#I’m fucking vibrating in rage i want to fuck shits up i want to scream and punch

[javiscigarette]

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

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You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.  But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings. 

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock. 

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.  

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal. 

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky. 

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands. 

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain. 

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better. 

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask. 

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him. 

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him. 

So you do. 

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision. 

Fucking pathetic. Both of you. 

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly. 

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house. 

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours. 

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?” 

You ask even though you don’t really want to know. 

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face. 

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know. 

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to. 

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap. 

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again. 

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that. 

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits. 

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you. 

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. 

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms. 

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight. 

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale. 

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked. 

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand. 

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of. 

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy. 

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat. 

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger. 

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can. 

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth. 

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes. 

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.  

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand. 

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there. 

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down. 

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again. 

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out. 

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. 

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is. 

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does. 

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic. 

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be. 

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's. 

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

#writing challenge 2.0 #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters

[meganwritesfanfics]

Clandestine Meetings (Joel Miller x Reader) Chapter 5

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Joel Miller x Reader

Joel has tried his best to stay away from Y/N, but it seems the universe has other plans. When he runs into her on the street, the two confront their feelings and everything gets a lot more complicated.

Word Count: 1735

Rating M: For later chapters, angst, discussion of DV. Talk of injuries.

It was a good week or so  before Joel saw Y/N again. Soon after the bomb incident, he and Tess had gone out to get supplies to trade. They usually didn’t stay away for more than a couple days, however even when they got back, Joel made it a point to only pick jobs at times when he didn’t think Y/N would show up. He felt guilty about the way he had treated her, however he knew Tess and Tommy were right. The feelings he had for Y/N, whatever they may have been were dangerous, not only for himself and the people around him but also for Y/N. He knew that her shit husband hurt her, and he didn’t want to be the cause of making it even worse. And so Joel’s world had fallen back into the colorless routine it had been before. 

That was why when he had accidentally ran into her on the street, it had taken him by surprise. But what took him even more by surprise and what caused his entire body to vibrate with rage were the bruises that littered her face and neck. She had a black eye, a busted lip, and what looked like finger bruises from where someone had gripped her neck tightly. 

The minute he laid eyes on this, he roughly grabbed her by her shoulders, turning her so she was looking at him, taking her completely by surprise. 

“Who the fuck did this to you.” He snarled his eyes darting between each bruise. 

“Joel?” Y/N asked shocked. 

“Was it that fucking husband of yours,” Joel continued. “I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Suddenly Y/N pushed Joel back hard snapping him out of his rage. 

“Why the fuck do you care.” Y/N snapped. “A few days ago you wanted nothing to fucking do with me, and now you are going to commit murder for me?” 

“Y/N,” Joel sighed as he looked around to make sure that no one was watching them. 

“No, Joel, when I had come back I was going to ask you… I thought you…” Y/N groaned, “Ugh forget it, listen I get it, I’m a pain in your ass right, I cause problems right, I waste your precious fucking time right!” She screamed and her screams were starting to grab peoples attention. 

Quickly Joel grabbed her hand and dragged her into a near by ally. As much as she protested and fought him. 

“Y/N,” He said calmly but still she fought him. “Y/N!” He shouted as he gently took her face in his hands and she instantly went quite. “Listen to me, I had meant what I said before, if anyone hurts you, especially your husband, I want you, no I need you to come to me, I will take care of it.” 

Y/N reached up and wrapped her hands around Joel’s wrists as she sighed. 

“I can’t keep up with your mood swings Joel.” She said quietly all the anger fading into sadness. “One moment you are nice and boarderline sweet and the next you are an absolute dick.” 

Joel dropped his hands and took a step back as he looked at the ground. 

“I’m sorry about before I… things are complicated.”

“Of course things are complicated, the world is fucked Joel. But I thought maybe I had found someone who made things just a little less complicated, someone who made things make some sort of sense. But I guess I was wrong.”  Joel could see tears welling up in her eyes. “I better go, and don’t worry I will stay out of your life Joel.” 

“Wait,” Joel reached out and grabbed her wrist and when he did she let out a loud cry. He instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry, it’s… I fell the other day and…” 

“You know you can cut the bullshit with me.” Joel instantly replied and Y/N just looked up at him her eyes filled with an awful sadness and yearning. “Can I see it?” 

Y/N hesitated for a moment before she walked forward and lifted her long sleeves so he could see her swollen and bruises wrist. 

He seethed as he gingerly took her hand in his. 

“It’s fine, I think it is only fractured.” She said and Joel’s head snapped up his eyes filled with rage. 

“It is sure as shit not fine.” 

“Well unfortunately it just is what it is.” She sighed as she took her hand out of his and pulled down her sleeve again. 

“It doesn’t have to me.” Joel took a step closer towards her. 

“I don’t really have another choice, if I leave, either he will kill me or he will send F.E.D.R.A. to do it.” 

“I could kill him.” 

“And then F.E.D.R.A. would kill you, not going to happen.” She snapped as she leaned up against the brick wall. 

“Why are you with him?” Joel asked surprised at himself for the asking such a question. 

Y/N couldn’t help but smirk sadly. “That is a story for another time cowboy.” 

Joel made his way towards her putting one hand on the wall and leaned in closer to her. 

“I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it. It’s just, I don’t think it is a good idea for you and I to hang around each other.” 

“You afraid I’m going to get you roped into trouble Miller,” Y/N smirked a smile finally creeping its way back onto her face. 

“It’s not just myself I’m worried about its Tess and…”

“Tommy?” She interrupted. Joel gave her an inquisitive look. “One upside to having a husband who works for F.E.D.R.A, I can get access to everyones files. How do you think I know so much about everyone.” 

“You looked me up darlin’’?” Joel smirked inching even closer to Y/N. 

“Oh I had to, with the dark and stormy aura you give off,  I had to see what you were all about.” 

They were silent for a moment, the space between them was growing smaller with each passing second. 

“But you are right, it might be better if we just keep our separate ways. I don’t want to get you in trouble. And Tommy’s in enough shit as it is.” 

Joel’s blood ran cold. And Y/N watched as Joel’s face fell and his eyes went wide with fear. 

“Don’t worry F.E.D.R.A doesn’t know. But hell that boy does not do a good job hiding it, I could spot him from a mile away. You need to tell him to watch his back.” 

Joel just nodded, his thoughts wandering off to nightmare he had about Tommy getting caught or killed. He could feel his chest start to tighten up and his vision start to blur. 

“Joel,” Y/N called as she saw his demenor change. But to him her voice sounded far off, it echoed like she was in a tunnel. “Joel?” She called again as she placed her hand gently on his cheek. With her touch he steadied his vision righted itself and the tightness in his chest lessened. “Where did you go?” 

In that moment, standing so close to her, her hand on his cheek, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to pull her in close to him and never let her go. His rational mind kept telling him what a bad idea that was, how many things could go wrong. But he didn’t care he just kept pushing those thoughts away. That was until he thought about Sarah, and the ever familiar constant pain he felt flared up again. He couldn’t feel that pain again, not in any capacity. And it was too risky to open his heart up again. Especially since Y/N didn’t seem like she had any plans to leave her abusive huband. 

Clearing his throat,  Joel backed  up crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“So what are we going to do?” He asked. 

“About what?” She said hurt at his distance. 

“About us?”

“Is there an us?” 

“I mean… I don’t want to not help you when you need it. But I also got to think about keeping Tess and Tommy safe.”

“Yeah,” She looked down at her feet sadly. 

“And I like being around you.” 

“I like being around you too.” 

“Is there anyway I can get you to just keep your head down and try not to cause problems?”  

“Not a chance.” Y/N snapped her head up to look back at him. 

Joel sighed sadly. “That’s what I thought.” 

They stood silent for a few moments, and Y/N could feel herself starting to get choked up. 

“So I guess that’s it.” Y/N said. 

“Y/N…” 

“Well, it was nice knowing you Joel Miller. I hope you have a good life, I mean, as good as any of us can hope for in this shit storm.” Y/N started to walk away and Joel stayed behind watching her. 

She hadn’t even made it out of the ally before she stopped. “Oh fuck it.” She mumbled under her breath as she turned and marched back to Joel. 

“Y/N?” Joel asked confused. 

“Kiss me.” She snapped and Joel froze. 

“Wha…” 

“There is this feeling between us, and I hope to God you feel it to, but it feels so different than anything I have felt in a while. I can’t explain it but when I am with you, things feel better. It’s almost like you bring color…” She started when Joel quickly pulled her into him and kissed her. 

The spark that he felt in his stomach when their lips met, sent goosebumps all over his skin. This kiss wasn’t just a normal run of the mill kiss, this was something more. It made his chest tighten but not in a bad way. And when he felt her open her mouth slightly and he deepend the kiss, he thought his heart was going to explode. 

They broke away only to breath, and when they look at each other they both smiled, Joel’s hands on her face, his thumb rubbing her cheeks. 

“Not bad cowboy.” She smirked. 

“Oh I’m just getting started darlin’ “ Joel growled seductively as he kissed her again, pushing her back into the brick wall.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #tlou

[walking-mf-dead]

I was on the brink of having a breakdown and needed to redirect my energy to something else so I went to my notes app and uh… yeah. A shitty little drabble. Enjoy ☺️ (May be cross-posted to Ao3!) ((also the format looks funky because I wrote this in my notes app and copy/pasted it onto here via phone))

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/Reader

Relationships: Rick Grimes/Reader (Adoptive Daughter), Negan Smith/Reader (Biological Daughter)

Warnings: The Walking Dead typical violence, thoughts of death/suicide, self-deprecation, Canon Divergence, Death/Murder

________________________________

A Warning

I can't hold on anymore.

It feels like the pit in my chest is getting deeper. The lump in my throat getting bigger, harder to swallow down and ignore.

My eyes burn with unshed tears and my clenched teeth hurt my jaw.

The palm of my hand is being indented with the ragged nails I had chewed and bitten off overtime with my anxiety taking over me.

Never did this thought of death feel so appealing until now. Not until we got to Alexandria and it all went to shit. I knew it was all too good to be true.

My knees are aching on this forest floor.

Negan starts his little song, his voice vibrating up my spine. Giving me goosebumps. Forcing bile into my mouth as his bat points directly at my head.

I follow the bat up to his eyes.

“Well darlin’! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He kneels down and gently grabs my chin, forcing me to keep eye contact.

“I’m almost tempted to skip you darlin’. You can come home. Mm? Wanna come back home to Daddy?”

The venom on my tongue is searing, “Fuck you Negan.”

“That’s no way to talk to your father, kid.” His face steels has he stands up.

I smirk up to him, “Go on Daddy. Do it. Like you do to every one else. Swing.”

“Do NOT fucking do this. Do you really think I want to bash in my own kids head? Huh?” His eyes look wild, as though his psyche is breaking slightly. Only slightly.

“How about, we try this again, hmm gang?! Let’s try this again and if it lands on this lovely lady then so fucken be it!” He yells out to his loyal subjects who break out into cheering.

“Eeny… Meeny… Miny… Mo. Catch… a Tiger… By… His Toe. If… He Hollers… Let Him Go. My Mother… Told Me… To Pick… The Very… Best… One. And you… Are… It.” He drawls out once more but this time, this time it was with purpose. The bat swings by me and points to Abraham. No.

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boys other eye out and feed it to his father. And then we’ll start. You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell… You’re all gonna be doing that.”

CRACK!

The bat brutally hits into Abraham’s skull.

But he sits back up, his face mangled.

“Would you look at that! Takin’ it like a champ!”

WHACK!

Oh God.

Abraham’s blood is splattered on my face. I still. My body shaking and I lose focus on where I am and what’s happening.

Before I can clock it, I’m standing, barreling into Negan while Abraham’s dead body lays beside where I was. His head melding into the ground below.

I wail all of my force into punching my fathers face. He quickly overpowers me and throws me off. He stands up, grabbing Lucille from the ground and in pure rage he slams the bat into my abdominal area.

My scream echos into the surrounds and I feel my body and clothes tearing as the barbs pull back up on the bat.

My hands shake as I hold onto my stomach, looking up in pure fear at Negan. And he stares back, the same look of fear on his face.

“Baby, baby no. No no no. Fuck. FUCK.” He kneels down and pulls up my shirt despite my denial, and assess the wounds.

I look over to Daryl. His face is ghost white. “Daryl… Honey I love you.”

“Consider this a warning.” Negan announces, standing up.

“A big fucken warning. I’ll be around in 2 days to settle an arrangement. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Negan. Perfectly clear.” Rick strains out.

Negan gives me one last look before calling his men away to go back to The Sanctuary.

Rick and Daryl rush over to my side. Daryl brushing my hair from my face and giving me a solid kiss on my lips.

I look to Rick. “Will I be okay?” He nods. But I don’t know if I believe him. Not yet.

Rick, Carl and some others return to Alexandria to plan what’s happening with Negan while Daryl, Glenn, myself and Maggie head to Hilltop to use their medical services.

Daryl clutches onto me, hoping I make it through the next few days.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #Daryl Dixon/Reader #TWD #rick grimes #daryldixon #the walking dead drabble #negan #negan smith #thewalkingmfdead

[ttodorokiii]

How would yanderes TodoBakuDeku (poly or separate, your wish) react to the reader yelling at someone on the phone? Or being really pissed after she got a letter from someone? You can decide what it can be about

reactions | BNHA

note. hey anon!!! sorry for my VERY LATE RESPONSE, but I just wanted to apologise!!! I hope you don’t mind that I did them separately cuz I don’t have much experience on writing poly!!! 💔💕

warnings: YANDERE, OBSESSION, possess*ve themes, strong language, obsessive themes, verbal fighting.

Shouto:

Shouto tries to be rational with you, he knows what he’s done is so wrong in many many levels but he can’t bring himself to regret it. Though when he first saw your anger filled reaction,..

Shouto knew he had to make it up to you. He had kidnapped you for Gods sake. It was a slow process, but he tried his best.

And the first instinct that came to him was to provide you with your phone back. It was the LEAST he was doing after all.

He had ALOT to make up for….

But now, he was starting to strongly regret it.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME, KARINA?!? I-I TRUSTED YOU!”

You were angry, that made Shouto concerned for you… you were a very headstrong person, and that made him so obsessed with you in the first place.

But your anger could be fatal.

He needed to handle this ‘Karina’ on his own… you sounded so heartbroken too…

That made him so unbelievably angry. He will ruin them.

Bakugou:

You were such a stubborn person it infuriated him. Katsuki didn’t want you to go to the door and answer it, he was there, he could do it himself.

Maybe you were just looking for an excuse to get away from him, Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you close the door, and turn back to him, looking at a letter of some sort.

Oh.

He watched carefully as your grip on the paper tightened, he could see the way your body tensed as you managed to sit down beside him on the couch.

Your stare never left the paper sheet, “what’s wrong?” Bakugou asked in his gruff tone, staring at you a carefully.

Your tone wavered as you responded, breaking his heart. “I-I’m fired Katsuki…. T-They fired me!” You cried.

Katsuki quirked a brow at that,, a small smile on his lips mirrored one of satisfaction. “I CANNOT B-BELIEVE THIS…” anger laced your tone as he quickly masked his satisfaction, with the mask of anger.

“These stupid fucking people!! I-I was doing my job good! H-How can they! I-I will RUIN THEM!”

He barely stuffed his laugh in. “I told you, princess.”

“FUCK OFF KATSUKI I WILL KILL YOU.”

He laughed so loud at that.

“Don’t take out your frustrations on me, now. You had it coming pfttt.”

Izuku:

He was scared.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT PIECE OF SHIT… AGH YOU WERE RIGHT… I-I can’t believe I trusted him!” You were screaming so loud it made his ears vibrate.

You were crying angrily as the words escaped your mouth, izuku could hear the trembling of your lips as he hid under your bed.

Which was stupid, you could catch him anytime. It wasn’t his fault though, he didn’t know you were coming home early.

“I-I WILL CHOP OFF HIS DICK I SWEAR TO DEAR GOD… fucking son of a bitch!” You kept on cussing your cheating (now) ex boyfriend as you sniffled.

A part of him felt so happy but your saddened him to no end. You didn’t deserved that, no one did… but especially you.

Izuku felt his heart churn with pain. “I-I am so angry, Natasha!” Izuku clenched his fist tightly as he felt a rush of rage flow in his vines.

Someone was going to die tonight.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #mha #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere todoroki #bnha smut #shoto x reader #yandere shoto #yandere bakugou #yandere izuku #yandere katsuki #yandere deku #bakugou smut #izuku smut

[joonslfttiddie]

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Chapter 42: Visions...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Smut/Stalking/Minor injury/Mentions of fire/Arson/Mentions of murder/Threesome/Oral sex/Voyeurism

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 3,789

Tia’s POV *Vision* 

The way that I see the snapshots from the past or the future can’t be explained verbally. Colors and feelings are as close as I can get, but the knowing helps me interpret them. As if stuck from behind, my back arches with my head to the sky as a beam of light shines down upon my face. It’s blindingly brilliant, hurting my eyes if I stare directly into it, which is why I blink so frequently, as I find that more tolerable. 

I can see shadowy figures, only able to make out their movements, but I can feel whether they are male or female, good or bad, happy or angry. I’ve been practicing so I can also distinguish if they are someone I know. This particular vision shows a figure standing in the street in front of our house, and it feels desperate. There is a rage combined with a longing that is unsettling. However, I just know that no harm will come to us. I just know that we will be okay and that he will be serving time behind bars sooner rather than later. 

Nonetheless, I take a moment to focus my energy on all of the guys, intentionally sending an SOS to them all. It only seems to flutter at first, so I try again. My fingers and toes begin to tingle and a similar sensation flushes over my face. It’s as if my soul begins to vibrate and tries to aim for their hearts, sending my message like beams of red light. I’m successfully able to transmit to the guys with purpose…I can feel it. Now, to pivot my attention back to tap into the messages being sent to me.

A string stretches from that figure to connect to another, and I can feel that it’s Brandon. The bond feels familial. IS TONY BRANDON’S FUCKING BROTHER?! My speculation is confirmed when the second figure splits into two and they face each other. There is a hole in both their chests and I can feel their hearts beating in my throat. Where their hearts should be are empty voids that mirror each other, which makes sense, being that they are mirror twins. They are also angry, with the feeling of adoration mixed in. I know that Brandon was interested in developing a romantic relationship, but Jason, too? I’ve only met him a few times that I know of. I can sense that one twin is much angrier than the other, and I can sense that he has done horrible things.

I’m able to see Brandon in the cellar, drugging my favorite bottles of wine by pumping the solution through the cork with a syringe. Momentarily, I’m confused because I can feel Jimin’s energy, but it’s not Jimin. This doesn’t make sense to me, but I continue to receive the message. I’m suddenly aware that their father is a piece of shit, too. Was. He was a piece of shit but is no longer on this plane. He was murdered.

Fuck boy energy seems to flow through their lineage, dating all the way back to their great-great-grandfather. I feel a strange connection to him, specifically, as if he’s done something unforgivable to me. But it’s not me? And fire…fire is all around them.

As if being flung across the room, my attention lands in an area of my subconscious where I can see myself counseling Tony years ago. I can see two figures outside of the office, Brandon and Jason. They must have been the ones driving him to his sessions. Taken back a bit further, I can see Tony talking to Jason about how to talk to girls, having minimal experience due to him serving time for assaulting his neighbor.

“I told you. If they act like they don’t want to give it to you, take it.”

This advice makes Tony uneasy, especially after just being released for acting on Jason’s words. My mind’s eye shows me the many women who fell victim to Jason’s ideology. The sadness, anger, and resentment is so strong. I can feel hot vomit attempting to travel up my throat as their screams and cries echo in my ears. Jason seems so excited and proud after he conquers these women, not only sexually. There’s a flash, and I can see him smiling. I can feel his happiness as he swims in a pool of blood.

Oh my God…he killed one of those women?! No, not just one but multiple! And his own father!

I envision Tony being arrested, and the overbearing smell of gasoline makes me lightheaded. I can feel the desperation for acceptance and the sadness he feels, being abused since the day he stepped foot into their house. Of course, his stepmother hates him as he is a walking manifestation of her husband’s infidelity, but also he’s hated by his father and brothers. He is becoming accustomed to their treatment, so much so that he begins to view it as a form of affection, which makes it easy for him to cover for his brother.

Fire.

In the middle of the night, Jason goes into his parent’s bedroom, soaks their carpet and bedding with gasoline, and sets them alight in their sleep. He didn’t realize that some of the fuel had gotten on his hand causing it to catch fire as well. Brandon, awakened by his parent’s screams, comes in to try and help them, burning his hand as he grabs onto his mother’s. I can feel the heat from head to toe, sweat prickles on my skin and each exhale wafts like steam across my lips.

“JASON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Brandon’s voice is shrill and full of fear.

My intuition lets me know that the marks on the twin’s hands are not birthmarks, rather they are evidence of what took place that night. Jason would later confess to Brandon that he did it because he was tired of them... that’s it. He was tired of seeing his mother cry due to his father’s transgressions, but he also resented her for being so fucking weak. He makes sure to mention that he’s not opposed to offing their younger brother if the need arises. But for the moment, Tony has some use. 

His mental issues and animosity towards his father for not claiming him when he was younger make the perfect motive for murder. Tony would genuinely get upset because his father did not want him but had never thought to kill him, ESPECIALLY in such a heinous way. Of course, when the police came to investigate, the twins claimed it was Tony who did it, and they were burned trying to save their parents. And Tony agreed, so after doing time for sexual assault, he goes back to prison after taking the fall for Jason and will do another bid for Brandon. 

As if all of this is not enough, I am disgusted, and I am fucking livid. Not only at these motherfuckers but at myself. They are despicable human beings but how did I not notice when their ‘birthmark’ switched hands? They were taking turns coming in and out of my house, pretending to be the same person. It’s all making sense now. I now understand why it seemed like Brandon would have mood swings, from being so kind and charming one day to being aggressively persistent, then belligerent and disrespectful the day he got hurt. Now, the adoration I’m picking up from Jason is starting to make more sense.

I can understand why Tony hasn’t been around all of these years since he was incarcerated, but why are Brandon and Jason just now coming back into my life after all this time? Why now? 

Blinking continuously, I am shown a man with a short haircut walking a small dog towards our house. I’m beginning to notice that I can make out the entire person: his arms, legs, facial features, skin tone…everything. Why is it that this man is so detailed? I look around and see that I and the guys are peering out of the big window in the living area. They are all perfectly detailed as well. With that connection, I look back to the man with the dog and I hone in on my feelings. There it is…the same feelings I have for the guys I feel for this man, and they are reciprocated. He’s one of them. One of the special men that makes me fall head over heels at first glance. There is a connection between them and myself that dates back centuries it looks like, and just as my mind begins to focus on it, I’m jerked back to my body, to the present. 

I can see myself telling the guys about all of the details regarding Tony and his brothers, then suddenly, grief overcomes me. Jungkook leads the picketing to their house, where a shootout ensues. Jungkook survives for the moment, while others don’t make it. He goes to prison for homicide and loses his life to several inmates after they find out that he’s a former police officer. 

“Mmm,” bubbles up from my chest, my body jerks, and I hold my clenched fists against my bare chest as I try to hold back the tears. All of these feelings are so real and vivid, giving me a glimpse of what would happen to us if I speak now.

I just have to wait until they are at least detained. Ideally, I should wait until they are convicted and are serving time.

The bright light begins to fade, releasing me from the flood of knowledge. My body is still trembling, dripping with sweat, and I’m short of breath; my whole body feels sore, and I’m exhausted.

With all of the information and scenes I witnessed, I assume that I have been in here for a while, at least an hour. Carefully, I try to get dressed as quickly as I can, wiping my face with my shirt, and then I go out to meet the guys at the top of the stairs.

