#there are also scissors right in front of me and other objects just. there. that i have used in the past out of sheer desperation

[whsprings]

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[gojosprettyprincess]

Stepsister Yuki x Fem!reader

Tw- Stepcest, Sub reader, reader’s a perv, panty sniffing, Assplay, pussy and ass eating (yuki receiving), Scissoring, nipple sucking, Degradation, Tiny bit dubcon I'm not sure tbh. Reader is mostly the giver. Not proofread!!

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Stepsister Yuki! Who finds out from your parents that you're also into girls and won't stop teasing you everytime she sees you, she saw the way you stare at her ass when she walks in front of you, the way your hungry eyes follow her as she walks away, fixated on her butt so she purposely start bending over right in front of your face or sometimes she even pushes her tits in your face "accidentally" when your sitting down and she's showing you something on her phone.

Stepsister Yuki! who purposely drops something on the floor in front of you so she can bend over, pressing her round ass, bearly covered by her tiny booty shorts, right up against your crotch for a few seconds as she slowly picks up the object and then turns and looks at you boringly murmuring "Oops I didn't see you there" then smirking as she walks away. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Stepsister Yuki! Coming over to your room one night, claiming it’s for a "sleepover" in her thin white see-through tank top, her perky tits and nipples being awfully noticeable with her tiny lace thong as she layed on your bed sideways, pushing herself back deeper into the warmth of your body as her soft plump ass is pressed up right against your sweatpants crotch. she slowly humps herself against you without any shame, wiggling and shaking her ass against you, staining your sweats with her juices that's leaking through of her thong.

She continuously teased you with her ass as your cunt throbs in your panties, trying your very hardest not to touch her and let temptation get the best of you, she notices how nervous and quiet you are, and how dangerously loud your breathing, she laughs innocently, saying that she's sorry and that it's just cold that's why she's so so close to you.

Stepsister Yuki! asking you to wash her dirty laundry because she knows how much of a little perv you are that can't help yourself, taking the stash of dirty clothes to your room and sniffing her dirty used panties like a fucking creep, licking and sucking the damped stained crotch that was clinging onto her sweet cunt not too long ago since she freshly took it off when she went to shower earlier, your so fucking needy and desperate to taste her, You rubbed the material against your needy cunt as you imagined it was her pretty pussy grinding against you, coating your cunt with her sweet cum.

Stepsister Yuki! Purposely leaving her room door open when you two are home alone so when you walked past her room to go use the bathroom you saw her bending over naked on the carpet floor while she's pretending to look for something under her bed, your cunt leaking through your panties when you saw the purple jeweled plug nestled deep into her ass, poking out so pretty from between her cheeks, fuckk how the hell did she knew purple was your favor color? You'd be lying if you said you weren't toucing yourself in the shower later while thinking about what you saw.

Stepsister Yuki! Making you to have sex with her, grinding her dripping pussy against. she had your legs spread open on the bed while she's on top, bumping your clits together as you squeezed and slap her thick ass before cupping her breast and sucking her hard nipples. "F-fuck is this what you wanted? Fucking pervert knew you wanted to fuck me, I see the way you look at me, such a dirty bitch" she moans as she squirts on your throbbing cunt, hurrying off of you as she sat on your face, spreading her ass as you slurped the juices off her creamy cunt, licking her hole hungrily as you groaned, eyes rolling back as you tasted her delicious sweet cunny, you sucked on her clit as she moaned so fucking loudly while your parents are in the other room, not having a single clue what their sweet innocent daughters are doing together.

Stepsister Yuki! Cornering you against the wall as she presses her heart-shaped butt against your face, spreading her cheeks as she winks her asshole at you, "lick my tight fucking ass bitch" she held a strong grip on the back of your head and she shoves your face into her ass, you hurriedly suck on her winking rim, the greedy tight hole swallowing your tongue in as you felt her walls clenching tightly around you, you tonguefucked her cute button, it was so fucking cute and delicious, you couldn't resist kissing and making out with the dirty hole as she humps the fat of her ass against your face like a bitch in heat, “Fuckk yess, eat my tight little asshole just like that, good fucking girl, don't stop" she moans, forcing her ass deeper into your face as you wiggled your tongue inside her butthole, swirling and forcing it deeper as the rim closes around your tongue, trapping it in as you rubbed your thighs together. What your doing was so fucking nasty and pathetic and you knew it but oh did you liked it so fucking much, so tired of all her teasings of her bending over in first of your face, pressing her pretty ass against you and acting like it's an innocent accident. The way she’d walk around the house when the two of you are home alone in just a flimsy thong that had her pink puckered o ring and pretty cunt peeking out when she bends over to tease you, with a tiny top that's bearly even covering anything, but now you can finally have her, bullying your tongue so deep into her ass as it spasms around you, "Tell the fucking camera how much you love licking your step sisters dirty butthole, go on" she demanded holding her phone out towards you, "Mmm love it so much!" you words were muffled by her ass, you groaned when she purposely clenched her hole tighter around your tongue and chuckles "Yeah? Bet you fucking do nasty bitch, keep sucking on it"

Stepsister Yuki! Who humps your pillow when you’re not home, her thighs straddling the soft material as she moves her sloppy cunt back and forth, her slick stepping out of her soppy pussy and dripping onto the pillow as she grinds her wet cunny and rubs her aching clit while she moans your name, imagining it was your pretty face instead. The thought of you putting your face on this same exact pillow tonight, not having a single clue that she was creaming on it a few hours before made her cunt throb.

Stepsister Yuki! Who teases you soo much, she comes in your room with just a stringy thong that’s bearly even covering anything, the tiny g string bearly making any effort of hiding her tight ass and pretty cunt and thin tank top while your tryna do homework and she sits on your lap, wiggling the fat of her ass deeper onto your crotch, humping you as your cunny throbs over and over while she smirks, you ran your hands up her top, grabbing both of her pretty tits, squeezing it before twisting her nipples as her head falls against your shoulder. you pulled her top off, revealing her boobs as you quickly latched your lips onto one of them, eagerly sucking the bud, swirling your tongue over it as you tug on the other one, you started whining, so eager to touch and feel her more, you moved your hand from her nipple to her thong, fingers pressing against the crotch as you felt her dripping wet through the material, you pulled it to the side before quickly sliding a finger into her slutty hole, her slick making it easier to push your finger in as you slid it all the way in, her sweet juices coating your finger as you pulled away from her nipple to kiss the swollen part of her tits, you started drilling your finger in her tight cunt, wet squelching noises filling the room as she moans.

You began rubbing her clit with your thumb before she suddenly changed positions, her boobs now facing you, she pushes her tits in your face, suffocating you as you continued pounding your finger in her sloppy hole, you moved your other hand to gather her juices that's leaking from her messy pussy and circle it on her tiny rim, forcing your middle finger into her ass, it went in with ease, her puckering hole opening up as you bullied your finger into it, pushing it all the way in as you wiggled it against her slutty anal wall. you felt her pussy throbbing around you before she suddenly came on your finger, her juices coating your finger as you sank another finger in her butthole, forcing your pointer finger in as you pushed both of your fingers all the way in to the hilt, you hiss as you felt how tightly her asshole was squeezing and trapping in your fingers. You slowly pulled your finger out of her throbbing cunt, her slick dripping onto your lap as you brought your finger to your mouth, licking up her cum as you continuously wiggling your fingers in her ass, curling and scissoring them as the hole flutters around you.

[diamond-vic]

I decided to try to make a keldeo paper phone case graphic on impulse and I succeeded!! For fun here’s how I did it

Materials- A clear phone case, any sort of paper, scissors (preferably smaller ones), sticky notes, glue stick, pencil, some container to hold scraps (optional, but recommended)

I started by simply tracing out the shape of my phone, and cutting it out. I should have taken the case off for this, but I didn’t, so my initial shape was too big to fit on the inside of the case. Nevertheless, it is probably better for this first shape to be too large than too small, as you can trim uniformly along the edges of your shape until you can slip it into the case. Initially, I tried to cut a little window in for the camera and flash, but it was too difficult to do so neatly, so I opted to just cut a notch in for that section.

I then sketched down the design I wanted, trying to keep in mind where I’d put the colors. I used sticky notes of 6 colors (yellow, blue, green, orange, pink and purple), so I wanted to make the design work with these colors and have it be readable. It probably would have been best to do the background first, but I jumped impulsively right into doing keldeo.

For thinner / more translucent sticky notes, I found you could see through them to the pencil sketch fairly easily, so I had to erase as I went. This also, however, made it somewhat easier to trace out the shapes I needed. For several of the shapes, I turned my phone’s flashlight on and used it as a sort of light table so I could trace certain shapes so they could be sure to not overlap existing pieces. I glued using an Elmer’s glue stick

From there, I used a mix of freehand scraps (for example, the water and skyto give it a sort of wavy look), carefully traced shapes (such as the grass around the legs), and relifting previously glued pieces to slide new ones underneath (purple mountains are slid under Keldeo’s blue neck fluff and pink mane) to form the background. It could get super tedious and frustrating, especially when it’s all unplanned. It’s definitely easier to slide pieces under other pieces when they are finely detailed; I could never have cut a purple piece to fit around keldeo’s little pink ponytail without details being lost (believe me, I tried!). I used an old little plastic clay carving tool with a small, pointed but non sharp shovel-shaped edge to gently pry up pieces so I could glue new ones under. You do need to be careful that the pieces you do this with aren’t too much darker than the pieces on top, or else they may be visible in the final, such as the small bit of purple poking under keldeo’s lifted front shoulder. I also needed to glue the edges of pieces down repeatedly when they’d lift up over time. For this, I also used the carving tool, but you could likely use any small slightly sharp object for this, like the end of a toothpick. Simply scoop up a small bit of glue and glide it under the lifted piece before reattaching. Repeat until the madness is over.

Very important warning: be careful of the glue you get on your fingers when doing this!! If you get glue on sketched on pencil and later try to erase it, it can leave a dark smudge, and it can even generally just leave dark smudges when left to dry (you can see some of this on the water). Try to scrape off any excess glue as quickly as possible with a toothpick or other small tool!!

While I’m not sure what good it would do, I did sort of ‘laminate’ this piece before I put it into my phone. I didn’t want to use permanently sealing laminating sheets, as this would both be permanent and likely make the piece too large to fit in the case, so I instead cut up a clear sheet protector you’d use to hold notes in a binder. I placed the piece in the corner and cut the protector down to size, then trimmed until it could fit within the case. I had to cut down one sealing edge, meaning it only holds the piece between two bits of plastic held together with one hinge. However, this did give me some peace of mind knowing I didn’t shove a straight up sheet of paper covered with sticky notes in there

Anyway !! This actually only took two days total, so while meticulous and tedious, it isn’t extremely hard. Especially considering I just sorta jumped right in hoping it’d work out with 0 knowledge if it would!! It’s such a special invigorating feeling to see the final project on your phone and know you have a special little work of art following you around!

nobody can say I’m not keldeo’s #1 fan now

[nullsleepy]

Hear me out, people’s faces becoming sort of blurry to marinette and she loses her ability to understand emotions or react to them properly after years of dealing with hawkmoth. She tries to move on with life with the help of her family and friends but it’s still a struggle. One day, sabine and tom sit her down to tell her that her biological parent is trying to reach out and connect. She doesn’t know how to react but she is wiling to meet them. (Whoever her bio parent is, they definitely didn’t expect mari’s resting smiling face and her empty voice.)

Doll Eyes

Prologue: The Strings

Prologue(Here), Chapter 1(To Be Added)

Trigger Warnings: Mentioned Self Harm, viewer be warned. (Not a warning but there is a poll below and you should check it out!)

Marinette slowly opened her eyes as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Her once bright blue eyes were closer to grey in color, unable to take in any light. She didn’t bother to move her face around to see who it was, instead barely lifting head up. A dull, polite smile formed on her face as the footsteps stopped in front of her.

“Hello, father.” Her unmoving, cold voice rang out into the room.

She tried to fix the problem, started to see if maybe wearing glasses would work. She borrowed stole Alya’s glasses for a little bit and attempted to interact with others. When that didn’t work, she even tried to direct some of her miraculous cure at herself, yet nothing seemed to fix her problem. She couldn’t even recognize, see, herself in the mirror or photos. But she still went on with life as normal. No one suspected a thing. No one thought their local ladybug couldn’t even see their faces anymore.

Until it all went downhill on the day her mama found her trying to scrape out her eyes.

“Marinette!” Sabine screamed as she flung the half opened attic door away. Her steps were heavy and quick, as if she was desperately trying to stop her daughter. Marinette’s eyes were covered in scratches, some bleeding heavily. Her fabric scissors were centered right in front of her eyes.

“……” Marinette said nothing as Sabine yanked the scissors away from her, flinging them out of her glass door leading to her terrace. Sabine took Marinette’s face into her hands, yelling incomprehensible words as she looked over her daughter’s wounds.

“Hello, Marinette…” A soft voice cooed at her, taking her hand into theirs. “It’ll be okay, alright? We’ll take good care of you.”

Marinette imagined their face had glowing red eyes and a smile too sharp to be natural. Maybe the devil finally came to claim her life.

