuck you like I do,” he says, sounding smug but also dead serious, and this cocky side of his during such moments never fails to make you wet.

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You inhale, reuniting the fight there’s still in you. To be honest the only thing that makes you still retort back is the alcohol. It gives you a special ability of not being able to shut up.

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“I guess someone else will have to fuck me so I can believe you.”

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You watch his demeanor change instantly at that; shoulders tensing, jaw clenching and predatory eyes — Wonwoo kisses the breath out of you. He sucks at your body lip, licking at the seam of your mouth, and you gasp, mouth parting and his tongue slides against yours. There’s a hot flash rushing all over you as your body pulses with want; Wonwoo has always been a great kisser, capable of surrendering you putty in his hands.

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He kisses you again and again and again, as if someone might take you away. He kisses you like he wants to carve his identity in your soul. He kisses you so messy and hungry that your teeth actually clack and the sounds of your lips dragging roughly and tongues rubbing against each other fills the air around you.

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Wonwoo can probably taste the alcohol, if the way he moans is anything to go by.

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It is dirty, lewd and so fucking hot you feel the fight leaving your body momentarily along with your breath, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. There are a few tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and you don’t even realize their presence, but then, and only then, Wonwoo pulls away. He bites at your lower lip one more time, a lewd string of saliva connecting your mouths for a short while before it breaks.

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“Seems like you suddenly forgot who’s name you scream when you’re getting railed,” Wonwoo tells you, voice poisonous and labored breath caressing the skin of your neck. “Should I remind you?”

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“Y-yes,” you moan out, enjoying the proposal, but it only serves to make Wonwoo scoff.

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“I think you need to learn how to respect me first,” he says instead, and there’s butterflies swarming together in your belly, chest still heaving for air.

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“Will you punish me if I don’t?” you retort, staring him right back in the eyes.

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Wonwoo growls.

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“You better shut the fuck up before I make you regret,” he says, and you feel a shiver rocking so bad on your body that your hips collide into Wonwoo’s, his half hard cock pressing against your stomach. The feeling makes you moan.

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“Why would I?” you ask, trembling voice giving away how much this all affects you. “I want this.”

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There’s a bit of silence before you continue.

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“Make me regret.”

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“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans, biting on your neck again, this time so far up that you won’t be able to hide it that easily. “So needy you can’t even think about anything else other than having a cock drilling into you.”

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Wonwoo kisses your moan away, sucks at your bottom lip until it’s swollen. Then, he puts three fingers in your mouth, like he’s telling you to shut up.

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Wonwoo turns his head to look down at your shuddering frame trapped between the side of the car and him. You don’t look up, too focused on sucking at his long fingers, but when Wonwoo starts to move his arm that was occupied by your mouth, you stir, and look up to meet his eyes.

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They’re dark, with a glint in them you could only recognize as devious and wicked and so so so mean. It’s the same glint he gets when he’s about to deal out a punishment, or tease you enough that you believe it’s a punishment. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, and a bead of sweat drips from your eyebrow. You wonder what you’ve got yourself in for the night when you both get home.

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As if on cue, answering your arousal hazed thoughts, the hand that was slowly doing a dangerous path down your body settles itself on the front of your pants. It’s heavy on your clit, and you can feel Wonwoo digging his fingers into your entrance. You barely have the sense to react, and even if you could, you reminded yourself you weren’t home yet. Wonwoo now has his hand groping your pussy in public.

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Your face flushes a dark red at the realization, feeling humiliated and embarrassed under Wonwoo’s grip. If someone were to see, they’d get arrested for sure. Wonwoo’s hand has a strong grip on your clit, fingers quickly slipping past the thick fabric of your denim jeans and lace panties so he could press the pad of it against your naked and wet folds.

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You whine quietly, and now that the hold on your jaw has been set loose, you nestle your face further into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck. With a grip on Wonwoo’s jacket, you feel him angling his head so it rests against the top of your head.

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“Wait, f-fuck, someone might see us!” you whisper-yell at him, but Wonwoo only hums and steps in closer. Your chests are flush together and he towers over your frame easily enough to hide you between him and the car. “Wonwoo—”

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Your sentence gets interrupted by your own moan when he presses a finger inside of you. You quiver, legs trembling, and you let the realization that Wonwoo is about to finger you publicly sink into your stomach. You know that the streets are deserted and there’s not one single soul around there since it’s so late, but the thought of it still has you gasping.

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“Wait? But weren’t you the one complaining about me making you wait all the time?” Wonwoo bites back, tone mean and unforgiving when he fucks his finger inside of you. He sounds almost angry and it’s making you so damn horny. “Earlier you were looking at me with such a hunger. I bet you were thinking about me fucking you in front of everyone, weren’t you, baby?”

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You moan because yes, that was exactly what you were thinking. His hand lets go of your wrists when he adds another finger inside of you. It burns a little, you think, but enjoys the pain as your arms fly up to circle around his neck and pull him closer. Wonwoo goes easily, mouth finding yours and fingers fucking inside you in a way that has you squirming.

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He soon gives attention to your neck, kissing all over it before sucking a wet blotch against the skin right underneath your jaw. Wonwoo pulls away, looking at it for a while like it gives him some sort of feral satisfaction to see you bearing one of his marks.

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“Wonwoo, I’m n-not—” your words break off into a whine, struggling to form sentences. “Not— g-gonna be able to hide the, ah, hickey i-if you suck it that far up.”

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“Good,” Wonwoo says, and his mouth finds your neck. You scratch his scalp when he sucks again, this time harder, his arm coming to help you up when your legs give in. “Want everyone to know you’re mine. Only mine to fuck, to breed, to love, to cherish, to make you my little slut.”

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You throw your head, back arching off of the car and mouth opening to let a high pitched moan scape you. Wonwoo then adds another finger, the third one, and gyrates them so hard inside you you actually feel like you’re seeing stars, figuratively and realistically — the night sky above you is adorned with a few of them.

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“Acting like a brat and riling me up like that, this is what you wanted, isn’t that right, princess?” Wonwoo spits out, lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s getting more and more angry at his own words. “If I didn’t stop you right there, would you have continued dancing with that dude, huh? Would you maybe have made out with him?”

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You try to answer, maybe tease him back again, but you can’t even form a coercive sentence. The only thing you can do is hold onto Wonwoo like your life depends on it as he fucks you furiously with his fingers, and take whatever he’s willing to give it to you. 

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“Do you think he could finger you like this?” Wonwoo says poisonously, hand squeezing at your ass hard enough that you think it’s gonna leave the print of his fingers. “Think he would have a bigger cock than mine?”

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He ruts against you as if to prove his point, hard and so fucking big it has you breathless. You know how your boyfriend is well-endowed, know he could make you feel him for days after a good fuck and your mouth salivates. Wonwoo presses the pad of his fingers in your sweet spot, jamming against it without pulling out with quick movements, and you feel like you’re going insane.