“Tia, are you okay? What the fuck happened?” Jimin asks, blotting moisture from my nose. “You’re soaking wet, and your eyes are bloodshot.”

“I’m okay… I’m fine,” I reassure him before reiterating Namjoon’s warnings about Tony.

Then, I ask Namjoon about how long I was ‘out of it,’ and he tells me, “I left you in there for maybe five minutes, if that.”

Not only do I not mention that I feel like I could have been in there for way longer, but I don’t speak a word of all the information I’ve garnered.

We descend and assemble in the living room to peer out the blinds, just as we had in my vision.

Thinking back to everything I have seen, one could almost feel sorry for Tony. I’ve seen clients like him who have developed mental illnesses that stemmed from intense abuse and manipulation, especially in childhood. It’s like a new personality is created to help cope with the stress of it all. While all of that is fucked up, none of that justifies the things he’s done. He needs rehabilitation, but I wonder if he’s too far gone at this point for treatment.

*Present Day*

When I wake up, the sun kisses my face and my four beautiful loves surround me. While this moment is sweet and I’m so grateful to be so close to them, it is uncomfortable being packed in our king-sized bed like a tin of sardines. Once I can detach myself from between Jimin and Jungkook, I sit up and feel so bad to see Taehyung hanging off the edge of the bed. I am SO looking forward to the guy coming to build our custom bed. It is going to be massive, and there will be more room for everyone.

“Good morning, Little. Did you sleep well?”

I turn my head to see Namjoon lying on his side, with Jimin snuggled against his chest, scrolling on his phone. I don’t think I will ever get tired of seeing his beautiful smile, his warm skin tone, and those irresistible divots in his cheeks; only one of his cute dimples is visible from this angle.

“Good morning,” I whisper back to him. “I slept like a baby.”

“I bet you did,” he says with a knowing tone. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” I say, smiling shyly.

Namjoon rolls out of bed easily as he is on the outside. He then reaches out for me as I crawl over Jimin to his now empty spot to get up without waking the others. I am only wearing a t-shirt, my panties nowhere in sight, thanks to last night’s escapades with Jungkook. A chill travels through me when I get a flashback of his tongue on my clit and his fingers deep inside of me. Smiling happily, I pick up the first pair of shorts I see, and they fit just right around my thick thighs, ass, and chubby tummy.

Once downstairs, I glance at the microwave to see that it’s only 7:30 am and yawn into the back of my hand while making my way over to Namjoon. He has started getting the coffee going, and I hug him from behind, mimicking his steps to move in unison with him.

“Are you a koala again?”

“Yeth,” I say cutely, with a playful lisp. “I can’t help it. You smell so pretty.”

“Pretty? What does pretty smell like?” He asks, as we continue to step this way and that, now getting mugs from the cupboard and placing them on the marbled countertop.

“Like you!”

“I’m sure that is just the fabric softener JK uses,” he laughs at my corniness then turns to face me once the coffee starts to brew. Holding me by my cheeks, he leans down to kiss me. It isn’t deep or passionate but still full of love. Pulling me in to hug him, I rest my head between his pecs due to our height difference.

“Are you excited for the day? The guy is coming to build the bed, and Hoseok is coming back.”

“Yes! I’m so excited. Do you think the bed will be ready today? I’m hoping we will all have enough room with Hobi sleeping over.”

“Hobi? I like that,” he says. “I really hope he can get it done in one day. He said he would be here in about an hour, so there should be plenty of time to get it done. Especially with him bringing a team.”

We remain like this until I hear his stomach rumble.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah, I need to eat something. I’m starving, much like Jungkook was last night,” he teases, laughing at his own joke. I find myself laughing at his laughter more so than the actual joke.

“What about Jungkook?” Jungkook asks as he rounds the corner, which makes us laugh even more.

Namjoon proudly repeats his joke as Jungkook makes his way over to complete the Tia sandwich, smushing me between their bodies.

While enjoying my coffee with Namjoon and Jungkook, we make a light breakfast which includes bacon. The aroma of food entices Jimin and Taehyung out of bed to come down and join us. We finish eating then plop our dishes into the hot water that Taehyung has prepared. 

“Thank you, Taehyungie,” Jimin says, and we all follow suit, expressing our gratitude. 

“It’s no problem at all. You guys know I enjoy doing the dishes. Thank you for breakfast.”

Leaving Taehyung to his desired task and Namjoon to keep him company, we all go back upstairs to shower and get dressed. While still in the bathroom, Jungkook comes to hug me from behind as I’m flat twisting my hair to the back, creating somewhat of a halo around my head. Kissing from my elbow, which is pointing towards the ceiling, down my arm to my shoulder, he sniffs when he gets to my neck.

“Mmm, you smell so fucking good,” he says with his lips still against my skin.

I give in to his advances for a moment, closing my eyes and leaning into his embrace, stopping mid-twist. I’m still holding on to my hair, with him holding me at the waist. His other hand trails up my body painstakingly slow, taking my lightweight dress up with it to stop at the fullness of my breast. The dress creeps up, exposing my thighs, then my pretty lacy panties; he takes the opportunity to thumb around the waist of them with his pinky finger.

“Who the fuck you getting all pretty for, huh? Hoseok?” he asks, jokingly.

“Uh huh,” my answer travels on an exhale from my nose.

“Well, you don’t have to do all this. You’re the most beautiful woman in my eyes no matter what you’re wearing,” his breaths tickle my skin. 

His pinky dips further down into my underwear, just barely grazing the top of my mound, sending shivers through my body; my pussy throbs and clenches around nothing in anticipation. Pressing his manhood against my ass, he fondles my nipple through the fabric of my dress and bra while placing kisses along the top of my spine.

“Koo…”

“Hmm?”

Mindlessly, I let go of my hair and can feel the twist coming undone as I snake one arm behind me and around his neck, scraping my nails across his skin. The other rests atop his hand while he’s teasing under the waist of my panties, silently encouraging him to go further.

“What is it, Noona? Tell me.”

He finally plunges deeper into the lace and palms my mound, resting his middle finger on my clitoris, tapping his finger against it as if he’s waiting for my response. I bite down on my lip and flinch with each tap, electricity searing through my veins.

TAP… TAP… TAP.

“Hmm?” The bass from him vibrates against my back while he nibbles at my skin. He dips his finger down to collect my essence to smear over my pearl. “You smell even better now; you’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything. Do you like me that much?”

“Yes,” is barely audible as I’m lost in the feeling he is providing.

“Babe, I took all the…oh, shit,” Jimin reacts to the scene he has just walked in on.

I’m facing the door and my eyes pop open to see him looking back at me wide-eyed, only expecting us to be getting ready for the day. I look in the mirror to see that Jungkook is unphased by our unexpected guest.

“Jimin, doesn’t our baby smell delectable?” Jungkook speaks to Jimin without removing himself from me, his body is warm against my back and his breath dances across my skin.

“Hell yeah, she does. You smell so sweet, beautiful,” he says, then licks his lips, his eyes darting here and there in an attempt to capture every detail. “May I? I could play a supporting role.”

“Yes,” I reply, gazing up at him, unsure if the question was even intended for me.

He moves around us into the spacious bathroom, straight to my vanity chair, pulling it over to us. It’s as if he’s thought about this very moment before, already equipped with a plan. Jungkook removes his hand from my pussy and takes this opportunity to reposition himself to now stand in front of me with his back now against the counter. The thought crosses my mind as I’m still facing the bathroom door and I wonder if someone else will walk in. The idea of getting caught again excites me even more. 

Jimin takes Jungkook’s previous spot behind me and kneels down on his knees. He reaches up to gently hook my panties onto his fingers, rubbing his palms down my thighs and legs while guiding them off, which sends shivers through my body. He helps me to step out of them and places them neatly on the countertop.

Jungkook stares down at me with a darkness that makes me gasp, taking his fingertip to suck my cream from it before kissing me allowing me to taste myself on his tongue. I can feel Jimin’s hands on me from behind, guiding me by my calf and thigh to rest my leg on the chair, exposing me fully to him. Jungkook’s kisses are soft at first, as he is just beginning to stoke our flame once again. I can still feel his eagerness pressed against me, and I moan into his mouth. My desire to have him is on the verge of boiling over, and I can tell that he wants me just as badly.

“So pretty,” Jimin says, dragging a finger through my slick. I can hear him suck it off, accompanied with a soft ‘mmm’.

Jungkook releases my lips with a smack to plant open-mouth kisses down my jawline to my neck. I gasp, jumping at the sudden feeling of Jimin’s warm breath and tongue gliding across my lips.

“Oh my God,” I say, my voice quivering.

“That’s not my name,” Jimin mentions before diving in for another taste, and I can feel Jungkook smile against my skin.

Jimin continues to lap at my pussy from behind, his hands squeezing at my cheeks and separating them for better access. Jungkook pulls away to begin undoing some of the buttons on my dress. Exposing my bra, he pushes the straps with my dress down my shoulders, leaving them hanging loosely around my elbows. He finds the treasure he’s searching for, scoops my breasts from their confines to cup them in his hands, and begins to lap hungrily at one of my nipples. I’ve been trying to control myself this whole time; I don’t want to cum just yet, I want this experience to last a bit longer.

Our moans and grunts echo off the bathroom walls, and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out much longer. Fervently, Jimin devours my kitty, leaving no crumbs or juices behind. As if that wasn’t making my head spin, this motherfucker pushes a couple of fingers into the mix. I’m clutching Jungkook’s shirt in my fists and at this point, I NEED to cum; the loop in my belly is bound so tightly. The sensations are nearly too much to bear. I just need this to end. From the feel of it, Jungkook needs relief as well. His dick is rock hard against my stomach. Jimin removes his fingers from me, placing his wet fingers on my thigh, digging his nails into my skin. 

Oh my, Jimin and Jungkook…I am about to cum. I’m already about to plummet over the edge but there’s something else happening to me. The feeling is different and it intensifies. Jungkook moves from my breasts back up to my neck and I open my eyes for just a split second, surprised by what I see. We are oblivious to the fact that the carpenter is here with his team. They are in the bedroom measuring, and just when I look up, I make eye contact with one of them.

#joonslfttiddie #bangtanwhq #ambw #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #haunted house #black protagonist #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoesok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #reincarnated lovers #reverse harem #ambw smut #smut

[zaceouiswriting]

The Truth: Not much of a stranger

Character: Reggie Mantle x male reader, Sweet Pea x male reader

Universe: Riverdale

Warnings: None

You did not get into school the next day, after you almost jumped off the bridge. As normal, your parents tried to talk to you, but guessed, it was one of „those“, days and called the school, that you were sick.

While you were graveling in your inability to do anything right. Your phone vibrated relentlessly. Calls and texts from your friends in the hundreds. Even form Reggie, the last person you wanted to hear anything from. All of them concerned, but only your ex-boyfriend, mentioning his actions. Him asking you, if you could talk this out, broke you. 

He seemed to think, that this is just a minor misunderstanding, which could be changed, with talking. If it is this way, he is way more dumb, than you ever thought.

After school, some of your so called „friends“, even came to your house. Thankfully your parents weren’t there, so nobody opened the door for these traitors.

The day after that, you even with feeling, like this day could only be worse, got out of your bed. Doing your normal morning routine. Just to step in the school and got bombarded by your friends, questions and shit like this. But you haven’t talked to any of them. Except for Archie, which you learned, wasn’t at the party either. He still was blissfully ignorant for what happened. Or Veronica, actually did not tell him.

For the entire day, you hanged out with Archie, holding him away from everyone else, „What is going on (Y/N), is there something you want to tell me?“, he asked a bit cockily with making his eyebrows dance for you.

Of course you took this as a joke. He knew he became attractive and since then played a bit with you. Not with Kevin because he wasn’t the type for these jokes.

But you smile slowly faded, as you realized that you needed to tell him, because if you didn’t, no-one would. So with a stern look in your eyes, you finally looked at him directly, „There is something I need to tell you. You don’t want to hear it, but someone needs to tell you, because V-“ 

„Hey, (Y/N) can we speak?“, Reggie interrupted you in the for him perfect moment.

The shock was visible in your eyes, as both guys looked at you, „No Reggie, we can’t. I try to tell Archie something. So if you could kindly fuck off, I would appreciate that.“

Immediately, you could see Archies questioning look, at how you just talked to your seems to be boyfriend. Because nothing was official yet, as you guessed.

„Please, let us talk!“, he asked more energetic. 

Jus as you wanted to again let him down, Archie suddenly stood up. „I let you guys alone, you obviously have something to talk about,“ he told you uncomfortable, before walking off.

Which let you to angrily stare at Reggie, „What the fuck was that? Wasn’t it enough to cheat on me? Now you need to let me look like a bad guy?“

Reggies strong demeanor broke almost instantly. His saddened eyes, once let you fell to his side, to make sure he was okay. Now it just makes you angry, „Tell me Reggie, what did you really want? Did you tried to prevent me from telling him? Is it that what you want? That I’m just as disgusting like all my friends?“

„It would hurt Veronica, if-“

For a moment you completely blacked out of rage. Just to find you again, getting stared at by everyone outside. And Reggie with a bright red mark on his right cheek. You gulped hardly, as you realized, that you just had slapped him.

„Why don’t you crawl to her, if she is that important to you Reggie, because we are done!“ Only the last part was almost screamed by you. 

Only Cheryl and Archie, weren’t there that day. So because you couldn’t find him, you got to her. Telling her everything. But asked her to keep it a secret for know, cause you want to humiliate them. Make everyone aware, what snakes they are.

„How about we go out today? It is Friday and there is someone I want you to finally meet.“ You were taken aback. Never thinking, that you were close to her, but it would explain a lot of things that had happened in the past. With a saddened smile, you agreed, to meet her later at her house.

At your own home, your parents were happy, that you again came out of your room and even spoke to them, for a short moment, before telling them, that you wouldn’t be there that evening and maybe the night. But also told them, that Reggie was no more and that Cheryl would take you to a party.

Of course they were confused, because Reggie was your rock, but not questioned you further for the moment, just being happy, that you talked to them at all.

At Cheryls place, you sat in her red bedroom, completely finished, just waiting on her. But she didn’t take as long as you expected. Because only ten minutes in, her manicured fingers, suddenly snatched your phone from you.

„Really (Y/N), you reading his messages? No! Absolutely not!“, she stated, as she locked my phone in one of her drawers. „You will get it back tomorrow. But for today, we have fun, and you forget about this asshole!“ 

Just then, she took your hand and pulled you with her, to a motorcycle on which she sat herself on, giving you another helmet and drove you two off.

Later on, as you finally realized where she was driving you too, you became uneasy. Trying to think, why she was getting you two in serpent territory. Immediately the pictures of this night, came back to you. And the kind eyes the stranger had.

Standing right before their headquarters, your stomach began to turn. But only for a moment, before reality kicked in. Your former low hanging head, was straight, directly lookin in front of you, a serious look on your face.

Cheryl did not see any of this, just guiding you inside. Where you were absolutely overdressed. So much, that it wasn’t even funny.

Not long in there, a beautiful girl, came up to you, kissing Cheryl, before turning to you, „And who is this love?“, she asked your friend, that had taken you there.

„This is (Y/N), I told you about him.“ 

For a moment she just seemed to look you up and down. „I remember, the jock lover, right?“, she asked her but looked at you. Which gave you a very prominent red shadow over your cheeks.

„I want you to meet my friends.“ She turned around and pointed at a cute short guy, sitting in a booth, „This is fangs, one of my childhood friends and that besides him is-“, she stopped for a moment confused, „Where is he?“

Suddenly someone tapped on your shoulder, which activated a fight or flight moment. Of course you choose fight. You grabbed the arm, especially one of his long fingers, „How broken to you prefer your bones?“, you asked threateningly without even looking behind you.

A deep husky, velvet voice, called out to you, „I prefer them in tact. But I believe you do too.“ Just then, his other hand engulfed your body. Which reminded you of the evening in the rain again. Your head spun around faster than you thought possible. There he was, the guy who had saved your life.

„Nice to see you again,“ he grinned at you, obviously flirting.

„You two know each other?“, Cheryl asked suspiciously.

At which the stranger nodded energetically. „Yes, I found him on the wooden bridge, soaking wet, disoriented. I asked him, where he was going. He wasn’t really there in his head, as he came to himself, he asked me where he was. And immediately tried to presumably go back home. I even tried to give him a ride, but he blow me off, quite uncalled I might add.“

You starred at him with an open mouth, still holding his finger or more his hand now, while his other arm, stabilized you, as if he knew, that you knees became week from just looking at him.

Finally after he told his little fake story, he looked back down at you, winking, before finally letting go of you again. Finally you learned his name, `Sweet Pea´ a strange but fitting name for a seemingly bad guy like him.

Cheryl was still somewhat suspicious. Knowing how good your inner compass was, but also remembered you telling her, that someone helped you in the rain. And was just happy, that you two seemed to get along.

#Sweet Pea x male reader #sweet pea imagines #Reggie Mantle x male reader #reggie mantle imagine #Riverdale x male reader #riverdale imagines #Riverdale imagine #riverdale x male #x male reader #male reader #male reader imagine #male reader imagines #x male reader imagine #x male reader imagines

[avaleecrys16]

Hysteria

A is for Angry

“A is for Ava; the only girl he ever loved,” The voice of the pastor was drowned out by the wails of her cries. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She couldn’t hear the rest of his eulogy. Did their pastor make it down to “Z”? She wasn’t sure. Her sorrow was deafening. It stuffed up her ears and her chest and her eyes, like cotton bursting out the seams. This pain wasn’t natural, and it wasn’t supposed to be like this

********

“You really expect me to stand here and tell you i hate you? That’s really what you want me to waste my breath on. right now at this moment?” Ava’s eyes were dark, black, in the low yellow lights. She blinked heavily, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing harshly, “You are the most infuriating man.”

The man in question, her father in law, seemed to stiffen up at her. A broken man clenching at straws and lost in a daze. His eyes swam with tears, his face ruddy and swollen. And there was a tremble in his breaths. Ava didnt give a shit. She didnt’ have the patience anymore, the energy outside of keeping herself standing upright, to coddle him.

“Isn’t today hard enough? But here you are asking me ridiculous shit like this,” Ava rocked back on her heels and dragged her fingers down her face, “I just . . .you know what? No,” ava waved her hands in front of her slapping away her exasperation, “Everyone, literally everyone you know, gives in to the fucking mental gynmastic routine you make up. I’m not doing it. Right now or ever again. So no,” Ava’s black eyes zero in on the man infront of her, locking his watery gaze in, “I’m not going to feed your ego in any sense. You want me to hate you, to give yourself permission to be as miserable as you want and so you can flay yourself not just with your pain, but others pain aswell. And its just like you to be so fucking self involved.”

Ava stepped close, digging her fingers in the loose sleeve of his, “You dont get to have an easy out, like my hatred. None of us get to have it easy,” her eyes didn’t burn and her throught didnt feel tight. A first in the last week when everything around her had been sending her into hysterics, “You get to look me in my God damn face” she points at her self, her eyes black and harsh and still, “And know that I do not blame you. I am angry at everything EXCEPT you.”

Her father-in-law’s jaw wobbled, his eyes pinching shut but saying nothing.

“I feel pity for you, but I’m not going to give you a crutch, or a shovel so you can dig yourself deeper into your own despair. You,” Ava grabbed his hands in hers and tugged his tall looming form down to herself and snarl tugging at her lips, “You dont get to have my hate. Or my rage. Or my pain. Or my despair. You only have yours and you only need yours.”

“I call you dad, because even though you piss me off, you are my family. You’re a dad to me,” Ava watched as his body shook and she inhaled, “Youre my dad and you messed up, but I’m not mad at you. I dont blame you. I don’t hate you. Do not ask me carry something so toxic and so ugly, for your righteous ego. I don’t need that shit.”

******

Ava's hands shook while she held herself up against the kitchen counter. Her legs felt loose in her hips, her bone vibrating with rage, “You don’t understand. Rush isn’t the only one dead. I died too!” She screamed this at her mother. She never screamed.

Yeah, she could get loud, bark at others maybe, but that was rare. This, this was something else. The pain was like a possession. It used her mouth for her.

“You think I can comfort you? Me, the fucking widow. You want me to make you feel better? With what? I’m dead! I don’t want to hear about your hurt too. And how I should be bending over backwards to pander to your owies. My husband is dead. I’m dead. You need to comfort me. You need to think about me. I’m the one who shouldn’t have to be strong. He killed me. He left and he took me with him. Your daughter is dead!”

She shouldn’t be this cruel to her mother. Her mother hadn't meant to push. She just wanted to commiserate and talk about him, but Ava couldn’t do it. She needed her mom to be strong and reliable, not break down on Ava too. But Ava knew better. Her mom wasn’t like that. She didn’t deal with stress well. And she always sought the comfort of her family to keep herself together, but Ava was too angry and hurt herself to be a source of anything good to anyone.

Her mother should have never said anything, “You weren’t the only one that lost him," Her mother should have kept her mouth shut.

“And that’s supposed to matter to me right now?” As if Ava was that selfish. How blind was her mother?

All she thought about was Rush and his parents and his brother. All she thought about was her Father-in-law, holding that gun, her Mother-in-law covered in her son’s blood, her baby brother screaming for help into his phone. They were the victims. They saw it happen. They were dead too, “I’m dead, my life is dead, Rush was my future, and I’m supposed to sit here and think about you too? I’m sorry you lost your son-in-law. I'm sorry I'm pregnant with the gorgeous white grandbabies you wanted. How sad for you. Does that feel better?” Ava didn’t wait for a response.

How could someone be so selfish?

******

Grief can really make you pop off. I was acting like I belonged to the streets. Just mean as hell and READY to tell somebody about themselves. Annnnnnybody and Everybody could get it. I'm surprised I didn't get slapped up . . .🤣

[maagicmiss]

so today I learnt that US/Canadian’s medias and governments think that if France is getting fucking bombed and random middleschool teacher decapited in the middle of a damned street it’s because of our Laïcité ? It’s because we says that Religion is private matter and that you shouldn’t exhibit your faith in public space ? Fucking hell yall rather blame the killed citizens by cold blooded and brainwashed extremists rather than consider not every country is modeled from your bullshit shitshow of a ‘’’’’democracy’’’’’. I’m fucking done I’m so fuckinf sone and pissed

#im so angry right now #so fucking angry and upset and in actual fucking rage #does a teacher deserves to have his head CUT from his body in a street ??? Because he showed a fucking ugly cartoon ???????? #I’m fucking vibrating in rage i want to fuck shits up i want to scream and punch #I’ve seen dead peoples #bataclan ?? ohhh :(( thoughts and prayers but like ? kinda deserved it isn’t ? :(((( #a whole editorial of cartoonists ? :(( they did a drawing :((( so kinda deserved :(( #France taking in and in terrorists’ attacks because of Laïcité ? :((( kinda deserved i mean....... :(( #they saying religion isn’t to be exhibited on public spaces :((( But rip uh We are France guys :((( #well up until next week where were gonna say you kinda deserved it :((( #religion extremism is a cancer but you blaming the fucking patient #‘ just had to not have cancer uh :^)’ bitch take care of your own racist bullshits and shut the fuck up

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

magic-8, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, yoongi x reader mentions of seokjin x reader, jimin x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook wants to have sex. No one is surprised. But he has... reasons. Are they good reasons? Debatable. However, there's something in his way. A Magic-8 ball that seems to relish in cock-blocking him. Nah, it says. Hmph, well, guess what, ball? Like a criminal undercover, Jeon Jungkook is going to steal you and then there's no one and nothing to stop him from getting what he needs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; tbh, slight crack; JK talks to the Magic-8 ball and himself way too much; somehow Park Jimin is involved; Min Yoongi is confirmed to be sex on legs; smut (fem reader, very minor D/s dynamics, m-masturbation while watching sex in the kitchen, edging / orgasm denial, m and f-receiving oral, vibrator use, multiple orgasms, nipple play, forearm kink, sucking on both balls at the same time, hair-pulling kink, penetrative sex); noona!reader; Jungkook's POV

no, I don't know how this got to 14k+ words, this was just supposed to be a funny idea and now we're here, I am excessive, I know

--

“Um…”

“Same question?”