“My sweet chérie, ma cœur, I have good news for you. You’ll be released soon. You’ll get to see all of your friends again.” Her mother held her close, resting her head on Marinette’s. The warmth was the only thing Marinette noticed.

“Bǎo bèi, be careful with your steps now. I don’t want you to fall.” Her mom held her hand, leading Marinette down the stairs of the hospital. She thinks that was a hospital anyways.

She said nothing.

Her room was changed to the downstairs one, and all of her sharp objects were gone. She was given a wiggly pencil and oddly soft paper instead of her sewing supplies. Her bed was exchanged for more mattresses to stack on top of eachother.

She felt herself lose whatever remains of her life she had left.

“Mari…” Her father slowly petted her head, leaning her onto his chest. “Your mama and I wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Marinette, we…” Her mother began, softly rubbing the girl’s arm.

“-aren’t your real parents.”

As the footsteps stopped in front of her, Marinette tilted her just a bit, as if she was a doll.

“Hello, father.” She smiled politely, not a single bit of light reaching her eyes. The figure in front of her kneeled down, his arms rested on the knee that was bent.

“Hello, Marinette.”

Notes: I am so sorry for taking so long making this, heavholic! I hope this storyline so far is enjoyable though. Also, hopefully the images/divider I made is working! Wanted to do something different than the usual “-“ to separate them. My other fics will be updating(eventually) when I have time and inspiration, which should be soon(Or I will be taking on the quest of defeating the inspiration god and stealing all his inspiration! Jk pls inspiration god, give me strength!)

Tag List: (Open)

[sorathecookie]

Lunar Rift Timeline AU Story Part 6

Moon Lily Cookie looked around the Golden Cheese Kingdom, realizing that the sky was crimson and that the clouds were as dark as smoke.

"What's going on here?" she wondered.

She looked ahead and saw an army of Cake Monsters charging at the Cookies, and they were all led by a malevolent horned Cookie with a horned staff.

"Go forth, Cakes! Destroy everything in the Golden Cheese Kingdom, and leave nothing behind!"

The Cake Monsters roared and charged at the Cookies of the Kingdom, who began to fight them.

"...! How horrible! What could have happened in this timeline?" Moon Lily Cookie closed her eyes for a moment. "I can see now. In this timeline, I became Dark Enchantress Cookie, and I laid waste to so many kingdoms." She took a deep breath. "But with my power, I can undo it all! I can return the Cake Monsters to dough, and restore the kingdoms I destroyed back to their original states!"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," a voice said.

Before Moon Lily Cookie could turn to see where the voice came from, she heard a loud POW!, and before she knew it, she was tied up in a string gummy rope. Then, a figure appeared from the shadows.

"Who are you?!" Moon Lily Cookie asked.

"I am String Gummy Cookie, and you are under arrest by authority of the Time Balance Department."

"What?!"

Suddenly, she was picked up by String Gummy Cookie, and the two went through a time rift. Later, they arrived inside of some sort of large building with a large clocklike object standing in front of her.

"My work here is done. The Director will take care of you," String Gummy Cookie said as he walked away.

Moon Lily Cookie looked around worriedly. What is this place? And who's the Director? What's going to happen to me?

"So, it was you who has been messing with the timelines, is that right?"

Moon Lily Cookie looked around for the source of the voice, and suddenly, someone appeared before her. They looked nearly like Moonkeeper Cookie, round hair and all, but they wore a brown hat with two golden gears at the top, and wore a brown vest with brown pants and black pointed shoes with a gold border, and a black belt. Their eyes, or rather eye, was gold with a visible swirl in it, while the other eye appeared to be some sort of eyepatch. They also sat upon a large pair of golden scissors that resembled Moonkeeper Cookie's. The mere sight of them made a chill run down Moon Lily Cookie's spine and gulp.

"Y-yes, I am," she admitted out of fear.

"And would you like to know why you are here?"

"Is it...is it because I was messing with time?"

"DING DING DING! We have a winner!"

"Please understand! I wasn't messing with time to cause trouble! I just...I just wanted to help Cookies live a free and happy life. I thought that by using my newfound power to control time, I could help Cookies outside my timeline by preventing and undoing terrible things that could happen to them. I never meant to be a burden to anyone. And for that, I am sorry. Whatever punishment you have for me, I'm willing to accept it."

The figure only laughed. "Punish you? Why would I punish you?"

Moon Lily Cookie was confused by this. "Huh? You're not going to punish me?"

"Why would I? I have seen you, and I already knew why you did what you did. Is that not right, Moonkeeper Cookie?"

Suddenly, a lunar time rift opened and Moonkeeper Cookie's head popped out of it. "Of course, Timekeeper Cookie!"

"Moonkeeper Cookie...do you know this Cookie?"

"Of course I do! This is Timekeeper Cookie, my dearest friend and my alternate self!"

"Hmm...I figured as such..."

"I have to hand it to you, Moonkeeper Cookie. You did an excellent job finding this Cookie. She has quite a lot of potential!"

"Oh, I knew from the start that she has potential! After all, having another magic user like me in the Time Balance Department would do wonders!"

Moon Lily Cookie was confused by all of this. "The Time Balance Department?"

"Oh, it's an organization tasked on watching the timelines to make sure they're running smoothly," Moonkeeper Cookie explained. "And I feel like you would be a wonderful addition to the team!"

"Me? Join the Time Balance Department? After everything I did?"

"Well of course! You have all of the skills to be a TBD agent!" Moonkeeper Cookie said. "And you have me, the co-director of the TBD!"

"Co-Director?"

Moonkeeper Cookie nodded. "Of course, you might have a little bit of tension with the other Cookies that work here for...ahem...obvious reasons, but I'll help you out!"

Moon Lily Cookie smiled. "Thank you. And thank you, Timekeeper Cookie, for sparing me."

Timekeeper Cookie's smile grew. "Anytime."

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

Rearrange my guts

Yeah, this is fucked up.

This is set in the same timeframe as the tooth removal scene I posted a while back, aka the point in the story where the bad trips begin. Because of that, I feel like I need to specify that what happens in this scene is a hallucination caused by said trip.

I also feel the need to note that this is, as of right now, not symbolic or a metaphor for anything. Simply a horrific hallucination for the sake of it.

Word count: 827  Warnings: Gore | Guro | Wound fingering | Disembowelment | Intoxication | Slight dub-con | Intoxication Wip: The Wayward Carnival | Book 1, Rite of Passage Characters: Milos Hudáková

: Taglist - @vacantgodling :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

Have fun !

//

Milos swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The air was steadily becoming warmer around him, and small beads of sweat ran down his forehead. Was his vision becoming blurry too? One thing Milos knew for sure was that his clothes were starting to feel strange, uncomfortable even. Like a second layer of skin he desperately needed to get out of. His shirt was rubbing against his skin in ways it hadn't done before, pants gripping too tightly around his thighs and butt. 

Milos opened his mouth to call for the others, but all that left him was a broken whine. Chiming hollow through the carnival. 

‘Where the hell is everyone?’ Milos thought to himself. He’d been walking for what felt like an hour without seeing a single soul. Neither his friends nor the strange vendors that inhabited the carnival. It almost seemed like the carnival was turning into a maze to keep them apart. 

A wave of dizziness caused him to stumble, train of thought cut short. Milos leaned against one of the light poles, breathing as deep and evenly as he could to fight the incoming nausea. He was only given a brief moment to rest before the tell-tale sound of feet hitting the ground reached him. Milos opened his eyes, spotting two blurry figures standing before him, watching him. At least, Milos thought they were. He couldn’t make out any details beside their humanoid shapes. No faces, no defining curves. He wasn’t even sure if they were real. 

As if sensing his bewilderment, the figures made their way over to Milos. They pressed up against either side of him, and their touch was something strange. Soft like skin, but at the same time coarse like sandpaper. It was uncomfortable, and yet Milos found himself leaning into it. One of them began kissing their way across Milos’ neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from the boy. The figures lips were unbearably hot, marking his skin like scolding metal. The other figure’s blurry hand found its way up Milos’ shirt, pushing it up as it caressed his skin. Milos sighed as some of the heat was alleviated- but quickly choked on a moan as discomfort blossomed just below his chest. Tilting his head down, Milos’ eyes dilated. The figure had breached his skin, pressing two fingers deep into him just where the sternum ended. Blood ran down his stomach slowly, and Milos shuddered as the being whispered comforting static in his ears. A grating and alarming sound.

It kept its fingers still for a moment longer, before slowly beginning to move them in and out. Scissoring the wound open, ripping the flesh apart. Milos couldn’t scream. Only watch as the fingers tore him apart. It was uncomfortable, especially paired with the whispers and the kissing, but it didn’t hurt. Milos wasn’t sure if he found the feeling to even be bad. He didn’t stop the figure from working the wound wider, soon fitting its whole hand. Didn’t object to it when the other figure’s hand joined, lips still burning against the skin of his neck. Even if the muffled sounds made him nauseous, and the figures hands were digging deep in his guts, squeezing at his intestines. 

Though his knees were growing weak, and his head was starting to ache like the beginning of a hangover. The wound was now stretching past Milos' naval, and the front of his pants had been drenched in blood. How much blood had he been losing?

The figures began to pull their hands out— and Milos' eyes widened. They were holding his intestine, pulling it out in inches. Adrenaline awoke his body, acting for him as he pushed the figures away from him. Milos stumbled forward before falling to his knees, watching through terrified tears as his guts welled out of him. As they piled up in shades of pink and red, blood making the dirt of the ground stick to them. Milos reached out with shaking hands, grabbing onto what looked like his liver. He brushed off as much of the dirt as he could, before trying to put it back where it belonged.

One after the other, he picked up his organs to put back. And one after the other, they fell back out. Milos sobbed in frustration, smearing blood over his face as he wiped his tears. He reached for his heart —how he was still alive without, it he didn’t know— and in his hands it turned to mush. Pouring through his numb fingers like slime. 

“No… No, no no no.” Milos’ breath hitched. Soon as his hand came close to the other organs, they too disintegrated. Leaving the boy to helplessly claw at a puddle of pink sludge. He cried, confused of what was happening and why. Scared of the death he didn’t even know would come. Would he be left to rot, kept alive by whatever magic possessed by the carnival? The thought made him cry harder.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Male Victims of Coercive Control

She's thrown heavy and sharp objects at me, including knives, scissors, hammers, heavy ornaments and smashed up lots of expensive items. Laptops, mobile phones, TV remotes, etc. I feel that if I told her I was finally leaving, she would have attacked me in a violent rage and killed me.

I was whipped across my face and back with a radio aerial, had my testicles squeezed and kicked. My forehead, eyes and cheeks have been gouged by fingernails. I've been punched full in the face in front of her brothers and mother in an attempt to provoke the brothers to fight. I've had golf balls thrown at the back of my head when trying to eat a meal after work. And was also cut across the back of my hands with broken ceramic, amongst many other things.

I firmly believe she's capable of taking the life of me or my children without remorse. She is able to easily gaslight those in a position to help and turns them against me.

She threatened to have me murdered, and I was scared that she might actually stab me. There was a period when I was always looking at her hands to make sure she didn't have a knife in her hand whenever she entered the room.

She fractured my cheek and split my eye. I woke to her jumping on top of me. She knew i had 300 stitches in my lung.

Because she lies and people believe her, because she really hates me and I believe she would lie to get me into trouble, she tries to get other people to believe that I'm the abuser and has passed on my details to men who she has to protect her from me. So I worry I could be targeted.

I rarely had food, as money went on what she wanted to go on. My sleep schedule was erratic and this is part of the reason for the eventual mental health crisis.

Because she is a dangerous liar ,who will say whatever she wants to get what she wants from whoever she needs it from. If I had been convicted of the false allegations she accused me of, I would have got five years in prison. I still get insecure when I'm out and about. I have to record myself everywhere i go with dash cam, just in case I'm accused again.

She can do and say anything about me, lies to the authorities, raise false allegations, alienate my child against me, and there is nothing I can do about it. I have no rights.

The authorities were on her side. Despite there being no evidence, it was assumed that I was guilty of abusing her.

The threats that she would make things up about me,and prevent me seeing the children and lose my job. I thought I could end up homeless with nothing.

I was scared of losing my daughter, because I knew she was capable of using a child as a weapon.

Ongoing abuse in the form of false allegations from her and using them to halt family court proceedings, and prevent access to my son.

Because my ex-wife is still trying to control me through our children.

My ex is still controlling me through the court system and by continuing to teach my children to hate me.

An ongoing child arrangements case which has lasted a year and a half. It's still a few months from conclusion, and the psychological abuse continues in the allegations being made against me and in the fact-finding hearings when your abuser and their barrister paints you as someone who you're not. When their deception succeeds in the family court, it's very difficult to accept. You know you've done little wrong and all you want is contact with your children.

If you try to call out the behaviors, these same behavior patterns when you see them in other females, you get labeled as a woman hater, an angry man, and so on.

Because I am acutely aware of what is sayable and what is unsayable, and the way in which the truth around domestic abuse is distorted, my partner used to deny that she hit me and it's very difficult for me, and I presume for other victims too, to confront a society that is skeptical of men who claim to be victims of domestic abuse.