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“Since you put a lot of effort into being a fucking brat today, I will give you what you want, sweetheart,” Wonwoo laughs a little, almost as if he’s mocking you, and your whole face burns in pleasurable humiliation. “I’m gonna be rough. I’m gonna fuck you hard and fast against every surface of our house, gonna make you scream my name so everyone knows you belong to me, gonna use you, make you my little ragdoll and dump you full of my cum until you’re all heavy and swollen with it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo— your f-fuck, fucking dirty mouth, ah—” you thrash in his grip, nestling your face further into his neck and he knew, he knew all along what was your intention with the way you were acting, and you hold tight on his hair, hearing him growl when you pull at it. “I’m gonna come. Gonna cum s-so fucking hard, fuck—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ll make it hurt,” Wonwoo warns, his lips ghosting at the shell of your ear and hot breath tickling your sensitive skin, brings goosebumps all over it. “But I’ll make it feel good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The pleasure builds quickly and you throw your head back with a loud moan, orgasm almost hitting you like a train.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, everything stops. Wonwoo pulls away, fingers slipping out of you and he wipes them in his jeans. He then goes through his pocket and grabs the car keys, the familiar beep sound echoing through the empty streets when he clicks a button on the key chain, and it’s got you completely dumbfounded.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come on, get in the car, baby,” Wonwoo states simply, like he didn’t just make the best orgasm of your life ebb away. Frustration sinks deep within your bones and you groan, turning to look at him like he just committed a war crime.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Why did you— why did you stop?” you question, heart almost jumping out of your chest and you feel like you’re going to actually die if you don’t get to come soon. “I was just there!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wonwoo coos at you like he finds what you just said endearing. Face flushing dark red, you get completely embarrassed with how quick he makes you feel small. “You thought I was going to make you cum?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo comes closer, holds your chin softly, a total contrast to what he says then.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Poor baby, I’m actually going to do the exact opposite.” he pecks your lips once. “Gonna edge you until you cry.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He goes around the car and opens the door for you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Now get in, baby. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Wonwoo says, tone leaving no room for arguments, and you gulp before obeying.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo closes the door for you when you finish settling yourself inside, and goes to the driver’s seat. You watch him turn the car on as you put your seatbelt, whining when your cunt throbs in need. When he starts driving you try your best to move as quietly as you can, squirming a little until you can smooth your fingers through your clit. You gyrate them once, pleasure swarming all over your body, before Wonwoo’s voice wakes you up from your short haze.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“No touching yourself,” he admonishes with a tsk and you groan, frustrated. He’s still looking at the road and you don’t even know how he managed to figure it out that you were touching yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Staring out of the window, your thighs rub together every time the car shakes a little. Your mind supplies unnecessary images of your boyfriend fucking you, and you curse a little. Even trying to imagine disgusting things wouldn’t delete Wonwoo’s words from earlier out of your head, and you’re getting more and more excited by the second.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon…” you sigh, almost a whisper, hips moving in the air and hands coming to grab at one of your breasts. You smirk, content when you hear him growl.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I said not to touch yourself,” Wonwoo’s knuckles turn white with how hard he grips the steering wheel. “Should I tie you up in our bed and leave you untouched or are you going to start obeying me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But you’re not doing anything,” you whine, wanting nothing else then to come.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Wonwoo says, voice low and dead serious.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think you know either.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The car comes to a complete stop right after you say that. You gulp, realizing Wonwoo has already parked in your private garage. He gets out of the car and goes to your side, opening the door, still in complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Turn this way,” he orders, voice one octave lower, and you gasp at the roughness of it. “Now.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You spring into action, take your seatbelt off, doing as you’re told, and as soon as you finish turning to him with your legs outside of the car, he gets on his knees.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo,” it’s the only thing you manage to say as you watch him work with your pants after taking your shoes off. He ends up popping the button off but you don’t have it in you to complain, not when he’s looking like that. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo finishes taking your jeans off, throwing somewhere in the garage, and then he grabs at both sides of the collar of your shirt. You frown, confused with the action, but then his hands are pulling, and he rips it in half.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you moan, beyond turned on as he does the same to your penties. Your clothes are torn apart but you can’t think of anything else other than fuck me fuck me fuck me. “I—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses you shut, lips dragging hard against yours, and you feel his hands at your thighs before he pulls at them enough so that you slip on your seat. He uses the grip to open your legs for him, not even giving you a break to understand what’s going on before sucking on your clit hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your back arches, hands scrambling to hold on something — one of them finds the steering wheel and the other finds the wadding of the seat, body thrashing everywhere before Wonwoo pins your hips down in place — knows better than to shove his face in your cunt as you originally wanted to do.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He licks between your folds one, two, three times; the tip of his tongue prods inside your already loose entrance, and fuck if you didn’t moan, high pitched and greedy for more. Wonwoo inserts more of it until his nose is pressed against your clit, doing a sound in the back of his throat that sends just right. The wetness of his tongue feels so good pressing against your cores and kicking at your soft folds.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, fuck— f-feels so good—” Wonwoo thrusts his tongue inside you, and you feel like you’re seeing stars, especially when he presses just right. “Ah! Shit, your f-fucking tongue—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo has to hold you down tighter, your body unable to stay put as you thrash around. You feel tempted to think how your neighbors could probably hear you, but your boyfriend is sucking the life out of you through your pussy and you can’t concentrate well enough to elaborate the thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s when Wonwoo curls his tongue just right that has you thinking you would ascend to heaven soon. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck! I, ah— Wanna cum, Wonwon, I’m coming, please— let me cum this time,” you manage to get out, writhing and legs kicking everywhere. “Please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But, of course Wonwoo, being the little shit he is, pulls away. Tears gather in your eyes as you groan out of frustration, and Wonwoo is just so mean.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shit—” you cry out, watching his shit eating grin. You hate but love at the same time the way he’s absolutely enjoying seeing you so desperate for a release. “Y-you’re so mean.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you gonna stop being a brat now?” Wonwoo raises a brow at you, licking his lips. You shiver, knowing that he’s tasting you by the pleased hum he makes after.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck you,” you spit it out, too horny and angry to care.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, looking at you as if you’re his prey, to which you’re starting to believe you actually are. “Maybe I should put a gag in this dirty little mouth of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo traces a thumb in your lower lip like he’s considering the thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But I think I’m just gonna fuck that attitude out of you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even bring yourself to enjoy the comment before he pulls on your wrist so hard you get up from the seat, body colliding into his. Wonwoo’s mouth finds yours, the kiss messy and hungry and angry, to the point it makes your legs weak. Your hands scramble to take his shirt off right after you manage to throw his belt somewhere, and you stop for a moment to admire the hard planes of his abs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo must be the hottest person alive. How can someone have such a handsome face and have a body that looks like it’s sculpted by the gods? He’s getting stronger with his gym practices and it's making you weak.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You might actually drool if you keep staring like that,” Wonwoo says, half joking and half serious, but you blush anyways.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just—” you try, breath labored and chest heaving. “J-just rail me. Use me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Want me to treat you like the slut you are?” his lewd question makes you tremble and nod your head. “Speak.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes, please—” you beg, revolve slowly breaking in.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course you do,” he answers, voice a few octave lowers again, and he grabs a fistful of your hair. Wonwoo pulls at it until your head is thrown back, his face right above yours. “Open your mouth.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re quick to obey, mouth parting as he hovers over you, the only thing keeping you up is one of his arms around your waist.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And oh god, you’re certainly not expecting when he fucking spits into your mouth, a hand coming to press against your jaw and make you close your lips, but you sure as hell want him to do it again.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Swallow.” Wonwoo orders, and you moan, doing as you’re told. He looks at you with a feral satisfaction, eyes dark and so full of hunger it stunts you into silence. It’s like there’s this lustful wish of him to break you in until you don’t belong to anyone else but him, and that’s so fucking hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He kisses you for what feels like the hundredth time — not that you’re complaining, he could kiss you for one hundred more and you’d still beg for it. But this time there’s something different, something urgent, and he grasps the back of your thighs when he finishes taking his clothes off and fish something from the pocket of his pants, hefting you up in the air, your legs circling around his waist automatically.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t break the messy kiss as he walks through the garage, opening the door that leads to the inside of the house. He doesn’t waste time before slamming you into it as soon as he closes it, your back hitting the wooden frame with a loud thud as the two of you make out like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s too much tongue and too much spit and too much teeth, but the dirtiness of it all is what makes it even more hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Want you,” you whine out, realizing that what Wonwoo took out of his pants earlier was a package of lube.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He rips at the top and pours at his hands, reaching behind you to stroke his hard cock, groaning at the feeling as he lines up with your entrance. The wet head nudges your rim softly, but it slips through your folds. You look at Wonwoo only to realize he’s already staring at you, devious glint in his eyes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re about to tell him to hurry up when a moan is punched out of you, high pitched and needy, because Wonwoo fucked his cock inside you in one go, nearly knocking the breath right out of your lungs. Your nails scratch all over his back and he groans at the feeling, hips kicking into you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You like that?” he questions, rhetorically of course, and grinds his hips until they are flushed against your ass. You gasp for air, feeling full to the brim, and the burn in your cunt is just so good. “Think I don’t know about your little plans to rile me up?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo even has the audacity to laugh, jamming inside you with slow but deep thrusts.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How you get more handsy with your friends when I’m around,” he grits out, anger bleeding through his thoughts and thrusts like he just hates the idea of you touching more intimately other people. “And you look at me with those eyes. Like you’re begging me to claim you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Holy fuck, Jeon Wonwoo is fucking you standing up and you’re not dreaming.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is full on mercilessly ramming you now, sending you body into the door with every plunge of his cock, the sound of your back hitting the wood obscenely loud. It leaves you putty, can just take what he’s giving you, hands holding him for dear life.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Should’ve put you on your knees right in front of that guy,” Wonwoo continues, breath ragged from effort. “Make you choke on my cock so he knows who you belong to.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo grabs your ass with his hands, palms sinking into the flash as he propels you back every time he fucks up. It makes the drag of his thickness press right through all the good spots.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Should’ve bent you over the bar counter and fucked you hard until you scream my fucking name,” he growls out, the veins on his neck and arms bulging. You tighten around him in answer to the sinful view. “Fuck, your pussy is so greedy. Always so tight—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo angles his hips just right and hits against your sweet spot so suddenly that your climax — which was already at bay — escalates quickly to the point it sends your mind into a frenzy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And, for the third time, Wonwoo slows down, hips flush against your ass he can nudge his cockhead right above your sweet spot, missing it on purpose. Your eyes prickle with tears, and it doesn’t take long for them to run down your face; the first one goes reluctantly, but after that they start cascading down your cheeks uncontrollably.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So beautiful,” Wonwoo groans at the sight of you crying for him, pecking one of your tears strained cheek. “I’ve broken you in, haven’t I?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“P-please, Wonwon— Please, please, please let me c-come,” you sob, all the want to be a brat gone from your body. The overwhelming need grows so exponentially big inside of you you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t orgasm.  “W-wanna cum on your cock, please, ah—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is moaning, louder than he has all day, and the satisfaction of seeing you give up on your fight and beg for him makes his hips pick up a brutal pace. You gasp, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and biting at the untouched skin.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So pretty when you beg,” he compliments, and you actually find surprising your ability to blush even when you’re being dicked down this good. “Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes— Ah! Hmmm, shit—” you mumble, struggling to get words out. It’s difficult to keep your voice steady enough to say anything with the way you’re bouncing like a ragdoll on Wonwoo’s hold. “Love this— L-love you, ruin me, Wonwoo, Wonwon—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls your head backward with a fistful of your hair, baring your neck so that he could attack it with bites and hickeys all over. You’re sure that, by the end of this night, you’re going to be looking like some type of sexual Christmas tree, but the thought of baring your boyfriend’s marks after sex only turns you on. And he seems pretty intent on that, wanting to claim you in all ways possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say it,” Wonwoo commands, but you don’t understand, can’t understand with your mind being in such a pleasurable haze. He fucks up right in the time he pulls you back down by your waist, downright impaling you on his cock. “Say you’re mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yours,” you answer, fingers intertwining through Wonwoo’s dark strands of hair. “I’m yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Again,” Wonwoo growls out, basking in your pleads and moans and screams of pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yours,” you repeat, and he bites on your lower lip. You have enough of a mind presence to admire his bulging biceps contorting with your weight, and his huge test firm and sweaty from the effort.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Again,” his possessive side gets the best of him, admiring all the marks he has left in your neck. “Say it again.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yours, ah!” a moan breaks at the end of the word, Wonwoo’s thrusts getting rougher, faster and there’s heat pooling down on your lower stomach. “I’m y-yours, all yours, only yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, mine,” Wonwoo agrees, holding your smaller frame tightly against his. “Mine,” he echoes again, muscles trembling from fucking you standing up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses you, the best he can with the harsh movement of your body going up and down on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you so much,” he tells you, voice soft and rough at the same time. “I have always been only yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m gonna come, I’m g-going to— going to come,” you state after his words, the pull on your lower stomach growing impossibly higher, and it’s almost unbearable. “Please, fuck, please l-let— cum— let m-me cum! I have been g-good, please, Wonwon—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

