#like i love the taste of bananas but they make me gag if i try to eat one so scallops are probably out of the question

[trashabilly]

i just wanted to know what scallops taste like bc i can't eat seafood but this is extremely unhelpful

#talkin #i saw a picture of some nicely seared scallops on a cooking subreddit and got curious #my fiance says they taste good but that i would hate the texture #which is probably true.. thanks autism... #like i love the taste of bananas but they make me gag if i try to eat one so scallops are probably out of the question #even if i could eat them #i would also love to try crab or lobster bc everyone talks abt how good it is #i just dont think its fair that someone who loves food and cooking as much as i do has so many things i cant eat #bc ive been told i make amazing salmon filets but I WOULDNT FUCKIN KNOW NOW WOULD I

[batrachised]

Adventures in Maud's Recipes

Tomato Jelly Salad

The Recipe

It's been a while since I've picked up LMM's cookbook, after the successes of the New Moon Pie, the cornbread, and the potato soup! I experienced hit after hit - New Moon pie was light and delectable, the cornbread a taste of Eden, and the potato soup apparently academy award worthy. Why at this point, I thought to myself, I should trust Maud's judgement implicitly when it comes to the dinner table. But then I pondered: I'd only tried the recipes that are difficult to get wrong. What if I tried one of the more out there recipes? Cornbread is one thing; raisin pie another. I considered my options. There was dandelion wine, but that required wild dandelions and I didn't feel like curling up with a book and a glass of pesticide; salmon jello molds (yes, really) but that was too much for me (there are some paths even I dare not tread for the sake of lm montgomery); or, I found, there was the aforementioned tomato jelly salad. This salad involves tomato juice, vinegar, onion, sugar (hold on, now we get crazy) which you combine with gelatine to make a jello (keep holding on) and then while the molds are forming, you add a vegetable such as peas or cabbage. For the crunch, I suppose. After all, everyone wants their jello to be crunchy. For obvious reasons, I hesitated. While I do not hate jello, I am suspicious of jello combined with tomatos and peas. In fact, it took me months to build up the emotional resilience to try. Yet, try, I have, and you shall hear of it.

The Results

After a rather disastrous mold experience (I made the mistake of pouring into a floppy dish instead of a metal one, thus meaning any movement of the dish resulted in tomato jello liquid everywhere), we landed on this:

Do you see the peas? Waiting, in the jello like little minnows? What's not to like about this presentation? I love all of my meals to look like bloodsoaked peas. I go for "Veggie Tales mass murder" when it comes to meal presentation, personally.

After bravely moving past the Veggie Tales crime scene, I popped a piece out onto a plate. Here's what it looked like out of the mold (featuring wizard hat roommate's banana chips in the background, my food photography skills are truly impeccable):

That looks vaguely pretty, if it weren't for the peas. One last photo - much like a crime scene, I feel obligated to provide photos from multiple angles. The mold is definitely molding. I suppose you could argue this is vaguely Christmas themed due to the red and green.

The Review

You're supposed to eat this wrapped in a lettuce leaf, but I detest lettuce leaves in that form and refused to do so. I would take this pure, raw, unfiltered by any form. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on watching as I took the first bite. Tremulously, I took up the fork. Would it taste all right? Would the texture be too much? Would Lucy Maud deliver? I paused, then boldly took a bite.

I want you to imagine the flavor of ketchup. Then I want you to imagine this flavor transmitted via the medium of jello. Then on top of that, as the cherry on this veggie tales sundae, I want you to imagine this ketchup has peas in it. Needless to say: I did not enjoy it. It tasted wrong...disordered...as if the earth itself shuddered as I bit into it. Is this how Frankenstein felt, feeling his creation lurking in every corner of the world? Haunted by the work of his own two hands?

Okay, in all honesty: it wasn't that bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. The taste was okay - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The texture was weird - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The two combined admittedly pushed it, but it only toed the line of being gag worthy.

It didn't help that the color of the jello meant my subconscious kept expecting a sweet cherry flavor, only for my mouth to meet vinegary tomato and peas. Ketchup jello with peas on top is not for me personally, though I won't speak for anyone else. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on trying one, and actually finished hers. She described it as something she'd never make, but she could eat. We shall see if Clifford Roommate has the same opinion.

So, what would I rate this? Well, if a zero is a mouse in a pudding sauce, and a ten is Susan's monkey paws, I rate it Aunt Martha's ditto served cold and topped with peas.

#batrachised bakes #i don't know if this was baking or culinary crime #it felt like culinary crime #hey anyone happen to want 4 more jello molds?

[elevenelvenswords]

Tag Game: Shock Your Followers

10 facts that might shock your followers. Tagged by the incredibly lovely @curufiin- thank you so much <3

I watched The Hobbit movies before I watched LoTR, and it was only because my dad forced me to. Little did I know that it would spark a lifelong obsession.

I've maintained a long distance friendship for almost 7 years (and still counting!)

Feet make me extremely uncomfortable for unknown reasons. Hence I always wear socks!

I struggled with a diagnosed personality disorder for most of my life, but after years of therapy and lots of effort/work I finally feel like I no longer meet the criteria.

English isn't my first language, Romanian is. I used to know a little bit of German and I can recognize a few Turkish words too.

I always bring abandoned/orphaned animals home, if I feel like I can help them. I've got 3 adopted pets at my parents' house atm, but I also saved an abandoned turtle once, which I later released into the wild.

I know how to ride a horse :3

When I was little I almost choked myself to death with a rubber toy by accident :')

I learned how to speak much later than most kids (around 2 years old)

I have a love-hate relationship with bananas. I love the taste but the texture makes me gag every time I try to eat one.

Tagging with no pressure @crackinthecup @swanmaids @gardensofthemoon @polutrope @tarmairons @fraeuleinfriedhof @amethysttribble @meadowlarkx and anyone else who wants to give this a go :D

#tag games

[asterhaze]

There Will Be No More Strawberries

• Original Work •

Copyright © 2023. Aster Haze. All rights reserved.

I hate strawberries. Their dimpled outside squishes easily, even with a delicate touch, and their sickly sweet fragrance sticks to my fingers even after I have washed them ten times. There is something about their smell, their texture, all of them that seems so fake, so manufactured, so artificially perfected that I find it strange that others like them so much. Strawberries are my brother's favorite fruit.

I also hate bananas. It isn't necessarily their flavor, though bland and uninteresting, that disgusts me. It's their texture. So squishy yet stringy, too easy to eat, mush barely held together by near-flake fibers. They should be good, since they're okay dried, but they're not. Bananas are my grandmother's favorite fruit.

I hate chocolate the most. Sugary dirt. Gritty on my tongue even when smooth. Melts in your throat even if you try to swallow it whole. The smell is enough to make me gag, yet I am one of a kind. Unless they're allergic, I have found that chocolate is one of everyone's favorite treats.

In 90 seconds there will be no more strawberries. In 90 seconds there will be no more bananas. In 90 seconds there will be no more chocolate because no matter how much we love something, how much we care for something, how much we want those things to still exist for those that come after us, there are people like me who care so little for their existence that their absence will be of so little consequence that we will simply forget they were ever there. My life will not change if there are no more strawberries or bananas or chocolate or chocolate dipped fruit. My life will go on.

There is a man who sits in a fancy chair in front of a beautiful desk with his 70-year-old hand resting on the handle of a telephone. This man has a voice so powerful that he can command a dead hand to shoo away the lives of every living thing. Every human, every animal, every strawberry, every banana, and every cacao tree will have its DNA wiped from the face of the earth with the back of death's hand. Like eraser shavings.