I could not sleep through stress and would often go for three days, nights straight without sleeping. I became unable to handle any stress at all, and even my speech was affected. I went from being quick-witted and articulate to being unable to string a coherent sentence together much of the time.

My life slowly started to revolve entirely around not making her angry. She'd generally get angry just before I was going to go to bed so I ended up with very little sleep, and she wanted to have entirely circular arguments for hours. My work suffered and I eventually had to take redundancy.

I struggled to concentrate and sleep. I lost my job, I lost my home. I get emotional and upset regularly. i'm constantly anxious at my child's well-being and future.

I lost 20 kilos and became dangerously underweight. I suffered chest pains then ended up in hospital with pericarditis. I couldn't sleep or wake up. I wouldn't eat or drink unless it was a whiskey to help me sleep. My friends and family were very concerned with the change.

She stabbed me with a kitchen knife and I stitched it myself as she begged me not to go to hospital in case she got in trouble.

I was drinking a lot of alcohol to try and block out the pain. I ended up in hospital due to really high blood pressure and anxiety. I was suicidal.

It took a long time to realize how this has affected me, and many years to actually acknowledge that I possibly was a victim of domestic abuse. I get upset many times a week, a day. I don't get much sleep. I'm a low mood a lot of the time. Lack of energy and interest in things i used to. I'm anxious for my child's well-being all the time. These feelings I feel are mainly after the contact with my child stopped, but heightened after the false accusations and a serious accident.

A huge level of anxiety, as I was being painted out to be someone i'm not. Second guessing everything I do. Walking on eggshells to avoid future conflict. Feeling not in control of my own life and that of my children.

Significant impact on mental health. I had counselling due to suffering with severe anxiety, especially when I wanted to buy myself something. I remember wanting to buy a shirt, and I felt guilty for wanting it, as it would be spending money. Became incredibly anxious at what she would do and say if I do.

I'm a bitter lonely man. I'm filled with rage and despair. I think of suicide most of the time. I don't trust other people. I'm 58 years old and the last 20 years of my life have been grim, and they won't get any better. The control will continue until I'm in the grave.

I feel extremely restricted in my life generally, because the consequences of doing things she doesn't approve of. I often have to meet friends in secret, and feel I can't leave because of the threats in the past about suicide.

She would square up to me, but then say I was the one threatening her. When I got upset, she'd say I need to man up. When I didn't respond she'd ask me if I was a mute. I tried to walk away from her a few times, and she'd block my way and say we weren't finished. On the few occasions I argued back she made me feel like a monster shouting at her.

I feel like I'm disappearing, and wish I could simply flick a button and stop existing to stop the constant pain. I cannot bear living without my little one, whom I was actively raising as a hands-on father which I can and will prove. I love her, and she is my heart, however I don't think the system or the court cares into looking into this case from my point of view. And I'm dead on arrival. This has affected me beyond belief, and I feel like I'm slowly slipping into this dark thing that I'm not. Any traces of the kind, funny, happy positive person i was, seem to have been corrupted by her and the system.

==

Devastating.

[kailspider]

Lil' Theif

(Sam Winchester x Reader)

Prompt: As the Winchester boys and (y/n) travel all over that sometimes leads them to share necessities.

Warnings: mentions of sexual tension/further sexual actions, mentions the smell of cigarretes, partial naked dean and sam?

AN: I think you guys will love this one, i dont know how i got this idea but i knew i had to write about it.

(No one's POV)

Apart of the job is constantly trying to find new work wherever it may take us, this time it was Las Vegas. Sin city always has the whole load case when it comes to the supernatural. We checked into a small motel just across from a Denny's. By the time the hunt was completed we were covered in aches and bruises. Not to mention this demon left behind a horrible odor, worse than usual that soaked into our skin.

As Dean pulled the car around the back of the motel, Sam and (Y/N) waited in the front lobby for him. The smell of cigarettes and the sound of elvis could be heard above us in a tiny speaker attached to the ceiling. The front desk attendant probably assumed we were out of our minds seeing us in our "after- hunt state".

The bell that sat on the door made a jingle sound, signifying someone had walked in. Dean looked exhausted, Sam had offered to drive the remainder of the way but you know how he is with baby.

(Y/N'S POV)

"Dean, what took you so long? i'm starving man"

I said obviously to mess with him. He looked up at me and shot me these daggers in his eyes, I laughed grabbing my backpack along with Sam's since I lost a rock-paper-scissor match in the car. As Sam grabbed the key to the room I started slugging along the heavy backpack, I love the man but damn what did he have in here.

Sam like a little kid ran past me in a gust of wind, then followed by dean who was trying to beat him to the door. Just our luck the motel only had one room left with two beds, so that means for however long we remain here I will be stuck in a room with these two knuckleheads.

I finally made it to the door a few minutes after them, the room was cold and smelled exactly like the lobby. I could hear the shower running already and made eye contact with Dean who was already spread out on the bed closest to the air conditioner. I sighed and dropped the bags on the other bed.

Dean looked up when he heard my loud indicator of exhaustion,

"Chop Chop kid, this is why I don't play that game with Sammy." he laughed and went back to laying down flat.

Now it was my time for staring, I plopped onto the wobbly bed trying to rest my eyes for a quick minute. The shower shut off and that was my cue to lay back against the headboard. I grabbed the tv remote quickly turning it on to find something for background noise.

The white bathroom door opened and the steam was so bad that I could feel the heat sticking to me. The scent of nature, almost pine and sandalwood filled my nostrils immediately. I turned my attention to the big figure standing in the hallway

Sam had walked out in nothing but jeans, no shirt, and a towel for his wet hair. He was moving his hands in a back and forward motion attempting to dry his hair, showing off the muscle definition of his arms and literally everywhere else.

I was trying not to imagine what would've happened if he had forgot his clothes accide- woah snap out of it. I am in love with him but he does not need to know this just yet. I didn't even realize I was staring for so long until i heard a devious laugh from the right side of me.

Of course, someone did take notice. This devil's name was dean. He had noticed almost immediately the trance I was in because of the sight before me. He shot up and quickly ran to the bathroom for his shower turn. Before I could object that I wanted to go first, he had locked the door. Now, it was just me and the half naked Sam.

I won't lie, I am sweating bullets. He not only walked over to my bed where I was spread out, but he also sat down throwing the towel he had to the side and watched whatever the remote landed on. His laughs filled the room at the rom-com on the television, my view was now the muscular and wide back of this man.

As a way to distract myself, I was getting up to gather my clothes from the bag on the floor. I noticed sam had laid back with both hands behind his head. His body was now closer to where I was, giving me a better view and a stronger smell of his wash. It was enchanting, I quickly finished grabbing my clothes and had a plan to bang on the door until dean got out. As I turned to head towards the door, I tripped on dean's bag dropping my graphic t-shirt and underwear onto sam who looked fast asleep.

I mentally wanted to scream and take off out of the room, but it's okay no one saw. I was slowly reaching for my stuff, not even realizing the shower had shut off. I managed to get the shirt but the underwear was on his jean area. I managed to push down my embarrassment and slowly reached for the-

*Bathroom door opens*

"Well, well, well kid. You just couldn't resist yourself while I was in the shower, I can't believe you had the balls to do it first considering sam here-" he was louder than usual and had awoken a napping Sam.

Sam opened his eyes to see his brother in only a towel around his v-line, and his other best friend stopped in motion above his jeans where your underwear had fell. He immediately saw the situation and blushed hurriedly getting up. Grabbing your underwear like it was cursed object and handing it to me.

The only thing that could be heard now was an annoying laughing dean. I immediately made my way to the shower with no words and tried to stay in there forever, but my skin was shriveling so I had to get out. I walked out in actual clothes unlike some of these people, and noticed the winchester boys whispering. I didn't like it, not one bit. The room fell silent and I just looked skeptical at them.

The silence was broken by dean coughing who was now fully dressed,

"this room is truly the life of the party, well I want food so I will go pick something up, you and sam wait here until I get back" he motioned grabbing his keys and sam's wallet. I turned around to watch dean already halfway out the door, he turned back, winked and left.

I HATE HIM. i cannot believe he would do this, I slowly turned back around to stare at the other brother whom was staring at me as well. I laughed awkwardly and made my way to the other bed. The tv was showing the flintstones and somehow I wish i was in tv land and not here.

Sam kept shifting in his seat across the room, then stood up and walked towards me. He stared at me until I had to acknowledge his presence. My eyes slowly moved up his abs and found myself avoiding his gaze.

He cleared his throat,

"(Y/N), when have you ever sat across the room for me. Come sit down with me i'm not going to bite. I mean unless you want me to" he sneered.

This was not my sam. What did dean do to him? Could he have told sam about my crush?

Sam was still staring at me waiting for an answer, I looked up and said,

"Well why don't you come lay over here? effort goes two ways you know"

Wrong choice of words. All of a sudden his big frame was crawling over me to get to the other side. The bed dipped causing me to roll more to the left than I'd like causing me to meet into his side. I moved quickly back to my resting state, with now sam at my side.

Awkward silence filled the space between us, it was never like this. He's my best friend and I couldn't believe how nervous I was. I placed my hands to the side of my body so I could relax a little but found my hand touching his at an angle I didn't dare to look at. I moved my hand away but all of a sudden felt him put it back down to where it was.

When I turned to say something, Sam had been staring at me for I don't know how long. As in an affection stare, but he couldn't right? until he confirmed it,

"how are you so beautiful, when you're so nervous princess" he said softly as if he only wanted my ears in the entire world to hear it.

My ears turned crimson red, along with my cheeks, not to mention my heart jumping to a sky high limit. I didn't believe a thing I just heard. I didn't want to face him so I looked away but was stopped by a large hand turning me back around to face him once again. He leaned in real close when it looked like he took a deep whiff of the air surrounding him.

He had searched for the smell, but couldn't place it. He picked up a strand of my hair and it was like a slot machine winning. He smirked slightly and motioned my head closer to him,

I bent down and heard him say,

"You're a lil thief you know that? using my favorite shampoo and conditioner. I never thought I would be so attracted to this scent on someone else." he said in a very husky voice.

I was in complete silence, so many things ran through my head at once. I decided to play along before I chickened out, I bent my head at a slight angle to stare him in the face. Sam had beat me to it once again,

"From now on, only you are allowed to use my bathroom essentials, and when you do so I want you to wear my clothes to bed only. Got it?" he said waiting for a response.

I nodded my head in a quick reassurance. We both were having fun with this new feeling we both discovered together. I spoke up finally,

"How much time do you think we have before dean gets back?"

[chuckbass-love]

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

-------------------------

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[lovelybarnes]

nicknames- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, platonic!natasha romanoff x reader, platonic!mj x reader, platonic!tony stark x reader, platonic!wanda maximoff x reader, mentions of other avengers  warnings: cringey nicknames, a crappy ending, i kind of hate this?? about: tiktok trend “calling boyfriend increasingly weirder nicknames

you’re sitting on your bed, lazily running your fingers through peter curled locks, his head lying on your lap while he fiddles with his phone. mj is looking at you in disgust, and you ignore her as you flip through movies, asking ned what he thinks. he smiles, raising an eyebrow, “well, you know what i’m always up to watching-”

“we’re not watching star wars,” mj says flatly, shaking her head. she looks to the television for a second, squinting, “just put on that one,” she says, pointing to a random movie. “really? you want to watch heathers?” you ask, surprised, “i’ve been trying to get you to watch that for weeks.” mj shrugs, and from his place on your thighs, peter sighs, nuzzling his cheek against the material of your skirt. “i’m good with it, angel. are you, ned?”

“sure, betty’s actually-”

“god, you guys are so gross,” mj states in distaste, staring at you murmuring something to peter, his brown eyes gazing at you in - her opinion, disgusting- adoration. both your eyes snap to her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “what are you talking about?” you ask. mj rolls her eyes, raising her finger and pointing it at you and your boyfriend. “i get that you’re in love with each other and all that, believe me, i know, but can you cool it for one second? it’s like having sex in affection.”

you tilted your head slightly in confusion, glancing down at peter for a second, silently agreeing on not responding.

“yeah, well, i think i’m going to get some snacks before we watch the movie,” peter declared, kissing your covered thigh before standing. you smoothed out your skirt, and ned jumped to his feet, “ooh, can i come with? i’ve been wanting to see more of this place since i got here.”

peter nods, waiting for ned before he walks out.

you get off your bed to sit down next to mj, leaning your head on her shoulder and closing your eyes. you can hear the sounds of tiktok playing on her phone, and her finger prods at your rib.

“this is so stupid, it kind of reminds me of you and peter,” you open your eyes to see a video playing, one of the couples you see commonly on your for you page blocked by light pink letters that read: calling my boyfriend progressively weirder nicknames.

you scoff softly, wrapping your fingers around her phone as you watch the tiktok, “our nicknames for each other are not weird,” you defend, and mj shrugs, taking her phone back. “if you say so.”

“i do,” you respond, but the lingering memory of the trend sits in the front of your mind throughout the whole movie.