He almost flinched at the succinct, matter-of-fact quip. “Y… Yeah.”

The door closed right in his face.

Jeon Jungkook shoved his hands into his sleeves and sucked on the inside of his cheek, aimlessly occupying himself in the seconds he waited. He stopped sucking on his cheek the moment the door opened again. Same woman, rumpled and perfectly messy hair, big black t-shirt dress with a black and white striped long-sleeve under it, bare legs, feet tucked into furry brown slippers with a small embordered cookie motif on them.

In her hands, a black plastic sphere.

Inwardly, Jungkook groaned.

She shook it.

Frowned, and turned the screen around for him to look.

Nah, said the white text on the triangle trapped in hazy blue liquid.

Inwardly, Jungkook screamed in frustration, wanting to snatch the Magic-8 ball and chuck it out the window.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging casually.

“Oh… Okay.”

She bowed lightly and closed the door, but not as sharply this time. Gentler and turning away from him slowly. Her eyes didn’t linger too long. It was probably for the best, because Jungkook would feel even worse.

The door closed in his face and Jungkook wrung his sleeves, flinging the ends of his black, oversized shirt into the air in silent rage. He balled the fabric up in his fists and jammed them into his closed eyes, forcing the angry tears back, never hating a hunk of plastic so much in his entire life. The twenty-sixth time he had asked this question.

Every single time, this stupid fucking piece-of-shit 8-ball gave him a different quirky variation of refutation.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, backed away from the bedroom door.

-

“W-Will you have s-s-sex with me?”

That was the question. Stutters and all.

She had blinked slowly, staring at him for a full ten seconds. Then she asked, “I’m sorry, but will you please explain again why you are asking me to have sex with you?”

Yes, why was Jungkook asking the hot girl that lived in Kim Seokjin’s house to fuck him?

Although it sounded complicated, it wasn’t really. Kim Seokjin was one of his hyungs who lived in a massive house. His parents were loaded, but traveled a lot due to their work. Now that Seokjin was older, well, naturally, it would be socially and financially beneficial to rent out this home with too many bedrooms to his friends if they needed a place to stay. Firstly, it meant the introverted hyung never had to leave his home if he actually wanted company. Secondly, it meant chores could be divided among the tenants, meaning Seokjin never ever had to clean a toilet again as long as he cooked and occasionally did the grocery shop. Thirdly, it meant that if Seokjin wanted to avoid interaction, he could lock himself in the master bedroom on the top floor and tell everyone to go away or he would kick them out.

Work smarter, not harder, Seokjin-hyung liked to say.

Now, why did this particular woman who owned the cursed Magic-8 ball live here?

Park Jimin, one of the temporary tenants, had the answers for Jungkook.

“Oh, her? Haha, get this. Once time, hyung came back with her and another girl with huge tits. Massive. I’m talking melons. I can say that because she literally called them melons. Multiple times. Anyway, Melon girl was kinda drunk, hyung was a lil tipsy, but she was totally sober. And…”

Jimin nudged Jungkook, cradling his hand over his mouth, whispering with glee.

“I’m one-hundred percent sure a threesome happened that night and I’m a thousand-percent sure that noona was the one who was directing everything.”

Jungkook blinked at that angelic face describing a less-than-holy act.

“… Were you trying to eavesdrop outside hyung’s bedroom?”

Jimin snorted. “No. No, of course not. Psh, no. What do you think I am, Jungkook? A heathen?” Those full lips twisted into an affronted pout. “That stupid door is so damn thick. Real wood, for sure. Hmph. Rich-ass prince.”

It didn’t really explain why the woman with the cursed Magic-8 ball was here, but also, it did.

“Anyway, she moved in a week later. Better rent, she said. Melon lady went to school in New York though. How depressing for all of us,” Jimin sighed. “She was only on break for a short while.”

Little did Jungkook know that this noona would become rather important because, some weeks later, he was standing in front of her bedroom door asking the question. Jungkook did not live in this big house, but at this point he might as well have been. He was here far too often these days, asking Jimin questions. Er. Something very upsetting had happened to him. He had needed answers.

Jimin provided him with, well, something.

Jungkook coughed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Erm… well.”

She blinked slowly, waiting for his answer on why he wanted to have sex with her.

“J-Jimin said it might be a good idea…”

She stared at him. “What does Park Jimin have to do with anything?”

Yes, that would be the natural question, wouldn’t it?

“Ah, h-he said… that you helped him at one point. With sex… stuff.”

This was getting super awkward, not because she was awkward, but because Jungkook was trying to avoid being too specific. He didn’t want her to feel like he was talking behind her back. However, she surprised him completely by saying, “Yeah, he was trying to figure out what sex toys to introduce into the bedroom and how to feel like they were not his enemy, so we experimented a bit to find toys and a headspace he enjoyed.”

Jungkook tried to not shrink into the sofa at the explanation. “Y… Yeah….”

She tilted her head at him. “That doesn’t explain your interest in me though.”

“W-Well, I…. I need h-help.”

He flinched as if physically slapped.

Saying it out loud made it real.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

He bit his lip and looked back up at her, seeing the way she gazed back at him. Not judging, simply genuinely curious and confused. She was sitting on the armchair in the living room, holding a soft plush of a pink bunny and her phone in the other, previously poking around on it before he had sat down and interrupted, taking this chance of Seokjin being upstairs playing video games and the other tenants being out of the house to ask this question. She was wearing a big white hoodie, her bare legs tucked under a thick black blanket with a pattern of miniature red devils cheekily doing various innocently evil things.

“Um… my last girlfriend broke up with me because I fuck like a robot.” He swallowed, feeling the hard lump forming in his throat, unease and bitterness. “Not just once apparently. All the time. And…” He winced, balling his hands into fists on his thighs. “The one before that said something similar.”

“And the one before that?”

He wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

“We didn’t… fuck. But she said I was a bad kisser.”

“Everyone is a bad kiss and a bad fuck the first time. Hell, the first couple years. I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

He frowned and searched her face for the lie, but she simply smiled calmly back, gently rubbing the head of the pink bunny in her lap. For some reason, Jungkook wanted to fling the bunny aside and put his head there instead.

Huh?

That was a weird thought.

“But you’re not bad.”

She laughed. “Years of practice, young apprentice.” Her lips curved into a playful smirk, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I might actually be awful. You never know.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frown becoming into a pout. “You have to be good. Yoongi-hyung and you fuck all the time.”

She blinked twice, swiveling her head sharply.

“Pardon? What does Min Yoongi have to do with this?”

He scratched the back of his head. Didn’t she know? “Yoongi-hyung never, ever has sex with someone more than once. That’s his rule.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Jungkook shrugged. “That’s what he said.” He mimicked his hyung’s deep, generally impassive voice. “You only need to fuck once. Every time afterword is the same or worse. What’s the point of fucking more than once? It’s a waste of time. But Jimin says you go to Yoongi-hyung’s room or vice-versa at least every week. You have to be crazy good if that’s the case.”

She suddenly jerked her head and stared in the direction of the back of the house where the spare bedrooms were. He saw a myriad of emotions play over her expressive features before she scrunched up her face and mumbled under her breath. Jungkook caught, I do have a certain philosophy, but I didn’t realize… Really? He thinks that, huh? I should ask…

“N-Noona…?”

She jumped a little, blinking at him. “Oh. Right. Well, it would be really arrogant of me if I sat here and said, yeah, I’m fucking fantastic at fucking.”

That’s true, Jungkook thought.

She shrugged.

“I am, though.”

Those sinful lips framed the tip of a devious tongue, playful smirk taunting him.

“I’m an excellent, passionate, wild, rough fuck. Complete opposite of a robot, honestly.”

Jungkook pulled an even bigger pout, furrowing his brows, determination flaring.

“Teach me.”

She let out a big exhale, suddenly standing up.

“Wait here.”

He gawked at those bare legs, shapely and swift, juicy thighs disappearing into the hem of the hoodie. She disappeared for less than a minute, anxious moments of him shoving his hands into his sleeves and tapping his foot, eagerly awaiting her return.

Then she came back with the cursed hunk of plastic.

Oh, innocent him back then, not knowing how fucking horrible that piece-of-shit Magic-8 ball was.

“I’m going to shake this. If it says yes, we fuck. If it says no, you have to wait at least three days before you can ask me to shake the ball again. Deal?”

Why did you nod, Jeon Jungkook? You stupid dumbass.

He grinned.

“Deal.”

She shook it and it said, Nope, not today.

“Hm. Sorry. Next time.”

Yeah.

Next time.

More like, twenty-sixth time and he was still reading, Nah.

-

“I hate that stupid ball. I want to smash it with a baseball bat, run it over, throw it into the abyss, go down into the abyss, and then hurl it to the moon.”

“Shit, bro, it’s a children’s toy,” Jimin laughed.

Jungkook grunted and threw Jimin’s pillow over his face, yelling incoherently into it.

“Oi, stop that,” Jimin sighed, yanking the pillow away. “What’s this business about the Magic-8 ball anyway? Can’t you just stand there and give her puppy eyes until she submits to your will?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

Jungkook pulled a face and let out a big sigh. “She never treats me any differently. I act tough, she’s the same polite noona. I act cute, she’s the same polite noona. I act pathetic, she’s the same fucking polite-as-fuck noona.” He groaned and smacked his fist into Jimin’s bed, not thinking about what else – or who else – had been smacked into this bed. That was too harrowing of a thought. “Yoongi-hyung’s dick must have her under some kinda spell, because I’m literally right here ready to drop my pants and she’s absolutely not budging on this Magic-8 ball agreement.”

“Damn, maybe you’re right. Hyung’s magic wand-dick must be the reason why everyone thinks he’s sex on legs, because it’s certainly not because of his resting bitch face.”

Jungkook didn’t have the energy to even chortle at Jimin’s joke. “I can’t believe my luck is so fucking bad. This has to be a world record.”

“Why don’t you steal it?”

Jungkook stared at the ceiling.

“What?”

“Steal the Magic-8 ball and yeet that bitch,” Jimin chirped.

Jungkook bolted up from the bed.

“Wuh… Steal it?”

Jimin put his hands up, shrugging. “Yeah, I mean… If you take it and it’s gone, then what?”

Jungkook blinked quickly, glancing at his shortest hyung with the full lips and fluffy black hair. “I… I dunno. I never thought about it.”

“So, let’s say you take the ball. She goes to look for it like usual, can’t find it, and then…?”

He followed the circling of Jimin’s small hands, moving from one side to another. “… And then?”

Jimin clapped his hands together. “Nakey time!”

He furrowed his brows, now hesitant and unsure. “Hm… can it be that easy?”

Jimin laughed, shrugging. “I dunno, but the Magic-8 ball is cockblocking you, so you if you forcibly remove it from the equation, you have already improved your chances of banging the pussy seduced by the magic-wand-dick.”

On one hand, Jungkook doubted she would simply give up on the game.

On the other hand, that hunk of plastic was a cursed object.

“Alright. I’m going to steal it.”

-

“Secret-agent-mission-impossible Jeon Jungkook about to embark on his most difficult self-assignment yet. Actually, you’re less of a secret agent and more like a criminal undercover. No different from a common burglar, really.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

Yes, well, saying something and actually doing it were two different things.

The plan was pretty simple, which was about as much as Jungkook could handle. He was a liberal arts guy (at least that was what his university degree said). Following instructions was not his vibe. He was better at this off-the-cuff kind of stuff. Also, his (unwelcome but necessary) partner-in-crime was none other than Park Jimin, and Park Jimin didn’t read instructions ninety-percent of the time, thus explaining why he didn’t cook.

“You can’t search the house when everyone is at work,” Jimin scolded him.

“Why?”

“Because you also have a job, Jungkook.”

“Eh, I can take a day off.”

“You cannot take a day off to increase your potential of getting laid. Not even actually getting laid. Just increasing your chances.”

Jungkook grumbled but accepted that it might not be the best use of his sick time.

“Also, Seokjin-hyung has an alarm system. He arms it when we’re at work. If you’re not a resident, you’ll trip it.”

“So give me your key.”

“He has cameras, dummy,” Jimin sighed as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Funnily enough, you don’t exactly look like me.”

Jungkook snickered. “Is it the tattoos or the obvious difference in height?”

A brief intermission was taken as Jimin attempted to commit homicide right in Kim Seokjin’s home. Bickering ensued. Hands were thrown. Unfortunately for Jimin, Jungkook was trained in self-defense and pinned him down pretty quickly.

“Anyway,” Jimin growled as he detached his teeth from Jungkook’s forearm to force the younger man to release him, completely ignoring Jungkook’s what-the-fuck-you-freaky-little-imp expression. “There’s four of us who live here right now. Seokjin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, Magic-8 ball noona, and, the most well-behaved and polite of them all, me.”

“Don’t associate that plastic hunk of evil with her.”

Jimin gave him an offended look at the lack of acknowledgment to his own title but gave up, moving along. “Why you so hung up about this, huh? It’s not like you can’t fuck some other hottie. You just have to shift in age range. The older they are, the more likely they have more experience. Easy.”

Jungkook grunted.

Jimin raised his eyebrows.

He stuck his tongue out and messed with his lip ring. “This is a lot easier. I don’t need to worry about her being some kinda serial killer or some shit. And.”

A beat of silence.

Jimin appeared under Jungkook’s chin, grinning like a madman. “Annnnnnnd?”

Jungkook grimaced. “You said…” He looked away quickly, sucking the inside of his cheek.

He shouldn’t say anything more.

Jimin prodded him insistently, poking at Jungkook’s temple.

The younger man clenched his jaw, speaking between gritted teeth. “You said she put both of your nuts in her mouth and sucked on them at the same time.”

“Aha! You’re a pervert!”

“What?!” Jungkook roared, throwing himself back. “I’m a pervert? I am?! You suggested it! You’re a pervert!”

Jimin grinned.

“Of course, I suggested it. She’s got that cool and calm vibe, plus she’s basically a porn star in bed. You’re way too scared to go for sexy on your own, even though that’s way more your type than those other girls you dated.”

Jungkook found his jaw flapping uselessly. “W-What the fuck are you talking about, I’m not scared–”

“Oh, yeah, you are. You literally ran in the other direction when she came out her room in that slinky black dress and leather trench coat when she was going to that concert with Yoongi-hyung last week. Probably had a giant boner too.”

His ears were on fire. “B-B-Bullshit!”

“Oh, you want to get me started on the literal obsessive way you stare at her hands when they’re resting on the kitchen countertop, with your mouth kinda open and your round peepers all big, waiting for her to move so you can put your hand in the same place hers was seconds before–”

Jungkook slapped his hand over Jimin’s mouth.

A bird cawed outside.

“Anyway,” Jungkook hissed, pointedly glaring to indicate that particular discussion was over. “So, I can’t search during work. Why don’t you look for it? You live here.”

Jimin peeled the tattooed hand off his mouth to speak. With much effort, because Jungkook was wary of the definitely, absolutely, totally untrue nonsense that could come out of those full lips. It happened just now… obviously.

“Uh, no, this is your problem. I’m not getting involved in your problem.”

Jungkook stared at him.

Jimin fluttered his eyelashes.

Jungkook thinned his eyes and mouth into lines.

“Here, so tomorrow Seokjin-hyung is leaving for a production for a couple weeks,” Jimin barreled on, launching into the (very basic) plan. “He’s going to stay on site because of rehearsals and stuff. We won’t have to worry about his comings and goings. Yoongi-hyung and noona basically have the same schedule. They go to work and come back to do nothing. But, when Seokjin-hyung isn’t here, Yoongi-hyung and her cook together.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

Jimin wiggled his. “It’s good for us.”

“Is it?” Jungkook grunted.

“It’s not like hyung doesn’t know you’re on your… twenty-sixth try. He’s cool with it.”

He felt a muscle in his upper eyelid twitch. “Did hyung have to ask twenty-six times?”

Jimin shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s sex on legs, remember?”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“It was something Taehyung said ages ago because some girl called Yoongi-hyung that and he thought it was hilarious.”

Jungkook gave Jimin a questioning look. Jimin patted his arm.

“You had to be there, dude.” He rubbed his chin, shifting focus as Jungkook sat with question marks over his head. “If we’re here, they’ll cook for us, but noona’s room is basically right next to the kitchen. If we try to go in her bedroom, she’ll definitely see. It would be better if we leave while they’re cooking.”

“If we leave, we can’t search.”

“No, no. I’ll leave. You stay in my room and wait.”

Jungkook frowned. “Huh?”

Jimin looked exasperated.

The lightbulb suddenly sprung up over Jungkook’s head. “Oh! Oh, I see, I’ll come over in the evening, and we say we’re going out to eat or something, but you’ll be the only one actually leaving, and I’ll stay and look for it.” Then he scrunched up his face, lightbulb flickering slightly. “But that doesn’t change that fact that they’ll be in the kitchen. Hyung and noona can still see the entrance of her room.”

“Yeah, if they’re looking. They’re not gonna be looking.”

“Why not?”

Frustrated, Jimin sliced the air with his hands. “Hello? Nobody home for at least a couple hours? Magic-wand-dick with magic-wand-dick seductress in the same place at the same time? What do you think they’re going to do?”

Jungkook blinked slowly.

“Cook food?”

-

After some self-reflection and inner soul-searching, Jungkook did eventually come to the conclusion that two hot, horny people left alone would most likely not be cooking.

At least for some of the time.

-

Now he was paralyzed.

Because it was one thing to know, but whole other thing to be there.

“Yoongi…”

His back against the wall, staring at the bedroom door that closed in his face so many times, and, right around the corner, he could hear a breathless moan and a deep chuckle. His one-track mind suddenly off the rails the second he heard their kiss. Mischievous murmurs, mixed breath and dancing tongue. His heart thudded against his chest as he heard the sound of moving fabric and satisfied sighs, and Jeon Jungkook finally asked himself – what am I doing?

And then he heard his name.

“When are you going to give Jungkook what he wants?”

A low hum, shadowed by kisses on skin.

“When the ball says yes.”

They… talk about me?

“So cruel. Just give it to him. He’s a good kid.”

“You know that’s not how I do things, Yoongi.”

Jungkook felt his breath catch in his throat. Sparks all over his skin, abruptly too hot under his baggy charcoal shirt and black pants, suddenly realizing he was moving closer to the corner instead of closer to the door, his breath stilling, soundless steps to the sinful sound, his fingers spreading out over the wall, the words on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t say them so instead he whispered to the corners of his mind.

How do you do things, then?

“How do you do things, then?” the raspy, lustful voice of Min Yoongi purred.

Jungkook turned his head, pressing his hot cheek against the wall.

“Like this.”

Jungkook peeked over the corner.

He heard the groan and then he saw it. The closed eyes of his hyung, his head tipped back, layers of black hair spilling in the air, her left hand poised on Yoongi’s throat. Index fingernail digging into his chin, thumb next to his Adam’s apple, the rest spread out over his neck, caressing the fair skin as her head moved down, the sound of kisses and tongue over Yoongi’s bare chest, leaving glistening lines of saliva visible in the kitchen’s overhead lighting. Yoongi’s back arched over the counter, his exhale deepening, arms and fingers spreading out over the granite, gasping as her tongue flickered over his dark nipple.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, heartbeat accelerating.

Her fingers curved, wrapping around his hyung’s throat.

Yoongi’s lips parted, breathing out her name in a low hiss.

Jungkook felt his cock twitch, immediately occupying all that loose space in the crotch of his pants.

Her tongue shifted to her own forearm, tracing a line of saliva up, up, Yoongi’s head falling back, constricted breath drifting out in heavy pants, and then their lips connected in a heated kiss, her hair curling against her bare back, the kitchen island blocking Jungkook’s view of the lower half of their bodies.

Her body shifted and Jungkook spied the top half of her juicy, full, naked ass.

He snapped back over the corner, sliding his right hand over his mouth so he didn’t make a goddamn peep. The threatening moan bubbling in his chest could have been both embarrassing and revealing of his position. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have looked. That was a private moment between two people and he shouldn’t have–

Jungkook clenched his jaw and soundlessly whimpered behind his fingers as he pressed his left hand onto his hard-on, trying to get it to calm the fuck down.

He heard Yoongi pant, “Fuck, already going that deep, hah?”

Jungkook clutched his erection and squeezed it harshly, telling it to shut up, it’s not you, stop getting excited over nothing, you delusional idiot, but he could hear the sounds of tongue and lips, of wetness and desire, of Yoongi’s moans and hers getting stuffed back into her throat, and he was rolling his hips into his own hand, his cheeks burning as he felt the pre-cum dripping into his underwear, slick against the sensitive head, his eyes squeezing shut, and he could see her face, maybe even feel her tongue, this is so wrong but I can’t stop, throbs of pleasure racing up his torso and down his legs, running his hand up and down on his pulsing length, I’m so fucking hard, holy fuck, the sounds getting louder, messier, imagining her tongue flickering out and ghosting his balls mid-thrust and Jungkook suddenly tensed his shoulders, gripping his cock viciously hard and locking his hips.

He heard Yoongi hiss her name and her loud, audible swallowing.

Jungkook screamed in his head as he cut off his own orgasm and tried not to make a noise, his whimper thrashing against his ribcage next to his pounding heart.

A mischievous, deep chuckle and Jungkook could imagine the way Yoongi ran his fingers through his long messy black hair, pushing it away from his smirking face to look downwards.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth.”

There was a flurry of noise, probably changing positions, and Jungkook threw himself off the wall and turned the handle of her bedroom door as silently as he could, slipping into the room and pressing his body flat against the wall, closing the door just as quietly.

He winced, feeling his boxer briefs soaked in pre-cum.

Don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen.

He heard a smokey, drawn-out moan of Yoongi’s name.

Jungkook jerked his body away from the wall, shuddering. He was not about to jack off in her bedroom. That was much too cliché to be doing, even for him. He forced himself to look up.

“H… Holy shit…”

It was a neat room, but it was strangely crammed with a ton of colorful things. Soft plushies with cute faces from various franchises, colorful albums stacked side by side between them, hanging keychains on clear hooks on the wall. She seemed to have a thing for plush sheep in pastel colors. The fluffy little guys were placed all over the room. Lilac, plush pink, mint, sky blue, cute little smiles and soft-looking horns, perched on shelves and on top of a huge yellow sheep Pokémon with a blue face. That one had to be at least a meter long.

There was also a big Snorlax sitting on the floor. Jungkook knew the name of that Pokémon.

“Uh…”

There was a myriad of knickknacks too. On the desk, a light purple standing CD player, rolls of washi tape, memo pads, and colorful brush markers. He noticed that the colors were muted, either desaturated darker shades or light pastel. He didn’t expect her to have so many cute things. She primarily wore black with only a handful of other colors, but, upon closer inspection, he could see the reflection of her in select, careful choices scattered about. Black leather notebooks, a hanging keychain of a black skull with a blank white tag, a strange velvet box shaped like a coffin. Curious, Jungkook opened it, seeing a collection of silver rings with ram skull motifs on them.

He recognized them because he stared at her hands a lot.

“No, I don’t,” Jungkook whispered under his breath to absolutely no one.

He closed the box and carefully put it back.

There were small memo sheets taped onto the shelf above the desk. They had small cats drawn onto them, doing things that corresponded to what was scrawled onto them. Do laundry on Friday. Pick up package from post office. In-office work next Tuesday. One of them had a cat struggling to carry a huge hunk of cartoon meat with the bone in it. Grocery shop tomorrow – ask if JK is spending the weekend, will need extra meat. Underneath the initials of JK was a bunny head drawn in pink pen with stars as eyes.