There is a man who stands on a tall podium, speaking over the begging screams of his people, and he tells men and women in designer suits with important titles that if he doesn't get what he wants, he will forget us under lovely dots. There are lovely dots on the map. There are lovely dots on every country and every major city in the world. The humans and the strawberries and the bananas and the chocolate bars are so small, you can't even see them. Just the dots.

Will the people who take those lovely dots off of the map replant our fields after the dead hand moves? Will the man who wants to take us with him into the abyss if we don't bend to his will make us chocolate after the fires stop burning? Will the men and women in designer suits pass out bananas and strawberries when the winter fades and the door to their bunkers open up? Will they pass them out to us?

Do the faces of unimportant people with regular titles, bargain suits, and small voices matter if they live below those lovely dots? Are they as insignificant as strawberries, bananas, and chocolate? Less so since they're not the important people's favorites? Even less because they can always make more of themselves if the dead hand forgets to sweep them away?

One day the dead hand will move and it will keep its assured promise. The hand has only so many fingers to point with and can only smudge so many lovely dots away. Nameless faces will find a way to roam the earth again, to rebuild, to survive the poisonous snow and salted earth. Without fresh strawberries. Without bananas. Without chocolate.

But if my brother is still alive, God forbid, he will feel their absence and he will miss the taste of a ripe strawberry picked from his father's garden in summer to replace the ashen taste that rots his tongue. One day if my grandmother is still alive, God forbid, she will wake up hungry and wish there was something easy for her to peel and tear with shaky aged hands, and something soft and easily mushed with her tired gums. After midnight there are no more bananas, no more easy foods, and no more favorites.

Years ago someone found a tree with pods growing on its branches, cracked them open, and between them and their many ancestors they figured out how to make all sorts of chocolatey treats for me to hate and everyone else to enjoy. Hours ago someone looked at a green bundle of leaves with tiny red berries and spent the rest of their life experimenting, learning, and cultivating that tiny patch so the fruit would grow bigger and stronger. Minutes ago someone found out how to take the seeds out of bananas and then clone them so that every single banana that grows from a cloned tree tastes almost exactly the same. While all of this was happening, kingdoms and dynasties rose and fell. Countries were born, lived, grabbed by the throat, and took their final breaths as they were absorbed by countries with bigger hands.

All of this fantastic knowledge is kept in quiet books that were invented minutes ago. Since books are big and heavy, noisy devices powered by controlled lightning were invented seconds ago so all of that knowledge can live in our pocket. In 91 seconds the fires will start and all the books will burn and anyone who survives under the lovely dots won't want to read anyway since there will be nothing to read. In 91 seconds all of the smart parts of those noisy devices will melt like the small parts of people, only less goopy.

All of the records of those hours and minutes and seconds will be wiped away in 90 seconds so that when my brother and my grandmother and I die no one will ever think of strawberries or bananas or chocolate or America or Russia or Europe or China. Because after 90 seconds have long passed, after the dead hand lays mummified by the poison snow in the salted earth, there will be nothing left of this earth that any of us living now will recognize. And our descendents will have no strawberries, bananas, chocolate, or great countries' ideals to remember because there are also no books or noisy devices.

Only the silence, the lack thereof, the stories and the tales passed night by night as children are tucked in their rags.

#original writing #nuclear writing #writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writerblr #write #writblr #writing community #post apocalyptic #apocalyptic fiction #there will be no more strawberries story #light horror

[galushanationalrailways]

The Fraggle Rock Story Ch. 14

Chapter 14:Just Two of Those Things

Boober had just finished pulling the radish and celery casserole out of the oven when Tosh walked in. “Hello, Toshie-darling,” he said. “It sure is good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too. I brought along some mushroom ketchup.”

“Why, thank you. I just love mushroom ketchup. Wembley and his lady-friend should be here any--”

“HI BOOBER!” cried Wembley as he and Lou entered the premises.

“Lou?” asked Tosh, taken aback. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” said Lou, with a mischevious twinkle in her eye, “I’m just datin’ Wembley.”

“Oh, I see,” said Tosh, well aware from the twinkle that this was one of Lou’s little gags, “How nice!”

“Well,” said Boober, “The food is all ready.” He began to set the table, which was circular.

“I must congratulate you on your taste, Lou,” said Tosh as they sat down to eat, “I always found those banana-tree shirts so fetching.”

“Well, Boober’s a real prize himself,” said Lou, “He knows all about death and he can cook, too!”

“Thank you, ladies, thank you,” said Boober.

“Yeah, thanks!” said Wembley.

“Before we eat, I just want to say how happy I am that I’m with you, Tosh,” said Boober, “And I’m so happy that—that my best friend, Wembley, could find love as well. He sure deserves it. Everything—finally—seems to be alright now.”

“Well, we’re happy to be with the two of you,” said Tosh, as she began to eat. “At least, I can speak for myself.” When she was sure Boober and Wembley were focused on eating, she nudged Lou and made a brief series of hand gestures to communicate that she suspected the two boys were, in fact, gay. Lou caught on quickly.

“I’m certainly happy too,” she said. “I’m especially happy the two of you didn’t just—you know, bottle up your feelings and wait around forever.”

“Me too!” said Tosh. “Why, some Fraggles never tell each other how they feel!” “Yep,” said Lou, “and then they die, cold and alone.”

“But not our brave boys!”

“No, indeed.”

Lou’s words had hit their target. Boober and Wembley gulped for reasons they did not want to understand. “Well,” said Boober, “When a boy feels the way I do, it’s just his duty to say something.”

“Yeah,” said Wembley.

“You know,” said Lou, “you look very beautiful tonight, Tosh. That dress looks very good on you.”

“Why, thank you,” said Tosh. “You’re looking very handsome yourself. Those overalls always make—such an impression.”

“This must be what happens on a double date,” thought Wembley, “The girls compliment each other. It must be our turn.” Then he said “Boober, you’re usually handsome, but tonight you’re just magnificent! A perfect specimen of Fragglehood! Your profile is incredible, and your hair is like an auburn cascade against the dying of the night. Heh heh heh!”

There was a silence. “You’re not so bad yourself, Wembley,” said Boober, who was suddenly a little flustered.

“My goodness,” said Lou, “I didn’t know I was dating such a poet.” A few more awkward glances were exchanged.

“Well,” said Tosh, “The food is certainly delicious.”

“Yeah!” said Wembley. “I always thought he cooked as good as he looked! Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.” Boober flushed a very deep shade of indigo. Lou snickered a little, and nudged Tosh, who was trying desperately to hold her laughter in. Soon they were finished eating, and Boober took up the dishes.

“Thank you for dinner, Boober,” said Lou, “It sure was entertaining.”

“You’re welcome,” said Boober, “But before you go, Wembley and I would like to serenade you.”

“We would?” asked Wembley. “I don’t really have an instrument.”

“Well,” said Boober, “I guess I could carry the rhythm on this mandolin here, and we could sing  one song to our respective girlfriends at the same time.”

“Like a duet?”

“Sure! Here’s one for two people.” He rustled through the sheet music. “You take the part that says ‘Eiphin,’ that’s got most of the singing, and I’ll take the part that says ‘Dick.’” (Here the reader is advised to collect their mind from the gutter.)

“Sounds great!”

“Ok, let’s begin.”

“This oughta be good,” whispered Lou.

Wembley began the refrain of the song while Boober either played the violin or attempted to murder it.

I don't know why I am so very shy

I always was demure

I never knew what silly lovers do

No flirting I'd endure

In all my life I've never kissed a man

I've never winked my eye

But now at last I'm going to break the ice

So how'd you like to try?