”Such a good girl for me. The best girl,” Wonwoo praises, angling his hips a little so he can press his cockhead against your sweet spot every time he fucks inside. “Come on, you can cum, sweetheart.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your eyes roll so far back in your head you’re momentarily afraid they are never coming back. White hot pleasure surges in your body, the sheer intensity of your high sends your mind into a mess. The feeling of your walls clenching like a vice around Wonwoo’s cock sends him over the edge too, and the sensation of his cum shooting inside your walls only serves to add up to what you think it’s the best orgasm of your life, mind going completely blank.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This might have been totally different from what you’ve originally planned but you know what? You’re definitely going to use this plan more often now.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

[kenzumekodma]

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

pairing: denki kaminari x fem!reader

wc: 1369

warnings: impact play, switch!reader, switch!denki, unprotected sex (✨condoms✨ or your preferred method of protection, my dudes), probably mistakes because i finished this 15 minutes before posting

find the rest of my kinktober masterlist here!

“Woah, what’s that?” you hear Denki call from the other room, followed immediately by a faint buzzing sound.

“For fuck’s sake, Kaminari,” you groan. Once, just once, can’t he keep his nose out of everything? The can of soup you were reaching for drops to the floor as you hear a loud thwack.

“Holy shit!” Denki sounds excited despite the sound. You rush back to your bedroom and find your friend holding a riding crop, vibrator laying forgotten on the bed but still going strong. “You’re into that kinky shit, aren’tcha?” he grins at you. His sleeve is rolled up and you can see an angry, red rectangle forming on his forearm.

“Give me that!” you reach to swipe the crop away from him but he’s quicker. As you dart forward, he brings it down hard on your ass, giggling away. “Ow! New rule: no touching things until you know how to use them,” you declare. Denki makes no move to relinquish the crop.

“No fair,” he pouts.

“Look, if you want to know how to use this stuff, I can teach you. But you’ve got to give that back to me,” you say pointedly. Reluctantly, he hands you the riding crop. You pick up the vibrator, turn it off, and toss it back on the bed.

“How can you teach me if I can’t touch it?”

“Take your jeans off, Denki. And, get on your knees.”

He gulps, but obeys, taking his shirt off as well. White and black striped boxer briefs with lightning bolts plastered on them cling nicely to the curve of his ass.You shake your head. “Of course you’d wear your own merch,” you chuckle.

“Hey, I make it look good,” he protests, looking behind his shoulder.

“Of course you do, pretty boy,” you coo, tapping him gently with the crop.

“W-what did you call me?” The most delicious pink decorates his cheeks and nose.

“Pretty boy. Keep up.” you tap him gently again.

“R-right,” he says. He’ll be the first to admit he’s found you attractive from the first time you had met. In fact, he still makes passes at you, although they’ve become more joking and out of habit the closer you’ve gotten as friends. You taking control? Telling him to take off his pants and get on his knees? Way out of left field, but Denki Kaminari is not a man to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“The first thing you need to know is where to hit someone to make it fun pain instead of unpleasant pain,” you say, your hands ghosting over his ass. You grab a handful of the cheek, just above his thigh. “Here is a good spot, because there’s more fat to cushion the blow.”