“Why am I pink?” he asked to absolutely no one.

Jungkook suddenly heard a very loud, “Mmm, fuck, Yoongi!”

He jumped and scurried about, scanning the room quickly. Better hurry. He had no idea how long they were going to, uh, fuck on the counter, wait where they actually, maybe I should go see, no, no, Jungkook, focus, find the ball, looking about the room, find the ball, seeing the unmade bed with the thick black velvet duvet, isn’t that sweaty or does she sleep naked, stop right there, think about that later tonight, to the tuxedo cat plush next to the pillows. It was strangely sitting up even though the covers were thrown back, clearly carefully placed before leaving the bed. Weird. Sateen black sheets and pillowcases. And then his eyes fell onto the dark wood nightstand with a hanging black sconce.

Most people had books, a cup for water, perhaps lip balm.

She had a plush Grim Reaper with a fluffy white sheep beside it, a pile of condoms, and a Magic-8 ball right next to her bed.

“What.”

Again, no one was there to respond to Jungkook’s confusion.

Upon seeing the black plastic ball, however, his eyes narrowed. He scowled at it. Raised his hand and mimed shooting it. Why not? It wasn’t bulletproof or anything.

You stupid piece of shit. Time to get your just deserts.

Then he heard the doorknob turn.

He threw himself to the hardwood floor and immediately slid his entire body into the closest hiding spot. Never had he moved so fast. Must have been a damn record. Too bad no one but an army of plushies was here to witness his amazing disappearing act.

“You don’t want to fuck on the bed?” she was saying as the door opened.

On the bed? Jungkook screamed in his head, clutching the sparse dust bunnies under the bed. You can’t be serious, I’m gonna have to lay here and listen to you guys fuck right above my head? There isn’t even space to jack off down here!

“We can fuck on your bed when they get back. No, I want to get something. Stay here.”

When they get back, Jungkook scowled as he saw Yoongi’s pale feet walk past. Rub it into my face some more why don’t you, hyung, stupid sex on legs–

“The Magic-8 ball?” she asked.

Jungkook felt cold sweat break out on his back.

“You never use this thing on me.”

“That’s because I shake your balls and they always say yes to me even if your mouth is saying no.”

Jungkook’s cheeks heated, cooking his face against the hardwood. His hard dick was mashed between his body and the floor. Great. Awesome. Not now, bro. This was too much. He was getting sweaty in the tight space and his dick was refusing to listen to reason. What else is new?

“We’ll see how cocky you remain after I’m done with you.”

Jungkook heard the drawer of the nightstand open, some rustling, and then.

A humming sound.

“Oh?” A devious snicker. “Here?”

Please not here, I will literally cum on your floor under your bed.

“Nah. Get on the kitchen counter. I have to prepare my meal.”

“So dirty, Yoongi.”

Jungkook faceplanted into the wood as he heard them leave.

His hyung had definitely been carrying a vibrator.

He stayed there for a full minute before yanking his body out from under the bed, face on fire, snatching the Magic-8 ball from the nightstand and slinking along to the floor, reaching for the door handle.

Don’t look, Jungkook.

He opened the door and slunk into the hallway, closing it silently behind him. They weren’t going to hear him. She was moaning in the kitchen, a coaxing hum getting loud. There was a sucking sound of wetness accompanying it.

Jungkook made it halfway down to Jimin’s room before he and the cursed hunk of plastic slithered back to the corner closest to the kitchen.

He peered over the edge.

Saw her head thrown back, hair messy and shoulders tense, sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs spread wide open. Yoongi between them, pressing a mint-colored silicone device against her pussy, his pushed-back black hair against her plush thigh, his smirk visible in his profile.

“Don’t close your legs.”

“Not a fucking chance,” she gasped, her muscles flexing, nipples hard and perky breasts pointing upwards as she slid back a little in ecstasy, crying out, the loud squelch indicating her release, and Jungkook held his breath as he witnessed the shiny, glossy splatter against mint silicone and the inside of her thighs.

Yoongi’s hand shifted, revealing the puffy slick lips of her pussy, throbbing with the force of orgasm. He leaned in and Jungkook listened to her breathless moan as his hyung licked it all up, messy and loud, the sound echoing throughout the kitchen. A shudder flickered throughout her body, her fingers tensing on the countertop, dragging along the granite.

“Give in?” Yoongi drawled, deeper in his Daegu satoori.

“No,” she growled down at his hyung.

“Again then.”

Jungkook sank to the floor, gripping the Magic-8 ball and thrusting his hips into the floor in silent frustration, knowing he couldn’t take much more of this, but he was doing it to himself, and he had no idea why. Ugh, there was just something so good and so bad about it, rolling over and running his fingers over his rock-hard, ignored length trapped under layers of fabric, his dreams and his reality mixing together, so close yet so far, just wait a couple more days, you can wait a couple more days, the weekend is right around the corner…

He crawled back to Jimin’s room, clutching the Magic-8 ball and the last shreds of his dignity.

-

“How was the mission?”

Jungkook held up the Magic-8 ball.

“Nice!”

He grunted and shoved the plastic sphere back under him, remaining face-down in Jimin’s bed.

“Uh… You okay, bro?”

Jungkook remained unmoving.

“… Bro?”

-

“I hate you.”

The Magic-8 ball, understandably, said nothing.

Jungkook glared at it. It remained innocently sitting in the middle of his bed, in his apartment with no working air-conditioning unit, which was not a problem right now, but, come summertime, he was going to be complaining every night and escaping to Seokjin-hyung’s house for a sweat-free sleep. The offensive hunk of plastic was completely still, the little circular window revealing the triangular thingy inside it that currently read, I don’t think so.

He squinted angrily at it. “You caused me a lot of trouble. I should throw you away. I could do it right now,” he threatened to absolutely no one because the Magic-8 ball was not sentient. It was just a plastic children’s toy. Jungkook just needed it to know it was hated. “Everyone knows about you, everyone knows it’s all your fault, everyone knows you’re the one that stopped me from–”

His breath suddenly caught in his throat.

From?

Her moan echoed throughout his thoughts, invading everything.

Having sex with her.

That could have been him, in the kitchen. Not Yoongi. Him. That could have been him, leaning back with her hand around his neck, him shuddering as her tongue and lips claimed his chest, him moaning as her mouth covered his cock and slid down her throat, him, it could have been all him, but instead it was his hyung, all because of this dumb black sphere.

It was sexy though.

Watching.

“N-No, it wasn’t,” Jungkook snapped at the Magic-8 ball.

Unsurprisingly, it did not reply.

His heart raced in his chest, remembering every detail. He saw it all. He didn’t look away until he knew he couldn’t hold back his noise any longer. He didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to back away. He had focused on every detail. Because Jungkook knew he could watch all the porn in the world, but nothing was like the real thing, something he had never experienced himself. Thundering heartbeat, irresistible attraction, need so strong that he almost abandoned the plan and announced his presence, all because…

Because.

“You could feel it,” Jungkook breathed to the air, staring into space. “Passion.”

He wouldn’t say that he hadn’t loved, but there was certainly something he had missed along the way, something he hadn’t thought about, well, how could he yearn for something never knew? He did things because he thought it was right, a good way to express love, and it was, there was no lie there. But it was never like this. Like he was ready to take risks, ready to put his neck on the line, ready to run recklessly into her arms, ready to…

Steal.

Like a robber.

Jungkook turned and stared at the top of his blankets were the Magic-8 ball sat innocently.

It had rolled and hit him in the arm.

The message had changed.

Ask again later.

“I will,” he murmured, picking it up and setting it, circular window down, onto his nightstand, next to his star projector, turning it on and staring at the colorful, artificial, rippling lights as he slipped down into his duvet, landing on his pillows with a flump.

It was quiet, all alone.

Jungkook scoffed.

“I’m crazy, huh.”

The Magic-8 ball was face down, so it was even more unresponsive than usual.

-

Okay. There’s no need to overthink anything.

Jungkook thought to himself as he tugged on the sleeves of his black bomber, revealing the silver chain bracelets on each wrist. Sniffed his black shirt, checking if it was clean for the eighth time. Tucked his black hair behind his ears. Felt it was awkward and flung the ends back out, covering the tops of his ears and brushing against his cheekbones. Then it pushed his hair to the right. Then the left.

Yeah.

It was going great.

Hadn’t even knocked on the door yet. Didn’t even know if she was in her room, although it was very likely. According to Jimin before he left, I saw her come out to brush her teeth and then she wandered back into her room so… unless she jumped out the window, she’s still there.

“Asking the big question?”

Jungkook jumped and his fist flew up.

Min Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

Jungkook immediately put his fist down. “H… Hey, hyung.”

The other male tilted his head, peering curiously at him with a sharp-cat-like gaze. Yoongi was wearing a black bomber jacket as well, although his had white trim and embroidered dragons in silver thread. White shirt with a small logo on the chest, loose black pants with his keys on a chain, hooked to a belt loop.

He ticked his chin to the door. “Feeling lucky?”

Jungkook scratched the back of his head. “Um…”

In his mind, the kiss between his hyung and noona came up in striking detail.

Jungkook felt his cheeks heat and a small tent pitch in his pants.

“You’re pretty persistent, hm?” Yoongi was saying, running a hand through his long black hair. “Lesser men would have given up by now.” He patted Jungkook on the arm. “That’s a good trait to have.”

There was a certain kind of terror as Jungkook glanced at Yoongi’s hand on his arm and Yoongi continued looking at the bedroom door, as if he too had a question to ask the one behind it. Then Yoongi dropped his hand, tucking it in his pocket and turning his head to face him.

Jungkook did his best to swallow his fear as those piercing dark brown eyes landed on him.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asked in that smokey, raspy Daegu satoori of his.

No. No, not at all.

Jungkook opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Yoongi tilted his head.

He attempted to speak once more. “Where are you going today, h-hyung?”

“Me?” The older man blinked slowly. “Dunno. Wander about I guess.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows, puzzlement eating away at his nervousness. “Why?”

Yoongi gave him a pointed stare.

Then he smiled.

Actually, it was more of a smirk.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s unease came torrenting back.

“See you, Jungkook.”

“W-Wait, hyung–”

But Yoongi was already turning his back on him and the bedroom door was opening.

“Who is having a conversation out here – Jungkook?”

“N-Noona!”

She blinked at him, holding her phone in one hand and the door handle in the other. Wearing black silk pajama shorts and a big black sweater with a white cat face that had angry eyebrows on a rather neutral expression. “Uh, yeah. This is my room. Thought you knew that. This is the twenty-sixth time you’ve been standing here and the twenty-seventh that you’ll ask the question.”

He stared at her; eyes wide.

“You’ve been counting?”

She stared back with an ambiguous, vague expression.

A bird cawed outside.

The front door closed and locked, indicating Min Yoongi was gone, leaving Jeon Jungkook and his noona all alone in a big, empty house in the middle of the day during the weekend.

“… Same question?” she asked plainly.

Wait. She’s been counting. She’s aware. She knows. Of course, she knows. She literally talked about you with Yoongi. What… What’s going on? She… And then the memory of her moan, her head tipped back, her breasts and hard nipples, the ripple of orgasm visibly traveling through her body, down, down to pale hands and black hair, to Yoongi and that could be you, Jungkook. You.

“U-Um.”

She didn’t move, waiting patiently in front of him.

Jungkook reached out.

His fingers brushed her sweater, just under her shoulder. She turned her head, looking down at his tattooed fingers against black knit fabric. Warmth and softness at his fingertips. So close. All this time, so close.

Almost.

His.

“Uh…”

She raised her eyebrows, understandably looking confused as fuck.

Jungkook withdrew his hand quickly. “Erm. Sorry. Sorry, ah.” He shook his head roughly, wincing. “Look, um, I…” He stumbled once more, tongue-tied. “Ah…” Lifted his head, finding he inquisitive gaze, his heart galloping in his chest, absolutely rampant in his ribcage. “It’s rigged, isn’t it? You’re playing around with me and my feelings, aren’t you? You never intended to have sex with me, did you?”

She held his gaze. “What makes you say that?”

He scoffed, feeling something fall down and crush his heart, biting back the sting of pain. “Well, I mean–the ball, Yoongi-hyung and you… anyone can… can tell…” Why? Why is it so hard to breathe? “And… the way… you touch him…”

His words died in the sudden helpless feeling that ate him inside out.

“I touch everyone like that when we’re fucking,” she said gently.

“Hah…” He wanted to believe it, but, no, there was no way that could be possible.

“I’ll touch you like that if we fuck, Jungkook.”

Her face remained calm and collected, and Jungkook felt himself fall apart little by little, crumbling in the eye of the storm, he had come so far, number twenty-seven, come on, if the answer is no, the answer is no, just give it up, I can’t do this anymore, because I…

Her eyes flickered downwards but quickly returned, a sterling resilience in them.

“You didn’t tell me you have those feelings.”

Jungkook felt a shudder shimmer through him.

“You got me feeling like a psycho, noona,” he breathed.

She smiled.

His heart did am uncomfortable flutter and faceplant.

“Ask me the question,” she purred.

Smooth like butter.

What a dainty smile with the perfect hint of naughtiness. He wanted to scream in frustration and triumph, but that would be alarming, so instead Jungkook screamed in his head and asked the question at a normal volume.

“Will you have sex with me?”

He knew what was going to happen next. The door was going to close in his face and she was going to go looking for the Magic-8 ball that wasn’t there. Then he would have to play it cool and–

“I will.”

What.

Jungkook blinked. “W-Wait, don’t you have to get the thing?” he sputtered.

Her head cocked, strands of hair falling down her shoulder. “The thing?”

He made a spherical shape with his hands, wringing them in mild panic. “The cursed ball thingy.” Shook his hands in the air, miming the familiar action. “Then it says no, and you…”  Trembling breath, twenty-six memories playing back-to-back on warp speed, making him nauseous in his head. “Y-You walk away from me.”

She raised her eyebrows.

Tipped her head to one side, whispering under her breath. Jungkook caught – I seem to have scarred him, I didn’t think he cared that much, I should have been more attentive, you fool, get it together… Then she jerked her head, startling him and forcing him to snap to attention at her direct gaze.

“I don’t have it.”

“E… Eh?”

She clicked her tongue, twisting her lips to one side. “I don’t have the Magic-8 ball. Dunno where it went. I thought I knocked it over, but I checked under the bed and everything. I don’t know where it rolled off to.” She shrugged. “I’m not one to lose things, especially stuff people gave me.”

He frowned, confused.

“It was a gift?”

Oh, shit. I stole a gift?!

“Yeah, Jimin gave it to me,” she sighed, shaking her head.

Jungkook’s frown instantly evaporated.

There was a silence so barren that it was completely possible for a tumbleweed to blow past.

Jungkook placed his knuckle on his forehead and rubbed a slow circle.

“Jimin-ssi, huh?” he squeezed out between clenched teeth.

“Yup.”

He let out a pressurized exhale equivalent to a small volcanic eruption. “So… if you never had the Magic-8 ball, you wouldn’t…. You wouldn’t have denied me all this time?”

“Mmm, I think I would have changed it to flipping a coin or something.”

He raised his head. A coin? A fifty-fifty chance rather than whatever-the-fuck chance he had going on before? What the fuck?! He was going to murder Jimin!

She leaned against the doorframe, looking thoughtful. “I think I would have always added some small element of chance to it, considering, well.” She chuckled softly, smiling up at him.

Thought of homicide slipped away, replaced by that endearing smile with sparkling playfulness, an almost smirk that filled his heart with a weird kind of warmth.

“C… Considering what?”

She gave him a rueful pout. “Considering it’s a little suspicious, isn’t it? Someone as attractive and hot as you, claiming some silly girls said you fucked like a robot? First,” she continued, raising her fist with her pinky outstretched. “You don’t seem like the type to care about what others think about you.”

“I-I-It’s sex! How am I supposed to feel when someone says something like that?” he sputtered, ears burning at her compliment. She said I’m hot! And then, what the, am I a teenager, why am I getting worked up over something like that? Yet his blood pumped harder anyway, excitement and anticipation spurred on by the praise.

She shrugged, ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Okay. Two,” she added, ring finger popping up. Her expression sharpened. “It feels like you only picked me for easy access. Because I live here.”

“B-But Jimin said–”

Her eyes narrowed, piercing.

Jungkook shut up.

Don’t tell her about the nuts thing.

The silence was too long. She scrutinized him silently but then continued, seemingly letting it slide. Her middle finger raised with the other two.

“Three. Seems like you have a noona kink.”

His cheeks felt like they had been thrown into right into a volcano.

“I-I-I don’t – you fuck Yoongi!”

She blinked.

Veeery slowly.

Now Jungkook wanted to throw himself into a volcano.

“… Hyung. Y-Yoongi-hyung,” he squeaked.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. Yes, adding the honorific here will save you.

Her expression contorted a little and her index finger half-raised before Jungkook’s hand shot out and grabbed hers, cramming all the fingers back down to her palm, panic coursing through him, oh my God, this is all going to shit, “Ah, j-just, no more fingers, I’m sorry, yes, I have a noona kink, whatever it takes, I don’t fucking know, okay, it’s not because you’re easy access, it’s because I really, truly, never felt so much desire for a person in my life and you haven’t even touched me, but y-you’re the only one that has never made me want and I don’t know how it happened, it drives me crazy, your…”

His breath caught in his throat.

His fingertips caressed the back of her knuckles.

“Hands.”

His eyes slowly, slowly shifted up, to hers, to a smile with a shadow of deviousness that made his heart race.

“Your hands.”

He held on, maybe the only time he would ever touch her hand after this disaster of a moment. “They must…” he said shakily, squeezing her hand under his. “They must make him feel so good and it’ll never…” He didn’t want to let go, but he had to.

Had to.

“It’ll never be me,” he breathed, voice breaking.

Let go.

Jungkook let go.

Her hand opened and captured his wrist.

His eyes widened.

She yanked him forward, making him stumble and collide, the soft scent of brown sugar and sweet coffee drifting up from the collar of her sweater, his lips parting and her closing the distance, pressing her thumb against his wrist, tracing the silver chain bracelet, her mouth centimeters from his.

“He likes the hands,” she chuckled, seductive and intoxicating. “But mostly Yoongi likes the kiss.”

She pressed her lips to the underside of his lower lip, right at the center.

Jungkook shivered, stunned and jumbled, almost thinking she had missed somehow, accidentally kissing the mole under his lower lip, but there was clear intention, a delicate press of such subtle sweetness that all nervousness inside him crumbled, tumbling onto the contented sigh that escaped from her lips, lost in her touch, the light presses up the side of his mouth, right to his lip ring, her breath shallowing, hitched with threads of arousal that seeped into him too, a puppet to her taste, his inhale extracting from her exhale and then her lips touched his.

She tilted her head and kissed him fully.

It was the varying pressure of tenderness and insistence, as if she was holding back, as if she was so close to breaking and smothering him with desire but she was feeding it to the slowly, building it layer by layer, flickers of tongue and whispers of moans slipping between their lips, her thumb rubbing his palm, her other fingers caressing the back of his hand, multiple sensations like sparks catching fire. Her other hand slipped under his bomber jacket, ghosting over the fabric, the oversized fit keeping air between his shirt and his body, and then she pressed down onto the small of his back, coaxing his body to hers, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Her tongue traced the entrance of his mouth, stroking his lip ring, sliding back, breathing in, humming in approval at his scent. Pressing deeply, swallowing his shivering cry. A pleased murmur and she drew back, her eyes slowly opening, smug smirk dancing on her lips.

Jungkook panted, slack-jawed.

No fucking wonder Yoongi broke his own rule. I would murder to be kissed like that again.

“What… What the hell was that?” he breathed, voice slurred and deep, suddenly aware that his Busan satoori was drawn out in as his mind swirled.

“A kiss,” she quipped playfully.

“That,” he rasped, shooting her an indignant look. “Is complete and utter bullshit. Who the fuck kisses like that?��

She smiled, enigmatic and sly. “Me.”

He narrowed his eyes, turning his hand in hers, intending to grab it tightly, but then her fingers slipped between his, intertwining and locking, palm to palm, and he held on tight, forgetting what he was going to say. She filled the silence for him, speaking softly between them.

“You have a nice kiss.”

“I… I do?”

She nodded, leisurely smile and stroking his back. “It’s earnest. Simple. No frills or tricks. Just you.”

He frowned slightly, knitting his brows together. “That… That doesn’t sound very exciting though. It’s nothing like yours, so…” He struggled, finding no word concise enough. “Dynamic. Intoxicating. Addictive.”

The side of her lips quirked up. “No one ever kiss you like that?”

He stared into her eyes, full of mirth and reflecting his wonder. Shook his head.

“Hm. No one ever wanted to fuck you like an animal, then.”

She held his hand, her other on his waist, two dancers attuned to the symphony of passion, her lashes lowering, leaning in again, murmuring his name and he found his lips breathing hers, reaching out himself, hesitant, is this my place, and her lips pressed just under his again, smile to his skin.

“Do you think I was meant to fuck you?” she mumbled.

“The Magic-8 ball didn’t think so,” Jungkook spat bitterly.

She chuckled, her laughter feathering against his chin.

“I really hate that thing,” he muttered. “It was so mean to me.”

“Mmm…” She dotted light kisses on his lips, each one a lingering wish for more, more. “There’s something about the anticipation though, isn’t there? The uncertainty, the wait, the denial, the almost and then the yes.”

Kissing him again and he was lost in it once more, more intense this time, her tongue darting into his mouth, quick and teasing, tugging on his hand in hers, rolling her body into his, layers of fabric preventing the full sensation, but there it was, the anticipation, the uncertainty, the wait, his gasp trapped in her mouth and then the sharp break of the kiss, her tightly sucking on his lower lip and immediately releasing him, sending a ripple of want through his veins, the whine tumbling out of him, the denial, the almost, and her smile, tugging him in her bedroom.

“You’ve never been in here, huh?”

His eyes shifted, seeing the familiar plushies and pastel colors mixed with flourishes of black and strangely cute occult.

“Erm…”

“You think I have too much stuff, huh?” she chuckled, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out her phone, and he started slightly, he must have been too focused on the kiss to even notice she had slipped it in there to hold him by the waist. “When I like something, I get a lot of it.” She placed her phone on her desk, gliding back to him on light steps, standing in front of him once more.

“Ah… yeah, me too, the hyungs make fun of me because I have a lot of Bluetooth speakers,” Jungkook said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “There’s a lot of choice out there.”

She ticked her head, smiling, a little death that tumbled his consciousness into a worrying mix of lust and desperation now that he had a hint of what those lips could do.

Her hand lifted.

Fingertips grazing his jaw.

He almost moaned, but bit it back, keeping eye contact.

“Sometimes there’s only one choice. One-of-a-kind.”

She smirked.

Fuck, I can’t take much more of this, I think I’m gonna cream in my pants if she keeps talking like that.

Her thumb stroked his cheekbone, her smile creeping into her eyes, glittering orbs of sweetness mixed with wickedness, like brown sugar and strong coffee, the perfume drifting off her wrist to his nose. Her middle finger toyed his earrings, the fingernail dragging down the curve of his ear.

“I don’t like half-assing anything,” she admitted, apologies in her expression. “I don’t like giving up, I don’t like giving in, and I don’t like not giving my all.”

Small snicker.

She’s so fucking pretty when she looks a little evil.

“What about you?”

Jungkook smirked back, the thrill of excitement burning strong within his core.

“Me neither.”

She grinned. “That’s good. I promise to listen to you tell me it’s too much.”