Suddenly, Boober looked at his part of the chorus and gasped. “Uh, now, ladies, please remember, we’re singing this to you and not to each other.”

“We’re not gay!” added Wembley.

“Sure,” said Lou and Tosh.

And so, they sang, with Boober’s part being indicated in parentheses:

How'd you like to spoon with me? (I'd like to)

How'd you like to spoon with me? (Well rather)

Sit beneath an oak tree large and shady

Call me little tootsy wootsy baby

How'd you like to hug and squeeze? (Indeed I would)

Dangle me upon your knees (Oh if I could)

And then, without meaning to, they joined in on the last bit:

How'd you like to be my lovey dovey

How'd you like to spoon with me?

Boober was practically on the floor from embarrassment. “Well, you get the general idea,” he said, deciding it was best not to sing his verse.

“We certainly do,” said Lou.

“Gosh, Boober, it’s a good thing you and Wembley didn’t do the Duet-a-Thon together. Think of the scandal you two would have caused!” said Tosh.

“What do you mean?” asked Wembley.

“Oh, we can’t fool you guys any more,” said Lou, “Tosh and I happen to be in love.”

“With us?” asked Boober.

“Not exactly,” said Tosh.

“We’re in love with each other,” said Lou. “Tosh was trying to keep our love a secret, and--”

“And I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, Boober,” said Tosh, “you really are a very nice boy.”

“I’ll admit I got a little jealous,” said Lou, “So when Wembley asked me out I decided I’d show Tosh how it feels.”

“So—so--” said Boober, “You lied to me because you thought I was nice?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Tosh, “I really am sorry. I have a horrible time turning people down.”

“Well, this is terrific,” said Boober, “This really is just excellent.”

“Oh, please don’t be mad,” said Tosh, “After what they said about me after the whole wedding incident—I didn’t want to seem cold.”

“I have been bamboozled!” said Boober, “You have trifled with my heart!” He paused, then nearly mumbled; “But I suppose it’s understandable, after what you’ve been through. So I shall bestow upon you sweet forgiveness and--”

“Bestow upon me what?”

“SWEET FORGIVENESS!” yelled Boober. “NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“We will,” said Lou, “But be sure you’re not lying to yourselves, too.” They left.

“Well,” said Boober, “of all the cruel tricks and gags that have ever been pulled on me, this one takes the cake, huh, Wembley?” He turned around and found Wembley gently weeping. “Oh, Wembley!” he said, “You mustn’t cry, it was just one of those things. I’ll make us some toast.”

“What good is toast at a time like this?” sobbed Wembley. “She never loved me…”

“I know I’ve eaten toast on many a lovesick night. It just makes you feel better somehow.” He began the preparation by placing the bread in a pan. “It’ll all be fine, eventually, you’ll see.”

“She never loved me…”

“Now, Wembley, this is the second time you’ve tried to win Lou over. What made you think it would be any different than the first? You were probably just fated to be friends.”

“But if that’s true, then it means that I’ll—I’ll have to tell you--”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I wonder what she meant about us lying to ourselves. Say, they don’t think we’re in love too, do they?”

“Oh, who knows… Who cares…”

“There, there, old-timer,” said Boober, gently patting his head, “There’s lots of other girls around, and I should think a handsome young fraggle like you would be irresistible to them.”

“If only…”

“If only what?”

“If only it—it…” Then they sat in silence a long time. The toast began to burn.

“Kinda hazy all of a sudden, isn’t it?” said Boober.

“AAAGH!!!” yelled Wembley, who went into full fireman mode as soon as he realized smoke was in the air, “IT’S A FIRE! IT’S A FIREEEEEEE! STOP DROP AND ROLL!” He flung himself on the ground and started rolling all over the place.

“Wembley, it’s only the--” Boober said, but Wembley knocked him over before he could finish his sentence. “WAUGH!” he yelled. Wembley stood up and found his friend lying on the ground.

“Oh no!” he screeched. “You’ve asphyxiated from the fumes! I’ve got to get you out of here before you—before you DIE!” He picked Boober up and began to fireman-carry him. “Never fear, Boober,” he said, running out of the house, “I will save you!”

#Fraggle Rock #The Fraggle Rock Story #Woober #Redkey #Gobo #Losh #credit to preston sturges for the sweet forgiveness line #and thanks to imp for coming up with the double date in the first place

[sansxfuckyou]

Food fight

Summary: George gets cut off from making pancakes and in turn Sapnap has to finish cooking, he fucks up big time and neither have the desired meal in the end of it.

Warnings: Food, mock sword fights, swearing, small amount of pain, innuendos, thats about it.

Authors Note: @sobredunia I have no clue how you do it every damn time, but each prompt you create, each and every time, it just shoots motivation directly into my bloodstream, like, my train of is bouncing around my head, and I took foodfight to far.

It was five in the afternoon, and due to life being stressful, breakfast for dinner was chosen. It didn't happen very often that meals commonly reserved for the morning were eaten in the evening in this household, but there were exceptions. And boy oh boy, during those exceptions George did not disappoint in bringing the heat for the food part of the meal.

There he stood beside a pre heating stove with a heating pan beside him, a tray of bacon on the counter as well, half turkey half pork, and in front of him a bowl of batter he was mixing furiously, bananas and chocolate chips and blueberries added in as well. He knew it would taste delicious if no one fucked it up, which is the exact reason he blocked both doors with a chair, aware that if he let Sapnap touch a spoon for even a second things would go wrong fast.

And then it happened.

A buzz against his thigh, a specific pattern of vibrations that tore him from his trance in an unceremonious fashion. He placed the wooden spoon beside the bowl, taking a deep breath to regain his train of thought before checking to see who was calling.

It was a number he recognized to be that of the landlord, did their rent get bumped or something?

He still answered the call and tried to keep formalities and questions light until he had turned off the stove and the heating element on top, making sure to close each cupboard door as well, aware someone would hit their head on it. He then unbarricaded the kitchen door, Sapnap barreling in ready to start a dialogue, silencing at the swift and silent gesture to the phone pressed to Georges ear, instead Sapnap stood silent until he was addressed. Normally, the door was never unbarricaded when George was cooking when Sapnap was in the house, he knew it had to be something important.

"Sounds lovely, could you give me a second? Thanks," George said before pressing his hand to the microphone as he turned to face Sapnap with a grave look, the words he spoke laced with venom despite the twos relationship status. "I am entrusting you to finish preparing the batter while I discuss the rent with our landlord and if I catch you pouring roasted garlic into it, I will cut your nut sack off with a steak knife and roast it in boiling car oil."

Sapnap nodded silently, clearly afraid, George gave a soft smile before placing a gentle peck on the cheek and making his way off to the singular almost soundproofed room in the house.

Now, see, Sapnap was scared to even touch the food at this point, knowing full well that if he messed up he would be paying dearly, not to the point that George threatened though, George had a soul. Of course, the fear coursing through his veins causing his face to turn a deep scarlet from the tips of his ears down to his neck would do little to deter him from trying to help.

And with that he made his way over to the counter, grabbing the spoon before gingerly licking it.

A sudden crash sounded off in his head at the detestable taste, it made him recoil in disgust, almost made him gag. He slowly placed the spoon back down on the counter before grabbing a spare chair and pulling it over, he wasn't exactly short, but their home was tall if that makes any sense. He shook as he tried to balance himself on the chair, still unable to reach where George kept the best ingredients, right on top of the cupboards. He pulled off his socks before carefully placing his feet on the counter, gripping on the cupboard door for support as he swayed, only to have it swing open as he leaned back just a bit, the door came clean off at the hinges as he fell back on the floor with an awkwardly loud thud, a spark of pain shooting through his back, a bit more than it should've.