“I always knew you thought my ass was fat,” he teases. You smack him just a bit harder where you’d shown him. He hisses, feeling his cock swell to life beneath the thin fabric of his underwear.

“Second rule,” you say, ignoring his remark. “Don’t hit anyone harder than they can handle. Know your own strength. And try it out on yourself first. I won’t let someone use something on me that they haven’t had used on themselves first because I want them to know what they’re doing. And always, always listen to what they want and can handle,” you stress. “Ask them, check in. Like this.” You swing the crop a little harder again, making satisfying contact with Denki’s ass. “Was that too hard, pretty boy?”

“No,” he groans. “Give me another,” he says. You tap him twice with the crop gently. “Please,” he adds.

You pull his boxer briefs down his thighs, and land your first hit to his bare skin. From behind, you see the way his balls and cock twitch at the impact.

“One more and then you can try on me, okay?” you promise him, rubbing soothing circles on his bright red skin.

“‘K-kay,” he whimpers.

You land one last hit over the previous ones, and Denki lets out a moan. You lean down to kiss his sore cheeks.

“Last thing. Always make sure you take care of your partner afterwards. Make sure the both of you are feeling good coming down from it, okay? It’s really important. It’s not just physical, it’s psychological too.”

He nods, wincing as he turns his body around and sits on the bed. Your eyes trail down his body and you realize you’ve never seen him anything less than fully clothed before. His body is toned, befitting a pro hero, and his cock is long, veiny, with a leaking, angry, red head. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

“Pants off,” Denki tries commanding. You do as he bids, settling onto your hands and knees where he was just moments ago. He slides your panties down your thighs, taking his time massaging and kneading the swell of your ass. Finally, he picks up the crop. He takes a light, experimental swing and lands a soft tap to your cheek.

“You can go harder,” you assure him. He lands a slightly harder blow over the same spot. Something inside him switches at the sound of your keen, something that makes him want to be the only one pulling these noises from your throat. “A-another, please,” you ask him.

“I can’t say no to such a pretty girl, can I?” he asks, landing another over the same spot. He does it again, to your other cheek now, and he watches as your folds glisten for him in real time. He spots the bullet you’d discarded earlier beside you. “Can I try something?” he asks. You nod your head.

“Go ahead, make me feel good,” you moan as he drags his fingers along your lower lips. He turns the vibrator on and glides it along your folds before sliding it inside your walls. You whimper at the sensation.

“Want you to touch yourself, get yourself off while I hit you with this. You wanna do that for me, pretty girl?” he asks.

“Y-yes, please, thank you,” you groan, gathering your slick on two fingers before rubbing circles around your needy, puffy clit.

He lands a series of light blows to your ass, revelling in how you squirm and whine for him. He can’t take it anymore, though. Denki tosses the crop onto the mattress and lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

“Can I?” he breathes out.

“Please, fuck me,” you whine.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He slides inside you and moans loudly. The vibrations of your other toy echo through his dick and you’re creaming around him in seconds. Your choked whimpers egg him on, though, and he starts fucking you in earnest. Fuck, he’s going to have to buy one of those bullet vibrators for himself, it feels so fucking good when he’s buried to the hilt, claiming your pussy as his own. It wouldn’t feel as good, though. Not without your fluttering walls, your easy whines, your whimpers of “‘s too much, ‘s too sensitive, Denki! ‘M g-gonna--!” as you cum around him for the second time in only a few minutes.

This time, he feels himself follow you, using the last of his common sense to pull out of you with a grunt. Spurts of white paint your reddened skin. His first piece of art using two colours, he thinks to himself as you collapse onto the bed in front of him.

“F-fuck,” he groans. The buzzing sound coming from your cunt snaps him back to his senses, your legs twitching until he turns the vibrator off and eases it out of you. “Let me get you cleaned up, pretty girl,” he says. He quickly leaves for the bathroom, returning momentarily with a damp cloth to clean you up and soothe your abused skin.

“You did well for me, pretty boy,” you say, a fucked out smile gracing your features.

“You were so good for me, too, pretty girl,” he says, pulling you into his side on the bed. You sigh contentedly and curl into him, taking refuge in his warm scent and strong arms. “What other toys are you hiding from me?”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ruined, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD

@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD

--

“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”

You died.

Not literally, but also literally.

“Fuck!”

Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.

“Noona, um–”

That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.

“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.

Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.

The second time was your fault.

You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.

Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.

Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.

You were, in short, a nerd about it.

“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.

But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.

There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”

Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.

Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.

Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.

“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”

“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”

“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.

“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.

Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.

“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”

“Do you wanna join us, noona?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we.”

“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”

“I’m not that good.”

You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.

“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”

Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.

“R… really?”

“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.

Heat.

You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.

Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?

“Wow, you’re so good at League.”

“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”

“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.

To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.

“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”

“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”

“I’d listen to you, noona.”

Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.

His violet hair brushed your shoulder.

Soft, delicate strands against your skin.

“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”

Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.

You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.

You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.

Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.

“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.

Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.

Mostly shirtless hot guy.

Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.

“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”

Your eyes flickered to the kill score.

“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”

Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.

“So, about your problem–”

You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.

“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”

“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”

Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.

UMMMMMMM.

Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.

“Uh, Jungkook…”

He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.

Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.

His shirt was very open.

Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.

He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”

His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.

Your legs.

Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.

Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.

Your face.

Guarding his expression, testing the waters.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”

You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.

In short.

Brat.

“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.

Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.

All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.

Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.

Yet.

“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”

You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.

“Oh. Okay.”

He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.

The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.

You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.

You slapped his hand down.

Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.

Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.

“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.

Shit.

Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.

Shit.

What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?

“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”

Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”

“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.

Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.

“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”

You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.

“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

Yet.

You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.

Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.

Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.

“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”

You ticked your head.

“I know.”

Because you did.

Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.

He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.

“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”

Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.

You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.

“Hm.”

Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.

Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?

You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.

“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”

Alright.

You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.

“Lock the door.”

Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.

And.

Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.

He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.

Well then.

He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.

You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”

You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”

“You kind of did.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.

Jungkook put his knee in between them.

His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.

“I can’t help myself around you.”

You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.

At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.

Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.

You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.

“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?

There was no difference.

Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.

“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.

“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.

You shrugged casually.

“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”

Jungkook chuckled.

“I can tell you’re not.”

You had to smirk.

Of course, you weren’t.

You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.

“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.

“The truth.”

His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.

You didn’t make a sound.

Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.

“I tripped and fell into your lap.”

Your lips curved into a smirk.

He kissed you.

His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.

Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.

Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”

You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.

“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.

“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

Hm, that sounded familiar.

“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”

He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.

Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.

You’ll take this trade.

You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.

“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”

“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”

Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.

“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”

Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”

You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.

Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.

“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”

He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.

You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”

He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.

“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.

Hm, he really loved it, huh.

“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.

“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”

“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”

You removed your hand.

Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.

But you had a job to do.

He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.

“Please don’t–”

You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.

He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.

It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.

“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”

“Jungkook?”

You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.

You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”

You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.

“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”

You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.

“Go ask for a shirt.”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.

“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.

“Maybe you wanted them to know.”

You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.

“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”

You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.

“Jungkook.”

You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.

In control, not to be questioned.

“Get on your knees.”

Dead silence outside your bedroom.

“B… but…”

His cheeks flushed pink.

You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.

“You made a mess. Clean it up.”

You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”

His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.

You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.

He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.

Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.

-

“I don’t wanna.”

“We both know you do.”

“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.

And you knew it.

“Noona, please…”

He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.

You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.

His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.

“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”

You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.

“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”

You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.

“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”

His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.

“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”

“Noona,” you prompted.

Just because you could.

His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.

“Noona.”

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.

You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.

Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.

You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.

Your right hand started choking him.

Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.

Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Say please, Jungkook.”