-

by the next day, you’ve binge watched so many tiktoks featuring the trend that you can’t find any more. you’re obsessed, to put it simply, and you’re going to take advantage of the fact that you have a boyfriend as sweet as peter parker.

he’s distracted when you begin to record, playing around with one of the daggers that attach to our suit. “snookums, be careful with that,” you comment, noting the flash of confusion that passes through his face. “i... i am, sugar plum,” he replies awkwardly, and you bite back a laugh. he puts the weapon down, and you pause the video, deciding to hold off the next nickname for later so peter doesn’t get too suspicious.

assassins really do seem to overthink things, huh?

your next opportunity comes when you’re setting up the table. neither wanda or sam ask questions when they see you hurriedly begin to film, trying to hold your phone up discreetly when peter walks in. “hey, booboo bear, can you hand me a fork?” you ask, making an effort to not laugh. you go on as if nothing happened, ignoring the look wanda and sam share. “honeypot?” you say when peter hasn’t said anything, and he blinks, grabbing a fork and giving it to you. you decide to dial it down, and smile at him, “thanks, honey.”

finally, my training is paying off, you think offhandedly, choosing to disregard the various missions they’ve helped you on.

when peter leaves, bewildered, you pause the video again, and wanda smacks your shoulder. you look at her with wide eyes, “ow! what was that for?”

“what the hell was that? booboo bear? honeypot?- god, you kids get weirder every day,” sam complains. you roll your eyes, “it’s a trend. i’m filming a tiktok.”

wanda’s eyes light up at your words, and she grabs your phone absentmindedly, simply holding it. “oh my god, is it that nickname trend? i’ve been seeing it everywhere! can i come with you when you do it to him?”

you nod, knowing about wanda’s recent obsession with couple tiktoks. “sure, if you think you can get past me calling him weird things.”

“you should just call him objects. save us both the embarrassment and make him more confused,” sam cut in, biting a piece of bacon you didn’t want to know the origin of. “objects? what do you mean?”

“like cup. or bacon. just don’t call him disgusting shit like sugarpot-”

“honey pot,” wanda corrects, and you chuckle softly, “i’ll see.”

wanda and you are watching a movie when you hear his voice in the hallway, and you immediately pull your phone out, wanda brushing aside the film in favor of you and your boyfriend.

he grinned at you when he came in, “hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, pecking your lips. “hey, jellybean.”

wanda snorted at the look on his face that you didn’t see, too busy being falsely invested in the movie.

peter sits down next to you, scratching his ear slowly. you go on as normal, snuggling into him when he puts his arm around you, and it’s just enough for peter to forget how strange you’d been acting.

a few hours later, you were on facetime with mj, telling her about what you were doing. “and he hasn’t told you anything?” she asks, a look in her eyes that lets you know what she’s thinking.

“no, i’m really surprised,” you reply, trying to remember a point where he had actually told you something about it. mj shrugs on the small screen, and you groan, “dammit, this means you were right-”

“i’m always right,” she says simply, and you sigh, unable to deny it. “i know,” you murmur dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear peter’s steps. “oh, oh, watch this.” after rotating your computer to let mj watch, you begin to record, walking over to your door and prepared to only say hello (peter isn’t supposed to be in your room during his training hours, because apparently you were too distracting).

“hi, lampshade!” you greet peter, and he smiles softly at you, not yet processing your words as he walks over to give you a kiss. “hi, princess, wait, did you just call me a-”

“tony’s coming, i’ll see you later, pete,” you rush, pushing him away and closing the door. you turn to hear mj’s laughter, “did you just call him a lampshade?”

you bite your lip, “i can’t think of anything cheesier than boo boo bear that won’t make me throw up. the video also said weirder not things that make me and everyone around me want to throw up.” “you called him boo boo bear? gross.” “i know. not my finest moment,” you mumble, watching the video you have. “i think i have enough time left on this thing to do two more.”

“what are you going to call him next? scissors?” she’s just kidding, but you’re going to use that.

tony has the displeasure of being with you the next time you do it, and he stares at you like you’re insane (you don’t blame him) after you greet peter by calling him cabbage patch.

“hey... barbie doll,” he responds after a beat, and you stifle a laugh.

he pauses for a second, gaping at the object in his hand, and you stop recording, biting back a smirk to concentrate on fixing your suit.

tony’s eyes are still not off of you, and he snatches the screwdriver from your hand, “did you just call the kid a cabbage patch?”

you take the tool back with slanted eyes, “tiktok,” you say simply, and tony groans, “stupid app.”

the last time you decide to do it is when most of the avengers are gone, the only ones there being natasha and clint.

you’re in the kitchen with nat, clint in the living room, lounging around. your phone is already set up, and when you know peter is close by, you call for him.

“scissors!” you yell, and natasha stares at you. “scissors! scissors!” you sing loudly, and by then, clint’s attention has been stolen from the show, instead settling on you. “why the hell are you screaming scissors?” natasha demanded, and you shrugged, feigning innocence, “i’m calling peter. scissors!”

“do you want sci-”

you shush clint, watching as peter runs in with scissors. you look at him in confusion, “why do you have- don’t run with scissors-”

“you needed scissors-”

you laugh, “no, i was calling you-”

you’re cut off by the sound of the finished video replaying on your phone, and peter turns at the recorded sound of your voices; his eyebrows scrunch as he remembers the conversation it’s playing. “that’s the- the nickname trend thing! is that what you were doing? i thought you were acting weird!”

you hum, laughing softly and turn off your phone, choosing to edit it later.

“you don’t actually think i’d call you snookums or boo boo bear, do you? i’m a respected avenger, pete-” “you never know!”

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[yoonsshadow]

Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory​ 

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys. 

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

[yutahoes]

No Strings Attached

characters : Yuta Nakamoto, Reader, Jung Jaehyun, Taeyong is also mentioned

genre : smut

warning : Smut (Teasing, Breast Fondling, Light Bondage, Spanking, Rough Sex), Cheating, Alcohol

summary : It’s just one night. No strings attached. What could go wrong? 

word count : 3.5k 

tag list : @ailoveyuta​ @yutazen01​ @aiforyuu​

a/n:  This is for plot purpose only but I don’t condone nor encourage cheating. I don’t know where this came from. Please forgive me for I have sinned. 🙏 And since I’m not satisfied with how this ended, I might post a second part. Should I? Please let me know. 

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

"Baby girl, what are you doing here?" Yuta asked that made you roll your eyes at him. Of all the bars in Seoul, why do you have to meet him here? And now? Really? "Does your boyfriend know you're here?" Funny he would say that.

Yuta is a common friend of both your boyfriend and your brother so eventually, you just hang out with him often. He's the perfect embodiment of a resident fuckboy. Evident was the way he winked at one of the girls dancing on the dance floor. You shook your head as the bartender left the glass of the Long Island Iced Tea you ordered.

"Pretty hard drink. Is Jaehyun picking you up?"

"You don't need to concern yourself with me. Go, Yuta. Have fun with your girlies." You waved a hand to shoo him away but he just chuckled.

Instead, he ordered a whiskey from the bartender. "Do you have problems, princess?" That nickname. He would always tease you that since you're pretty spoiled with your brother and your boyfriend. But among all the boys in your life, Yuta is the only one who calls you that. Honestly, you wanted Jaehyun to call you the same.

"I'm bored." You confessed. He cocked an eyebrow at you and you continued, "Jaehyun is so romantic but that's all he is." You don't know why you're telling him this but Yuta is like an extension of your brother and you knew he wouldn't judge you, the same way as how you wouldn't talk about the girls he gave tongue in the girls' restroom during college years. "He's great in bed and all but…"

"Wait, hold up." He reacted quickly. "You and Jaehyun are fucking?" You nodded surprised that he wouldn't think of that. He knew that you sometimes spend nights at Jaehyun's place. Does he think you only play rock paper scissors in his place? "I thought you're pretty innocent."

You had to laugh at that. You're way different from that. "Do you think Jae would tell TY the things we do?" He chuckled then nodded. Taeyong, your brother, is actually the innocent one. "If we do much." You mumbled under your breath which he caught. "I wish Jaehyun isn't too vanilla."

Yuta lightly coughed. "You don't like him being vanilla?" You shook your head. "God, baby girl, I'm seeing you in a new light." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips and he obviously is checking you out.

You bit your lip. There must be a reason why girls can't get enough of this playboy. And damn, you wanted to hear that pet name repeatedly while he thrust into you. You shook your head. Yuta Nakamoto? You can't.

"Have you talked to Jaehyun about this?" You badly want to tell him something but you also don't want to hit his ego hard. You know how sensitive Jaehyun is. He might take this the wrong way. "Obviously, you haven't."

"Jaehyun is a great guy, Yuta. I just don't like that he treats me like a fragile object." You shared, alcohol taking its toll on you. "I want him to be rough on me. I want him to spank me." By now, you don't even know what you're saying but you're so frustrated that you decided to let everything go. "I just want someone to fuck me dumb…"

Yuta's lips were on you before you could finish your sentence. And when you moaned at his roughness, his tongue entered your mouth. He tasted like whiskey, and cigarettes, and a pungent taste that you cannot pinpoint. A taste different from Jaehyun. You pushed him before he could touch your waist, panting at how steamy that kiss was. "What the hell, Yuta?"

He smirked, wiping his lip with his thumb and you notice the color of your lipstick on his. "You said so yourself, you just want someone to fuck you dumb." His thumb came in contact with your bottom lip. "You're just curious so let me give you that experience."

You gulped at how intimidating he is. "But Jaehyun…"

"It's not cheating if he doesn't find out." His fingers moved to your cheek then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Just one rough sex, baby girl. No strings attached."

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. For starters, it was you who said yes. So why are you getting scared now? Truthfully, you have been curious about Yuta's sexual status. Even your friends would often share that he's such a sex God so it's a mystery for you on what kind of man Yuta is in bed.

But you're dating Jaehyun. It isn't right that you had sex with someone, moreover Jaehyun's friend, when you're in a rough patch like this.

Yuta's hands held your waist, facing you to him. There were only the two of you in the elevator heading to his penthouse. "What are you thinking, baby girl?" And you wanted to melt at that. His lips hover above yours, whispering "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me, Yuta."

You were pushed on the wall of the elevator. He pulled both your arms up, holding both with one hand as his lips roughly took yours. His other hand pushed your waist that you felt your back on the elevator wall. He raised one of his legs, touching your core that made you moan.

This is wrong.

First, this is cheating. You have a boyfriend, for crying out loud. If Jaehyun finds out about it, not only will your relationship end. His and Yuta's. Probably yours and Yuta's as well.

Second, someone can see the two of you. But it only turned you on much more. The thought that someone watching the two of you behind the security camera made you so wet that you started begging Yuta when he let go of the kiss.

He stared at you, cursing, and you were blinded at how hot that sounded that you held on his shoulder. "Two floors left, baby girl." He claimed glancing at the led showing the floor numbers. "Then I'll have my way on you."

You've known Yuta for so long but this is the first time that you're alone in his penthouse. Usually, you would come here with either Taeyong or Jaehyun so a weird yet familiar feeling bubbled in the pit of your stomach. "Sit down." He ordered in a commanding tone making you gulp. You quickly sat on his couch, following his every move.

He removed his watch, placing it above the coffee table as he knelt in front of you. "Y/N." And you suddenly realized that he never called you by your name, it's always 'princess' or 'baby girl'. Why does your name sound so hot rolling on his tongue like that? He held both your lap and the spot blazed in warmness. "Do you really want to do this?"

You nodded. "Words, baby. I want you to communicate with me."

"Yes, Yuta. I want to do this."

His tongue trailed his bottom lip as your gaze followed it, wanting that tongue somewhere in your body. Just somewhere moist would be nice. "You want it rough?" Once again, you had to nod but he reminded you of using your words. "Spanking?" You gulped. You badly wanted to but you've never tried it before. Will you get hurt? "Safe word." He asked while standing up in front of you, towering above you.

Your eyes widened at that. He's progressing fast. And a safe word? You might really get hurt. "Yuta, I don't think we need…"

"Trust me, princess, you do."

You watched as he unbuckled his belt, removing it from his pants in just one swift motion. Will he hit you with that? You should really think this through. "Vanilla!" You blurted out suddenly, closing your eyes.

His fingers were on your chin, urging you to look at him. "That's cute, sweetheart." A new nickname. "Now take off your clothes." He watched you with lust-filled eyes as you remove your sweater and the thin camisole underneath to reveal your midnight blue brassiere.

"God, Jaehyun is one lucky bastard." His tongue darted out once again as he wrapped his belt on his hand. "Take this off, baby."

Your hands were shaking as you removed the only cloth covering your breasts. In your defense, this was the first time that you're naked in front of another guy other than your boyfriend. Yuta's gaze isn't helping as well. Is he turned on? Does he like what he's seeing? His other hand, the left one without the belt wrapped on it, was held in front of you so you gave him the brassiere which he threw somewhere across the room.

"Why are you so nervous?" He sat beside you as you breathed heavily. Why are you so nervous? It's not like it is your first time having sex. You control Jaehyun whenever you're together so why are you such a submissive for Yuta? Is it the air of dominance that he exudes? Or because you really yearned to be submissive for once? "I won't hurt you." He assured as his lips went yours, sucking your tongue. He licked your bottom lip when he pulled out, "You remember the safe word, right?"