He released a groan of pain as he tossed the cupboard door aside, then he was greeted with the sound of rushing footsteps, George rushing in, his call on hold. He had a panicked and almost afraid look on his face, grip on his phone nearly enough to shatter it if he saw blood on the ground, then he saw Sapnap.

"Oh, you just fell down, again," George said with a sigh, still worried, but very aware that this was something that has happened before, voice already reverting to venom towards Sapnap. "Were you looking for the forbidden ingredient again?"

"Uh, no?" Sapnap responded, George pinched the bridge of his nose, phone in the other hand.

"Look, I'll only be a minute or two, don't you dare screw it up now, you've done perfectly so far, aside from falling on your back and probably fucking up your spine," George said, Sapnaps eyes widened as he realized that could happen. "Just don't mess up again, we need to have a talk after supper anyways."

"Ok." Sapnap said almost to quietly for George to hear before he left, Sapnap sitting up afterwards, aware he was running out of time to fix the batter, he stood up shortly after making sure none of his vertebrae were out of place, hearing a few cracks that made him whimper in pain.

Within a quick minute he was already balanced on the countertop, one foot resting in the sink that was half full of sudsy water, the other right beside the still hot pan on the still hot element, almost burning himself in the process. He blindly ran his hand across the top of the cupboard, his finger getting caught in a mouse trap in the process, that caused a quickly snuffed out yelp of pain as he slowly removed it before returning to his search. He quickly found the glass bottle he was looking for before bring it down slowly as to not knock his balance off, then he slowly crawled down, rereading the label.

'Spice on the way in, hell on the way out: Carolina Reaper Coco'

The flavor combo didn't make much sense, but the message did, and he sure had experienced it first hand more than once, he twisted off the cap with a retched sound being produced due to dry sauce on the edges, he was greeted with a pungent odor that made him recoil.

Oh yeah, that was what he was looking for.

He slid the bowl back and forth a bit before grabbing the spoon and stirring it once again, hoping the slightly dried consistency would be ok. He then lifted the bottle of hot sauce and tilted it just a bit, so he would get only a few drops at a time, knowing that if he added to much it would be inedible. As the scent of the sauce permeated the room, his eyes started to water, he lifted the bottle so it would stop dropping in the sauce, he spun the batter, being hit with the same aroma. He took a small taste test finding that he could barely taste the sauce having it been diluted with so much batter, he decided to pour in more.

He heard the sound of a door opening, George talking a bit, then total silence as he looked back to find George staring at him in horror, disappointment and worry due to the odor induced tears rolling down Sapnaps face.

"Fucking god Sapnap, I love you I really do, but just this once I hope you have a plan to escape my wrath." George threatened, each word ringing true, Sapnap had nothing planned, at least he didn't add roasted garlic this time.

With nothing left in stock, he reached into the bowl of batter before flinging the handful of pancake batter at George, aiming for the face but hitting his partners neck. The odor quickly had an effect, causing Georges eyes to water as he slowly scraped the batter from his neck, the thick substance like webbing between his fingers, he couldn't help but 'slurp' some of it off, slurp being the only viable word to describe what he did, the act caused Sapnaps face to darken in a shade of red that made George smirk. George flung the the remaining batter on his hands back at Sapnap who barely dodged before retaliating with a quick toss of turkey bacon lathered in pancake batter, George ducking, a piece of bacon getting caught in his hair.

That's when George started to circle towards the fridge, Sapnap grabbing the bowl of batter and circling away, both around the kitchen table. George grabbed and stacked the two trays of bacon, turkey on top, a bit of batter smeared on some pieces, he held up a piece in one hand, Sapnap loaded his hand with thick batter as well.

George chickened first, throwing a few pieces turkey bacon at Sapnap who dodged most of them before retaliating with handfuls of batter, one of which getting stuck in Georges hair. As they 'took turns' in their food fight they each slowly got covered with batter as the room was desecrated in uncooked pancakes, Sapnap somehow getting covered in more than George.

It was after about fifteen minutes that George pulled two leeks from the fridge, tossing one to Sapnap before the two initiated a mock swordfight on the table.

Sapnap had one arm behind his back, wielding his like a short sword, while George used both hands as though it was claymore. Sapnap parried each slash as he was pushed around the table before lunging at George with a few attacks that made little contact. It didn't take long for George to have his sword-leek held horizontally while Sapnap pressed down further in an attempt to toss it away.

In an instant the two where on the batter smeared ground, laughing, a piece of turkey bacon still in Georges hair and a piece of pork bacon somewhere on Sapnaps torso. George was leaned against Sapnap, his partner sticky due to being saturated with batter, but that didn't deter him from latching onto one of Sapnaps arms.

"God, you need a bath." George said between laughter, the odor of hot sauce making him tear up a bit.

"So do you, hot shot." Sapnap said, flicking Georges forehead lightly as he rolled his eyes, resting his leg on top of Georges.

"I mean, we could share a nice, hot, long, steamy-" George said, listing off reason after reason until he was met with the taste of Sapnaps batter covered hand, the hot sauce instantly taking dominance as flavor, he was sputtering a bit.

"No way, I'm still starved, I'd rather be thrown on a spit roast and slow cooked over an open flame than have sex with you," Sapnap said, quickly recovering. "Not when you have bacon in your hair, at least, like, c'mon, that's docking at least twenty seductiveness points."

"Ha ha, very funny mister so much batter in my hair you can't tell it was brown," George said before reaching up to touch Sapnaps hair, running a hand through the batter dense locks, ending up with a handful of batter. "Really though, you should go take a shower."

"What? I don't even get a single battery kiss from the love of my life, my one and only, the reason I wake up in the morning?!" Sapnap wailed, layering on the dramatics extra thick, George rolled his eyes before gripping Sapnaps chin to the best of his ability with a hand covered in batter before pulling him into a short, spicy due to hot sauce, somewhat squishy kiss, it was an odd feeling for both of them.

"There, now go shower while I make food." George said before standing up, so did Sapnap, but he was quick to speak.

"What happened to lets share a nice, hot, long, steamy soak, does it not matter anymore because I'm having a shower? How picky George, so britishly picky!" Sapnap said in an overexaggerated tone, turning away from George and bring a forearm to his head in a dramatic fashion.

"Maybe after supper I'll think about it," george said, face darking hue just a bit, but it was hard to tell with the amount of batter smeared on his face. "Now go shower, you smell like Reaper peppers."

"Ok, ok, see you soon, I hope you miss me."

"Sapnap, the bathrooms literally three rooms away from the kitchen."

"The sentiment is the same!"

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #georgenotfound #sapnap #sapnotfound #the gays #dream smp #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #rpf fic #tw rpf #tw food #tw swearing #tw pain #tw innuendo #tw implied sex #tw kissing #tw threats #tw dsmp

[tompettyofficial]

yeah milk chocolate is awful and so is white chocolate, but I love dark chocolate with pretty much anything. I also agree on the pie crust, it’s always either too dry or too soggy and both suck. you should really try carrot cake though!! when made right it’s not too sweet and has the texture of a light banana bread.

im the same with deserts as I am with coffee, I like them both simple and not too sweet. I like black coffee with just a splash of creamer, but all friends load theirs with sugar and milk and it makes me wanna gag. do you drink coffee? and if so, how do you like it?

dark chocolate is so good because it tastes like chocolate and not just a fuck ton of sugar! and it doesn't make you super thirsty afterwards!! my mom has been wanting to make carrot cake, so I might try it, but it depends on how it looks lol

I like mine with not too much milk, but unfortunately an American amount of sugar. 2-3 sugars normally, which maybe isn't as terrible as it could be, but it's still maybe a bit much TT

#secret santa

[livingdiarrhea]

My relationship with fruit

I’m not a picky eater so much as I have almost an entire category of foods that I will NOT eat.