A sharp, distinct order.

“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.

Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.

You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.

“This pussy worth it, brat?”

The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.

“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”

You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.

His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.

The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.

“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”

You knew that couldn’t be true.

Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.

His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.

“I can’t cum without you anymore.”

You removed your hand.

Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.

“No!”

His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.

Just perfect.

Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.

Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.

Jungkook bit you.

Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.

Insane.

You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.

Please.

Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.

Please.

Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.

Please.

He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.

“P… Please…”

You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.

“Jungkook.”

No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.

“Noona…”

His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.

You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.

“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”

He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.

You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.

Eyes that you looked into now.

Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.

His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.

And fuck.

Jungkook had a cute face.

You genuinely smiled.

“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.

That did it.

His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.

Your fingers tangled into his hair.

His hand fitted around your head.

Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.

“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.

His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.

-

In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.

You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.

You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.

Then you went back to playing League of Legends.

Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.

-

drabble morning-after hungover breakfast

--

masterpost

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[rusticottage]

Hi, guys! Before anything I just want to add here that this is how I do my gifs, I’m not a professional and there are a thousand ways to make gifs, this is just one of them. I really hope I made everything clear, but if you need any help or correct me in something, just send me an ask! I’m always open to learn and help <3

You’ll need:

FRAPS

Photoshop

The Sims Any game you want!

Step 1. After downloading FRAPS you will open it and go to the “Movies” page and check what your hotkey is (maybe when you click it a window will open saying that your video player is not compatible with the video type, ignore it), mine is F9 (I think is the default), but you can change to whatever you want, just don’t put any used hotkey like esc/tab/windows key, this kind of stuff.

Obs: for FRAPS to work you need to always have it open simultaneously with the game (you can open it while you are in game in case you forgot, that’s not a problem).

Step 2. Once you go in game (with FRAPS minimized) you will see some numbers on one of the corners of your screen, it shows that FRAPS is on baby (if nothing is showing try press F12 or F11).

Step 3. Ok, now you go where you want to make your gif, you can turn reshade on, off, tab, build mode, FRAPS works in game no matter what/where. You’re going to press your hotkey (mine is F9) and the numbers that once were yellow will turn into red, it shows that FRAPS is recording your screen, to stop the recording press your hotkey again, you will notice that now the numbers are back to yellow. Try not to wait too long to stop recording, we are doing a gif not a movie afterall ;).

Step 4. Nice! Now you can get out of your game, or minimize it, and go to Photoshop and open a new file, check on your FRAPS where your movies are located and open it in Photoshop!

Step 5. We are almost done. Check if when you opened your movie the timeline bar showed up in the bottom of your Photoshop, if it didn’t go to Window > Timeline, and choose  Create Video Timeline

Step 6. The long purple/blue bar is your whole video.

Controls (play, pause, this kind of stuff)

Beginning of your gif

What part of your gif is showing up to you on your screen right now

End of your gif

Any edit you want to make

You can mess with 2 and 4 and choose where your gif will start and end and how long it will take, try not to do a long gif, long gifs are heavy, it’s harder to make it look good while have a size that can be uploaded on tumblr.

⚠ tip: edit after cropping and 400px is being a really good size to keep the quality 💛

Now just edit the way you want it to look! But know that this is not a photo so some tools might not work.

Step 7. Once you finish editing your gif you’ll resize it. FRAPS saves huge size videos, and again, they are heavy, we don’t want this. Go to Image > Image Size and resize the width to 600px (the new size is kind of optional, I use 600px because isn’t too small nor too large, but you can put any px you want here, just don’t make it huge!). Once you resize, a popup wil appear , just press ok (and now your long video bar is purple ;)).

Step 8. We are ready to save it! Go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)

Step 9. Make sure the loop is set to “always” or “4ever” idk, you can press play to check the end result. Aaaand, keep an eye on the size of your gif, tumblr doesn’t accept gifs bigger than 10MB and recommends it lower than 5MB. Click on Save and we are done!

Here we go! You have your gif <3 This is the first tutorial I’ve ever done here so please correct me if I made any mistake and go into my inbox to ask anything at all, if I don’t know what to do we can search a resolution together. Hope this was usefull!!! Have a great day!

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

[vslattae]

TRUST

Part one part two

↝ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢɢᴇsᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴘᴜs ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪᴍ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ, ʜᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴋɪɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

this is a little unedited so if you see any mistakes...you didn’t :)

campusflirt!jungkook x semipopular!reader

warnings: language, jin (is kind of a dick) mentions of alcohol, weed, there’s a smudge of angst. jk is kind of a dumbass, tae and yoongi being soft for yn,

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let’s get straight to the point, college is fun but despite all the movies it was all lies. Some people have it worse and thank god you didn’t have it so bad.

you sat in taehyung and yoongis apartment it was a quiet night. “let’s go to namjoons party tomorrow night” taehyung glanced at you smiling. “sure we can go” you smile back grabbing your stuff to make it back down the hall to your apartment.

Once you wave goodbye you slowly make your way out and into your apartment. sighing you placed your bag down and noticed something under your bed stuffed in a box.

cautiously sitting down and opening the box, the memories flood in. jeon jungkook what the hell happened to us? Jungkook or his nickname you gave him “kookie” was your best friend growing up, until freshman year of high school when he met those dicks that just happened to be friends with your yoongi and tae.

Once jungkook found out about them the hours you spent sitting in your makeshift fort dissipated from minutes to hours to day then weeks..all the up until a few years. the only good thing is that you two happen to be at the same college, but obviously you don’t even know if he remembers you.

going through the small notes and pictures one stands out, it was the night jungkook took you to your eighth grade dance where you both shared for your first kiss.

giggling at the memory you never noticed the small tear that tumbles off your right cheek. you slide the box back underneath your bed to be forgotten and continue getting ready for bed.

beep beep beep

your alarm clock flashes 5:35 exactly one hour before sunrise, changing into shorts and a hoodie and running shoes you burst out the door into the nice breeze chasing the path that led to a small clift where you spend your early mornings.

The path passes by a small dance studio with huge open windows, you never pay attention to it because the windows are always dark but once you stop you noticed a guy with way blonde hair with hand tattoos. he sways to the music but a female pops out to hug the boy and you continue to run.

bzzz bzzz

it’s yoongi.

“hello?” you pick up

“yn taehyung isn’t here” his voice sounds worrying.

“what do you mean?” you stop glancing out to the scenery.

“yn he never came back he told me he went out for a walk and hasn’t been back. i’ve tried calling and nothing straight to voice mail.” your heart sinks wondering if something really bad happened to tae.

“i’m coming okay? well go check out places maybe he just crashed at a friends place.” your insides churning as you run to yoongis place.

now walking with yoongi around to a different apartment lot about 10 minutes away from yours, it belongs to seokjin or just jin. the name sounds familiar but you keep it to yourself.

arriving at the gray apartment building, yoongi marching straight up to room 202 and knocking on the door.

a very tall slim guy opening the door, his hair peeled with light brown hair and purple ends...this must be jin.

“is tae here” yoongi glares at jin the taller male. “please come in and she can come in too taes on the couch” he invites you both in. you get the stench of weed and a very high taehyung on the couch.

“tae jesus christ” you hit him on his arm he winces a little and whines, there’s a weird noise coming from down the hall you ignore it of course and try to pull taehyung up with the help of yoongi but you both fail and he pulls you down and wraps his arms around you.

“tae” you whine “yoongi get him off” yoongi pulls you out of taehyungs arms. The noise from the hall stop as you hear a whine and a guy making his way into the living room where it’s crowded with voices.

it’s the guy from the dance studio. the very toned blonde haired boy with the tattoos on his hand. he made his way towards you and froze.

it was jungkook. in the flesh...