“Okay–”

Her hand glided down his jaw and outlined his neck, following the tendons and muscle. He cut himself off, eyes widening, his heart leaping into his throat, transfixed on her exploring expression. The way she looked at him, like he was tactile art, caressing his skin with her fingertips.

Her fingers wrapped around his neck.

He held his breath.

But she didn’t tighten her grip, only loosely holding, her lashes slowly lifting, seconds ticking past and then she made eye contact. Something hazy and dark in those eyes. Her lips parted, lightly licking the side of her lip.

“Sorry,” she breathed out, strangely shallow, and Jungkook found himself hanging onto every word, fascinated by the way she formed them, collected but barely so, keeping him at arm’s length. “I’m not going to choke you. I… wanted to see you like this. For myself.”

That smile, honest with a flair of mischief.

“I know it’s selfish.”

He remembered her hand around Yoongi’s throat, her fingers splayed, her nails digging into that handsome pale neck, owning it, you could own me too, his blood burning hotter, remembering her touch on someone else, and Jungkook looked down at her clothed arm extended towards him, their bodies separated by too much space. His whisper was heavy and laced with lust.

“Does it…”

Looked up, tilting his head, letting his black hair fall over one eye.

“Turn you on, noona?”

So close.

“I want to please you too,” Jungkook murmured.

She caressed his neck, nicking her fingernails against the sides of his neck, making him gasp.

“When did I please you?” she purred, dream-like, her touch, her voice, her gaze, bringing him somewhere else, her other hand dancing up his chest, rippling the fabric against his skin. “Tell me.”

“All the time.” Shivering, watching her free hand pause and rest on his chest, outlining his pecs through the jersey fabric. “Especially when I’m alone.” Her moan ringing in his ears, right there in the kitchen counter, meters away from him. “It’s so sexy, the way you move and sound, like you feel pleasure everywhere and it makes me want to feel it too, makes me want to touch myself and pretend that it’s you taking my clothes off…”

Her hand on his neck tugged and he looked up, blinking slowly, somewhere between memory and reality, but she only pushed him down slightly and tipped his chin up, forcing him in an awkward crouching position to kiss him. Slow, sensual, flicking tongue and plush lips, mumbling against his open mouth.

“Mmm, you’re such a fucking dream, a pretty face thinking such dirty things,” she purred, removing her hand from his neck and he whimpered, feeling lost, but she kissed the side of his mouth, chuckling softly. “Is there more? Tell me there’s more. Make me want you, Jungkook.”

Her hands on his shoulders, pushing down his jacket.

“I…”

She tossed it into her desk chair, taking his forearm and straightening him, running her fingers against the colorful tattoos of his inner arm.

“I see your hands,” he breathed, watching and feeling her fingertips graze the black on his inner elbow. “A-And I imagine them touching my cock. Your fingers wrapping around me and, f-fuck,” he gasped, his face burning, seeing her hand drift, skimming over his black shirt, lower. “I get so hard, it’s so w-wrong, but sometimes…”

She hovered her palm over his erection, so close, her lips against his ear because his head had fallen maybe shame, maybe need to watch, maybe both, he was going crazy, feeling like a psycho, recalling how it felt in the hallway just outside this door, stroking his leaking cock through his pants and edging himself while watching their sex in the kitchen, he was a bad boy, I shouldn’t have done that, but it had just felt so good, so fucking good that he went home and got himself off for real, thinking about it again, dragging down his cum-soaked underwear and pumping his throbbing length punishingly tight, imagining it was her hand and her voice in his ear.

“It’s okay. You can’t help it.”

Her hand pressed into his crotch and he moaned at the feeling of her fingers encircling his stiff length trapped under layers of fabric, his forehead hitting her shoulder, feeling the wet, slick spot already forming underneath the tip.

“Roll your hips. Let me feel you.”

Mirroring himself days before, but instead of his own hand, it was hers. “F-Fuck…” So much better, rubbing him with each rock of his hips, hooking her fingers under the head and squishing the pre-cum against the sensitive skin. He whined and looked up. Instantly, her free hand rose, grasping his chin firmly and gently, and he saw her smirk, white teeth catching the edge of her lower lip.

“Don’t be afraid,” she nudged, sliding a finger over his chin and tugging down. “Make your noises. Talk to me.”

He was going to say something stupid, he knew it, so he simply moaned instead, humping her hand in the middle of her bedroom, with force and with speed, too impatient to wait any longer, not enough friction so he begged for more in small whines, hoping his pleas reached his teary eyes.

“Just like this?” she hummed, twisting her palm from side to side, alternating the pressure and the tightness, keeping him on the edge. “You fuck your hand like this and think about me?”

Think about you?

Jungkook bit his lower lip, feeling the ripple of desire flow through him.

I watched you and him.

He winced, feeling his cock lurch in his pants.

Fuck.

A slow smirk grew on those sinful lips. “Oh?”

Breathing hard, his chin gripped by her hand, and she squeezed him below, forceful but not too tight, tearing a gasp out of him. A pulse of tightness, pressing two fingers into his balls, and he yelped, jerking in her hand, then immediately knocking his hard-on into her touch again, hoping she got the hint.

“Y-You surprised me…” he got out, reaching for her hands again, touch me again, don’t stop, I’m okay, please…

She let go of his chin.

Grabbed the bottom of his shirt and jammed it into his abdomen, pushing up, up, hot friction and sudden shock, his arms lifting as she cocked her head.

“Take it off.”

He scrambled with the bunched-up fabric, yanking it up and over his head hastily. Tossed it aside, knocking over plushies, “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” but she knocked his hands down and seized his wrists, slamming them down to his sides with vicious force.

“A-Ah!”

She hovered in front of him.

Calm, succinct, matter-of-fact.

“You watched Yoongi and I fuck in the kitchen, didn’t you?” she said, staring into his eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

“N-N-No!”

She ducked down and planted her tongue right on his sternum, looking up at him as she licked his chest, hot and wet and sensual, creating glossy lines of spit across and up to his collarbones, deliberate, expressionless.

“I thought I saw your eyes,” she chuckled, dark and deep, flicking his nipple with the tip of her tongue and the moan tumbled out of him, embarrassingly loud, so fucking wrong, but so was sucking on his nipple and raking her teeth over it, his body writhing in want, pressing to her lips, wanting more, and her thigh hit his thigh, knocking him back into place. “Your black hair and big eyes curiously watching what your hyung and noona were doing, huh?”

Fuck, I’m an idiot, stupid dummy Jungkook, couldn’t you keep your big peepers to yourself?!

“I-I-I didn’t mean to… it j-just happened, I–”

She drew a circle on his chest and planted a sloppy kiss right in the center, above his skyrocketing heart, and Jungkook suddenly had the image of her doing that to the head of his cock and he was fucked, completely and utterly fucked.

“Did you like what you saw?” she asked serenely, her hands crawling up to his forearms, gripping them tight.

He could barely breathe and he was a shit liar.

“Y-Yes…”

She hummed, nodding lightly.

“Flex for me.”

Jungkook blinked. “Um…” He tried to tense his chest.

She shook her head.

“Your arms.”

“Oh.” Tucked his lower lip in between his teeth and made fists, checking to make sure his arms were flexed. It was hard to see on his right arm from his tattoos, but it was easy to see on his left, sculpted muscle bulging at his insistence. “If I could raise my arms, you could see my bic–”

She sucked in a slow breath, caressing his hard forearms, and then let it out, steady, rolling her hips into his thigh, her self-satisfied sigh washing over his wet, naked chest.

“O-Oh.”

He had never felt like a third wheel to his own forearms before, but there was a first for everything.

Her head rolled back, squeezing his tense arms underneath her demanding grip. Tighter. Unyielding. Almost crushing.

“A-Are you mad, noona?” he squeaked.

Her head tilted back, and there it was, open-mouthed smile, naughty and obscene. Sparks burned through his blood at her pornographic expression – her glistening pink tongue hanging out, messy hair over part of her face, eyes glittering with genuine mischievous mirth.

“No.”

She let go of his arms.

“Watch more. Need me more. Want me until you can’t take it anymore and then come give me your crazy, dirty, sexy side.”

She dragged him down and Jungkook sank to his knees, and, this is it, she’s got me, fuck, grabbing him by the waistband of his pants and sliding him on the hardwood, pushing him down, his back hitting the sudden cold, her body over his, pushing her hair to one side and kissing him, deep and harsh, messily thrusting her tongue into his lips and mashing his moans into his throat, his nose saturated with sugar and coffee, I’m crazy, why am I so fucking hard being roughed around like this, whining when she sucked on his lower lip, tight and then sharply letting go. His head snapped back, half a breath, looking up at that gentle smile appreciating his disheveled state.

“Feeling a little psycho, Jungkook?”

If only you were in my head.

He smirked, panting.

“All your fault, noona.”

She blew him right there on her bedroom floor.

Right there on the hardwood, pinning his body down and kissing her way to his crotch, trailing desire and placid licks, the slow contrasting the sharp of her fingernails digging into his side and dragging down, crashing pleasure and pain, his mind reeling, unsure what to focus on, so much to feel, a balance of delicate and danger. “Take these off,” and Jungkook practically ripped his pants and underwear off, the quiet order more than enough, her breathy laugh drifting above him as he nearly smacked her in the face with his clothes.

“S-Sorry!”

He chucked them behind him and heard a fwoomp and then plup, plup, plup.

He jerked his head, seeing fallen plush sheep and a faceplanted Snorlax.

“Shit, I’m so sorr–aaah!”

She shoved her hand onto the base of his abs and swallowed his cock.

He swiveled back, smacking his palms down, gasping as his bare ass hit the floor, cold, but, fuck, her mouth was so warm, so soft, her lips cupping the head, her tongue rubbing the underside, lapping rapidly, rolling wave after rolling wave of pleasure, not even the whole thing in her mouth yet and he was already crazy, his chest rippling from the sensation, her eyes watching him lazily, molding the curve of her tongue to the tip and rubbing all over.

“P… Please…”

He tried to thrust his hips up and she pushed down on his lower belly, cocking an eyebrow, her tongue popping out and licking around his length in a slow circle, plush lips still loosely encasing him.

Jungkook felt his heart leap to his throat and his cock bob in the warm wetness.

She slurped and planted a wet, sloppy kiss onto the dark purple-red head of his cock, string of spit snapping as she retreated.

If I was hyung, I’d fuck every week too. Hell, every fuckin’ day.

She tilted her head, licking along his length, her hand sliding down from his abs and lightly tipping his cock up, thick and hard and covered with her saliva, and she curled her tongue around his balls. Took one in her mouth. Hot, slick bliss. Sucked, nice and slow. Flexed her tongue against the surface, smooth and expansive. Opened her mouth wider, sucking on the skin a little more.

Scooped his other one into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks with his nuts.

“H… Holy fuck.”

She wrapped her fingers around his length and bobbed her head back and down, sucking on his balls and licking in between them, creating a pocket to shove her tongue into, pumping his cock with the same pace, and he could feel the rhythm, the movement of her head, her lips holding him, tongue thrusting, hand on his cock.

Her eyes watching him, looking amused and smug.

Would be trouble if he went pop just like that, so Jungkook locked his jaw and whimpered, trying not to feel too much but it was so hard, the situation and his dick. It was ruining him, his balls in her mouth and her expert touch, his eyelids fluttering, he was losing, no, please, her tongue swirling around now, oh, I’m so fucked, and then she popped her mouth off in wet, sloppy pops, one by one, sending shivers and shocks to cut through his climb to orgasm.

“T…Thanks, I didn’t w-want to c–”

His sputters were cut off because she swallowed him as deep as humanly possible and stuck her tongue out from her lips to poke at his nuts.

“Fuck!”

His dignity tried to come up with something better than fuck as his declaration of delight, but sanity was in short supply, especially as she started to move up and down, one hand elegantly on her hair to hold it back as her other hand anchored herself on his thigh, all while she heedlessly rammed his dick into the back of her throat, slapping her tongue against the base of his cock with every descent.

Sanity?

What sanity?

His eyes actually rolled back as her tongue slid back into her mouth and began teasing the thin skin right under the slit, her lips tightening, trapping him in a veil of slick wetness with complete precision. He was slipping, elbows giving out, his sweaty hair touching the floor, moans tumbling out of him shamelessly, his fingers pressed to the floor, nothing to hold on to, not even a dust bunny, lost in warm and wet and constricting and insistent, and he could do nothing, wanted to do nothing, leaving himself at the mercy of overwhelming passion, feeling so much and wondering why it had never been like this, giving him everything all at once.

There had been so many things to worry about, if he looked good, if he made the right sounds, if he was doing the right things, and now Jungkook had no time to think about any of that because he was feeling too fucking good to be thinking.

His mind went blank and he managed to choke out his words.

“A-ah, no, I’m gonna c-cum!”

It hit him so hard that he gasped, forcing the air out of his own lungs, smacking his fist down on the wood and feeling the orgasm shoot out of him, powerful pumps straight down her throat and she paused, pushing down, and then he was overcome with chills as he felt the twitching head squish into his own cum at the back of her throat, the head throbbing, more dribbling out and pooling around his cock, her tongue curling to hold it, scooping it against gravity’s will.

Ecstasy radiated through him, pulsing levels of high, his body flinching at its power.

Jungkook groaned her name, drawn-out, wanton and gravelly, feeling her swallow and ghost her tongue over his trembling cock.

Hyung, I will literally box you to have my dick sucked like that again.

She turned her head and ran the oversensitive skin against the roof of her mouth, turning him into a whining mess.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

All the way up and she lazily lapped at the head again, looking down at him with a peaceful expression as he gazed back at her, hazy and wrecked.

“Can you get on the bed?” she asked, sounding muffled with a mouthful of dick. “I wanna get fucked.”

“Y-Yeah…”

Seconds later, after she got off him, Jungkook realized he had the walking capacity of a baby fawn. It was as embarrassing as one might think. He nearly faceplanted onto the bed, scrambling on the rumpled black velvet duvet, clutching it before freezing, staring at the pillows at the top. There was the familiar tuxedo cat plush.

Next to it, the pink bunny plush that she had been holding when he had asked the first time.

They flopped against each other, side by side.

Jungkook stared at the cat and bunny plush. Completely naked, half-on, half-off the end.

Hands smacked his ass and grabbed it, spreading it apart.

“Ah!”

He threw himself forward, spinning around, his ears and neck growing hot at being exposed so fully. She smirked, open-mouthed and flickering tongue.

“It was a nice picture,” she teased.

Now his (facial) cheeks burned. “W-W-What, wait, what d-do you mean?”

Instead of answering, she crossed her arms and snatched the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head, her perky tits bouncing, hard nipples poking straight out in the air. Up and over her head, dropping it by her side, running a hand through her hair.

Jungkook stared with his mouth open.

Her brows furrowed a little.

“Hm?”

He sensed her slight displeasure. “Wha? What did I do? Did I do something wrong?”

She hesitated, but her lips formed a small pout. “You really must have seen everything, hah. You’re the only person who didn’t give me a good verbal reaction upon seeing my boobs for the first time.”

What?

And he almost laughed, but held it in, fuck, so cute, her looking away and he could see she was telling herself it wasn’t a big deal but it bothered her all the same, a little irrational thing, so he reached out and touched her arm, her head snapping back to give him her full attention again.

He smiled, tugging lightly.

“I didn’t see them up close yet, though.”

He saw the inner struggle, and yet she stepped closer to him all the same, sliding between his open legs gracefully, black silk of her shorts against his thighs. He skimmed his fingers along her sides, copying her earlier movement. Her eyes watched him with apparent neutral interest and he held her gaze, not yet looking down.

He remembered her back arching, the perfect shape of her breasts above Yoongi’s head.

“Your tits looked so fucking good when you came, noona.”

The side of her lips curved upwards.

Jungkook lowered his head, seeing the ample roundness, and it was better up close, it really was, because those nipples made his mouth water, so large and soft-looking, leaning down and wrapping his lips around one, her shiver traveling through him, they taste so good, what the hell, malleable enough to push around and hard enough to feel substantial, so soft, it was crazy how soft her breasts here, pressing his fingers into them and rubbing her nipples with tongue and finger, listening to her sound. Sweet moans with strength, her hands sliding into his hair, cupping his head, rolling her chest into his lips.

She was moaning for him.

Me.

Jungkook didn’t understand how someone could sound so vulnerable and so commanding at the same time, like she was empowered by her pleasure, running her fingers through his hair and pushing it back, giving him a chance to look up.

She smiled down at him, almost a smirk.

Cradled his head, framing his face with her fingers, becoming art with her touch.

He sucked harder, seeing her gasp, smirk widening.

“Nobody will ever want you like how I want you, Jungkook.”

He believed it.

She pushed his head back, and he whimpered, forced to let go, her nipple slipping out from between his lips, and she shivered, pushing his head back, back, one hand gliding down his jaw, tracing his throat, down his chest, feather-light touch contrasting the fierce grip on his hair, not quite pulling but almost.

Almost.

He yanked on it himself, moaning at the pain.

She raised an eyebrow.

He leaned his head back, looking back up at her helplessly.

“I… I don’t know why I did t-that,” he panted out, whole body alight with arousal.

She tilted her head, slowly licking her lips.

“You don’t?” she murmured. “Is that the truth?”

Her fingernails balanced on his chest; fingers splayed out elegantly.

Breath by shaking breath, Jungkook was falling apart.

“N… No.”

Very calm, very collected, coaxing it out of him.

“Don’t be afraid of the past,” she said quietly. “What’s the truth?”

Don’t be afraid of the past.

He tugged his head forward and her hand remained in place, he was pulling on his own hair, whimpering at the stings of pain that seemed to shift into pleasure immediately, and before his thoughts could interfere with self-doubt, Jungkook opened his mouth.

“I’m a bad boy,” he breathed. “I watched you and Yoongi-hyung in the kitchen and… touched myself, because I… I liked it. Both watching and p-pretending it was me.”

Did I just admit that?

Her fingers twisted in his hair. Light, pulsing tugs, and he kept his head still, gasping, gasps turning into moans as her hand trailed back up, stroking his jawline, smiling down at him, serene and serpentine, sighing softly.

“Oh, Jungkook.”

The way she cherished his name, lightly scolding him and savoring it at the same time.

“You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

She leaned down and kissed him. Pulling his hair, working his mouth, sucking on his tongue, running her fingers over his cheek and neck. Pain, pleasure, possession, obsession, and there was a little part of him that thought, maybe you shouldn’t like this, but mostly he didn’t care because he liked it, I do, the too much being almost not enough, the being thrown onto the bed and kissed down his neck with bites on his throat, I just like it, it makes me feel alive, her poised hands framing his body, down, down, and it was vain, but he felt beautiful in her touch.

Handsome.

Picturesque.

Perfected.

Jungkook did feel like a psycho, but in a good way.

There was no time to think about if he looked good, if he was doing the right thing, if he was enough, mostly because there wasn’t enough time to feel it all at once, lips, fingers, body, skin-to-skin, catching her observing him, precise and piercing, adding crashing sparks to the torrent of pleasure. Her pink tongue cupped around his cock, moving her head up and down to rub it along his length, and his head fell onto the pillows, disturbing the tuxedo cat and the pink bunny plushies.

She kissed him all over and came back up, wiggling her hips. He realized she was getting out of her shorts and panties, but he had no time to admire as she scooped her hand under his head and rolling them over so he was on top, leaving her in between the two plushies, bringing him down to leave kisses he chased after, her free hand reaching over to the nightstand.

And then she held out a condom to him.

Jungkook took it and he wondered, is she going to say the same thing about me, even after all this?

In the middle of opening the package and adjusting it, he felt her watching.

He looked up and she smiled at him.

“You’ll be okay,” she said softly.

Then she kissed her middle and index fingertips and brought them to his lips, pressing down. His eyes widened at the contact. She grinned, a light mischief to add to her chaste kiss.

He grinned back.

It really did feel okay.

For a grand total of five seconds until he started sliding into the pussy.

“Oh… fuck me, you’re so… fucking… tight…”

“I’m very wet, but you are very stimulated and hard right now.”

His neck and ears heated up. “I… w-well…”

Her hands gripped his hips.

“Let me help.”

And then she lifted her hips and slid up to the base.

“Oh, fuck!”

He gasped at the pulsing constriction, his head lurching down, seeing her smirk and her tongue between her teeth, feeling a strange, controlled massage along his length, and then it became very apparent that it was not just the natural course of things.

“Y-You’re doing something down there!”

“Me?” she drawled, licking her teeth. Cocked an eyebrow. “No, surely not.”

Jungkook choked on his own moan as she slapped her hips into his crotch. Holy fuck! Barely had time to adjust his arm as she hooked a leg onto his shoulder, no longer holding his hips and simply springing off the mattress to pummel him from below, oh God, squeezing him and sending tingling bolts of electric passion up his spine and down his legs, so powerful he nearly lost grip, clutching the sheets and following the movement, down, jerking his head back at the sheer strength of erotic bliss. It was less about the actual force and more about how she tipped her hips and pressed every single centimeter of him deep into her soft, warm, inescapable tightness, squeezing him all over, still having the audacity to chuckle under him.

“I know you’re strong, Jungkook,” she exhaled, hot and sultry.

Challenging him.

“Let me feel it.”

For a moment, what if I’m not good, popped into his head.

Her hand shot up and gripped his hair, not quite pulling but clearly in control.

“Fuck me,” she commanded.

So he did.

It was different from any other time. Any other time, he had to be attentive and aware of himself and his partner. He had to be the one in charge, had to take into account the little details, had to worry about his own inexperience, but there was none of that here.

Only pure, raw fucking, doing what felt best. The rough depth, the lewd squelch, her pussy suffocating his cock and his mind going blank at the sensation, not even in charge of his head, yanked this way and that by her grasp and moaning at the pain. His task was to hold up, his task was to go forward, his task was to fuck and she would meet him halfway, every time, every little hiss driving him on, every sharp intake of breath fueling the fire, even all the swearing under her breath as he felt the undeniable throb of her orgasm gripping him and threatening his own, pulsing pleasure radiating all over him at her release, but he held on, he just had to, he didn’t want it to end, it just felt so good, so fucking good, letting go and doing it, knowing it was him that she was looking at, knowing it was him that forced those sounds out of her, knowing that it was his power and hers that caused this sensual sound of their hips slapping together, messy and wet and straight-up pornographic.

Her free hand slid up his forearm, a soft moan dripping from her throat at his hard muscle.

There was just so much to feel, to hear, to see.

He had no time to doubt.

He just had to make her feel good.

Her tongue slid out, licked the air between him and her.

Pushed her head into the pillows and moaned up to the sky, clenching all around his length, leaking onto his crotch and down his thighs, extra slick and sweet-smelling, her fingers scraping into his scalp and skin, her hips flinching, the movement rolling up her chest, inhaling deeply to hiss out to him.

“Fuck, Jungkook.”

Me.

He gave her that orgasm.

Her chin tipped down and she smirked, open-mouthed and satisfied.

It was the sexiest thing in the world, knowing he could do that.

His lower lip snapped out from between his teeth and he groaned, losing all control, slamming his hips down and filling her with everything he had, his balls smacking into her wetness. His cock jerked, and his whole body shuddered as his orgasm shot out of him, pumping into the condom, her walls closing in, his twitching length trying to fight the tightness, heart in his throat and trying to breathe, barely getting her name out, shocking pleasure shooting through his veins, burning a want in its wake, creating a craving.

I’m so fucked.

He lifted one hand, pressing his hot palm to her cool thigh, each exhale shivering, looking up to her pleased gaze and heartfelt smirk, her hand slipping from his sweaty hair, stroking the curve of his ear and his jawline.

The way she looked at him, like there was no one else like him.

“I… stole it. The Magic-8 ball,” Jungkook panted. “S-Sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not that sorry.”

He thought about it now. Sweaty, crotch covered in her cum, the scent of sex mixing with her perfume of sugar and coffee, his muscles burning, memories forming, craving created.