Fruits (except for apples, and a couple other exceptions). Most fruit flavored things? Also a no. Don’t do the shit where you say “bUt iT dOeSNT tAStE lIkE fRUIt” because most cases, I still won’t eat it. If you force me too, I’ll be upset, but it won’t be that bad, I wouldn’t cry or anything.

On the other hand, You try to make me eat a strawberry yogurt, or god forbid and actual strawberry I WILL cry and I WILL gag. When playing truth or dare, while people would get disgusting dares with ease, and I would do them with ease, getting me to eat a single grape for a dare was probably the worst one.

There are some fruits and fruit incorporated things that are worse than others. Raisins, I don’t like them, and I’ll usually spit them out in a napkin, but I could eat it without breaking too much of a sweat. Banana Bread? Yeah I wouldn’t like knowing it’s banana but I might even ENJOY eating it.

A mango? No. I would cry. I just, the texture of most fruits is gross. When I was younger you couldn’t get me to eat them at all, I’d throw tantrums.

Vegetables? Hell yeah I eat those, even if they’re disgusting asparagus, which I don’t like, I still eat it.

I could eat a blueberry. I could eat it. I wouldn’t eat more than one or two, and it really depends on the day, but I’d eat it. But I don’t like them at all. They’re disgusting.

People tell me I “haven’t found the right fruit” and I’ve just been eating the sour ones. Wrong, even the ones that smell sweet and “taste sweet” are gross.

I’m actually a bit repulsed by even touching fruit. Cleaning the dishes when fruit has been on them is digusting to me. Any other food? Yeah it’s fine. Fruit? I will gag, and I may shed tears.

When I was younger, I’d be scared to even touch a fruit. Genuinely. My sister once chased me with a mango peel because I was so scared of touching it. Then she put it in my hair and I was mad, but I realized it wasn’t so bad.

However, fruit when I’m washing dishes? Disgusting (unless it’s apples ofc). It’s so slimy, it’s gross, it’s sticky I could cry.

When I was younger, my mom used to buy me peach yogurt (it may have been a one time thing) and tell me it was vanilla. When I realized it was peach, I refused to eat it again.

Fruit flavored ice cream? Also no. I don’t want it. Even the fake fruit stuff where it’s basically not at all fruit is iffy. Like, I once had a “grape” popsicle, but it was the same as the apple popsicle but purple. So I didn’t mind eating that.

My mom doesn’t know why I don’t like fruit. When I was two she says I used to love it. I must have just decided it was gross one day and stopped.

In first grade, you would have to get a fruit with your lunch every day. And there weren’t apples, so I got a banana. Back then, I was okay eating bananas for the most part. I found them disgusting, but I could eat them. But that day, I gagged when eating one, and I just decided, never again. It’s now on my list of fruits that I won’t eat.

(I did a similar thing when I was younger and decided pooping was gross, but as you can tell, I got over it.)

Being around people who are eating fruits also grosses me out. There’s nothing wrong with them, just what they’re eating is gross to me. Especially when I myself am eating. I always have to sit a little further away, and it’s fine when it’s my family, but I feel weird when it’s my friends.

I don’t know why i hate fruits so much, and why I can’t get over how slimy they are. Or why im scared of them. It’s gotten better over the years, but Im not sure when I’ll be able to straight up eat, say, six strawberries and think nothing of it. Maybe adulthood. Maybe never.

I hope someday when people offer me fruit flavored things and fruits that my mom (or me) won’t have to say that I don’t eat fruits. Because it’s embarrassing. This entire category of things you don’t eat because you find them gross. People don’t say much about it, but they’re always surprised, and then they try to offer me different food to make up for the fact that I’m missing out on their strawberry cake, although I’m okay.

I’ve been called a picky eater, but the thing is, when it’s not a fruit, I will eat almost anything. I have ate dog food (not much, like a pellet or two, I could’ve ate more I just thought better of it, plus it tasted like crap I just wanted to prove I could do it). So I’m not a picky eater, unless it comes to fruits.

#living diarrhea #fruits #picky eater #does anyone relate #relatable #not really

[wrong-way-sir]

Seasickness

Zoro helps rid you of seasickness and puts you to sleep in his own way.

CW: mentions of  vomiting, curse words, alcohol consumption, and sexual innuendos! (Otherwise it’s just fluff!) LITTLE TO NO PROOFREADING! ♡

Characters: Roronoa Zoro, GN Y/N, mentions of Luffy and Nami

an: sorry if the characters are a little ooc, I have just started the anime like yesterday so this is my first ever work for them... I just think Zoro is neat.

The ship rocked over the waves, making the contents of your stomach roll with them. Harsh breath left your lips as the upper half of you body leaned over the side of the boat. You were sure if someone looked at you your face would be cartoonish green from the bread and meat trying to slither it's way out to make another meal for the fish gliding beside the ship.

It was dark, the water looked like a bottomless abyss of black as your eyes stared down the side while you fought your seasickness. You didn't understand why you had suddenly become so sick in the night, you wondered if it had been something you ate. What kind of pirate gets seasick? A weak one. You and the rest knew that was furthest from the truth.

You didn't know what time it was all you knew was it was late as just a few hours ago you had been asleep in your own barrack and now as you looked around the ship the only one that seemed to be awake was your excitable captain Luffy. Although the rubber man seemed close to falling asleep at the helm, you would take over but you were too busy holding back throw up to take post.

"Eh? Y/N? What're you doing?" The voice behind you was low and filled with sleep. Without even coming up from the side you could hear the man adjusting himself in his trousers from the fabric scraping at skin. You chuckled softly as you pushed yourself back to standing position to look at the green haired swordsman with a bed head.

"Ah Zoro, you know just hanging out..." You laughed and he gave you another confused look as he reached under his plain shirt to scratch at his skin. You sighed and swallowed the best you could with your mouth watering, "Think I got food poisoning or maybe the sea is finally telling me I'm not fit to be a pirate anymore."

Zoro looked at you again as if his sleep induced brain wasn't getting it until his eyes widened and he nodded. The green haired approached, his bare feet padding against the wet board that only cause another queasiness in your stomach from the sound. Your eyes connected and he let out a small laugh.

"Nah, that meat you ate... It was near spoiled, Nami warned ya didn't she?" Zoro asked and you shook your head. Luffy's voice was heard in the distance just as the ship rolled over another wave that cause your stomach to do the same.

You clasped your hand over your mouth and before you knew it you were back over the side of the ship after pushing Zoro out of the way and back to emptying the contents of your stomach. Soft coughs left you and a low groan followed as your head spun from the rocking of the boat.

A gasp left you, making you choke on the tears the vomit had induced when a calloused hand placed itself on your back. Zoro's hand was warm and pressing just enough into you back to let his strength be known. You hummed at the comfort.

"Man you really are sick aren't ya?" Zoro's voice was softer this time and almost drowned out by the waves sloshing against the siding. "Y/N come with me, I got something that will help."