“jungkook yoongi and his friend came to get tae” jin look at jungkook and he still stood frozen. eyes widened at your figure along with the beads of sweat stuck on his forehead.

“oh jin shit...this is yn the girl that lives down the hall from us” yoongi pointed to you while you shy waved.

“yn..?” jungkook looked at you and he wanted to do was scoop you in his arms and apologize for ghosting you and ignoring you...it pained him to watch you both slowly drift apart away from each other.

“can we talk..?” he looked at you while your thoughts ran wild. you thought he was dead for crying out loud..and he thought you moved away and never wanted to see me again.

nodding you got up and walked outside of the apartment. you noticed the space in between you two. you had no idea what you were gonna say at all thank god he opened his mouth otherwise you would have darted back up to grab tae and leave.

“so..how’ve you been?” he scratched the back of neck while glancing at you.

“i’ve been okay...you’ve changed” you try your hardest to hold back the tears that swelled in your chest begging to not cry in front of him. god that’s pathetic.

he quickly caught on and held you. “i am so sorry yn..i forgot about you..and i fucked up oh my...we lost so much time and i don’t even know what to do..” he rambled on.

“i thought you were dead kook...you stopped hanging out with me to be with those pot smoking fuck boys..what happened.” that’s when the first tear fell and the bitterness bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

he watches you stunned...he doesn’t what happened to him. it was just one of those you meet things. they were more interesting than you at the time so time slipped away and so did the jungkook you knew.

“yn...i’m sorry...what else do you want me to say?” he looked you searching for face. “it’s okay kook...your girl is inside and i have to go.” you look at very high tae who pushes himself onto your shoulders as he giggles.

he watched the three of you walking away, as he returns back into his apartment to finish the girl he was with.

the night came for you and your little duo to head over to namjoons. watching the mirror with your ripped jeans tiny crop and yoongis windbreaker. you tip on your favorite shoes and walk out with yoongi and tae. The walk is easy, the light breeze along with the dim lights that spread along the road.

Once you reach the medium size house, it’s crowded with college guys and girls and it reeks of cheap alcohol and shady smelling weed. the minute you step into the house your swarmed by yoongi and taehyungs friends. yoongi manage to wrap his arm around you while he pushed his way to rm and jimin.

“hi guys” jimin looks at the three of you.

“you didn’t tell me this many people were here” you whined glancing around watching taehyung come back to give you a red cup filled with whatever he was drinking. “yeah me either but uh i think jins coming with his guys” he tipped himself back on the couch.

sipping your drink you immediately choke on it, in your line of sight lays jungkook. He’s paired in black ripped jeans, a designer hoodie and a pair of black combat boots. His hair is a little messy along with the row of piercings that lay on his ears. his left hand holds a red cup as he’s surrounded by a few girls until he notices you.

“jesus i think i’m going to be sick...can someone come outside with me?” you stand up immediately holding your hand out to whoever grabs it first..that is until your eyes land in your palm with jungkooks tattooed hand as he pushes his way outside.

“thanks” you mumble sitting on the warm concrete not sparing a glance to the boy in front of you. your head is pounding with the amount of alcohol in your system along with the super loud ass music that blasted the house.

“yn..” jungkook calls out. you look up only to find the boy hovering over you and for the first time since yesterday you got a glimpse of jk. “i know the reason i stopped hanging out with you” he softly spoke. tilting your head you waited for him to continue. “i wasn’t good for you yn and you know that. i couldn’t introduce to the guys i hung out with. they’d tear you apart.” he finally admitted.

“what- jungkook...you just left that’s the thing. you couldn’t have just told me that you’d go missing?” you scoffed already much annoyed and read to go you stood up to tell the boys you were going home.

walking back into the house to greet your friends goodbye but they were nowhere to be found out all.

making your way back to your apartment unlocking the door and stepping inside, you shower the party off and get dressed no bothering to put a bra on.

knock knock knock

slowly inching your way to the door and opening it, you were thinking it was a drunk tae or yoongi but you were definitely wrong. and definitely sober.

jungkook was out there..you looked up at him and then it just clicked. “come in..” you noticed his eyes drifting towards the small shorts you put on.

once you were both seated on the couch time began to move slower and all it took was the drift of jungkooks hand to your thigh and you were now under his spell.

———————————————————————

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

Previous | Next

[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

[tomthesoftie]

let them flow

❧ synopsis: after the collapsing of an unhealthy relationship, each side begins to improve and thrive, one for the other, one for themselves. coincidentally, they meet at the same dreaded party that led to the breaking of their relationship. will this unfortunate series of events lead them to opportunity?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: fluff

❧ warnings: mild angst, fluffy-ish ending, exes to friends to lovers, one or two curse words, lil bit of crying, mentions of alcohol

❧ a/n: it’s finally over. thank goodness. this also is so long it can be considered a second part fuck. i know i took a whole month to write this, but i barely have free time to write nowadays and the times i do, i don’t have much inspiration. anyways this came out better than i expected so hope you guys enjoy.

in order to understand this ending, please read this first: her hidden crystal tears 

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In the first month you spent broken up with Tom, you, for once, felt at peace, with no burden of hiding relationships and denying feelings. You had forgotten how free living singly was. Within that month, you were able to reshape your life. Your grades began to improve, and your mental health had phenomenally developed for he better. Your friends had even gone out of their ways to help you with a "glow up."

Tom, on the other hand, had tried to shape him into a better person in hopes of salvaging your crumbling, if you could even call it that, relationship. He worked harder in class, and every time he saw you sitting in the lecture hall, you were surrounded by other classmates, giving him no place to fit in. He also started to distance himself from his old group of friends, looking for a better, influential group.

Tom couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart when he saw you walking with one other friend to class, laughing at something they said. He saw how your under eye-bags turned bright and how you shoulders straightened up after the breakup. It broke his heart to know the negative impact he had on you, which you never complained or spoke out about.

The brunette wanted to improve for you and himself.

How you ended up in a pair of high-waisted, black, denim shorts and a black bandeau with a sheer, cropped, long-sleeved shirt overtop you didn't know. After much begging and bothering, your friend had convinced you to go to the afterparty of the football game. You tried your best to deny their attempts but failed when they baited you with money.

This would be your first time attending a party, for you were always driven home and away from them. You couldn't deny, though, the chills that snaked down your spine at the mention of it.

Stepping into the house, you noticed how similar it looked to a fraternity. People were dancing, pushing their bodies against others and grinding their hips onto drunk partners. Other students were playing beer pong, stripping on tables, or resting on couches with a red, plastic cup in their hands. It smelled terribly of sweat and oversaturated body spray, making you gag on your breath.

"How do so many people like this?" You shouted over the pounding music and loud voices.

"How do you not?" You friend giggled, dragging you through the crowd.

Dodging and pushing people off of you, you gripped your friend's hand tightly, afraid of losing them.

"Where are we going?" You asked, eyes darting all over the place in uncertainty.

"Before we party, we've got to get drinks," they pushed the door of the kitchen open, revealing the alcohol infested space.

Scrambling over to the bulky cooler, they grabbed a can of beer, popping it open and downing it.

Flinching in disgust, you commented, "Don't you want to wash that, first?"

"What d'you mean? It looks perfectly clean to me," they shrugged, throwing you a can.

You clumsily captured the condensated drink, before putting it on the counter behind you, "I don't drink."

They groaned, "Why are you such a doormat? Come on," they nudged your shoulder, "Live a little."

You laughed, "I can "live a little" just fine with water."

"Ugh, fine. I'm guessing you also want to sit in a corner and become a hermit," they spoke, sarcastically.

"Actually," your eyes lit up, "I do."

"You," they pointed at you unsteadily, "annoy me, but since I already brought you along," their finger moved to point at an idle seat in the corner of a calmer room, "There."