He smirked, licking his lip ring.

“You’re right, noona. I’m not that sorry.”

She laughed, full of genuinely mischievous mirth.

-

“Get out.”

“B-But, hyung–”

Min Yoongi growled deep in his chest, narrowing his eyes. “This is my night. You know I own these nights.”

“Can…”

Quickly jerking his head back and forth, looking between his hyung and noona.

“Can I w-w-watch this time?”

Dead silence.

Yoongi stared at him, expressionless. Jeon Jungkook wanted to sink into the floor. He strongly contemplated throwing himself off the bed and rolling under it even though he was completely naked. The only reason he didn’t was because his noona rose from the bed beside him, drowsily yawning and massaging her cheeks.

Oh. That’s cute.

“Get the Magic-8 ball,” Yoongi suddenly said.

Jungkook started.

“The ball?!” he wailed.

He still hadn’t smashed it to smithereens.

It was in his room. Not his apartment. He moved out of there weeks ago. No, the room Jeon Jungkook now rented in Kim Seokjin’s house, the one beside Park Jimin’s room. It honestly seemed to be nothing more than a storage room for Jungkook’s things because he had a favorite bed he slept in and it was not his own.

The older man laughed, raspy and full, closing the bedroom door and yanking off his jacket, tossing it onto her desk chair. It fell right on top of Jungkook’s, covering it. Meanwhile, she found the water bottle beside her bed and took a big sip, still not saying anything as Yoongi crossed his arms over his torso, pulling the hem of his black shirt up.

“I’m joking. Go ahead and watch.”

Yoongi yanked it up and over his head, sending his black hair flying, causing it to fall down over his eyes above his devilish smirk, amusement sparkling in hose dark brown orbs.

“You already have anyway, psycho.”

Jungkook felt his face burn hotter than a volcano.

“Yoongi, he’s not supposed to know I told you everything,” she chastised with no inflection, blinking sleepily.

“Oh. Well, shit.”

The other man slid on top of her, casually dipping his head down, whispering her name with fondness, his voice raspy and deep, hovering over her lips with clear desire. A moment between them, electric and passionate, heavy and loaded, a moment very similar to the one hours before when Jungkook himself was above her. She brought out the best in him. In everyone, probably, but Jungkook knew for sure about himself.

Then Yoongi shot Jungkook a grin full of genuinely mischievous mirth.

“Watch closely and maybe you can join in.”

“Stop flirting in front of my face,” she mumbled under Yoongi, seizing his chin and silencing him with a fierce kiss as Jungkook gawked, jaw slack, quite sure what he got himself into but unprepared all the same.

Damn, maybe Min Yoongi was sex on legs.

-

re-roll. in which poor JK can't jack off (ಥ﹏ಥ) | yes or no?

--

masterpost

#yoonkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #yoonkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x noona #jungkook x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[heisenho]

Karl x Fem!Reader that also has the ability to bend metal and being his little apprentice. Like they go from mentoring to lovers?

Power

[Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Good ol' pussy eatin', Karl being a bit of a dick, just normal re8 stuff.

A/N: This was so fun to write, i do hope you like it! Thanks so much for this request! This is more... uh reader loathing karl and then letting him mentor her, and then they become lovers. i hope that is okay dfijffnwfjw

“Fuck!” You screamed out, stomping your foot. “Why can’t I just live with Lady Dimitrescu?”

You were growing angry. Rage boiled inside of you. You let out a loud, shrill scream and slammed your foot against the metal you were supposed to be moving around with your fucking mind.

“Shit!”

Another yell. You grabbed your foot and fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt for a minute.

“Get the fuck up.”

You stopped your rolling and your eyes shot towards Heisenberg. You stood up and glared at him. You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him.

“Girl,” Heisenberg growled, “You do not wanna do that.”

When you were first sent to live with Heisenberg, you were sure it was going to be hell, he was terrifying. But now, it was hell because he was being bossy.

“You’re lucky I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Otherwise... You’d be-”

“What? What would I be?

Your arms fell to your sides, your fingers digging into your palms. You screamed again and turned to stomp away from Heisenberg. His jacket rustled and you ignored it, thinking he was probably going to fuck around with his powers just to show off.

Show off, he did.

A piece of metal came flying towards your legs and wrapped around your shins, knocking you to the ground. A scared noise fell from your lips and you scratched at the ground, trying your best to stop whatever was happening. Once it registered that you were not about to get away, you let yourself slide towards Heisenberg.

The metal around your legs began to pull you upwards and you tensed. You truly had not expected to start fucking floating. The metal tightened as your moved higher into the air, thankfully Heisenberg seemed to not want to drop you.

“Oh, if only there were a way you could escape this.”

You swung your arm out and let out a strangled, stressed scream as he caught it. “Karl, let me down right now!”

Blood was starting to rush to your head. Heisenberg was deadpan, watching you struggle. He didn’t look comfortable, but he also was letting it happen. As you were leaning up, pulling at the metal, Heisenberg reached up to you, the metal falling and you dropping into his arms.

He quickly set you down and began to walk back to his factory. “C’mon, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

You looked down at the metal and tried your best, really giving it your all, and moved your hand outward, towards it, but nothing happened.

“Karl,” you let out a soft whine, “I can’t do this.”

Karl came up from behind and sighed. You knew for sure he was about to pull some more bullshit, so you tensed. Karl’s face dropped, his eyes softening, but you couldn’t quite see that. You could, however, hear Karl sigh.

“We’re gonna try something different.” Karl stepped behind you and your body only tensed even more.

Karl placed his gloved hand on your bicep and slid it down your arm, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “Focus on the metal,” he brought your hand upwards and uncurled your fingers, which were digging into your palm. “Just think about moving it, it’ll come naturally.”

You nodded and relaxed into him, “Okay.”

Suddenly the metal moved. You gasped and practically ripped away from Karl, your excitement bubbling over. You turned and looked at him with wide eyes.

“I did it!”

“Told ya it wasn’t hard.”

You huffed at him, “You literally dragged me around the dirt yesterday, sir! Do not go talking about this bein’ easy!”

Karl snorted, “Whatever, girl,” his eyes rolled behind his sunglasses. “Now, we can get to the actual training.”

You stood across from Karl, in the scrapyard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You were finally getting good at whatever the hell Miranda had “blessed” you with, and Karl was taking training up a notch.

The metal began to float around you causing you to feel a little anxiety. You brought your arms up, palms facing Karl, and you pushed some of the metal back towards him. As you did that, he snapped his fingers, effortlessly causing a piece of metal to fly at you. A short whine escaped you as it scraped your cheek.

Warmth ran down your cheek. Blood.

“Not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, Kitten,” Karl smirked.

You blinked, and your hands fell down to your sides. Your entire body tensed and without even thinking, you caused the metal to shift around you. Every single piece, even the ones near Karl, hit the ground. Hard.

“That’a girl!”

Karl walked towards you and smiled proudly. Your stomach twisted and you swallowed hard. Something about that pet name, and the way he said it... He had your stomach in knots. You gave him a nervous smile and nodded.

“Thanks. I totally meant to do that.”

Karl laughed, “Let’s go inside, I think that’s enough for today. Anyway,” Karl brought his gloved hand to your cheek, “You’re bleeding. You need to clean that up.”

Without thinking, you swatted him away and leaned back from him. Karl, unbeknownst to you, was not a fan of that reaction. His face dropped, slightly, before he gave you a cocky grin once more.

The both of you walked in, and you knew you were going to have to deal with your new feelings, one way or another.

It had been about a week since ‘the incident’ and you could not get the way he called you ‘kitten’ out of your head. He hadn’t said it since, he had barely gotten close to you unless he was training with you, and even then he kept his distance.

You had to find a way to relieve stress and you had to find one soon. Being a desperate woman, you decided, when there was a family meeting, you were going to find one of Alcina’s daughters and ask her for help.

And you did just that.

“Daniela,” You pulled her to the side and prayed that Karl wouldn’t find you, “I need help.”

“Ooooh~” She let out a laugh, or what you could only assume was a laugh, “what does the newest member of the family need?”

“Please keep quiet, this is important to keep between us, and only us.”

“Of course,” she grabbed your shoulder and smiled at you.

‘Maybe she’s trying to make me feel less scared?’ You thought. “Anyway...” You tried to shrug her hand away, “Look, do you ladies have any... toys. Just, like, around the castle?”

“Toys?” Daniela cocked her head, “I didn’t think you wanted to play with men?”

Your eyes widened, “No! Sex toys!” You hissed at her.

Her eyes lit up, “Oh! Of course. Follow me, my cute little pet.”

And just like that, you were completely set up to relieve your stress.

Finding a secluded area was not the easiest. So many of Karl’s little experiments wandered around. But once you found it, you were ecstatic.

You were sprawled out on a small pallet you had made. You had surrounded yourself with some metal, a barrier between you and the creatures that could find you. Keeping it up was becoming a hassle, especially once you started feeling immense pleasure.

You had been messing around with yourself for a good half of the day. You had somehow convinced Karl to let you wander off and not work that day. He said he had things he needed to tend to, and let you go off on your own.

You were taking breaks in between sessions, but nothing was like the real thing. The vibrations of the toy were sending shockwaves through your body. You were getting close to the edge, toes curling, eyes rolling back, and body tensing. And, unlike all your other orgasms, you let out a loud whimper.

“Hey, girl-” Karl called out, obviously looking for you.

“Karl-” You moaned out, not registering Karl’s voice.

Something had come over you, you were completely wrecked by the thought of Karl having his way with you. To the point where you called out for him. And he most definitely heard you.

The metal dropped around you and you, suddenly, you were forced to face Karl. Once and for all. A scream ripped from your throat and you closed your legs, pulling your large, button up shirt, over your knees.

“Fuck!” You yelled, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Damn,” Karl, being the extreme gentleman he was, noticed you weren’t entirely comfortable and covered his eyes. “If you needed some help you could have asked.”

“Karl!” You shouted throwing the sex toy to the side. Face burning, body trembling, mind filled with pure embarrassment, you just sat on the floor, “Shut up!”

Suddenly, you realized what he said. Your jaw dropped and your arms, that were wrapped around your legs, tensed.

“Last chance,” Karl smirked, eyes still hidden, “you obviously need-”

“Okay.”

That was all he needed to hear. His hand dropped from his face and he stalked towards you. Without a word, Karl leaned down, picked you, and tossed you over his shoulder. Letting out a small gasp, you hung down his back. One of his hands held you steady while the other rested on your ass.

The both of you reached his ‘room’, just an area with a mattress on the ground not as many experiments around. Karl placed you down on the mattress and leaned over you, he peeked over his sunglasses at you.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted this.”

Heisenberg’s mouth was the shell of your ear, his breath causing your body to react in the best way possible. He pulled back and stared you down, like a predator ready to devour their prey. Your knees knocked together and you were looking up at Heisenberg with big doe eyes. His large calloused hand grabbed one of your knees and he pulled your legs apart, gently.

“I was wondering where that shirt went...”

“Well, maybe if you had more shirts you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Karl chuckled, a rumble coming from his chest, and you felt like you had made some type of mistake, “Are you sure you wanna get that tone with me, kitten?”

“Yes...” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but the confidence was almost there.

“How are you so bratty, yet so cute?” Karl positioned himself between your legs.

You shrugged, unable to find words to say. Your brain was malfunctioning at the worst time. You had thought about this moment, even dreamed of it, and now there you sat, looking like some deer in headlights. You were vulnerable and so small compared to him.

“You sure you’re up for this, kitten? You’re looking a little-”

“I’m good!” Your voice cracked, “You have no clue how much I’ve wanted this- you. I just kinda thought you... hated me.”

Karl cocked his head at you, “How? You’re fucking amazing. I thought you hated me, the way you tensed when we were training... I just assumed you were afraid.”

“Karl,” you spoke so calmly, as if you weren’t almost naked and completely vulnerable under him, “as I said before, you dragged me through the dirt with metal...”

“That was just tough love,” Karl smirked down at you, before his facial features softened, “I can make it up to you?”

You nodded, wondering what he had in mind.

“Lean back,” he moved down, positioning himself between your legs, his body keeping your legs from closing.

You complied of course, and leaned back for him. Your back hit the mattress and you let out a shaky sigh. Karl began to softly kiss up your thigh, his large hands pulling your legs further apart. Your hands gripped at the bare mattress below you and you arched into Karl’s mouth.

Once he reached your cunt, you let out a soft moan, waiting for more. One of Karl’s hands gripped at your hip, while the other pulled your shirt up further. His hand quickly moved from your shirt and to your bare ass.

“I promise, I’ll be gentle,” Karl murmured right before his tongue licked a stripe up your pussy.

You gasped. God, it was everything you had imagined, and better. His tongue quickly found your clit and he sucked at it, briefly, before getting back to your pussy.

You let out a soft hum of pleasure, your hands knocking his hat off and grabbing at his hair. You pulled at it and Karl immediately stopped.

“Girl,” his chest rumbled, and his eyes snapped up at you, “I don’t think you’re prepared for what that brings.”

You couldn’t answer, you were genuinely too in the moment to register anything but your own pleasure. And you were getting close to cumming. Your back arched, and your toes curled, once his lips met your throbbing pussy again.

“Karl,” your voice was loud, but not loud enough.

“Kitten, who’s making you feel this good?”

“You- You are!”

Your feet jerked, pulling you up on your tiptoes, and your back curved, causing your hips to push into Karl, letting his tongue go deeper.

“Karl! I’m- I’m gonna-” You were cut off, everything becoming too much.

You gasped loudly and the entire factory shifted and groaned. Your eyes screwed shut and your entire body tensed under him. Karl did not slow. You felt the metal around you beginning to move.

Your eyes snapped open, just in time for you to witness the metal starting to come to life around the two of you. You fell, your back colliding with the mattress once more, and the metal fell back down. The factory stopped creaking, the only noise now being your loud panting.

“Damn, girlie,” Karl brought his face up to yours, “you’re more powerful than I thought...”

Karl gave you a kiss, and you quickly deepened it. Your arms wrapped around his neck and held himself above you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you softly mewled beneath him. Reluctantly, Karl pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“How about-” he paused, thinking about his wording, “how about we take this shit over? Fuck everyone else. Me and you, kitten, that’s all that matters.”

You quickly answered, unsure if it was the fact he just ate your pussy, the love you felt for him, or your genuine hate for Mother Miranda. Or all of the above, “How about we fuck first? The vibrator just wasn’t doing it. We can think about world domination after sex.”

“I like the sound of that.”

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg imagine #beff writes #anzu-sl #i love karl so much #like. #karl top me challenge #i hope this was good!!! #aaaaa #im always nervous to post a fic lol

[sweeterthanthis]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Summary: When Ransom takes you to the most expensive restaurant in Boston, he's not prepared to go without what he thinks he's owed. Even if you don't want to give it to him.

Warnings: NONCON, sexual violence, heavy knife play, mild blood play, humiliation, vaginal penetration, anal, anal creampie, forced orgasm, 18+.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is very dark. Please take the warnings seriously and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Thank you so much to @cockslut-padalecki for beta'ing this for me. I appreciate and love you! And big thanks to @msmarvelwrites and @river-soul for pre-reading and all your encouragement throughout. You're both incredible 🖤

‘How did I get myself into this mess?’

That thought had entered your mind a thousand times, from the second he insisted on ordering your drink for you. You don't even like red wine. But he  insisted. Just like he insisted on ordering you the salmon. Insisted on paying the bill. Insisted on sharing a cab home. Insisted on walking you to your doorstep. You didn't notice him wave the cab off into the night, and if you had, you’d have run inside as fast as your feet could carry you. 

You’ve been locked away in the bathroom for god knows how long, working your way through a panic, and desperately trying to figure out a way to get him out of here. Out of your house, and out of your life. 

Sure, Ransom is  gorgeous. When he’d first walked into the restaurant - twenty minutes late, of course - you were practically squirming in your seat. Bright, ocean blue eyes, chestnut hair perfectly coiffed and not a strand out of place, cheekbones that could cut glass. The man was a delight for the eyes, but it didn’t take you long to figure out that he was anything but sweet. 

He’s condescending, arrogant, spiteful, clearly spoiled rotten - and in a nutshell, the total opposite of anything you’re looking for in a potential romantic partner. You had considered, just for a moment, inviting him into your bed for the night. A one and done kind of thing. Just to test out that admittedly impressive physique. But the second he cupped the waitresses ass right in front of you, you knew that wasn’t going to happen either. 

“You’ve been in there an awfully long time, sweetheart.” His voice is muffled by the wood, the door handle jimmying as he tries to twist it free of the catch in the lock. Your hands are shaking, purse strewn across the couch, your cell phone completely out of reach. “C’mon, what are you doing in there? Didn’t even offer me a drink before you hid yourself away. Not a very good hostess, are you?” 

You clench your jaw, teeth gritted together as you ball your hands into fists; trying to rid yourself of the unbridled rage threatening to claw its way out. Nothing good will come of you losing it. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a shaky breath - trying to find some semblance of calm amongst the chaos. 

“I-” your voice shaky, you grip the edge of the sink to ground yourself. “I would like you to leave. I’m not feeling well. Must have been something I ate. Maybe the salmon?” 

Silence falls upon you, and you release a breath you don’t  realise  you’ve been holding when you hear your front door slam shut a few moments later. Guess you were right about one thing. He really was an asshole. Sure, you aren’t  sick - but he doesn’t know that. He hadn’t  even bothered to ask you if you were okay, just upped and left. 

You splash some cool water on your face, brush the taste of bitter red wine from your teeth and tongue, and remove your makeup. You can’t help but huff a laugh at the thought of telling the girls at work just how fucking atrocious your date was. At least you have a funny story to tell. You’d be laughing about it soon enough, right? 

Making your way out of the bathroom, you pull the cord and turn off the light; locking the front door and hanging your keys up on the hook. You stifle a yawn as you make your way upstairs to your bedroom, pulling a sleep shirt from your dresser and tossing it onto the bed. 

You spy your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brow and muttering to yourself, “Wasted yet another gorgeous dress on yet another asshole.” 

Reaching awkwardly to unzip yourself, you shrug out of the dress and throw it into the laundry hamper at the end of your bed. You’re about to shuffle out of your lacy panties when your eyes land on the contents of your makeup bag strewn across the floor, and your heart misses a beat because you could have sworn it was on your dressing table when you left. 

You look to the window to see if the heavy breeze knocked it over, but it’s closed; just like you know it would be. You shake your head from side to side, trying to rid yourself of all the silly thoughts flooding your brain. 

“Swear I’m going fucking crazy sometimes.” 

You sink to your knees with little to no grace, reaching for your mascara and your lipsticks, throwing them back into your cosmetic bag. You can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something’s not right. You still your movements, sucking in a breath through your nostrils as you look around the room. 

Your heart stops in your chest, breath hitching in your throat when you see it. 

A camel coloured, woollen coat that you’d recognise anywhere, draped across the arm of the chaise lounge in the corner of your bedroom; and you freeze. 

You can’t move a muscle, tears pricking at your eyes. The realisation dawns on you, as if someone dumps a bucket of ice water on your head. 

He’s still here. 

“Anybody ever tell you you’re way too trusting?” His voice startles you, your body turning to face the doorway; Ransom’s large shadow illuminated by the light from the hall. His lecherous eyes wander over your body as you try to cover your modesty, standing on wobbly knees and reaching for the sleep shirt on your bed. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you. You won’t be needing it tonight.” 

“Yo-you need to leave,” you stutter, holding the shirt tight against your chest, your knuckles white from gripping the thin cotton material. Your gut twists when he smirks at you, one hand behind his back and the other resting on his hip. You find your voice again, a little sterner this time. “I don’t want you here. Leave or I’ll call the cops.” 

Ransom takes a stride forward as you take furtive little steps backwards, back digging into the dresser behind you. He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from head to toe, and then back again. 

“Little lamb cornered by the wolf, huh? What did you expect, princess? I wined and dined your stubborn ass at the most expensive restaurant in Boston, and you think I’m gonna let you decide when the night’s over?” 

You’re shaking, teeth chattering together in fright as he looms closer to you; his body a few feet from yours, crystal blue eyes burning with an intensity that chills you to the bone. He reaches for the shirt in your grasp swiftly, ripping it from your fingers and throwing it back over his shoulder - your hands the only thing left to protect your modesty. 

“C’mon. Playing hard to get isn’t cute on you. Show me what I paid for.” 

Your eyes flit from left to right, brain whirring as you try to figure out a way to escape him. There’s no doubt in your mind what he intends to do to you, and the mere thought of it causes bile to rise and burn in your throat. 

“Go on. Try it,” he mocks, sensing your flight response rising to the surface. “Run. See how far you get. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of it. I knew you were into some kinky shit. Took it upon myself to have a little look-see through your bedside cabinet.” 

Heat rises in your cheeks as shame engulfs you, the thought of him prying into your collection of vibrators and toys making your nose scrunch up in disgust. The last thing you could ever want is for him to put his hands on you. 

You need to get the hell out. 

He’s too fast for you though, snatching you up in his arms the second you get close enough, your back pressed roughly against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist. You feel a cool chill at your jugular, your eyes flitting down to the shine of a blade and a sob emitting from your mouth, the tip of it digging into your throat just enough to break the first layer of skin. 

“You know, it’s a real shame it had to be this way,” he hums, breath hot against your ear as he walks you backwards a little. You want to struggle against his grasp, your mind screaming at you to act, to do something - anything. But the knife at your throat is enough to frighten you senseless. “I’m a real good fuck. Ask around, you’ll find that out. But you just had to go and make it difficult, didn’t you, princess?” 

“Please,” you whisper, fingernails digging into the cashmere sleeve of his sweater. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.” 

He pulls the knife away from your neck just enough so his tongue can lathe at the crimson droplet seeping from the tiny wound; humming in satisfaction at the taste of your blood on his tongue. 

“If your pussy tastes as good as that, I might have to come back for seconds.” 

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him to hold yourself up, his hips grinding against your ass - the prominent bulge beneath his trousers pressing into the crease of your behind. 

“Please, I don’t want this. P-please.” 

“Please, please,” he taunts, spinning you round in his hold to face him, the knife in his hand snaking beneath the lace front of your bra and slashing it open - your breasts falling free as he shoves you back against your bed. “You’ll be begging soon enough, but it won’t be for me to stop.” 

You lay there frozen, barely breathing as he pulls his sweater up over his head, his broad chest outlined in the shadow of the dim light. You must be staring, because he’s smirking again. Smirking at you as if you want this, as if you’re enjoying it. 

“You know how lucky you are that I even took you out for dinner tonight, princess? I can’t remember the last time I fucked a girl in a bed. We don’t usually make it out of the car before they’re dropping their panties for me.” 

Your eyes fix on the ceiling above you, arms resting against the mattress limply as you begin to accept it. It’s going to happen. He’s gone too far to stop now. His naked form is on top of you, forcing your thighs apart as he looms down over you. He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him as he runs the tip of the blade down over the valley of your breasts. 

“C’mon. Give me a smile,” he whispers, his mouth latching painfully onto your nipple as he sucks it between his teeth. You hiss, your legs flailing either side of his waist as you struggle. “I bet, if I slip my fingers inside that little lace number - you’ll be soaked.” 

You're crying, tears rolling down over your cheeks and onto the sheets below. You cringe when you feel the heavy thud of his cock against your lace covered core, closing your eyes and breathing in deep through your nostrils. 

"Shall we find out?" Ransom asks, but he doesn't want an answer. He's not going to give you a choice in the matter regardless of what you say. He sits back on his haunches, the flat of the blade making its way down over your stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of your panties. "I'll make you a deal, princess. If you're not wet when I cut these panties off, I'll let you go."