"Zoro... I can't move, if I move I will puke." You warned him and you heard a chuckle come the the swordsman. You raised your head to look up at him and his face that was one covered in sleep now had a smirk on his face. You knew that look all too well, you had challenged him unknowingly. Your eyes widened, "No-No don't pick me-"

"You throw up on me Y/N, I'll throw you overboard you hear me?" Zoro joked as he scooped up over his shoulder. Your view now being his backside and the wet board of the ship under his feet. He held you over his shoulder with your hips right beside his ear. Your unsettled stomach dug into his shoulder and the pressure relieved some of it's knotting.

You gave a hum and clasped a hand over your mouth as Zoro took his first step away from the side of the boat. Your eyes stared at the thin white fabric covering his back to keep you grounded on something other than thoughts of nausea as he carried you. The walk was short to wherever the man was taking you and before you knew it you were being placed onto soft sheets.

Zoro had brought you to his room. This wasn't the first time you had ever been in his room as the two of you shared a special bond with one another. If you were being honest most mornings you woke up in his bed. The only reason you hadn't been sleeping in these familiar sheets tonight is because the two of you knew rest was needed as the ships navigator Nami had informed them they would be hitting land soon.

You were thankful. Regardless of loving the sea, you still enjoyed being on land and sight seeing. Also the food you would get to try excited you the most, although right now food had turned into your enemy.

"Zoro, I don't think it would be smart to have se-"

"Eh!? I didn't bring you back here for that," Zoro said as he looked over his shoulder as he walked across the small room to where a small bag sat, "Although It would be fun, I don't think getting puked on would be a turn on for me." He laughed and you did the same.

You sighed as you leaned forwards with your head in your hands as you fought with another wave of nausea as the boat rocked. Your fingers dug into Zoro's sheets as the boat leaned and you almost fell. The need to yell at the captain for having such bad steering habits was going stronger with each wave the captain hit in the dark. You couldn't move though as Zoro’s sheets grounded you.

"Here, eat and drink this." Zoro's voice was over your head and you peeked up to see in his outreached hand a peeled banana and a wooden cup filled with brown liquid. You could tell it was whiskey from smell and you gave him a look as you took the items, "Eat that so it will settle your stomach and drink that whiskey so you can properly digest that meat you ate."

An inquisitive look settled on your face as you forced yourself to bite into the banana. You gagged as the flavor casted over your tastebuds and then took a sip of the whiskey. Another gag left you and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth as you swallowed. Zoro laughed loudly as he leaned against his dresser.

“Don’t laugh at me,” You pointed at him and he raised hands in surrender, “You’re lucky I don’t puke all over your bed.”

“Your fault for eating eating spoiled meat, didn’t it taste funny to ya?”

“I didn’t know, I just thought it was some weird local seasoning the last place had for their food.” You argued as you bit into the banana again while looking him in the eyes. Zoro laughed as he rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed to sit next to you.

You leaned into him as you took another swig of whiskey. The feeling of it burning your chest slightly as it went down into your fairly empty stomach. His arm wrapped around your waist and you felt a soft peck to your temple as he thumbed over your side.

“Ah, just a little sickness, you’ll be okay in the morning.” Zoro assured as he took the empty cup from your fingers just as you bit into the last bite of the banana, “Feel better?”

You nodded as a small ‘thank you’ left your lips. You turned to him. His free arm pulling you closer and into his lap with his arms still around your waist. Zoro gave a hum as you nuzzled into his neck as he held you. Your stomach felt better and the warmth green haired man’s body left you feeling tired, after all it was the middle of the night.

“You’re warm.” You told him and he gave a soft chuckle.

“Wanna go back to sleep?” He asked and you nodded but whined when he moved to pull away, “Come on darlin’ your stomach’s finally settled lets go to sleep, I’ll still hold ya.”

Another soft agreement left you as you slid off his lap and into the covers. They were soft and smelt of Zoro’s natural scent with hints of sun rays from being washed recently. A sigh left you as your body finally settled to a complete relaxed state. Your eyes fluttered as Zoro reached over your form to put out the small oil lamp that brightened his dark room.

You smiled when you felt that calloused hand place itself on your head. You turned your head slightly and placed a small kiss to the inside of his wrist just before you playfully nipped at the skin. The sound of Zoro sucking on his teeth was heard before his lips place a peck to your forehead as he laid next to you.

“Do that again and I’ll make your stomach feel something again.” He teased. You let out a gasp as you turned to your side and sent a smack behind you that barely grazed his shoulder. Zoro’s arm wrapped around your waist again before he pulled you flush against him. Your back now pressed against his chest and his knee now between your thighs. A position you two were both used to.

“Maybe tomorrow night.” You told him as you snuggled deeper into the pillow. Another chuckle rumbled out of him and you felt it on your back before another one of his many kisses placed itself on your shoulder.

“Looking forward to it, Y/N.” Zoro’s voice was tired in your ear, almost already asleep, “Good Night..”

“Good Night, Zoro.”

#zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #ronoroa zoro x reader #one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #nami one piece #one piece imagine

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

[disasterlegend]

Things that the chain would do in a modern au: cooking edition

in which half are literally just stupid things that I’ve done, and the other half are some of my proper headcanons for the boys ! :)

one of them, honestly any of them, would be in the kitchen cooking who knows what, and proceeds to get oil on their laptop (yes i use my laptop in the kitchen while baking i am a fiend who can’t do anything without some kind of music). so they just pick up the dish sponge that is soaking wet and soapy and uses it to clean off the surface of the laptop. Five seconds later either one of the others who just happens to be in the kitchen witnessing it or the person who did it is just standing there like “what the hell did I just do ???”/“why did I just do that ??” as they frantically wipe the water off of the laptop using their apron

apron is covered in pet hair (most likely twilight or wild)

Hyrule over-oils nearly everything. Like the baking tray that you spray to bake a cake or brownies in? emptied nearly half a can of oil. That sautéed mushroom dish that they’re trying to make? puts like 2 tablespoons more than necessary and the entire dish turns out really oily/greasy

Wind would turn on the stove and then go upstairs and forget that he turned it on

or alternatively he would turn on the stove to boil something and it would boil over right in front of him because he was watching funny videos instead of paying attention

I’d like to think that legend is slightly decent in the kitchen, I just think with like who he is as a person he has a lot of pride in what he’s making where like he’s practiced enough so it’ll come out decent

Sky only knows one recipe and it’s pumpkin soup. Absolutely nothing wrong with that because he never gets tired of it and neither do the rest of them

I feel like warriors can also cook but it’s also way harder for him and kind of like hyrule he’ll mess up measurements and overcook things 