You nodded, eyeing the isolated spot with glee. However, before your friend could escape into the crowd, you told them to stay safe and slipped away to occupy said seat. 

Although Tom no longer associated himself with his old group of friends, he couldn’t avoid them forever, as they were his teammates. Also, as the captain of the football team, it was practically an obligation for him to attend the after parties. 

Honestly, ever since you had broken up with Tom, he had developed a small fear of being whisked away by his fangirls and teammates, constantly thinking you were waiting in his car for him. His guilt had piled on top of his conscious, leaving him an insecure wreck.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the filled building, nodding and waving at familiar faces. One face he wasn’t expecting to see sat in the corner of the room was yours. 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured to himself, “She’s not there, you idiot.”

“Tom, buddy,” a familiar voice hollered.

Through your peripheral vision, you swore that you saw his chocolate curls, but when you looked up from your phone, he had disappeared. Your eyes began to dart through the crowd of people, looking for the man you supposedly had gotten over.

Quickly realizing your mistake, you shunned yourself for willingly wrapping yourself around his little finger. You returned to scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself with the illuminated screen.

Tom watched as his teammate, and former friend, grabbed at a girl swaying her hips, pushing her ass against his friend’s crotch, into a grind. Suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable where he stood, he moved into the kitchen to grab a drink.

The room let in muffled sounds but ultimately was the quietest room in the building. The white LED lights left the room bright and easy to navigate, albeit the clusters of finished drinks and used cups littered on the counters and in the sink and overflowing out of the trashcan. 

The brunette drifted over to the fridge, locating the fresh water bottles hidden from other partygoers. 

Feeling quenched, you stood up from your seat, unwillingly. You looked for a quick and precise path to the kitchen, though you failed to do so. Deciding to extemporize it, you awkwardly squished your way through the crowd, mumbling “excuse me” and “sorry” periodically. 

Pushing the white-paint clad, wooden door open, you stumbled your way into the room, glaring at the sudden brightness engulfing your vision. 

Hearing the music and sound of people cheering grow louder, Tom turned around to see the oh-so familiar girl he had fallen infatuated with many months ago.

You stood, blinking your eyes as they tried to adapt to the sudden change of lighting. Groaning, your hands began massaging and harassing the poor skin of your eyelids. 

Your unnoticed ex, still stood in front of the fridge with a cool bottle of water in his hand, smiled at your adorable behaviour — widely contrasting your provocative outfit — watching as your cheeks puffed out in frustration. 

Feeling the haze leave your eyes, you looked ahead of you to see a silhouette emerging. Embarrassed, you blushed, looking down at your shoes. 

You felt a cool presence resting beside your cheek, and quickly looked at the item.

Water? You thought, confused.

Eyes trailing up the arm holding the bottle, your met with the sight of your former boyfriend smiling at you.

“Tom,” you breathed.

After avoiding and ignoring the boy for so many weeks, you already had forgotten how sweet he looked with a smile and soft blush grazing his cheeks. Maybe you hadn’t forgotten; you were just rarely, if ever, given the opportunity to admire it.

“Hey,” he responded, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

You glanced at the bottle then back to Tom, silently asking what he was doing with it.

“O-Oh, I just thought you’d want a bottle of water, since you don’t drink, but if you do now, that’s totally cool too,” he rambled nervously, like a little boy talking to his crush on the playground. 

Although you had only broken up with him a bit over a month ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust taking the drink from him.

“Thanks, but I can get one myself. I’m sure you wanted to drink that too.” 

You gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile before walking past him to the fridge. Reaching into the cool container, you pulled out a frosted water bottle. 

The situation was strange. Everything felt so familiar but so different. It didn’t feel right to talk to each other like you knew how they slept in bed at night or how they loved warm cuddles on the couch as they binged shows and movies. 

“Look, Y/N,” Tom spoke up, breaking the tension with a breath, “I know that I was a jerk we were together. I also know that I neglected you. I shouldn’t have cared about what everyone else thought about our relationship. 

“Looking back, I understand why you were so frustrated with me, and you had every right to break up with me. I was a wuss that used protecting you as an excuse to keep you under covers. I reveled in the popularity and attention I got, back then.

“I’m different, now, though. I’m not saying you have to take me back. You don’t even have to consider it. All I want to do, right here, right now, is to apologize to you, so, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the anguish and sadness I caused. I’m sorry you had to waste your tears on me. I’m so fucking sorry, and if I have the slightest chance to even be your friend again, please let me take it.”

You felt a churning in your core, and tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You didn’t understand where your emotions arose from. You thought that you had moved on from Tom. You thought you had left him behind, left him in the shadows of your life. 

You turned around, hand reaching up to quickly wipe your tears away. That is, until a calloused hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t,” the accented voice choked, “It hurts me as much as it does you.”

Your words were caught in your throat. You tried to say something, anything, but nothing but sobs slipped your lips. 

Everything became a blur. You could only feel warmth enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darling,” Tom murmured into your hair. 

After the encounter at the party, you and Tom went on with your life as normal. 

Although, nothing that happened that night could be considered normal. You cried while he held you tightly in his arms. He apologized for his faults and asked for a second chance, as a friend or more. You forgave him and gave him the chance. 

Will you ever want to have the same relationship you had with Tom as before? No.

You and Tom are working on building a better, healthier relationship for the both of you: an open and honest relationship that won’t be hidden from anyone, especially not his “fangirls.” 

“Don’t ever hide your tears again,” Tom whispered into your hair, “Let them flow.” His pointer finger gently lifts your chin, locking his eyes with your tear-filled ones. He brings his thumb to your cheek, wiping away the shining streaks of pain, sadness, desperation. 

“Let them flow because I’ll be here. I’ll be here to wipe them away every and any time.”

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[writingforyuh]

Hi! How are you? First of all, I would like to tell you that my native language is not English, so I hope you can understand if I make a mistake writing this :( so, what I came here for is to request a Bucky Barnes x Male reader where the reader has the power of Mystique from x-men, I guess you know who I'm talking about haha, maybe it can be about the first time they met, they can be partners or enemies, I don't know, I trust you'll do something good, thanks for read xoxo

a/n: so... the first thing i want to say its sorry; you, my dear anon, gave me a damn good idea, but it is so good, soo goooood, that i think that i didn't something on the deserved level. But anyways, i hope you like it, this one was a bit complicated to do, so it may be not so good. Also, from now on, in my stories, i will be naming our reader(you). 'Cause for me, it's strange not to use a name or nickname sometimes, and i'll not use y/n or relateds, not that i don't like, i read a lot of fics with y/n, it's just that i don't want to use. On this one, i used Mystique's name, Raven. I also discovered that i can't center the txt when it's a reply like this one. I'm wheeping fandom: marvel/captain america/the falcon and the winter soldier too(?) words: 1.880 words/10.311 characters warnings: idk shapeshifting?, a tad fluff in the end, fight

Bucky Barnes x Male!Mystique!Reader

"The way you are"

As you walk away through the sidewalk, you shapeshift into a black woman, your blue skin turning brown, your yellow eyes turning green, your body changing to fit the appearance you want. In a mere second, the transformation it's done. Your clothes and ravenous hair are the only things that stay the same. You are going to a Japanese restaurant to pay a visit to a friend. Honestly, it's not exactly a restaurant, but you quite like the place. It's the only one place you feel secure enough to turn into something close to what you look. Though today you will be going with another look. Arriving at the place, which luckily wasn't so crowded today, you take a seat, waiting for your friend, who is the attendant, Leah. She is the only one who knows about your power and actual appearance. It was a dangerous decision to tell her about it, although you don't regret doing it. When she looks at you, you blink, so she knows that it's you. Before going to you, she passes on the kitchen and takes a plate full of sushi and other things and offers to you, on the house. You accept though you insisted on paying for all that. Leah ever treats you like you are special or something. You'll never admit that you like it despite all the refuses. She makes you feel... normal.