"Yes." You breathed. It was you who wanted this. It was you who initiated this. You wanted to feel this. You want this. "Take me, Yuta."

His lust hooded eyes were back as his right hand touched your breast. The coldness of the leather belt, a contrast to the blazing sensation of your skin. His thumb played with your erect nipple, twirling and pulling. You had to close your eyes, whimpers escaping your mouth at the sensation. "You're so pretty." He mumbled as he nuzzled his head between your breasts, licking the exposed skin. "I want to mark you but you're not mine."

Yuta's tongue licked your nipple while staring straight at you that made you arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to him. His mouth devoured your breast, tongue playing with the perky nipples inside his mouth. He's so good with his mouth. Really good.

He went to the other breast, his right hand rubbing your thigh while the other was placed on your waist. All you could do is moan. Yep, the rumors are true. Yuta is such a God.

By now, you're so wet that you raised your hips for some friction but he pushed you back. You crossed your legs as you felt the bubbling in your stomach. "Yuta, please." You begged as you felt him smirk. "I'm…" But he let go of your breast with a pop, staring at you.

Annoyed, you sat on his lap and started grinding your wet core against his pants. You wanted that release that he just denied to you. You wanted to cum already. But obviously, he had other things in mind. "Naughty, baby. Are you that desperate?" You nodded. "Lie down, stomach flat."

You didn't even know where this was going but you followed him, you lay down on his lap. His erect member can be felt against your stomach and you focus on his hands. His left hand touched your hair, down to your naked back then stopped at the waistband of your jeans. His right hand followed the same route and you moaned at the rough feeling of leather. You felt his hand on the cheeks of your butt and realized where this is going.

You closed your eyes as you felt his hand slap one of the cheeks, moaning at how the pain changed into pleasure quickly.

Another slap. But this time you had to yelp at the pain. The layers of the belt sent a sting on your ass that you cursed, "That hurts."

"You don't like it?" You wanted it but the consequence is that you cannot sit properly tomorrow. You shook your head. "Such a baby." He grazed the leather clad hand on your back once again, tapping your shoulders. "Both hands up."

It was difficult but you obeyed him. The leather was wrapped on both your wrists tightly, secured by the last loophole. He kissed your bound wrist, letting your arms stretch out above you. "I'll hit you five times. You shouldn't miss a count, understood?" You nodded and he slapped you immediately. "I said words, baby girl."

"Yes, Yuta." You breathed out. He gave you a warning then slapped you once again, stronger than the first two he did. You screamed the first number as you heard a hum escaped his lips. He gently caressed your butt cheeks before slapping it the second time, then the third and fourth. This was it, the roughness that you have been yearning for. You were so turned on.

He was done with the fifth one but he slapped you again, surprising you. "Yuta, you're done." You revolted but he smirked. "You missed counting." Another slap and you started with one, once again. You enunciated every number until five clearly so that he'll never miss it. A sigh escaped your lips when he was done and rubbing your butt cheeks. "Good girl."

The wetness on your core is all that matters now. You wanted to be fucked, rough. "Yuta, please fuck me." In the same position, he carried you to his room dropping you to his bed that you even bounced on the mattress. You were now facing him as he removed his shirt.

Why haven't you realized that Yuta has a navel piercing? That makes it so hot. You wanted to trail your tongue and see how sensitive it is. “You like what you see, princess?” You nodded, biting your lip as you anticipated what he would do next.

He kneeled on the bed, legs spread caging you in. You can easily see the outline of his bulge on his pants. You arched your back as you desperately tried to have contact with him, wanting to touch him but the belt on your wrists isn’t letting you. He chuckled at your attempt, smirking as he slowly unbuttoned your jeans. You raised your hip up to let him pull the material down, throwing it once again across the room.

Your breathing hitched against your throat as his hands trailed your leg north to where the edge of your matching underwear is. “You are so wet.” His fingers traced the wetness on the materials, pushing when he felt your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed on the same spot as you squirmed at the immense pleasure. Two fingers playing with the clothed lips of your core. “You are so wet. Look at how your pussy is taking me.” You don’t need to look. You knew. You could feel how his fingers were sinking into you even if you still have your underwear on.

“Yuta, please.” You begged. You wanted something, anything to take you to your orgasm. To give you the pleasure you badly wanted since you entered his penthouse. But a fucker as he is, he removed his fingers on you. A groan escaped your mouth as he chuckled at your desperate state. The Japanese guy stood up and you followed him with a wanting gaze. He took something from the bedside table that made your eyes widened. This is it. It’s really happening.

Yuta unbuttoned his pants, removing them from him. “I want to feel you cum.” You gulped at his size when he removed his boxers. He opened one condom with his teeth, putting it on his length. If possible, it got bigger. “You still remember the safe word, right?” You nodded then answered him a soft yes. He removed your underwear, parting your legs together as he leaned closer. He sank into you as a scream escaped your throat. He’s huge and you felt your walls clenching tight into him. “God, you’re so tight. Doesn’t Jaehyun fuck you good?”

The mention of the name brought you to your edge. The orgasm that you badly want and he just entered you. You wanted to touch him, to claw at something while he thrusts into you forcefully that your body is bouncing against the mattress. “God, I can’t believe Jaehyun isn’t fucking you good,” he mumbled, drilling his cock inside you. “If you’re mine, I’ll make sure that you cannot move from this bed.” His thrusts were forceful, taking no mercy on you. And you liked it, a total difference from Jaehyun who likes to take everything slowly.

He kept hitting that pleasure spot that made you cum the second time but he didn’t stop although you’re still sensitive. He kept on abusing your pussy, complaining about your tightness and how your vagina clenched on him. All you could do is scream his name and squirm at the roughness he’s showing. Indeed, a true Sex God.

He came in the condom and you breathed heavily. You cannot do this again, Yuta is such a monster. No wonder girls find him intimidating and really good in bed. To your surprise, he opened another pack of condom while jerking his cock with his hand. “What…?” He turned you around after putting the condom on his erect cock, raising your hip up and pushing your head on the pillow. “Yuta!” A slap on your ass made you surprised before he entered you from behind. Your moans were muffled by the pillow as he kept thrusting while slapping your butt cheeks.

Fuck, Yuta is so rough. But it turns you on so much that even if you don’t want to do this anymore, your body is still reacting differently. His hand held on your hair in a ponytail, pulling it that you had to raise your head. You breathe in a lungful of air, only realizing that you had trouble breathing earlier. Yuta will be your death, you’re sure of that. And he doesn’t look like he’ll stop anytime soon. “Yuta…” You called, tears springing from your eyes. You wanted sex to be rough but not this rough. You’re hurting. “Vanilla.” You shouted.

In a snap, he was out of you and you kind of regretted shouting that word. He reached out for the belt on your wrists, undoing it to free your arms. “Clean yourself.” he gestured to the door. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

Your legs were shaking, giving out on you but Yuta already left the room so you had to drag yourself to the bathroom. A lot of things were running in your mind when the warm water of the shower hit you. You had sex with Yuta. You cheated on Jaehyun. You felt disgusted with yourself for letting your wild self do this. This is your fault. You should have thought of the consequences before agreeing to Yuta. Now, your friendship is in danger. And if Jaehyun finds out, all hell will break loose.

“I’ll call Jaehyun first thing in the morning. Take a rest.” Yuta claimed after leaving his clothes outside the shower room. She should at least tell Jaehyun that this happened. "And please, let this be our dirty secret Y/N." You lightly glanced at the door, seeing his silhouette. "I don't want you or Jaehyun hurt because of what I did. You two deserved better." He leaned his head on the door. "So please, let's keep this to ourselves." --

You were already clothed with your own clothes when the doorbell rang. Thinking that Yuta might answer it, you didn’t bother about it. But minutes dragged and there's no one answering it that you went outside the room and opened the door. Jaehyun was looking at you in worry, holding your cheek asking what’s wrong. “I kept on calling you. Luckily, Yuta hyung called me and said you were here.”

“Jaehyun…” A male grunt can be heard from the kitchen before she could speak, followed by a girl calling Yuta’s name. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw him bending a girl on the kitchen counter. When he noticed the two of you, he just covered his naked waist with a kitchen towel, smacking the girl’s ass, and asked her to wait for him.

Jaehyun gave another look at the girl who was eating the sausages. “So that’s your girlfriend.” Your boyfriend asked which made the Japanese nod while smirking. “Thank you for taking care of Y/N. I’ll take her home now.”

Yuta smiled, nodding at him. Jaehyun held your hand, pulling you out but Yuta had to stop the two of you. “The thread of your sweater.” he said as he held both of your shoulders, standing dangerously close to you that you can feel his hard-on. You glanced at Jaehyun who was checking his phone, “Call me.” Yuta whispered then handed something that surprised you.

Two strings. Tied together in a knot.  

Fuck, he wanted more.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

PART 2. 

[edwardelricsrightarm]

Riza Hawkeye as a child/young teen but she's just this Annie Oakley ass prodigal sharp shooter little shit who cuts her hair off with kitchen scissors and runs absolutely buckwild in the woods on her father's estate terrorizing small animals (humanely hunting I'm just being dramatic)

Roy boy is just this awkward nerdy little cornball who wants to get along, but they also kinda have that dynamic from the Swan Princess when Derek and Odette were kids ya feel me? Just watch the childhood montage from that movie you'll understand- ☠️

They have like nothing in common at the time (so they assume) and yet they end up thick as thieves cause Riza hasn't had many friends that she can see outside of her education and had an extremely isolated upbringing, so this goofy sweet baby faced dork just got her like that, even if he sometimes drives her nuts a little bit.

Riza would get upset fairly often bc her neglected social and emotional upbringing would get to her (bc realistically,,,,we know that was the case), and Roy got extremely good at knowing when she's upset and would often be the one to listen to her air her thoughts out (callback to the phone call scene after her encounter with pride, this lends background to how he knows her so well and reads her stress levels like a book even over the phone)

Mundane headcanons:

Roy would transmute little clay/dirt doves and targets for Riza bc he was worried about her shooting glass bottles and other assorted not necessarily safe objects.

Roy is trans, I can't untrans him that's just who he is to me. Riza is a self declared tomboy who I hc as nonbinary/demigirl. They're also bi4bi it's canon Arakawa told me.

Riza didn't really know good birthdays, and when Roy realized this it broke his heart bc Chris always tried to remember stuff like that for him and she's not even his own biological mother. So, he made an annual routine of gifting her something (often transmuted and unique).

Riza loved being out in nature back then and knew the wooded areas around the estate like the back of her own hand, when she and Roy had warmed up more to one another she made a routine of showing him all the neat little spots she'd found in the area for one reason or another, just for the sake of sharing that with someone. These remain some of their fondest memories.

Riza would be more likely to go out to shoot targets when she was angry or upset, if she was having a good day and had the time she would be more likely to go hunting because she enjoyed the hiking and tracking but couldn't focus on it when internally upset. Roy eventually figured this out as well.

Riza climbed so many trees, rocks, outcroppings, etc- and was always scraped up from something she probably shouldn't have climbed getting the better of her.

Riza used to have a nanny birddog named Otto, but he passed away before Roy came around, so making a new friend in him after that loss was a big comfort to her. She was hesitant to have other dogs until Hayate.

They're both autistic.

Relatedly, Riza would go nonverbal and lock herself in her room sometimes. Roy, concerned, would approach this by slipping little notes under the door offering company if needed, while not pushing her to talk.

Riza would sing/hum while doing chores or out and about exploring and on every occasion Roy overheard this he'd turn red from ear to ear- if she caught it and realized he'd heard she'd be twice as embarrassed.

Riza would take Roy foraging and showed him some useful/edible plants, and safe berries and mushrooms that she knew in the region. He was honestly always pretty impressed, especially considering some mushrooms that are safe have toxic siblings that look identical.

Both of them are varying levels of nerd. Riza is the type who's full of trivia, especially weird facts about her special interests (animal behavior, guns, bushcraft, navigation and tracking stuff, etc), Roy started out neutral to this but over time infosharing kinda became their love language, and he'd start to infodump right back. They'd spend hours like that some days.

Riza knows constellations really well for navigational reasons, and there were times that she showed Roy a way to get onto the roof from the attic and they'd stargaze. She would teach folk names of constellations, regional lore behind them, navigational uses for them etc; Roy would tell her basic facts about space and astronomy that come with understanding of alchemy.

Riza typically stuck to small prey (rabbits, fowl, easy to retrieve misc.), but Roy had an awakening when Riza first killed a whole ass deer (albeit a young one) and came back with it thrown over both shoulders with the determined energy of a small lionness.

Riza is REALLY good at cooking and baking because she had a bit too much free time to fuck around in the kitchen. She also learned how to cure and smoke meats bc of her hunting. It certainly helped them stay well fed.

Roy developed a habit of cooking for the household pretty regularly in a swapped routine with Riza after only a while of being around because he saw how much she had to be self sufficient in almost every way and honestly just wanted to relieve her of the constant responsibility and self parentification. He'd also help with chores constantly.

Roy had major internal conflict even early on because he respected his teacher greatly for his intelligence and brilliance, but also kned that Riza wasn't being raised well, and that no matter what he does, Berthold can only decline mentally. This is the root of his protective and caretaking behavior with her, ultimately.