Time can make oatmeal. That’s literally it. Like he’ll assist Malon in the kitchen during dinner because he’s a good husband but he does not do the main cooking. he will burn it 

four would be unbelievably precise with measurements 

wild would not measure like anything if he could help it

both would come out amazing though regardless 

hyrule can’t cook meals but holy shit he can bake. he’s harassed into making brownies and banana bread all the time by the others 

twi cannot bake but can cook and he 100% cooks odd but amazing vegetable dishes 

he works extra hard to mask certain vegetables in order to get the rest of them to eat healthy. ie: finely chops mushrooms so none of them know they’re there until after the meal when he reveals it all dramatic like a villain while the children (wind) scream 

time would try to teach them all how to barbecue because he’s the ultimate dad but in truth he learned from wars

wars laughs when he burns things and immediately takes over the grilling 

so it ends up being both wars and time who teach the others the art of grilling lets be real that grilling is hard so time gets a little bit of slack. doesn’t stop wind from laughing at him though 

wind isn’t allowed to cook/bake half the time but the boy is incredible with spices, like he can tell exactly what spice a recipe needs just in a taste test, and which vegetables pair well together depending on sauces. he’s like a master chef with zero technical skill 

that said wind is the biggest critic

wind: did you measure the vanilla extract correctly?  wild, who has never properly measured vanilla extract in his life: no <3  wind, a little gremlin: yeah i can tell

four and sky are the only ones who don’t tear up from cutting onions 

they all have stupid aprons (i personally have a cat patterned, hulk, and all might aprons and i absolutely think they would have those if not something similar)

twi would 100% wear a cat apron

sky would have a “kiss the cook” apron that he wears all the time because the group gifted it to him as a gag but he loves it 

wild would cook at literally any hour 

“it’s 11:30pm. put the cookie dough away and finish tomorrow” “if i don’t finish it now i’m never going to finish it” “please go to bed” “no” 

he only listens and goes to bed when malon asks him to

sky and hyrule help wild make cookies, he’ll make the dough and then they all take turns rolling it out and using cookie cutters to shape them

warriors likes to help ice them though 

wars: *holds up bunny cookie that he iced pink* look it’s you  legend: i will remove your knees 

wild also stress cooks/bakes. time will know somethings wrong when he comes home one day to see like three different pies in the refrigerator, four cakes varying in size and flavor, and about 15 dozen different cookies in various containers stacked around the kitchen, and wild is standing there icing another cake on a makeshift cake spinner that is constructed out of a large pot and a plastic plate 

the boys both love and hate his stress baking. 

pros: so many snacks. 

cons: too many snacks.

wind consumes too many cookies at once, regrets it for an hour, and then comes back to try each of the cakes

i mentioned it partially in my list but like here’s a chart too just for a better idea 

this was fun ! let me know what y’all think or if you want to hear more of my headcanons :3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #sky linked universe #hyrule linked universe #time linked universe #legend linked universe #twilight linked universe #wild linked universe #linked universe warriors #wind linked universe #four linked universe #lu legend #lu time #lu four #lu wind #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu warriors #theres so many linkeduniverse tags

[elisaphoenix13]

Bonding With Clay

Tony woke with a soft groan and rolled onto his side to throw his arm around Stephen and buried his nose in the back of his neck. He even hooked a leg over Stephen's and ground his hips against his ass until the younger man hugged and swatted back at him.

"Tony, no. There's a child in our bed and I have to go to Kamar-taj today." Stephen mumbles.

Tony cracks his eyes open and lifts his head to look over Stephen and sighs when he finds Valerie cocooned against the sorcerer. "Doesn't she have her own bed?"

"She had a nightmare."

"What about William?" Tony complains and Stephen chuckles.

"You know as well as I do that there are some things parents can do that siblings can't." The sorcerer pushes Tony's face away. "Go brush your teeth."

"Absolutely not. You have to suffer my morning breath now." Tony laughs and kisses Stephen. It only lasted a few seconds before the younger was pushing him away again with a look of disgust.

"I can even taste it!"

Tony laughs again and rolls back over to get out of bed and shuffle into their bathroom to brush his teeth. As he passed Lucy's crib, he found her wide awake and sitting up, patiently gnawing on her teething ring...which she fondly chucked at his head. It was her way of saying good morning and also her way of showing that she liked someone. Fortunately she only threw soft things at people. The more dangerous items were chucked at something random. Like the lab incident.

So he and Stephen considered themselves lucky. Of course they still tried to get her to stop, but she was stubborn like her parents. Lucy did what she wanted.

"Just a minute Lulu. I've been ordered to wash my mouth and you know how Mom is." Tony says and grabs his toothbrush. Lucy babbles in a way a baby might be offended and Tony looks into the bedroom to look at Stephen as he gets out of bed as well. "Y'hear that?"

"She always has something to say." Stephen scoffs as he fixes the blankets over Valerie. "It'll be you, Lucy, and Valerie today. The kids have school and classes, I have things to check on in Kamar-taj, and everyone else is busy."

Tony spits into the sink after rinsing and frowns. "I don't mind, but Val never seems to enjoy our time together."

"She's getting better." Stephen sighs.

It was true...for the most part. Valerie wasn't completely reliant on Stephen anymore ever since the twins came to live with them. She adored William, and of course she loved Tony, but she and her father had yet to find something to bond over. She loved reading and the piano like Stephen just like Lucy loved being in the lab with Tony. He would figure something out though. Maybe tough out sitting through The Little Mermaid for the fourteen hundredth time? That was Valerie's favorite movie.

"You taking the cloak?" Tony asks.

"Mmhmm." Stephen responds as he brushes his teeth.

"Athena?" Another noise of approval. "Right... we'll figure it out."

"Mmnnbbbftt!" Lucy babbles.

Tony leaves the bathroom and takes the baby out of her crib. "I heard you the first time, bossy."

"If that isn't evidence enough that she takes after you--" Stephen starts until Tony points at him.

"She could have just as easily gotten it from you Duchess."

Stephen chuckles and walks back over to the bed when Valerie sits up and rubs her eyes. While he got ready for the day and explained to the little girl that she would be spending the day with her father and sister, Tony got himself and Lucy ready for the day. His mind was already occupied with how he would spend the day with the girls since Valerie had no interest in the lab, and everything led to Disney movies and tea parties. Not that he had anything against either of those since he was used to it, but he had tried that before and Valerie just didn't seem as interested as she would usually be.

It sort of made him feel like a failure as a father. There had to be something they would enjoy doing together right? Hell, even Lucy enjoyed being run around by Thomas.

"What sounds good for breakfast topolina?" Tony asks as Valerie climbs down from the bed.

"Fwench toast."

Well, that was easy. "French toast it is." Tony says.

Stephen crouches in front of Valerie when he finishes getting dressed and brushes her hair back. "I'll be back later. Have fun with Daddy, okay?"

"Okay."

Stephen kisses her forehead and gets back up to grab his sling ring off the nightstand, and waits just long enough after opening a gateway to wait for Levi to fly into the room and hang on his shoulders. Then he and Athena were through the gateway and it closed behind him, leaving Valerie to stare forlornly at the space it had been. Tony gently pats her head before leading her out of the master bedroom.

"Where's Mooey? Why don't you go get him and you can help me with breakfast." Tony suggests.

"Can we have fwuit?" She asks softly.

"We sure can." Tony smiles. "We can even have some chocolate chips on our french toast if you want."

Valerie smiles and nods before skittering away to her room to find her stuffed cow. A smile from a promise if chocolate chips was a good start to their day, and he would make sure they had a fruit salad with all of her favorites. So with that thought in mind, he descends the stairs to the kitchen where he deposits Lucy into her high chair and answers her demands when she smacks her hands on her tray.

"You are your mother's daughter...but don't tell him I said that." Tony mumbles and searches through the cupboards for the baby cereal puffs. "Look at that! Apple cinnamon flavor, your favorite!"

He pulls out the container and opens it to pour a dozen pieces onto Lucy's tray and she immediately grabs one and pops it into her mouth, humming happily. Lucy would be fed some proper breakfast later, but the puffs would tide her over until he and Valerie cooked and ate their own food. When he started to grab all they would need to make breakfast, Valerie finally joined him with Mooey in one of her arms, and he grabbed a step stool for her to use.