"So, how was the investigation today?" Leah asks, closing the distance through the counter You sigh, trying to hide things of Leah it's almost impossible, "Well, from what I discovered, the guy I'm after, that Ruin, works alone. I paid a visit to his former workmate-," "You paid a visit?" she interrupts you. "I... may or may not have invaded his house and gently asked about his old friend?" "Gently asked?" Leah raises an eyebrow for you, "Well, and then?" "Then, he said that he never heard that name or anything related for almost two years. What proves my theory that Ruin is working alone," you explain. "That's good," she states, surprised, "and you have an idea of where it's his hideout?" "Actually, no. But I heard some strange things about that famous club on the south that links with my guy," you explain, showing her a photo of the place on the phone. "That's Noapte Senina. You never heard about it?" "Why would I-" you stop yourself when Leah frantically passes his palm like cutting close to her neck.

The person who entered the establishment sits on the chair near you, and he isn't alone. Yuri is with him. The elderly sit on the chair next to the guy. Your friend walks away to serve customers, not before winking at you. As she goes, you gaze at that strange man: short brown hair, blue eyes, a bulky body, and a leather glove on the left hand. You never saw that guy here, yet he and Yuri seem good friends. In the middle of it, your eyes encounter his. A slight smile is now on his lips, one that makes your face burn a bit. You look away, regretting that eye contact. It's undeniable that he's handsome.

"You should ask her out," you almost choke with one sushi when Yuri said that.

Though you could shapeshift your body and everything that it covers, you still a man. However, the problem is not that he is a guy, but that he doesn't know that you are also one.

He says something to Yuri before turning to you, "I'm sorry for him, I... uh, you can call me Bucky." "Don't worry about it," you clear your throat, recovering your composure, "I'm Raven." "It's a... good name," he tries a compliment. That takes a chuckle of you, "Well, thanks. Bucky's not a bad name too." This time he let a giggle out, and damn... what a smile.

You two stay chatting for a while. Bucky is an unusual person, and come on! The man is so damn handsome, and being honest, you wanted to have more time with him, but you couldn't, you shouldn't.

"I need to go. But, it was nice to meet you, Bucky," you smile at him. At first, Bucky's expression seems to upsets, but as fast it seems, his serious countenance comes back, "It was… nice to meet you too." As you get up, you blink for Leah. She covertly nods to you. "Oh, look, wait!" It's Bucky's voice who's at you, "I... wanna know... ahm, we... if we maybe could see each other again?" You feel a twinge in your heart, and still, that doesn't stop you from doing what is necessary, for the sake of both, "I think that this won't."

...

It's late-night already. You didn't tell Leah about what you were planning to do tonight. You are with that same appearance as before, but now wearing a crop top with jogger pants, the most normal, the better. You read those big and bright letters: Noapte Senina. The place's full. There's loud music that's echoing the whole space. People everywhere, dancing, drinking, or just vibing along with the rhythm. You take a seat on the counter and ask for something not too strong to drink. While waiting, you run your eyes through the crowd of strangers, searching for your prey. The barman man brings your drink. You silently thank him with a nod. Taking a sip, you feel something that tastes like strawberry. It's better than you thought. You take another sup before trying another time to search for your target. Leaning against a wall with two women under his arms, a man probably in his mid-40s with an eye patch, "There you are..." you murmur. In a single gulp, you finish your drink. On your feet, pretending that you are dancing, you swiftly pass through the people on the way. Then out of nowhere, someone suddenly appears in front of you. You don't have time to figure a way of dodging, so you bump in.

"Ouch, I'm sorry. I didn't see you-" your voice fades when seeing in who you bumped in, "B-Bucky?!" "Raven?" his eyes widens. "I-I... what are you doing here?!" "I am... trying out this "club" thing," the brunette rubs the back of his neck, "but, well, I thought that we wouldn't see each other again." His word makes you redden, "This is only a co-coincidence, bu-but yet, I'm still doing something important, and if you excuse me," you say, walking over him. "Please wait," he grabs your wrist, "I-" "Bucky, let me go, now!" you demand. "Please just hear me!"

Even a plea won't work. You slide your hand through his glove, freeing yourself.

"Dammit! Raven!" he shouts.

You only ignore, walking away from him. Probably it's a good idea to shape into a different appearance, but there are too many people here that could notice. You take a deep breath and shale your shake your head before looking for Ruin again...

"FUCK!" you curse.

The man isn't in the same place as before. Frantically searching for him, your eyes catch a glimpse of his face. He entered the toilet, the male one. As you walk to the same as his, you lower your head. With your present look - a feminine one - someone could think something strange, but come on! It's the 21st century! Do people still care about these types of things? As you enter, it's evident that there's only one door closed. You look one last time to the entrance, confirming that no one is coming. You are ready to kick the Ruin's door on.

"Wait! Raven!" Bucky screams.

The brunette's eyes widen when the door collides with you, pinning you into the wall.

"Ohoho, so I really was being spied! I thought that Ramirez was only being a coward when he said that someone was hunting me, but look what we have here! You two are from the FBI?" Ruin asks. His voice's heavy, somewhat matching with him. Bucky doesn't say anything but rushes on the man, eyes on fire. He aims a left jab at the other's face. Ruin evades, kneeing the abdomen of the brunette, which throws him backward.

"HA! That's all you've-"

Before he can finish, you, recovered from the earlier impact, swing your body upwards, then scissors your legs around the Ruin's head, spins around his body, and rotate your legs downwards, take downing him. His head hits the ground directly, passing him out. With the rest of your energy, you handcuff him. A trembled gasp escapes of you.

"Wow..." Bucky's notably amazed by what you did. "Why did you follow me?!" you scream in your knees, panting, "Why did I follow you? Why you came after this man? You knew that he's a dangerous criminal?" He shouts back. "That's exactly why I came after him! That's what I do!" "What? You are a vigilant?" his mocking tone enrages you. "What if I-" An enormous pain progresses throughout your whole body. You passed too much time transformed. "Raven? What happened?" He lifts himself, running to your side, "Sam! I need support here, Now!"

You need to go back to your natural form, but how would you do that now? You force your body the best you can to maintain your shape.

Bucky puts you in his arms, "Raven, what's happening?!" desperation on his voice.

You tried your best to preclude that. However, you needed to do that. Your body slowly regains its blue color. Your eyes recover their yellow tone. The only thing that stays the same it's your ravenous hair and clothes. Simple as that.

"I'm... sorry..." you slowly say.

Bucky's eyes widen. The only thing you can do is think how disgusted he would be to see your pure form, how he would feel cheated by you. It wouldn't be a surprise for you. But that won't happen. You only feel Bucky's arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Please... don't scare me out this way..." his voice muffled in your neck. That puts you in a mess of red, "What... are you... do-" "I don't know too... I just... wanna hold you..." he intermits, "On the moment I saw you, I felt something strange and I-" This time you cut him off, pushing yourself away from the embrace, "Bucky, I'm strange! I'm fucking blue! I'm not even a woman! I'm a damn aberration, and I fucking tricked you!" your voice burning your throat. "You are saying that you are different and that you are a man? So what? I'm also a man and have a vibranium arm," he takes his left glove, showing his vibranium hand. "C'mon, Bucky... this'... completely different," you lowered your eyes, you couldn't look at his now.

Bucky has a strange power over you. How someone you barely know can mess with you this way?

"It's not. I don't care about your color or anything. I... think I like you... the way you are," one of the brunette's hand in on your wrist again, but this time it's a gentle and soft touch. the other lifts your face, so he could look in your eyes.

Bucky's now in a blush too. There's a grin on his face. For the first time in years, he feels that something good may happen in his life, and it is you.