Roy doodled and sketched a lot back in the day and had a little booklet that he guarded with his life bc it started out random assorted things, but eventually devolved into a book full of cute little doodles of mostly Riza jammed into the last half of the book (She can never know-). He still has it stored away.

Riza could easily pick him up even then, this never changed. She got to show this once when he sprained his ankle on a hike with her and she held half his weight as a crutch with no strain to herself. He never quite recovered from that (but boy did it make his crush worse).

Roy would notice rarely he'd have a shirt go missing and never could figure out why til he'd find Riza wearing an identical shirt. (She told herself it's just cause they're cozy of course- she just likes boys clothes too! They look nice under overalls and are comfortable to sleep in! nothing more /s) They never said a word about it even though it was right in front of them, they couldn't dare.

Roy had a bike, and she'd ride behind him down some of the rural roads and paths that could support it for fun sometimes.

During winter the home would get pretty chilly because of its size and not enough stoves/fireplaces to fully warm the declining estate, so when snowed in on miserably cold winter days they'd usually end up reclined in the study by the space heater or in the loungeroom by the fireplace reading separately, but still occasionally talking back and forth.

Riza stopped hunting post-Ishval. She couldn't bring herself to derive that same innocent pride and appreciation for the circle of life she once had, and felt she no longer deserved to have that respectful exchange with the cycle of life and death after what her skills had been used for. She never stops going to shooting ranges, but it's either for standard upkeep of practice or to vent.

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: swearing 

word count: 1.8k

g/n: decided on a bit of a filler for this one as a sort of prelude to future scenes 👀👀 ((likewise manifesting my plan to post another chapter this week))

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Jungkook locks his apartment door behind him, jiggling the doorknob afterwards for ‘double security’ as one would usually call it. He grabs his backpack from the floor and places one of the straps on his shoulders and heads on his way. As he passes by two of his neighbors who live in the same floor, he nods at them, adding a brief hum in greeting. 

“Hey man!” One of the men, Jikwang (as what Jungkook believes this man’s name was), calls out just before Jungkook reaches the elevator. “There was this hot girl asking about you last night.” 

Jungkook raises a brow. He hadn’t really met anyone recently, besides that one cute law student who was looking for a new tenant - and eventually turned out to be your neighbor this whole time. She was cute and all, but she didn’t seem like the type that was ‘hot’ to these types of people. 

Jungkook racks his brain for anything, trying to remember the very few number of his one night stands.Surely,none of them would have gotten pregnant with protection on….surely? On top of that, he hadn’t really disclosed his address to a lot of people too, so there was no way someone would be looking for him, all the more a “hot” woman,as these two would claim. 

“Did she say what her name was?” 

The one beside Jikwang shakes his head, adjusting his beanie. He’d seen this dude a couple of times hanging around, but he never actually got his name.  “Nah bro, I don’t think you’re the commitment type of dude…” he comments, dark eyes looking at Jungkook from his head down to his toe. Who was this guy anyways and who was he to judge whether Jungkook was the type to enter a committed relationship or not? 

“She just...looked rich, rich. She had a driver... who helped her come down from a nice Benz.” 

Jungkook feels his heart drop to the ground. No way in hell. 

“I think her name was Hee something...Junghwa? I dunno man, I’m not good with names. But it sounds similar to that…” 

“Was it Junghee?” 

“Yeah I think that’s it…” bonnet-dude replies, tapping a finger against his chin as he approaches Jungkook. “You think maybe you can set me up? With you know…” 

Jikwang knocks the back of bonnet-man’s head. “I got dibs first, shithead. “If she’s not already yours though,” he adds, delivering a wink aimed at Jungkook. “Her friends will do.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at the duo. “No. She’s my sister. And she doesn’t have any friends.” A chill courses through his spine as he replies, wondering how she managed to find out where he lived, and why would she even reach out? Why now, when she had so many years to do so? 

Beanie guy simply laughs at him - if it was even considered laughing, when he was practically splitting his sides with laughter - like the thought of having a sister was hilarious to him. “You’re real funny, man. There is no...way...in hell… that that lady was your sister.” 

Ah yes, this man is a health vice personified. Jungkook notes the discoloration of his teeth, the god-awful odor coming from his mouth, and they both reek of alcohol and drugs combined. From a safe distance, Jungkook watches their amusement over the subject that is his sister, thinking about why he even indulged these two in the first place. For all he knows, they might have been shitting on him the whole time. 

“Sorry man. I mean...she’s rich and hot… and you?” Jikwang shrugs his shoulders. 

‘And he?’ What about him? 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Jungkook clicks his tongue silently, clearly taking full offense with Jikwang’s statement. Did they just imply he didn’t look rich and hot too? Well, compared to them though, they’ll obviously have way longer to go. 

Jungkook blinks before equally returning their level of disbelief. “For real, bro?” These men diss him, won’t believe he has a sister whose aura dwarfs his by a million percent, and now they want him to set up a date with her? He shakes his head. Only crooks like these would say insane shit like this. 

If only this wasn’t the cheapest and most convenient apartment he could find to accommodate his daily hustle, Jungkook would have moved out of this crap excuse of an apartment building a long time ago. 

“Keep dreaming man.” 

“Hey, this is what I get for selling you my bike for a good price?” Jikwang eyes Jungkook, taunting him. 

“I owe you nothing. I paid for it ages ago.” Jungkook turns on his heel, leaving the two in the crusty ass corridor of their apartment building. He needs to get a new place. Quickly. 

With a sigh, he pulls on his down jacket, keeping himself warm as he walks to the garage. 

‘King Auto’ 

There’s a certain warmth that envelops Jungkook whenever he sees the garage, a place he’d rather call home than his terrible apartment building. It sits right at the corner of two busy streets, just six blocks away from his apartment. 

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who first found out about the garage but the other way around. Well, technically, the owner did. Lee Dongmin, owner and manager of ‘King Auto’ repairs and restores almost all types of cars and bikes alike, occasionally servicing high-end cars on lucky days. 

Dongmin would usually see Jungkook pass by the garage in the morning on his way to the university or his part-time job.Well, being located at a busy street in the city of Seoul, there would normally be a lot of passersby but Dongmin knew these people either worked or lived around the area; Jungkook, however, always lingered when he walks past the garage. 

It had come to Dongmin’s knowledge a few months later that Jungkook purposefully used a longer route on his way, walking two extra blocks just so that he could pass by the garage. Dongmin hadn’t initially done anything about it, as he thought Jungkook simply took interest in cars - especially when the shop had its fair share of servicing cars from the western market. 

There was this particular day though one summer, that their paths would finally cross. Jungkook’s bike, the same bike he bought from sketchy Jikwang, broke down. Coincidentally just in front of King Auto too. Funnily enough, no one in the garage was familiar with fixing up bikes, but Jungkook simply asked if he could borrow a few tools and he’d fix his bike himself. 

Ultimately, Jungkook became part of the King Auto family. He’d spend his spare time in the garage when he’s not busy with his part-time jobs and on occasion, Jungkook gets to keep a tiny commission whenever he helps out with the repairs. 

Jungkook goes through the front door greeting the new receptionist, Clark, a good morning before heading straight to the garage. Jungkook spots a familiar shade of blue peeking through the scissor lifts, just by the end row. He practically dashes to the car in excitement, too thrilled to greet his favorite car he had worked on previously. 

“My baby!” The boy exclaims as he rests his chin on the Porsche Panamera’s roof. “Kook! Get your hands off that! I just had it cleaned!” gruffs Mansik from the other side of the car, flinging his towel at Jungkook who mumbles a sorry but continues to cradle the car, a little more gently this time. 

“If you continue doing that, you know a towel isn’t the only thing Mansik is going to throw at you.” Lee Dongmin’s voice is low, careful that the man he’s referring to won’t hear his words. “I’m glad he hasn’t resorted to tools yet...just a couple of smelly socks and a t-shirt that smells like it hasn’t been washed for months... “ 

“Fuckers.” True to Jungkook’s foreboding, Mansik does throw a sock ball from out of nowhere, one which barely misses Jungkook’s face. Dongmin simply shakes his head at his workers, who he has considered family at this point, Jungkook included. “I’m just glad none of that fell into my first coffee of the day.” Dongmin observes, drawing himself father from the Porsche and any flying objects later on. 

“By the way, the owner is actually here to pick up the car. I may or may not have mentioned your infatuation with it.” 

Jungkook almost instantly jumps to his feet, searching for the owner inside the garage, but disappointingly ending up with all the familiar faces at the garage. “Chill, kid. He just grabbed some coffee down the street,” Dongmin mentions as he takes a sip of his own. “Ah, speaking of the devil,” the latter states, nodding his head towards someone behind Jungkook. 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim?” 

“Oh hey! Wasn’t expecting to see you here...Jungkook, right?” 

“Yes sir!” Jungkook’s pupils shake, animatedly looking back and forth between the garage owner and his upper-level resident. “So...you’re the one who owns this Porsche?” Seokjin raises his cup, adding a small nod in Jungkook’s direction. He internalizes his excitement, before confessing his love for Seokjin’s Panamera. 

“And so, Dongmin here mentioned. Also said you were the one who fixed her up. Thanks man!” 

Dongmin looks at the two of them, eyebrows creased in the middle. “You two know each other?” 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim is a senior of mine at Woocheon.” Seemingly shellshocked at the new piece of information, Dongmin turns to Seokjin, “You’re a doctor?” The owner of the Porsche rolls his eyes fondly, “Yes, Dongmin. We can have lives outside the hospital too, you know.” 

“Anyways, ‘Mera’s ready to go yeah?” 

“Of course. Kook fixed it up just fine.” 

“Alright. Got a shift today man? Need a ride to the hospital?” 

Jungkook is tempted to give in, but merely fixing Seokjin’s car is enough honor for him and he can’t take advantage of his generosity. “No thank you, sunbae. I’ve already got a ride to work today.” Jungkook points to his bike on the other side of the garage. 

Seokjin tuts his disbelief. “You’re kidding me right? In this weather?” The older doctor points outside, then rubs his palm against his down coat. “No way in hell, kid. Get in the car.” 

“Really?” Jungkook mumbles, dimple on display as his lips form a thin line. Seokjin makes a hum of approval as he takes off his jacket while Jungkook dashes back to where he’d left his backpack. “He’s a good kid, Jungkook. Can be a bit of a delinquent sometimes, but he’s good. Take care of him, yeah?” 

“Huh,” Seokjin smirks, “this handsome face got nothing he can’t handle.” Dongmin rolls his eyes this time, “Seriously doubt we’re the same age honestly.” 

Jungkook returns to where the Porsche is parked, and Seokjin gets a spur-of-the-moment idea. The surgical resident throws his keys to Jungkook before settling inside the passenger seat. Jungkook, surprised as ever, simply stands there in surprise. “Well?” Seokjin asks, ducking towards the dashboard so he could take a look at Jungkook, “We’re gonna be late!” 

© joontier 2021

[lustbile-archive]

Just Check It Out

JaehyunxReader

Word Count: 6.7k

Summary/Warnings: Smut. Oral (reader receiving), public-ish sex, flirty but also suspicious stranger!Jaehyun, sharp object and blood play/consumption, and honestly low key shitty friends.

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist

Can be read on its own or within the series.

Your face is screwed up and your nails dig harshly into the palms of your hands in anxiety as you stare at the hollow looking building in front of you. The only signs of life is the red light that pulses and radiates from underneath the entrance door, and the taunting laughter that rattles from behind you deep from the bellies of your two friends.

“What are you, a scaredy cat?” one of your friends asks as she reaches forward to pinch your arm, “just go in.”

“What are you, a twelve year old?” you rebut, your tone a lot more clipped and harsh than you wanted, but the fear crawling up your spine fogs your judgment.

“What happened to a warehouse?” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but the sounds of confusion from behind you tells you they had heard.

“What are you going on about a warehouse?” your other friend takes her turn questioning you, her tone slightly more concerned than the other.

“What do you mean going on about a warehouse?” your voice is shrill as you turn so quickly it made you slightly dizzy, your jaw dropping and your eyebrows furrowing immediately in shock and confusion, “you two heard what that weirdo taxi driver said. He dropped that person off and picked them up from a warehouse. A warehouse! Not some weird ass club.”

The story that the skeevy old man had told you and your friends ran through your mind still. Something about how he had picked up and dropped off the same person every few weekends during his shift, but one night, when he definitely remembered dropping them off, he never got the call to take them home.

“Oh come on so what,” your first friend speaks again, her voice louder than necessary as you started to pace back and forth in front of them, “like you just said, he was just some weirdo old taxi driver. The story probably isn’t even true and if it was he probably didn’t notice that it was a club cause he was too busy trying to figure out how to kidnap the person.”

“Yeah cause that makes me feel so much better,” your stepping slows slightly as you respond, your eyes rolling so hard they ache, “and why is it me that has to go in in the first place huh?”

“Because you suck at rock, paper, scissors.”

You can’t stop yourself when you petulantly stomp your foot, a wash of shame and nerves washing over you immediately after as you cross your arms over your chest. The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong. Whatever force in the universe that was looking down, or up, at you tonight had it out for you, and it only took about three rounds of the hand game before you lost to both of the girls in front of you.