You can't help but sob harshly, because you can already feel it. Your body betrays your mind, and heat spreads between your thighs, the dampness coating the gusset of your underwear. And he knows it, too. Can tell by the expression of shame on your features. 

You jolt up the bed when the chill of the blade drags across your inner thigh, slipping beneath the lace and resting against your heated core. You hate the way your pussy clenches at the sensation, cursing yourself inwardly as he chuckles. 

You feel the strain of material against your hips as he twists the blade, the serrated edge tearing through your underwear in one swift movement - leaving your cunt bare for his possessive stare. 

Ransom lifts the knife up in front of him, smirking at the sight of it, the flat edge glistening and slick from your juices. You want to vomit. You think you might when he lowers it to your lips, pressing it against them and stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb. A misplaced tenderness that you don't appreciate. 

"Looks like I was right, doesn't it?" He huffs proudly, nudging your bottom lip down with the tip of the knife. "Open up, princess. You can say you don't want it, but that pussy - oh, that pussy - she wants it."

His eyes are ferocious as you shy away, nuzzling your face into the mattress and refusing to follow his instruction. The slap of the blade on your cheek makes you cry out, dampness coating your cheek as he brings it back to your mouth. 

"Don't make it worse for yourself. Do as you're told, and I might even let you come tonight. Bet I could get one outta you in less than five minutes. Wanna make that bet? Didn't work out so well for you the last time, did it?"

"Now, stick your tongue out." You do it, hesitating a little when the tip of your tongue hits the metal - the salty sweet tang of your essence soaking into your tastebuds. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You flinch as he wipes the remainder of your slick against your cheek, the blade nicking your jawline on the way down, warmth rising to the surface as a droplet of blood trickles down to the hollow of your throat. 

"Now, can I put the fucking knife down? Been waiting all night to get my hands on this tight body."

You hesitate a little, nodding slowly and letting your tears of anguish flow freely. He tosses the knife onto the floor next to his clothes, trapping your body against the mattress with his as he forces his mouth onto yours. He kisses you with a ferocity that knocks you off kilter, his tongue forcing its way between your teeth. You fight the urge to bite down, his strength easily overpowering yours. You just want it to be over. 

"Next time I'll take my time, get to know what makes this body tick. But I think I've waited long enough to get inside that little cunt, don't you?"

Next time.

You swallow down the bile that gathers in the back of your throat, holding your breath when he reaches between your bodies and runs his fingers through your traitorously sloppy folds - pinching at your clit and making you shriek. 

"Absolutely fucking drenched. You act all demure and frigid, but deep down you're just a whore looking to get fucked." You can't hold back the whimper that escapes you when he rubs on your sensitive nub, tiny - strangely tender - circles causing you to pant. "That's it. Just enjoy it, princess. Behave, and I'll make it good for you."

You can feel that all familiar tingle rising to the surface, one hand gripping the sheets beside you and the other covering your mouth, almost as if you're trying to hold in your mewls. It's disgusting, he is disgusting - but you find yourself only a handful of strokes away from your orgasm. Ransom rips your hand away from your mouth, positioning your hands above your head and securing them both with one of his own. 

"No. I wanna hear those pretty noises. I deserve them." Ransom's ministrations quicken, your cunt clenching and releasing as you hold your breath and try to stave it off; but it's no use. "Oh, here it comes."

Your whole body jerks as you try to wriggle free of his grasp, your climax crashing over you and sending you dizzy, blood pounding in your ears and your cries ringing out in the air. Fresh tears fall at the realisation that he was right. How easy it was to send you hurtling over the edge. You're disgusted with yourself. 

"I'd hate to say I told you so, princess - actually no, that's a lie - I fucking told you so," he sneers, shoving your thighs apart once more and settling between them, your wrist aching from the force of his grip. "Now, be a good girl and beg for it."

"Fuck you," you snap, your suppressed rage bursting out of you as you spit in his face - your saliva rolling down his cheek. 

The blood drains from your face as he smirks and wipes it away with the back of his hand, reaching for your throat and squeezing roughly. He brings himself level with you, his eyes staring a hole through your skull as he seethes. "That was a mistake. I was gonna make it good for you, but now I'm just gonna take exactly what I want."

You're on your front before you know it, your body free of his weight as he leans back and reaches down over the edge of the bed. You try to scramble away when you see the knife in his hand, desperate sobs wracking your body when he grips your ankle and tugs you back towards him; his knees either side of your thighs as he presses his chest against your back. 

"Please!" you cry, shuddering as he drags the tip of the knife up over the curve of your spine. "Please, I'm begging you, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. Feel how hard you got me?" he purrs, slapping the heavy weight of his dick against the cleft of your ass. You wince and clench your thighs, but it's no use, the bulbous head prodding at your hole. "When's the last time you got fucked? Not that it matters. You've never been fucked like this."

"No!" you scream, his hefty girth splitting you open in one brutal thrust, pussy fluttering to try and accommodate him. He's huge and you're sobbing. "No, please no."

"Jesus fucking Christ, that's some good pussy," he grunts in your ear, the pressure from the knife nudging against the column of your throat. "Does it hurt, princess? I don't care."

You sigh with relief when he withdraws, but he soon punches the breath from your lungs when he fills you up again - his hips pounding against your ass, flesh rippling from the sheer force of it.

"You're gonna come all over my dick, and you're gonna say thank you. Got it?" he spits, punching into you mercilessly, fucking your frozen body into the mattress. You cry out when he applies more pressure to the blade, your pulse thrumming against the metal. "I said, got it?"

"Yes!" you howl, clinging to the comforter and bracing yourself for each violation of your soaked channel. 

You hate the way your cunt sucks him in, despise the way your knees tremble as he sets your nerve endings on fire. He can feel the way your body reacts to him, teases you with it, whispers filth over your shoulder that makes your gut twist. 

"You look so pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that? I think you're gonna come again." 

Every muscle in your body tenses up, his animalistic grunts vibrating against the nape of your neck at the feel of your walls clinging onto him. 

"Oh, you are. And then I'm gonna fill you up. I hope you're on birth control."

You are. Thank fucking God, you are. But the fact that he truly doesn't care makes your blood run cold. He's a fucking psychopath, and you just need to make it out of this alive. 

Ransom sets the knife down behind him, bicep curling around your throat and tugging your head back against his collarbone - devious eyes searing into yours, bloodshot and damp with tears. 

"You're a mess, look at you," he smirks, throwing his head back in pleasure when he punches against the deepest parts of you, balls slapping against the crease between your thighs. You close your eyes, try to take yourself somewhere peaceful in your head. Just want this to be over. "You can close your eyes, but your body is on fire for me, princess. I can feel it, and I know you can, too."

He's right. Your limbs are trembling, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh like static in your ears. You climb higher with each stroke of his throbbing cock against your swollen walls. 

"Oh!" you  gasp, his lips latching onto your shoulder and sucking a purple bruise into your dewy skin. You can't take it, so close to shattering that your body just takes over. "I-, fuck!"

"Thank me. Say thank you when you come on my dick. Remember who makes you feel this good. Say it."

Your eyes roll back, a garbled mess of words spilling from your lips and your head pounding. You're wrecked, pliable and fucked out beneath him - your ruined, abused cunt gripping him so fucking tight, you barely register the loss as he withdraws. Your brain is hazy, the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your asshole making your eyes snap open in fright.

"N-ah!" you yelp, the crown of him punching through the tight ring of muscle, tip nestling inside as you tremble from the foreign intrusion. His hot, sticky spend splashes against your insides, sharp jerks of his hips sending shooting pains throughout your body.

"I said I was gonna fill you up. I didn't say where."

Ransom takes a minute, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the scent of your coconut conditioner. It sickens you, the way he praises you as your body lays lifeless beneath him while he recovers from his climax. 

You barely move when he lifts himself off you, you don't even blink as the sound of his belt buckle clinking alerts you to the fact that he's redressing. Your mind is shot, your body is wrecked, and you choke out a sob when you feel his come ooze out and nestle between your pussy lips. 

"Thanks for the date," he leans down and kisses you on the cheek, and you recoil in disgust. "Next time you seduce me like that, you could at least buy me flowers first. Oh, and don't forget to lock up. There are some real assholes out there."

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans x you #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader

[holylulusworld]

The washing machine incident

Title: The washing machine incident

Square Filled: friends to lovers

Ship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You wanted clean clothes. Sam wanted more.

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, sex on a washing machine, dirty talk, creampie, possessive Sam, unintended voyeurism, Dean is just done

A/N: Inspired by the scene in 15x20.

Word Count: 1,9 k

Written/Created for: @winchesterandbeyondbingo​​

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​​​​

2021 Winchester and Beyond Bingo

“Sam,“ groaning you pinch the bridge of your nose. Sam leans against the washing machine, reading another book while you try to get his attention. While the hunter keeps on reading his book, you admire he’s taller than the shelf on the wall.

“Sam Winchester?” he still doesn’t react. Maybe the machine is too loud, or you are not loud enough but he keeps on reading his book, frowning when it starts to shake considerably, and so is Sam until he gives it a kick.

“Hey, you can’t just kick the poor machine,” he finally looks up from his book, smirking when you stand in front of him, your laundry tugged under your arm. “I was talking to you, Sam.”

“OH, it was your voice calling for me,” he husks, eying you up and down. “I thought Dean was watching porn or something. You sounded so—"

“I sounded like what, Sam,” you wonder. “I wanted to wash my clothes, but I see you are busy washing yours.” 

“You could’ve told me so,” he closes the book, placing it onto the shelf behind him. You use the momentum to admire his ass, whimpering when he sticks it out. “Next time, holler, and I will take care of your cute panties and bras.”

You blink a few times when Sam slowly moves toward you. He still has a smirk on his lips when he stands in front of you to cup your chin with two long fingers. 

“I think—,” you swallow thickly. His gaze too intense you drop your eyes to his throat, watching it contract. “I should wash my underwear, Sam.”

“I don’t mind,” he dips his head to look you deep in the eyes. A whimper escapes your lips, and you wonder if your panties will survive another moment close to Sam. “I wouldn’t mind taking it off first to sniff at it.” 

Your knees buckle the moment his lips claim yours. The kiss is soft at first. Sam’s large hand cradles your cheek gently, and you get lost in his taste and the way his lips move against yours. 

“Sam—” you moan against his lips, press your body closer to Sam’s to feel him against you. “What are we doing here?” you are friends for as long as you remember, and you don’t want to ruin your friendship for a stupid crush.

“I don’t know what you are doing, baby doll,” he pecks your lips, tongue licking into your mouth. He groans when you grasp for his hair, harshly tugging at his silky stands. “But I will fuck you on the washing machine until you scream my name.”

“What?” an odd noise leaves your throat when Sam easily picks you up to place you onto the washing machine. He steps between your legs, already tugging at the plaid you stole from him. 

“I said I will fuck you,” he kisses you again, more demanding this time, “fuck, use your tongue,” Sam breathlessly moans, urging you on to explore his mouth just like he does.

“Sam, we are friends and—” one large hand cups the back of your neck to force you to hold his gaze.” Saaam…” his other hand deftly unbuttons your plaid, or rather Sam’s, but who has got the time to define ownership when his large hand gropes one of your breasts.

“I’m going to fuck you on this washing machine, fill you up so good with my cock you’ll never want anyone else. I waited long enough,” he purrs against your lips. “I’m a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin for months.”

“You want to fuck me,” your hands shoot forward to grip his plain grey shirt, tugging harshly at the fabric to bring him down to your eye level. “Sam Winchester, if that’s a bad joke I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“Y/N,” he grins while shoving the plaid you are wearing down your shoulders to reveal your chest  to him, “you have a way to get a guy hard.”

“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you squeak when Sam fists your bra to rip it into two halves. He ignores the pout on your lips, simply kisses it away. “SAM!”

“I told you,” he shoves one hand down your panties to toy with your swollen clit, “my patience is gone. I fantasized about fucking you for a month now.” he grins wolfishly, before he shoves two long fingers into your slit, causing you to jolt backward, hitting your head on the shelf behind you.

“Fuck, Sam. Oh god,” you move to the edge of the machine to grind against his fingers. The washing machine vibrates underneath your ass, and you suddenly know why so many of your friends told you they love to fuck on a washing machine.

“You’ve got such a nice and tight little pussy,” the way Sam talks to you is more than filthy. Not in your wildest dreams did you imagine Sam Winchester is a dirty talker. “I will fuck you so deep and hard you’ll walk funny for days.”

“What if Dean walks in on us,” you fight to unbuckle Sam’s belt, cursing when Sam slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt to help you shove his pants and boxers down. 

“Impatient much, kitten,” you furrow your brows at the pet name but don’t mind, too busy to get Sam out of his clothes. “What do you want to see first?”

“Fuck me,” you lick your lips when Sam’s cock springs free. He’s thick, veiny, and all you want from a cock. “How do you hide that monster in your pants?”

Sam moans deeply when you gently start to run your hand up and down.

“I—fuck me,” Sam groans. He throws his head back, hands grasping for your thighs to dig his blunt nails into your flesh. “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum right here all over you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” your cheeks heat up when Sam looks down at you, snickering at your boldness, “but I want you inside today. We can talk about the other thing later, when you filled me up so good I will walk funny—”

Dean is washing the dishes in the kitchen wondering why you didn’t come back to help him like promised. “Sammy? Y/N?” grumbling Dean grabs the next plate. “Where are you? I thought they wanted to help me.”

Miracle looks up at Dean, whining when the hunter puts the plate aside. “I bet they are hiding from me to leave me to the dirty dishes, Miracle. How about we go and look for them. I won’t clean the kitchen alone…”

“Sam,” you grip his shoulders, dig your nails into his flesh when he hastily spreads your legs. For a moment he just looks down at your chest, watches it rise and fall. “Fuck me.”

“I’m on it, kitten,” he grips the base of his cock, runs his large hand up and down his length. “Do you think you can take me?”

“I want to feel that monster split me open,” your lips part the minute Sam runs the wide head up and down your clit, teasingly slapping your little nub with his cock. “Please.”

“Beg me again, baby girl—” you whine, wanting Sam to finally give you what your body is craving. “I want to hear it.” the washing machine makes an odd noise, just like you when Sam grips his cock to push the tip in.

“Fuck—” you watch Sam grip the shelf above your head with one large hand to get more leverage to shove himself into you. He’s too engrossed to watch his cock disappear inside your body to care about your nails scratching down his bare chest. “OH, fuck, Sam.”

“There you go, Y/N,” he grins down at you, watches you pant heavily. Your body fights the wide stretch, tries to accommodate Sam’s size but it’s no use. “So, fucking tight for me.”

“You’re simply too big,” you complain, still, you wrap your legs around his waistline to tilt your hips, taking the last inches of his length. “I think, I never felt so full.”

“Good,” his other hand grips your right thigh, squeezes your flesh hard enough to hurt. “You’re mine, just like your tight little pussy. No one will touch you ever again.”

Sam moves slowly at first, gives you shallow thrusts while his hand grips the shelf tighter. You fear he will tear the shelf off the wall sooner or later if he doesn’t stop using all his strength. 

The veins in his arm stick out, sweat runs down his chest and you are sure, no other guy ever looked so good while fucking you.

While your lover is busy cupping your face with his free hand to force you to meet his intense gaze, you try to focus on anything but his hazel eyes watching you. 

You rock your hips, legs still slung around Sam’s waist while he just watches you take his cock as he dreamed of so many times.

The rhythmic rocking of the washing machine and the way Sam moves inside of you already have you on the edge. The heat in your abdomen rises; turns into a raging fire when Sam angles his hips to hit that sweet spot letting your vision white out.

“Fuck, I wanna have you over that machine,” you whine when he pulls out to help you turn on the machine. “Always wanted to hold you down and fuck that pussy when you bent over the table at the library.”

“Ah, Sam—” he kicks your legs apart while you grip the edge of the washing machine. “Fuck, I wanna cum.”

“You will,” he slowly inches his way back inside your body. “Right fucking now, kitten. I will fuck you over that machine and later, on any surface. My bed will be the endgame.”

“Y-you thought about this a lot, huh?” Sam grips your hips, to drag you onto his length with every thrust. “Shit, you did…”

“Yeah,” he states, hips crashing into your ass. Sam is by all means not gentle anymore. He roughly slides into you, groaning when you take every punishing thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

D-dito,” you cry out. Your walls grip his length tightly, clench painfully around his cock to milk him dry. “Ah, shit. You just came inside.”

“I will always fill you up,” Sam states. “I marked this cunt, and no one will ever take it away from me.” 

While you lie on top of the washing machine, catching your breath, Sam leans over you to kiss your neck softly. 

“Fine, but no funny business at the kitchen, we eat there, Sam.”

“Oh kitten, I will christen every room at the bunker with you, fuck you everywhere. Even on top of my brother’s car…”

“No, you won’t! Keep my Baby out of this—” Dean grunts, covering his eyes with the dishtowel. “Whatever this is. Guys, we wash our clothes here. Can you just not?”

“It was an accident…” you lie. “Sorry, D’.”

“Oh, did Sam slip and end up inside of you?” turning around Dean whistles for Miracle. “Boy, don’t look at them. They are disgusting and this is not for your eyes. Let’s go.”

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam snickers when his big brother storms out of the room. 

“About time you fucked, but you won’t do it at a room we share ever again. And hands off my car!”

In the coming years, Dean will bring up the washing machine incident whenever he wants you or Sam to clean the bunker…

Tags in reblog.

#Sam Winchester #winchesterandbeyondbingo #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #Smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader

[fairyoftbz]

comfort | l. sangyeon

☁ pairing: bf!sangyeon x fem!reader ☁ wc: 1.3k ☁ synopsis: you come home from work furious, and sangyeon does his best to calm you down. ☁ genre: fluff, comfort, domestic ☁ tw: swear words, y/n is angry at the world ☁ a/n: this is a self-indulgent fic because my boss fucking annoys me at work and I cba of her petty ass 🙄 oh to get comforted by sangyeon honestly... ☁ requested: no!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“I’m fucking tired of all this shit!” you cursed as you slammed the front door shut, sending your purse and jacket flying out of pure frustration.

Locking the door in an angry movement, you got even hotter under the collar when your heels didn’t want to leave your feet, your uneven balance making you stumble on air and almost fall on the floor. Once you were finally rid of your shoes, you felt like walking on clouds, but this was not enough to reduce your wrath.

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, love,” Sangyeon, your boyfriend emerged from the kitchen in the corridor, blinking in confusion at your unusual angry attitude.

Your eyes were close to glowing red, steam practically going out of your ears, which was not a good sign at all. You rarely got angry, so it must have been something pretty upsetting and important to send you in a fit of rage like this one. The sight of your boyfriend made you sharply inhale as if you wanted to control yourself in front of him, trying your best to channel your anger.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Sangyeon risked asking the question, getting ready for you to yell out all your frustration at him, but he was wrong. You remained silent, chewing over your anger with a deep frown on your face, eyebrows almost touching. In all honesty, he would have preferred you screaming at the world rather than becoming as mute as a grave.

“This-” you wanted to curse out your colleague, the main reason for your anger, but remained civil, feeling like swear words weren’t even enough to get all the anger you had for her out of your body. “This fucking colleague of mine “accidentally” deleted the Excel folder I spent hours working on for our trimestral project next week. I had lunch after yelling at her and went to my boss's office after my break, only to have him blaming me for what she did!” you yelled out in a hoarse voice the rest of your sentence, emphasising the pronouns as your hands started shaking, the tears flooding your eyes immediately after a choked sob slipped past your pursed lips.

“And then,” your voice was unsteady, looking at your boyfriend through your blurry eyes, pointing the door as if your colleague was here, “when I get out of work to come home, I see those two good-for-nothing idiots flirting and swooning over the other like the fucking disgusting couple they are.”

Sangyeon breathed in deeply, brows slightly furrowed, dismayed at the situation you got unfairly put in. He placed the piece of cloth he used to dry the dishes with on his shoulder and gently approached you as if he was scared of getting rejected. Your shoulders subsided when he rested his palm on the side of your neck, his thumb gently caressing the edge of your jaw back and forth.

“Sangyeon, I’m so tired of this, I don’t know what to do,” you desperately struggled to mumble, this situation affecting you way more than you wanted, but it was hard not to. Your boyfriend rested his other hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you to him. Subconsciously, you wrapped your arms around his middle and closed your eyes, letting the tears wet his t-shirt as you tried to focus on him instead of your issue.

But it was almost impossible, this issue had you really worried. Deep down, you knew that your boss wouldn’t hesitate to fire you instead of whatever your colleague was for him, even if she was less qualified and talented than you. You should have been more careful, you should have immediately explained the problem to your boss to prevent your colleague from switching the roles and playing the victim, you should have-

“Y/N, I can hear your thoughts from here,” your boyfriend mumbled, his low voice vibrating in your chest as you were still pressed against him. Sighing heavily as an answer, you let his hand rub your back up and down, your breath uneven as you felt the anger boiling back into your veins.

Sangyeon felt you tense against him, so he pulled away and cradled your face in his hands to make you look at him. He offered you a compassionate smile, his thumbs wiping the floods of tears cascading down your cheeks. Your mouth trembled, and Sangyeon locked eyes with you, his hands travelling up your arms as he soothed you.

“Shht, darling,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin. Your tears redoubled at the display of affection, feeling the exhaustion instead of the anger taking over your body. He wrapped his arm around your neck, his other hand pressing against the back of your head.

“Do you want solutions or comfort?” he mumbled in your ear in a sweet voice, and you pondered his question for a few seconds, trying to collect your thoughts and shift them to something else.

He was always good at comforting you. No matter how bad or angry you felt, Sangyeon was always here to soothe you and bring you back to a calm state, that’s why you could freely let your emotions speak when he was around. Of course, he was sometimes powerless, not really knowing nor able to help, but at least he was here to listen.

“Comfort, please,” you manage to utter, and he pressed you further against his chest, his arms still embracing you tightly.

“We’ll discuss solutions when you’ll feel better and calmer, alright? Now let me make you a cup of tea,” he said, and you whined, nuzzling up to his torso as he was about to pull away. “No? You don’t want one?” he asked, and you shook your head, his arms closing back on your tired figure as he was surprised that you refused your favourite beverage.

“Don’t leave, please,” you felt Sangyeon nod and press his cheek on the side of your head, holding you tight against him.

“Alright, darling,” he seized one of your hands and rested it flat on his chest, feeling his calm heartbeat under your palm. It was something he used to do when you were stressed out, and it always managed to calm you down.

Sangyeon held you until you stopped crying, feeling your trembles come to a halt and find a normal heartbeat again. Eyes puffy and cheeks drenched in salty tears, Sangyeon tilted his head to the side and lovingly smiled at you, letting you rest your head against his collarbone out of exhaustion. Crying drained all your energy because it didn’t happen as often as it used to, but you could always count on your boyfriend to take care of you and handle the aftermath like a pro.

“Come on love, let’s get you to the sofa so I can finish preparing dinner, okay? I won’t let you go to bed with an empty stomach,” you nodded as you sat down on the edge of the couch, Sangyeon crouching down in front of you, his hands on your knees.

“What are you preparing?” you asked, your voice barely coming out of your mouth due to all your crying.

“I’m making your favourite. I figured that you had a rough day since you didn’t text me at lunch like you usually did, so I wanted to cheer you up,” he proudly smiled as he watched your eyes widen, a relieved smile drawing on your face.

“Oh my god I love you, thank you,” you mumbled, and Sangyeon softly chuckled, his hand carding through your hair as strands fell in front of your eyes. He cupped your face with his hand before gently rubbing his nose against yours, earning a smile from you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as he stood up, quickly bending back down to press your lips together in a soft kiss.