He gave her the easier tasks such as cracking the eggs and putting some cinnamon in them before it was whisked, and while he cooked the french toast, she washed the fruit. Strawberries, grapes, bananas, and even some kiwi were thrown into a bowl after Tony helped her cut them into pieces, and Valerie carefully mixed them together before stepping down from the stool and carrying the bowl to the table. It was amazing how independent Valerie was already being in her own way. She loved helping any way she could and even got a little upset when something was beyond her capabilities. Like when Stephen got sick. She was able to help make him soup but not much else and hated that there wasn't more she could do to make her mommy feel better.

William had to distract her most of the time, and the other times he had to reassure her. Tony and Stephen didn't like the girls to go into their room if one of them were sick because they didn't want them to get sick too.

"Here we go. Piping hot toast with…" Tony makes a show of topping Valerie's french toast with a few chocolate chips and she giggles. "Chocolate chips as promised. Buon appetito."

"Tank you Daddy," Valerie says softly when he places the plate on the table in front of her. He cuts it up for her before kissing her temple and then gets his own plate before sitting across from her.

"Want syrup?" He asks and grabs the syrup dispenser he had filled with warm syrup and pours a little bit on her toast.

"Ba!" Lucy reaches out and Tony chuckles and puts a drop on his finger to stick in her mouth.

"There. Like it? You don't get anymore." Tony says as Lucy sucks on his finger.

Tony made quick work of his french toast and fruit so he could feed Lucy before she started to demand more syrup. He grabbed a jar of chicken and rice--which made him gag a little when he opened it-- and a spoon, then offered a spoonful to the infant. He really didn't understand how babies could like the meat purees. He didn't dare try it in case it tasted as bad as it smelled, and the vegetables weren't much better. Tony was seriously considering giving the task of feeding Lucy her meat and vegetables to the Avengers.

Or the boys if they misbehaved. He knew for a fact the smell hit Peter harder.

"All done." Valerie announces.

"Great job." Tony glances at her plate. "You sure polished your plate. Go ahead and go watch your movie while I finish feeding your sister."

"Kay."

Valerie gets down from her chair and grabs her plate, carrying it to the sink and carefully lifting it up to drop it in. She checked her hands to see if they needed to be washed, found them clean, and shuffled to the living room and asked Friday to put on her favorite movie. Tony smiled and finished feeding Lucy and cleaned her up before taking her to the playpen in the living room, and then returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. With how quiet things were, Tony honestly would have forgotten that Valerie was even there. All he heard was the tv and Lucy...and the water running.

How Stephen and William remembered her when she was this quiet was nothing short of amazing, but the thought sounded terrible to him at the same time. He didn't forget about Valerie, not by a long shot, but if someone told him they came by and took her to do something, he would be inclined to believe them. But she was sitting on the couch with Mooey clutched in her arms when he finally finished cleaning up and sat on the couch next to her.

"So...I thought of an idea." Tony smiles when Valerie looks up at him.

"Idea?"

"Yup. I think Tibbs is around here somewhere and he's due for his next pedicure."

Valerie's eyes brighten and she giggles. "Dia and Cassie do that!"

"Well I think it's our turn."

The little girl hopped off the couch to go find the pet safe nail polish and Tony looked around for the cat. It didn't take long to find Tibbs dozing in a patch of sunlight on the floor and the feline protested with an annoyed meow when Tony scooped him up.

"I don't know why you bother throwing a fit." Tony snorts as he carries Tibbs back over to the coffee table where Valerie was already waiting. "What color is he getting today topolina?"

"Purple!"

Tony laughs. "Purple it is."

Once Tony sets Tibbs down, Valerie gently takes one of the cat's paws and carefully applies the polish to each nail. Tibbs, the ever chill cat, sat calmly after yawning and patiently let the little girl do his nails. He was more than used to letting the girls do stuff like this to him and knew eventually they would finish and let him go so Tony wasn't worried about him scratching. All the other animals got pedicures as well.

Even Emir.

"Tibbs gets tweats!" Valerie says after finishing.

"He sure does. You know where they are." Tony says and Valerie gets up to retrieve the cat treats.

She shook the bag as she returned from the lower cabinets in the kitchen, and Tony laughed when the cat's ears perked up. Tony helped his daughter open the bag and she grabbed a small handful which she held out and let Tibbs eat straight from her hand. While the cat purred contently, Tony glanced over at Lucy to find the baby fast asleep with her teething ring still in her mouth.

"Where's the Play-Doh Uncle Steve got you?" Tony asks and Valerie points towards her room. "Go get it. We'll make some sculptures."

"You too?" She asks.

"Me too. You can show me how to make flowers."

Once again, the little girl scurried away, leaving Tony with The Little Mermaid to fill the silence, but soon enough, Valerie came back with an armful of containers of Play-Doh. She sets them down on the coffee table before sitting on Tony's lap, and he smiles as she starts opening the containers and taking out the clay. They spent the next couple of hours shaping the clay into different things, from flowers to Tony's suits, until they were rudely interrupted by Lucy's teething ring. Specifically when it sailed into the air and hit the side of Tony's head.

"I'm guessing it's time for lunch." Tony snorts and lifts Valerie out of his lap, groaning as he gets up from the floor. "Daddy's getting too old for this."

"Burro di arachidi e gelatina?" Valerie requests.

"Yes ma'am. With milk." Tony says as he walks over to the playpen and picks up Lucy. He sniffs and grimaces. "After I change your sister."

Valerie wrinkles her nose. "Yucky."

"You said it. You finish your sculpture and then we can make lunch and watch a movie. Sound good?" Tony asks.

"Uh-huh."

Tony couldn't believe he was worried about this just this morning. He enjoyed playing with the clay with Valerie, and he was pretty sure she enjoyed herself too. He made a mental note to think of more things to do for the future days like this, with another side note to think of things that Lucy could eventually join in on. The baby was growing up fast and wouldn't be content to stay in the playpen forever.

"Phew." Tony reels back a little when he opens the baby's diaper once he gets her on the changing table in the master bathroom. "Are you taking lessons from Harley?"

#stephen strange #supremefamily #ironstrange #tony stark #mama bear stephen strange #valerie stark strange (oc) #lucy elina stark strange (oc)

[hughjidiot]

Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

---

“BeanBoozled?”

 Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

 “Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

 “How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

 Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really  really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

 Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or  barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

 “Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

 “Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

 “Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

 “Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

 Sasha  hmmm’ed  as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here...  Clue,  no…  Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster…  no, no, nope… Ah, perfect!  Would You Rather.”

 Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

 Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

 Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is  that?”

 “That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

 “Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

 Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims  were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

 “And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

 Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

 “Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

 “Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

 Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

 “But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

 “Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t  talk either.”

 “Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

 Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

 Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

 “Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all,  I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

 Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in  years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

 “Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

 “Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

 “Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

 On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

 Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

 Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

 “Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

 “Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

 “Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget  you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

 “Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

 “Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

 “Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

 “You girls  know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

 “Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

 “It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

 Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

 “You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

 “Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

 She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

 “Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

 Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

 “Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That  sucked .”

 “Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

 “Bite me, Sash,” Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when  you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

 Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

 “Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

 “Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

 “Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a  hmph as Marcy smirked. 

 “Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

 “Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

 Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

 Finally, Sasha smirked.

 “Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

 “Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

 “Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

 ---

 “Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or  booger?  Oh jeez…”

 She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

 “Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech!  Oh that’s foul!”

 “Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

 ---

 “More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

 “Well coffee  is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

 “Yeah but… coffee!”

 “We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

 Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

 She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

 “Dead -  ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

 “Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

 ---

 “Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.” 

 She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

 “Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

 “Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

 She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

 “You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

 “I’m just  peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

 She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

 “Aaaand it’s barf because  why not?!”  Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

 Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

 “Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

 “No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

 Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you -  blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

 “Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

 “Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

 “Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

 Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

 “Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

 Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

 Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

 “Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You  didn’t! ”

 “Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

 Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sashannarcy