“Listen,” the a lot more gentle friend of the two started, wrapping her arms gently around your stiff form, “just go in, take a look around, and then come back. We’ll be right here waiting, and if it’s cool we’ll all go in.”

‘Or you could just come with me,’ you think to yourself, but something clogs your throat, forcing the words to remain swirling in your chest.

“Fine,” you let yourself sink into her hold for a few seconds, before you start to wiggle free. She smiles softly at the way you pout, and an evil part of you anticipates guilt tripping both of them when you escape the creepy building, “but if you’re even an inch away from this exact spot when I get back you’re dead.”

Their grumbles of ‘yeahs’ and ‘okay whatever’s’ is lost behind you as you teeter on the edge of the sidewalk. You only allow yourself a moment to wonder how a night out with friends devolved into you entering a strange club, before your looking both ways and crossing the street.

You can only imagine how silly you look as you sprint across the road, a nervous skip in your step from the lack of a crosswalk beneath your feet, and when you land on the sidewalk again you’re slightly winded from the anxiety that pumps in you.

The door and the building is about a thousand times more intimidating now that you stand in front of it, the entrance grinning at you like a hungry monster. You can feel the stares of your friends eating at the skin of your back as you stand there curled into yourself, and a warmth spreads across your skin in embarrassment when you notice two men standing to the side, at a front row seat to you shaking like a leaf.

There’s a moment of relief when you see that they don’t seem to notice you, too busy scrolling through their respective phones while one nurses a cigarette. But this relief does nothing to truly calm you of the fact that you have to enter the building marked as “Club X” or face the taunting of your friends. And while you are an adult and the childishness of the jeers from your peers shouldn’t phase you, them questioning your confidence isn’t something you’d like to deal with.

With a deep breath, you stand straight. ‘It’s one drink and a look around’ you remind yourself, ‘you shouldn’t be nervous it’s just a club and you’re an adult.’

From your own scolding you start to come to your senses that yes, there’s no reason to be scared, and without even thinking about it, you notice that your feet have already started carrying you through the threshold.

The red lighting is bright and darkens the writhing bodies that occupy the huge club. If it wasn’t for the thumping bass of music, you could have easily convinced yourself that you stand in the beginning of a horror house, and amongst all the normal club goers was a masked man holding a knife waiting for you to let your guard down for even a second.

‘A drink,’ the quiet voice in your head reminds you, and with a quick glance around to locate the bar, you're pushing through the masses of flesh and sweat to get just that.

You also remember that you're here to take a look around.

It’s a normal club from the looks of it. Too many bodies pressed too close together, a less than inviting restroom tucked in the back corner, the back of the large room littered with booths full of people drinking and yelling over the music. The music itself pumps from huge speakers that stand in front of a short elevated stage, a man standing behind a dj booth controls exactly what pours from the speakers as a group of rambunctious men drink and roughhouse behind him.

Right before you reach the bar, is when you notice something you didn’t fully expect. Towards the back, and high up on the wall, there was a balcony. There was a singular chair, large enough to hold a person and then some, and a large potted plant that branches out so far that it’s vines wrap and devour the railing beautifully, but other than that, nothing. There’s a heavy looking curtain hiding whatever room the balcony connects to, and directly below it is a hollow looking hallway with a thick rope blocking it from the general club goer.

You’re so distracted by the odd sight, you don’t realize how close to the bar you had gotten before you hip bumps harshly into one of its stools. You can’t stop the quiet yelp that leaves you from the quick shock of pain, but even worse is the hiss that escapes the teeth of the young man that stands behind the worn wood of the bar. Even in your regained embarrassment and warmed cheeks you’re able to form the thought that the guy who glances at you with gentle sympathy looks a little young for a bartender.

“Um, can I,” you stutter slightly as you take a seat in the offending stool, praying you can fake confidence enough to smother your embarrassment, “can I get a drink, please?”

“Oh um,” the boy matches your stuttering as he appears just as flustered as you at what happened, “I’m gonna be honest, um the actual bartender had to step away for a moment to uhhh… attend to something. So the best I can give you is like a beer.”

“That should be fine,” you sink slightly in relief and endearment as his own nervous state works to release you from your own.

He moves to step away from you, before you quickly interrupt, “oh don’t you need my id or something?”

“Oh yeah,” he blanks before you, staring off as if he suddenly remembers the existence of laws, “uh I’m gonna be honest, I don’t care. Just, if you see the real bartender at all tonight just don’t tell him okay?”

“I respect your honesty,” you speak to his retreating form as he grabs your drink, and when he returns with a cold amber bottle, you continue, “just between the two of us.”

“Just between us,” he places the bottle next to your hand before shooting you quick finger guns. A small grin still lives on your lips as you bring the opening up to your mouth as he walks away to try to nudge a passed out man that snoozes with his face pressed against the splintering wood awake.

Drink had, club looked at, and as far as you’re concerned, your mission is done. The club seems harmless enough, so with your bottle still gripped between your fingers, you stand to leave and report to your friends that the club is open for business if they’re interested.

Your sure you take the same path that you did to get to the bar, it would be hard not to after you’ve already established where the dj, bar, and weird balcony was placed. But when you’re standing in the exact place that you're sure was where the entrance stood, you’re faced with nothing but a solid empty wall.

Maybe you got turned around, with the amount of people rushing by and the lighting causing it to be a little difficult to see, it wouldn’t be completely out of the realm of possibility. But for the life of you, you could have sworn you turned around and took the exact same path.

You stand frozen in place for a moment, staring at the wall as people dodge and bump into you. You can't imagine how odd you look just staring at a blank wall, but a small part of you hopes that your vision is just compromised and if you look just a little harder, maybe the entrance is still there.

In a last ditch effort, you reach out. Your fingers gently brush the cold wall, before you huff and press your palm flat against it. No false wall, or optical illusion, so maybe you really did just get turned around.

All hopes of that being the truth is immediately crushed when you finally turn around. The balcony high and taunting exactly in the place you’d dreaded it would be, the corner of the bar peeking out from behind a mass of bodies almost as if it’s inviting you to return for just one more drink.

Your heart leaps to your throat when reality starts to set in, but alongside reality, is a rush of determination. There’s no way you’re just stuck here, you tell yourself. You have to get back to your friends and you’re sure that amongst the dozens of bodies that stand around you, there’s no way that they plan on staying here for good right?

There has to be another exit, at least a side door that leads to one of the alleys that stand around the perimeter of the building.

Your hand returns flat to the wall, and you begin to walk. You assume the fastest way to find an exit is to just walk the entire room, and hopefully with you grounding yourself with the wall, you won’t get sucked into the bodies that seem unaware that they’re being locked in.

You keep your shoulder pressed to the wall as well, staying close in hopes to avoid any bumping shoulders or sharp elbows. There are a few times that you have to dodge the rare groping couple that decides the flat surface of the wall is the best place to press against for a good public make out, but you’re quick to return when they’re behind you.

You trace the entirety of the right wall of the building with no luck, and as you turn the corner and pass the restroom you’ve started to huff in disappointment. Maybe the back wall, or the hollow hallway you saw earlier will bring more luck, and if not it probably won’t kill to return to the guy who’s watching the bar to demand he tells you how to escape.

Even though you’re determined to stay focused on finding a way out, you can’t help but to stare at the balcony as you get closer and closer. You can see now that the railing sparkles in the warm light, and you assume it’s made of a gold metal. The vines are even more beautiful as you get closer, and you now notice they’re accompanied by small dark red flowers that look vaguely familiar. But carnations don’t grow on vines do they?

You lose yourself so much in your thoughts that you don’t notice the body approaching you. It’s until you're about a foot away from the dark hallway that you’re pulled from your own universe by a large hand that lands on the wall directly in front of your face.

You jump about a foot in the air, a quiet yelp leaving your lungs as you follow the line the stranger's arm makes to reach his face. And while you know deep down that attractiveness doesn’t mean someone is automatically good, you can’t deny the man that stands in front of you is beautiful and his soft but mischievous eyes makes you slightly relax.

“Believe it or not, but I didn’t really intend to scare you,” he laughs softly as he leans closer, his hand not moving an inch from its spot next to your head, “but you’re looking very beautiful tonight.”

Your eyebrows furrow at how his tone sounds weirdly familiar, and how his words somewhat suggest he’s seen you before. But you know you’ve never met nor seen this man in your life, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that.

“That’s kind of bold of you,” you say with a soft smile that tells him you don’t really mind, and the task at hand starts to slowly slip from your mind as you lose yourself in his soft eyes.

“Easy to be bold when you’re telling the truth,” he leans closer as he speaks, and as he crowds your personal space, you start to feel a fuzzy static wrap around your body, “you look like you’re headed somewhere sweetheart. Can I ask where exactly that is?”

“Oh,” you pulled slightly back into reality at the question, and you even peer around his shoulder to try to see if the entrance has returned and become visible since your journey to the back of the club, “I’m trying to find the exit.”

“Hmm,” his hand not caging you against the wall lifts to scratch gently at his chin as he lets your words roll around in his mind, “well the back is kind of a weird place to be looking for that isn’t it? Why don’t you just go out the same way you came in?”

It’s impossible to ignore the slight twang of taunting in his tone, like he knows something you don’t, but you quietly choose to brush it off. Maybe it’s just your imagination.

“Oh well,” you start before you realize you may sound a little weird if you try to tell him about the disappearing entrance, “you know just… heading that way now.”

He only smiles at you as you laugh nervously as you start to fiddle with your fingers. He’s nice, his slightly drooping eyes making him seem harmless regardless of the way he presses you into the wall, but nevertheless his charming aura and the way his cologne has started to flood your nose and fog up your brain makes you start to get delirious.

“Do you think you could spare me a few seconds before you head out?” His head tilts slightly to the side as a cute and playful pout lands on his lips, and the way he stares you down tells you he knows you won't tell him no, “if only you want to of course.”

“Yeah sure,” you breathe out as you sink back against the wall, despite the little voice in your head that is desperately trying to remind you of your friends that remain outside.

“Good,” his hand finally moves from the wall, only to move a few inches to rub his thumb softly over your cheekbone, “now what is someone so pretty doing in a place like this.”

You can’t help but grin at how cliche he is, but it weirdly fits him and makes your heart flutter, “a place like this? Seems like just a normal grimy club to me, what do you know that I don’t?”

He huffs out a breath, his head softly shaking at the question, “I couldn’t even begin to tell you.”

“Ooo, well maybe if it’s that bad maybe I should go,” you tease, lifting up from the wall slightly, only for him to move his hand down to your shoulder to push you back.

“Well it’s not that bad,” he backtracks as his hand starts to test the waters and trails down your arm until he’s holding your wrist, “not if you stick with me.”

“You a regular here?”

“Hm, yeah,” he pulls on your wrist until it rests on his shoulder, and a pleased hum fills his chest when you take the liberty to stretch out your fingers to scratch at the base of his skull, “something like that.”

“Then maybe you wanna show me around, since it’s my first time here?” You pull him closer as you talk, until his chest starts to brush against you, “maybe show me to the entrance.”

“No, no. I think I’d like to keep you right here,” you were only teasing with the suggestion, but he seems stern when he speaks. This tone and the way he dips his face into the bend of your neck when he finishes makes your breath rush out of you.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks softly, only loud enough for you to hear over the thumping music, his lips brushing the now burning skin of your neck.

“Very okay,” you reassure, and as you thread your fingers fully into the thick hair at the back of his head, the idea of getting back to your friends completely slips your mind.

He only hums again in response before his mouth opens wide to lick at the skin stretched across your jugular, his lips slowly sucking a chunk of skin into his mouth and pulling blood to the surface to form a bruise.

You flinch and your other hand moves to join the other in tugging at his roots when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin. Your head tilts to the side as he starts to move his lips across your jaw and his hips push between your slowly opening legs. The loud music feels like its wrapping around you and feeding you to the wall behind you as his hands now move to squeeze at the flesh that protects the sides of your ribs.

“Who are you?” your words come out stuttered, breathless, and broken, the question slipping out almost by accident as he continues his work on your neck.

“Who do you think I am?” He returns rhetorically. Having another question thrown back at you makes you flicker off for a moment, and by the time you pull yourself from your own foggy brain, he has his teeth biting into your earlobe.

You can only let out a whimper as he licks at the shell of your ear and you try to collect your suddenly scattered thoughts. It doesn’t get any easier as he starts to knead harshly at the skin and flesh underneath his fingers and your knees start to lose their strength.

“How far will you let me go?” Another question to add to your swirling mind, but he doesn’t seem any form of impatient as you collect your thoughts together to respond.

He pulls away from where he’s tucked into your shoulder, his forehead coming to rest against yours, and with the sudden eye contact, it's like he pulls you back down to earth.

You feel very suddenly awake, and it seems like the club disappears behind him, the only remaining evidence of it being the way the music and voices still thump against your eardrums. The way he looks at you is softer than you imagined, but there’s still the inkling of arousal behind his eyes that you know what he’s asking.

“Don’t stop,” you finally answer with zero hesitation, using the hold you still have on his hair as leverage to pull him to your mouth.