You offered him a grateful smile, and he winked, making his way back in the kitchen, leaving you appeased in the living room. With his hugs and support, you felt calm and collected for tomorrow, mentally ready to confront your colleague and boss for their mistakes. But for now, your focus was your boyfriend, and you couldn’t wait to spend a lovely evening with him and some good food.

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz x reader #kpop imagines #the boyz fluff #kpop scenarios #tbz #the boyz au #tbz imagines #the boyz soft hours #the boyz sangyeon #the boyz reactions #the boyz soft imagines #the boyz soft #the boyz fluff imagines #the boyz sangyeon imagines #the boyz sangyeon scenarios #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon soft hours #sangyeon imagines #lee sangyeon imagines #lee sangyeon #sangyeon scenarios #sangyeon soft imagines #sangyeon reactions #sangyeon #lee sangyeon scenarios #the boyz lee sangyeon #the boyz timestamps

[bubbleteaimagines]

Driving with the Haikyuu Boys

Haikyuu Boys Headcanons

SUGAWARA KOSHI

Everybody thinks he’s such a good driver but Suga makes some turns that are extremely questionable

Has hit the curb more than once and literally just said, “Oops!” while smiling and chuckling

Lowkey has road rage, Sugamama is NOT afraid to use that horn

ASAHI AZUMANE

Dear god you can’t tell who’s more nervous- him or you

Asahi is literally shaking at the wheel, thinking over and over about how he really doesn’t wanna kill you

He’s a good driver honestly but his nerves make him serve a lil and mess up and he’ll always scream, “Sorry, sorry!” when he’s yanking the wheel and cars behind him are honking

OIKAWA TOORU

This man can and cannot drive and I stand by this

Like he’s a good driver, but he literally takes his fucking eyes off of the road every two seconds

He absolutely will NOT take them blame for anything even tho HE was the one that was serving in the other lane because he was trying to check himself in the mirror

TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

If you value your life PLEASE don’t do it

He is the WORST driver out of all the boys because it runs in his veins

Has his music blasting so fucking loud that you can feel the base thumping in your damn brakes

NISHINOYA YU

Is actually pretty decent

His worst habit is getting too into the music and he ends up serving cause he’s tryna dance to the beat

Has the worst road rage ever and is not afraid to get out of the car

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Extremely good driver but is literally like this 🗿 at the wheel

He sits up completely straight, looks straight ahead, doesn’t even have music. It’s just completely silent

Has the fucking AC on full blast you will legit freeze to death in Ushi’s car

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Like...he’ll get you there safe but GOD DAMN

This mf speeds like he’s on a damn race track, weaving in and out of this fast lane. Don’t even try to look at the Odometer cause you’ll have a heart attack

Worst part is, he doesn’t even mean to, he just gets distracted

Likes to bounce in his seat and sing along with the music, he’ll even point to you, wanting you to sing with him but you’re literally clutching the seat for dear life

KUROO TETSURO

This mf knows he’s a good driver and gets cocky about it

His god damn seat is on the lowest possible setting and his ass might as well sit in the back cause that’s how far it is

He speeds too but not as much as Bokuto, insists it’s okay bc, “Don’t worry, I’m an experienced driver,” even tho he’s only been driving for like 3 years

KENMA KOZUME

Another one that’s like 🗿

But Kenma is a horrible driver, he only sits up close cause he’s scared of relaxing

You could give this mf the SIMPLEST directions but he’ll panic and get lost somehow (Kuroo has had to come get him on multiple occasions and will not let Kenma live it down)

DAICHI SAWAMURA

10/10 driver, would recommend driving with Daichi

He literally sits like a dad- one hand on the wheel, the other on the clutch, humming to the radio with his lil sunglasses on

He’s super relaxed and actually knows how to murge, probably drives a big ass truck with the headlights on 24/7 and bright as shit

SUNA RINTARO

Super chill driver, another one that has the mf bass practically vibrating through your asshole

Drives with one hand and literally only looks once before merging or turning

Has the, “If they hit me it’s their fault,” attitude, always tenses up when a cop pulls up beside him (his car lowkey smells like weed but...ya didn’t hear it from me)

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

SO stiff I’m literally screaming

He’s like Ushijima, will yell at you if you even THINK about turning on that music, sometimes you’re not even sure this mans blinks while driving

Kageyama has a horrible sense of direction and always takes the wrong exits, he also has bad road rage and will ride your ass if you’re going too slow

#sugawara x reader #asahi x reader #oikawa x reader #tanaka x reader #nishinoya x reader #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #daichi x reader #suna x reader #kageyama x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Prologue (FWB! Tom x Reader)

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 2570

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:   So I’m starting a new series! I always wanted to do this trope for Tom and I’m realllllly excited for this series!  I’m not completely sure how long it will be as of right now, most likely between 8-10 chapters. So if you want to be added to the taglist, please DM me! I hope you all enjoy the prologue and can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! (Also credit to @osterfield-holland-andcompany for this amazing ass mood board I made her too..I’m obsessed!) Thank you xx -N

“Get out!” you screamed as you shoved your now ex-boyfriend out the front door of your apartment. You knew the walls were thin but you didn’t care. You were so completely filled with rage and your body was vibrating as you flung his pants at him, “Get the hell out, Justin!” you shouted again.

    Justin flinched as the door swung open and he stumbled out the front door, still in his boxers. The anger in your eyes made your pupils black while he grabbed his pants and rolled his eyes at you, “Will you just let me explain, Y/N?” he tried to speak but you cut him off with a dry and sarcastic laugh.

    “No. The conversation is over,” you snapped at him, taking another deep breath to try and pull yourself together. You felt yourself fighting back the tears because you didn’t want him to see you cry. Not again, anyway.

    Watching as Justin stumbled down the stairs, you stood at the top completely and utterly overcome with your anger you barely recognized your voice. But you knew you had every right to be mad. You couldn’t excuse his behavior and you were done defending him. You knew you deserved better than the shit he was putting you through. It was enough and now you were letting it all pour out as he was practically falling down the stairs.

    You grabbed the shoe he had dropped on his way out the door and aimed it right towards his head, missing and making a loud thud against the wall behind him. You probably just woke up the entire floor but you didn’t care right now. Forming a fist, you refrained from punching the door as you finally lost it, “Don’t call me! Don’t even walk down the same street as me anymore, do you hear me? You conniving son of a bitch!” your voice bounced off the walls with an echo as you watched Justin exit your life through the elevator, still with his pants in his hand.

    You couldn’t help yourself as you flipped off the closing doors while you let out the breath you were holding in. Your chin began to tremble as you tried to stop yourself immediately. He wasn’t worth it, you thought to yourself. You should be proud of getting rid of him. Especially after what he had done to you.

    Just as you were heading back into your apartment before anyone realized you were the cause for the commotion, your neighbor’s door flew open and made you jump when you saw his familiar face meet yours from across the hall. You saw his smile as he noticed you and you knew what that meant, you just weren’t in the mood right now to assist in his little escapade.

    “Y/N! Oh, I thought I heard your voice out here,” your neighbor from 3B made his way over to you with bare feet, brown curls a mess, with his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips as his bare chest was revealed to the entire floor, “Thank god! I need your help with this chick inside who is talking about meeting her family this weekend and I’ve known her for...three hours,” he cringed as he carefully tip-toed his way over towards you.

 You couldn’t help but roll your eyes because this was a regular thing for him, even if it wasn’t your business. But he was a friend of yours, in a neighborly way at least, so at some point you made it your business.

    “No,” you scolded him as you shook your head. You tried to hold in your laugh at the desperate look on his face but you couldn’t help, “Not tonight, Tom. No! C’mon, seriously? No!” you warned as he began to give you puppy dog eyes to try and convince you otherwise.

    Tom pressed his palms together and pressed them to his chest, praying for your assistance, “Please, Y/N! I owe you so much if you help me out and this is the last time, I swear,” he paused for a moment when he realized you were standing by your door this late at night and you looked as if you had gone through hell. His lips tightened as he suddenly grew concerned, “Wait, what are you doing out here right now?” he questioned.

    You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Um...I sorta caught Justin sleeping with his co-worker so I was just kicking him out, sorry,” you don’t know why you apologized for it but you knew you didn’t want Tom or anyone for that matter to see you when you were this visibly upset.

    “He did what?! Fuck...Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Tom said as he offered you a hug, pulling you into his bare arms while he tried to make you feel a little bit better, “That guy was a fucking prick and I never really liked him anyway,” he told you, making you laugh through your tears while you pulled away with a small smile showing.

    Running a hand through his curls to smooth them over, Tom squeezed your shoulder playfully, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably a bigger mess than you right now,” he told you as he cringed at what was waiting for him back in his apartment.

    “No, you have a bigger mess than me,” you corrected with another eye roll. Quickly wiping your tears away you placed a hand on your hip while taking another breath towards Tom and his stupidity, “If I do this, you owe me big time,” you sighed.

    Tom was a good guy but the decisions he sometimes made were, to say the least, questionable. You didn’t know too much about his personal life but just enough to come to the realization that he couldn’t commit to much of anything. He was always bringing random girls home, roommates came and went, and he had a tendency to flake on tenant meetings at the last minute.

 There was no question that he wasn’t looking to settle down, you never once saw him with the same girl more than once and that was none of your business nor concern. Tom was a good neighbor to you. He watered your plants for you while you were out of town visiting your family, he kept his music down to an appropriate volume, he would even bring you pizza on occasion to eat together while you gossiped about the other tenants on your floor. And sometimes in return, he would ask for favors like bailing him out of sticky situations that you tried not to judge too harshly.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tom gave you another hug with a kiss against your cheek, “I will owe you for fucking life, Y/N,” he thanked you as he waited for you to head into his apartment to do what he clearly was too afraid to do himself. Letting girls off bluntly was something he was never good at. Then again, that was a whole other issue he didn’t want to think about.

Tom followed you into his place as you glared at him when you saw all of the clothes strewn across the living room floor. Making a face at the boxers on the ground you shuddered at the thought of what the hell went down in this apartment as you watched Tom nod towards his bedroom signaling that she was in there.

Nodding your head you rolled your eyes before you got yourself into your character. Seconds later, you whipped around and channeled your anger towards Tom as you slammed his door shut, “Save it, Tom! I won’t hear it! I come home after taking a double shift for us and this is what I come home to?!”

 Tom gave you a thumbs up that you were doing a good job as you slammed your fist against the nearby counter, “I just spent fourteen hours stripping to pay your way through law school so we could afford a better place to live and this is the thanks that I get? You fucking some random girl?!” you shouted while you shook your head towards Tom with a shrug.

“Woah, nice touch. I love the story line this time,” Tom whispered with an approving smile as he pointed towards the bedroom door, signaling for you to go and get rid of her.

You stormed into the bedroom, already seeing the girl scurrying to find her shoes, “Oh god! Please, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her red hair swung back and forth while she adjusted her sequin cocktail dress. Limping through the threshold of the door she couldn’t even look at you or Tom as her face grew red, “I had no idea that he-”

“That he what? Was married? Was cheating on his wife of seven years? You still want this son of a bitch?” you asked the girl who shook her head ‘no’ nervously, “The both of you need to leave! Get out!” you pointed towards the door as you focused on Tom.

Tom apologized to the girl as she practically ran out the door before he turned to you, “Darling, please let me explain! Think of the children!” he begged you as he still noticed the girl was in earshot.

“I want a divorce and I’m taking both the kids! You won’t have two pennies to rub together by the time I’m done, Thomas! Do you hear me? I can’t believe you would-”

“She’s gone,” Tom cheered silently as his door finally closed with a sigh of relief. He rushed to the fridge to grab two beers as he made his way over to you, “Both the kids? Really?” he teased while he clinked his bottle up against yours.

Giving him a shrug, you brought the beer to your lips as you collapsed onto his couch, “Well if you kept your dick in your pants for once maybe you wouldn’t have to ask your neighbor to make up such elaborate lies on the fly to kick girls out of your apartment,” you teased right back as Tom took a seat right next to you with a pout on his face, “Am I wrong?” you questioned him with a giggle.

“Well, technically, no. But then, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as he took another sip. Trying to figure out why he even did half of the shit he did anymore. He knew there wasn’t any fun in any of it. Not anymore, anyway.  It made no sense, especially if he wasn’t getting anything out of these situations except drama. And he hated the drama of it all.

You made a face at Tom, “I guess no more fun than watching the guy you were in love with make out with his co-worker,” you stare at the bottom of your bottle, letting the alcohol swirl around your brain as you tried to push away those thoughts. You didn’t want to think about Justin again. It was still fresh but you weren’t ready to move on just yet.

“Guess we both should be alone for a while, huh?” Tom stated as he slumped further into the couch. Downing his beer as he set it aside on the table. This feeling was beginning to come more often than not with Tom after he dismissed one of his...conquests. He didn’t like it anymore because it was suddenly beginning to make him feel like this but he kept doing it anyway in hopes it would go away. But so far it only got worse as the nights rolled in and you came by to kick out more of them. He was lucky you were here because he didn’t feel like being alone right now.

The room fell still as the two of you remained on the couch in silence for a bit. Trying to blur out the events that had taken place earlier with Justin, you finished your drink and placed it beside Tom’s. You knew you wanted something serious and Justin was not that, even though you knew he was going to be trouble from the get go. You knew perfectly well what you needed but maybe you just needed some time for you right now and not to jump in to things that were going to be messy. You wanted numbness but at the same time you wanted to feel something that you hadn’t yet.

Turning your head to face Tom, your eyes met his in the dimly lit living room. The muted TV gave off the only illumination while you both remained there in your tipsy states, trying to figure out where both of your nights had gone wrong.

“I really don’t want to be alone,” you finally broke the silence as you stared into his eyes before they flickered towards his bare chest, back to his eyes slowly.

Tom swallowed as he shook his head, “Me either,” he agreed in the same tone. He noticed you were looking at him and more importantly the way you were looking, but he found himself not minding at all as his eyebrows raised up a bit when your lips crashed into his.

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n

[ragingbookdragon]

Nightwing & The Niece Of Midnight

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, look who's back with a Dick fic? Get it? Dick fic? Cause I wrote Dick Grayson. No? Alright...enjoy! -Thorne

She glared at the tall man as she leaned against the pillar, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “I don’t trust him,” she muttered. “I don’t trust him one bit.”

the man next to her glanced out of the corner of his eye and asked, “Who? Nightwing?” She nodded, causing him to laugh. “And why not? Everyone trusts Nightwing. Even the supervillains, sweets.”

She turned her glare from the said man to the one next to her and bit, “That’s the exact reason. Who the fuck in their right—well, right might not be the word to use—mind trusts someone like him?”

He crossed his arms, turning to her. “What’s ‘someone like him’ mean?”

(Y/N) grunted, glowering at Nightwing, who was now laughing and leaning on the speedster that had tagged along on the mission. “Someone who goes around grinning like an idiot all the time. He’s too happy. Too…nice.”

“So, you don’t like him because he’s nice to everyone?”

She eyed him and muttered, “I don’t like or trust someone who’s not selfish in some way. Everyone is selfish. It’s in our DNA.” (Y/N) paused, looking back at the onyx haired man. “Besides, he’s annoying to look at.”

The man beside her hummed in amusement, quipping, “I don’t know about that…he’s very pretty.”

(Y/N) blinked, glancing at him, and deadpanned, “Lucas. You’re married.”

He grinned, pearly whites flashing her way. “Andrew thinks Nightwing is good looking too.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose and griped, “I hate you both.”

Lucas barked a laugh, and threw an arm around her neck, pulling her close to him. “Well, that hurts my feelings, niece.”

She yelped, trying to pull away, but he held on, nuzzling the side of her face. “Ow you asshat! You’re scratching my cheek with your scruff!”

“I know!”

“I’m gonna tell Uncle Andrew if you don’t let go!”

“Ooo like I’m scared of the man I sleep next to at night!”

“I’m gonna plant my foot so far inside your as—”

“Hey Midnighter! Athena! Are you gonna keep fooling around or are you gonna join the mission briefing?”

(Y/N) turned her gaze to Nightwing, who wore a grin, and her lips tugged downwards as she shoved against Lucas.

He got the hint, letting her go, and turned to Nightwing, a smirk on his lips as he replied, “Who needs a mission briefing when you’ve got the two best mission wingers on the team?”

“Because of that exact point, Midnighter.” Nightwing waved them over. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

(Y/N) felt Lucas nudge her back and she begrudgingly moved her feet, muttering, “I hate him.”

Lucas hummed, fiddling with the royal blue cape she wore. “You’ll live. He’s not that bad, (Y/N). He really is a good person.”

She yanked the cape from his grip and swished it around her body. “I’ll be the judge of that one,” she declared.

***

The two crept along the hallway, (Y/N) leading, Nightwing following close behind. She felt along the wall and murmured, “I’m not feeling any type of vibrations, so it’s safe to say that the rooms are empty.”

“Can you hear anything?”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting the spartan helm she wore. “I don’t have super-hearing, Nightwing.”

“Really? I thought that because your powers were so similar to Apollo’s, that you would. What differences in his and your powers are there, (Y/N)?”

She whirled around, faster than he could react, shoving him up against the wall; his eyes widened behind his domino mask, whereas hers narrowed behind the golden helmet. “I don’t know how close you are with your other teammates, but rest assured, you and I aren’t. Don’t ever use my name during a mission. That’s how people’s identities get discovered and that’s how people get hurt. During missions—you know what, during anytime you see me, it’s Athena and that’s it. Do you understand?”

He blinked in shock, then nodded quietly. (Y/N) stared at for a moment, then released him, turning on her heel and continuing down the hallway.

He walked behind her, staying silent for a few minutes, then he quietly asked, “Why don’t you trust me, Athena?”

(Y/N) grunted, opening a door, and slipped inside. “The reasons for distrust are irrelevant.”

He cast a quick glance down the hallway before leaning against the doorway, watching her survey the room. “I think in order for us to work together, we need to trust each other.”

(Y/N) barked a laugh and turned to face him. “Is that what you think?” He nodded, making her laugh again. “Nightwing, trust is an overrated commodity…so long as we can agree to not let each other die, then that’s all we need to understand.” She walked past him, stopping until they were side by side. “Trust that.”

Nightwing once again followed her to the end of the hallway, then said, “Your uncles trust me…actually, now that I think about it, most people do. You seem to be the only one who doesn’t.”

“My uncles are their own people. I can’t make them believe what they want or don’t want to.”

“Did I do something to you that I’m unaware of? If I did, let me know so I can try and make it right.”

“No.”

“No, I can’t make it right or no I didn’t do anything?”

“You did nothing to me.”

“Then why don’t you like me?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she fiddled with a control panel. “Will you shut up and stop asking questions, Nightwing? I’m not here to play twenty questions with you.”

He glared at her back, crossing his arms over his chest; he was getting irritated with her. “Then what are you doing here? If you don’t like me or the team, why are you on it?”

“Because my uncle asked me to come.”

“Did he want you to make friends with the other kids because you don’t have any of your own?”

(Y/N) clicked her tongue, turning around to face him, a glower in her eyes. “Have you ever been thrown through six consecutive cinderblock walls? Because if you keep babbling, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

He leaned forward, getting in her face. “Do I look like I’m scared of you?”

“Can I ask you a question, Nightwing?” He blinked, not expecting her question, but waved for her to continue. “Do you know why they gave the name ‘Apollo’ to my uncle?” He shook his head. “Apollo is the sun god. He’s strong and powerful, something my uncle is. I mean, just look at the feats he’s accomplished. But do you know why they’ve named me, ‘Athena’?”

(Y/N) leaned in closely, the faceplate barely brushing his skin as she whispered, “Athena is the goddess of wisdom, war, and military victory—something I like to refer to as, strategy. There’s a reason I’m referred to as one of the deadliest anti-heroes alive. No one escapes the battlefield alive when it’s under my control.” She searched his hardened blue eyes and questioned, “You’re not scared of me?” (Y/N) hummed, then she threatened, “You should be.”

She pulled away and hit the blinking panel, watching as the door opened before them, then slipped inside, leaving him standing there stunned.

***

She hissed curses as she slipped down the snowy hillside towards the edge, the sounds of her uncle’s screams in her ears. “Shit-Shit-Shit!”

Her hands fumbled in the snow, grasping at anything to stop the sliding, but she grabbed nothing. Her gaze darted over her shoulder a moment, taking in the cliff and the drop below, and as she reached the edge and slid over, time seemed to slow down. Her heart pounded in her chest as her body went light, and she began to drop. As she began to drop, a hand shot out over the edge, gripping her wrist guard.

She gasped in shock, looking up to see Nightwing leaning over the edge, his eyes wide as he exclaimed, “I’ve got you!”

(Y/N) nodded breathlessly, grabbing at his arm with her other hand, her feet pushing against the cliff wall. He strained, a grunt passing his lips as he pulled hard, tugging her over. They collapsed into the snow, (Y/N) resting against his chest, his arms wound tight around her.

One of his hands caressed the exposed skin on her back, and he comforted quietly, “It’s alright…you’re okay…you’re safe.” (Y/N) stayed silent, her heart still pounding against her ribcage at the scare; he leaned back a bit, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Hey, Athena…are you okay?”

She met his eyes, and nodded, whispering, “…Thank you, Nightwing.”

He flashed her a smile, murmuring, “Dick.”

(Y/N) recoiled, anger flashing in her eyes as she fumed, “Excuse me?!”

Recognition shot across his face, and he shook his head, stammering, “N-no! My name! It’s Dick!”

She paused, rage dissipating as she remarked, “Oh…oh, that’s what you meant…I thought you were insulting me.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first who’s reacted like that.” (Y/N) hummed, and he looked back at her, smirk dropping into a small smile. “You know, you hide a beautiful face behind that Spartan helmet you wear.”

Her hands shot up to her head, and she grimaced as she realized her helm was gone. “Motherfu—that was the only helm I had.”

Dick tipped his head side to side, helping her to her feet. “You know, I’m friends with an Amazon who’s probably got an extra set of Greek armor stored away somewhere…if you’d like to come with me?”

(Y/N) tugged at the cape she wore, curling it around her body, lips pulling a frown. “If I didn’t know any better, it seems like you’re trying to be my friend.”

Dick grinned, nudging her arm. “I’m just trying to prove I can be trusted…is that such a bad thing?”

(Y/N) walked off, her feet sinking into the snow as she climbed. “No…it’s not.”

When she hit the top of the hill, she was pulled into a hug by her uncle, and she grunted as he squeezed her. “I’m fine, uncle.”

He shook his head, squeezing her tighter. “Nope! I watched you take a dive off a cliff, we are hugging!”

(Y/N) inhaled, patting his back. “There, there, uncle…let go.”

After a moment, he did, holding her face in his palms. “You scared me.”

“Sorry…I slipped.”

Before she could say anything, a smirk worked onto his lips and he quipped, “But Nightwing saved you. See…told you he’s a good guy.”

(Y/N) grunted at him, flipping her cape as she walked off. “I’m leaving.”

“You swoon! You sigh! Why deny it oh-oh!”

“I hate you.”

“Now don’t be proud! It’s okay, you’re in love!”

“I am not, and we’re not discussing this anymore.”

“I wonder what Apollo will say?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

A ways back, Dick stood there, a smile on his lips as he watched the two family members go back and forth; he raised a hand to his ear, speaking quietly, “Hey B? You there?”

A moment later, a gruff voice sounded over the comm. What?

“Is there a regulation for Midnighter and Apollo’s niece in Gotham City?”

…Why?

Dick glanced back at (Y/N) who was holding Lucas in a headlock, humor across his face as rage flashed on hers. He chuckled and replied, “Because I’m thinking about inviting her over for a while.”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader imagines #dick grayson x reader imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader oneshot #dick grayson x reader one-shot #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson one-shot #batfamily #batfamily x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #bruce wayne #midnighter #lucas trent #apollo #andrew pulaski #dc comics #dc #dc imagine #dc imagines