He grins wide against your lips, a deep and pleased chuckle leaving him before his eager tongue is pushing its way into your mouth.

With his strong fingers still pushing bruises into your skin, he presses you against the cold wall, his hips and legs pushing against you until your shaking legs step apart enough for his liking, and his body is flush against yours.

Your lips follow his as much as they can, before you notice that he’s sinking down to your neck, his knees bending slightly as he goes. His hands begin to start to move as well when he’s returned to licking and biting bruises against your throat, and its seconds before his cold fingers are brushing against the skin of your stomach.

His blunt nails scrape at the skin of your sternum and the swell of your chest as his lips slide across your skin until he’s nipping at your collarbones. It’s not until one hand slips under the thin material of your bralette with his fingers gently tugging on your nipple, does he finally land on his knees in front of you.

Having him move out of your immediate field of vision throws you off for a moment. The still breathing bodies that fill the room in front of you dance around you, but no one comes closer than a few feet from where he kneels on the dirty floor.

Being reminded that its not just the two of you makes you freeze, the feeling of the hand that doesn’t grope at your chest moving to lift your skirt goes almost completely unnoticed until you feel his mouth take over the garment's job of covering you.

Your fingers flex and tug at his hair when you feel his lips brush against the band of your underwear, and a quiet gasp escapes you when he teeth tugs on the elastic.

“You said don’t stop,” he reminds, muffled just barely loud enough for you to hear, before he lets go of your skirt and the fabric falls over his head and blocks his next moves from your eyes.

You feel his newly freed hand move steadily up your thigh, his fingers brushing against and tickling the sensitive skin as he goes. Once he brushes the hem of the garment, his index finger pushes under and brushes against your buzzing skin as he loops the digit around the crotch of your under to pull it away from your body.

With a harsh pull, he starts to tug your underwear down your legs, his mouth immediately takes advantage of the exposed surface and latches onto a patch of skin on your hip that’s still slightly dimpled from the biting elastic of your underwear.

Once your underwear is pooled around your ankles, his hand retraces its movements back up your thigh, and this time your body shivers at the now familiar feeling. You still groan when his fingers harshly wrap around your thigh, his palm flexing as well as he tugs your leg up and over his shoulder.

His hand shifts until his grip holds you tightly against his face, and his other hand slips down from your chest to press slightly against your stomach. Even though you’re aware enough to know what’s about to happen between the two of you, that does nothing to stop the quick yelping noise that jumps from your chest when his tongue swipes warm and flat against your skin, the tip of the muscle curling at the last moment to flick against your clit and make your hips jump into his grinning face.

He doesn’t leave you a second to adjust to the feeling of his tongue licking into you before he’s going back in. This time when he returns to your skin, his tongue dips shallowly into you, greedily licking up the arousal that spills from your body as he tries to spread the taste of your over every last one of his taste buds.

Your knees tremble and you slip a few inches lower against the wall as your head tilts back. Your heart thumps harshly at the small amount of panic that fills you at the idea of falling into the floor, but the pleasure he pushes into you and your mind scrambling to remember the hold he has on you relaxes you.

He finally moves his tongue away from where you flutter around nothing, his pace slow and maddening as you let your body go lax in his hands and use the study support of his shoulder.

Your eyes shut tightly and your muscles flex for a moment when his lips take hold of your neglected clit, the quick intake of air you pull into your lungs, immediately escapes again in a soft moan.

He uses the way you rest against his shoulder and the wall as a reassurance as he moves his hand away from your thigh to replace the open space his tongue left with his fingers.

You feel two of his long digits press into you slowly, the sudden intrusion making you dizzy and a happy noise that resembles a purr rolls from your chest.

The man kneeled between your thighs finally responds to the small noises you make for him with his own, a proud and content hum crawls out of his lips and against your skin as his tongue repeatedly laps at your clit.

He’s eager, almost like he’s been waiting to show you what his mouth can do his whole life, and as your leg curls around his back and pulls him closer to your lower half, his fingers begin to steadily pump in and out of you.

He takes the moment that his tongue and lips wrap fully around your clit to suck harshly at the bundle of nerves, to curl the tips of his finger to press into the spot that makes stars burst from under your eyelids.

You scramble to find a way to warn him of the knot that forms directly under the hand that pushes against your lower belly, the lack of knowledge you have of his name almost making you want to huff in frustration. But when he starts to massage quick come hither motions against the spot that has you in spirals, you’re gone before you can conjure any cohesive thought.

Your hips stutter against his relentless mouth as you come with a desperate whine. One of your hands leaves his hair as it flies to push against the wall next to your head, your nails digging harshly into the painted brick as he doesn’t let up on licking your through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re once again thankful of the tight hold he has on you as you twitch in his hands, his wandering fingers moving back to gripping your hip so his tongue can replace them to devour you.

He moves so quickly to stand when he’s finished licking you clean that you swear you almost get whiplash, and you only get more flustered by his motions when he uses his grip on your sides to spin you around and push your chest into the wall.

“Do you know how pretty you are,” his soft cooing throws you for a loop, but only helps in the neediness you feel for him regardless of your still retreating orgasm. His lips return to press softly to the bone of your jaw and one of his hands slips back in between your thighs to roll the tip of his middle finger softly against your sensitive clit while the other moves away from your skin. The way the fabric of his pants brush against you when he unbuttons them tells you he uses the missing hand to pull himself from his underwear.

You’re proven right, when you feel the end of him nudge the back of your thigh, the precome that drips from his tip smears against your skin and makes you squirm.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts as he moves himself towards the inside of your thigh, until he pushes himself against your wetness, “how long I’ve waited for you?”

“Hmm?” You hum in confusion at his question, but when he begins to push inside you, you quickly chalk it up to him being in the moment and press your cheek against the wall.

You melt into the hard brick as he sinks into you, every inch of him stretching you and pushing against every nerve that makes hums of contentment warm your chest. He moves slowly and with his fingers still playing with you, you feel yourself get dizzy as your eyes flutter and roll.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he leans into you, his heated chest straightening out your spine that was curving in pleasure. His now freed hand reaches around, his fingers spreading far against your burning chest, and you feel yourself start to float away from your body when he rolls his hips at the same moment his hand wraps around your throat.

“So good for me aren’t you?” He asks quietly in your ear as he begins to move, his lips brushing your ear easily from the way you tilt your head back to lay on his shoulder. You can only gasp and whimper in response as his thumb harshly digs into your skin below the curved bone of your jaw, but the way your jaw hangs open lets him hear every noise without problem.

A deep groan rattles his chest against your back as he picks up his pace, how deep he pushes inside you with each thrust and the pressure he puts on the blood flow going to your head makes your vision fuzzy.

You can feel your body twitching, but there’s nothing you can do to relax the tensing of your muscles. Your hands start to flail slightly from the pleasure shooting up your spine, one desperately slipping up and down the wall as you try to keep balance, and the other finally finding comfort in holding onto the wrist of the hand that chokes you. You get just a moment of clarity to notice, and feel bad for the way your nails claw into his skin, but the guilt is quickly washed away by the twisting in your belly.

He shows little interest in easing up on you, even when he notices how you start to crumble against him. Almost no interest at all, when he celebrates hitting the spot inside you that finally pushes a loud moan from your lips by relentlessly quickening the pace of his fingers that moves across your clit.

Jumbled moans and slurred words squeeze through your gritting teeth, not even taking the time to be molded into full thoughts in your brain before they pour out. You say a silent thanks when you feel his hand tracing up your neck towards your mouth, assuming he’s going to cover your mouth, as you can only feel yourself start to truly lose the control you have over your volume.

You’re teetering on an edge, the promise of another orgasm dancing on the back of your tongue, and your hips form a mind of their own as they begin to jump and tilt back towards him in desperation. You can’t imagine anything pushing you any closer than what he’s already doing, until you feel his thumb start to push against your lower lip.

It’s almost as if he has you on puppet string with how quickly you move to bring the digit between your lips, your cheeks pulling in and hollowing as you start to gently suck on the intrusion. The pride you feel when he swears darkly in your ear at your action is indescribable, the idea of you causing this man to lose himself the way he is, even with yourself being in more of a submissive position, makes you grin around his thumb as it digs into the center of your tongue. And the feeling of your drool slowly dripping out of your mouth to slide down his wrist makes you feel like you’ve made some kind of claim on him.

Your arousal, and the beginning sparks of your orgasm, fogs your brain. Enough that it takes a moment for you to notice the small bites of pain that shoots across the skin of your tongue that presses against a thick ring he wears below the bend of his thumb.

You want to whimper out, maybe nip at oddly strong digit to ask him to lighten up, but you shamefully admit that the burn and the coppery taste that begins to flood your tastebuds makes you shiver and flutter around his length as it pushes you both closer and closer.

Once your blood is spilling out enough that it begins to slip down your throat, is when he pulls his thumb from your mouth, his hand moves to grip your jaw tightly. You feel your saliva that’s been tainted with your blood spill quickly down your chin and neck as he turns you to face him, and the delirious and rapid look in his eyes when they meet yours tells you he loves the mess he’s made of you.

“Come for me,” it’s said sternly. Demanding in the way that tells you there’s no room for arguments, or pleas to slow down, but you greet the command with pleasure. You’re also just as glad to accept his open mouth as it presses against yours.

Nothing about him slows down. His hips, fingers and lips devour you like he’s been starved for centuries, and you start to feel that maybe you’ve been waiting just as long.

You squeak and groan when he sucks your wounded tongue into his mouth, and when it hits you that he’s pulling and swallowing the blood that pours out of it, is when you're pushed over the edge.

You’re more than thankful for the way he presses against you, as you’re sure without it you would have crumbled in place. Your knees feel useless and you whine into his open mouth the best you can with your tongue trapped between his lips, and you feel your body curl back against him as he holds you close. The way you tremble only comparable to a body trapped and lost in a blinding cold, and your stomach flexes in pleasure.

You want your body to mesh into his as you come in his hold, his arms strong and pulled tightly against your bones as his hips stutter against you. And it’s only a moment of watching you melt into him before he’s following close behind.

The way the evidence of his orgasm spills into you is what finally pulls him away from your lips as he almost growls with his forehead pressed against your temple. His body taking control of his impulse as his brain is taken over with the way you’re wrapped around him, and almost like a reflex, his hand pulls away from your clit to swat harshly at the inside of your thigh. But the way his teeth bite into his lower lip and he’s eyes scrunch closed, you can only offer a dopey smile in response.

Your smile falls slightly as you cringe at the feeling of him slipping from your body, but his hands moving to rub up and down your sides momentarily makes you relax.

He’s quiet and quick as he bends to drag your underwear up until they’re back to resting on your hips, and you pray they do enough to keep his come from spilling out of you.

“You need to get back to your friends,” he breaks his quiet spell as he turns you to pull you into his chest, and you have a small moment of confusion at his words before it hits you what you were trying to do when you ran into him.

Your hands fly up to clench at his shirt, your curls fingers wrinkling the fabric of his shirt and the sudden puppy like look you give him makes him smile.

“I can't wait to see you again,” the sureness in his voice shakes your core a little, and you can only hope what he says is true, “I promise I won't be hard to find.”

“Can you at least tell me your name,” you say more petulantly than you intended, but you're greeted with his grinning sharp teeth as he starts to pull you away from his chest regardless.

“I’m Jaehyun,” he speaks slowly as he makes sure you’re completely steady on your feet before he starts to step away, “I promise you won’t forget. Now go, the entrance should be there just like normal.”

He nods as he finally disappears into the crowd, but you can’t help the biting voice at the back of your mind that, even though he only gave you a few short sentences, he always spoke like he knew something you didn’t.

But he was right. You took your chance with the entrance again after his confident tone, pushing through the crowd of pushy shoulders to get back to the front. The only disappointment that rests in your chest when you reach the now visible door, is you didn’t get a glance of the man amongst the crowd.

It’s almost like culture shock when you step outside. The men that lean against the wall by the door remain rooted in place, their thumbs still swiping aimlessly at their phone screens, and the shadowy outlines of your friends still stand on the other side of the street.

Even with a looseness to your muscles from what happened in the club, you still feel foolish as you sprint to where they stand, and the looks of surprise they wear makes an apologetic smile stitch onto your face.

“So how was it?” The more gentle of the two asks, a concerned glint in her eyes making you feel even more guilt on what you let distract you.

“It was pretty cool,” you hesitate telling them what had happened, you’re not sure why as you knew they would never judge you for the hookup but you can't conjure the words, “I’m sorry I was in there for so long though.”

“So long?” Your more fiery friend takes her turn to speak now, but your face only screws up in confusion at her questioning words, “dude you were only in there for like five minutes top. Were you even able to get to the bar to get a drink in that time?”

You can't collect your thoughts enough to force words, instead you fumble over syllables and rumbling noises of misunderstanding what she’s saying. You’re almost ready to ask her how something that felt like years to you only felt like five minutes to her when she interrupts again.

“Whatever. It could have been five seconds and I still would be bored so lets fucking go,” she turns to walk away, her hand reaching back and lacing her fingers through your own being the only thing that pulls you along behind them as the feeling of Jaehyun’s finger prints weighs you down, and tugs at the cord that connects you to the club behind you.