#ma’am do u know how dangerous that is

[paigebueckersmommy]

hotel - p.b

paige bueckers x uconn wbb player

requested by anon

warnings : fingering, p eating, teasing

you and paige had been going out for 4 months, after playing on the same team 4 years. you and paige had both decided to stay a 5th year, not knowing what it would lead to. you and paige share a dorm, so one night when you and paige had had too much to drink, things got steamy, and ever since then..

your former teammates nika and aalyiah were getting drafted at the WNBA draft, so you, paige and azzi went to support them. azzi was staying in a room with nika in the room a couple doors down from you ima gorgeous hotel. when paige told you that you two would be sharing a room, there was a grin across both of your faces.

azzi came into your room to get ready with you and paige, azzi was sitting on the couch in your room waiting for you to get done with P’s hair. “OHHHH MY GOD COULD YOU GUYS MOVE ANY SLOWER.” azzi groaned out of frustration. paige smirked then moved herself close to your ear to whisper, “little does she know how fast we go.” you giggled then playfully slap her arm. azzi could see in the bathroom door from the couch. with a grossed out look on her face, “i don’t wanna know.” she says as she pays her attention back to her phone.

you guys continued getting ready, and walked the orange carpet and got interviewed before the draft stated.

you guys sat down, you on the end of the row, paige in the middle and azzi on paige’s left. still waiting for the draft to start, and azzi conversing with someone else in our row, and paige lays her hand ok your inner thigh, dangerously close to your heat.

you gasp and make eye contact with her as she grins, “what you don’t like my hand there ma?” you giggle. azzi turns around from her conversation, making contact with paige’s hand on your thigh. “ew. can you two not wait till we get back? you act like you don’t have a king bed all to your self for the next two days” she says with a fake, over dramatic gag. paige quickly removes her hand, her hand flying to her head in a command way, “yes ma’am sorry ma’am.” azzi laughs and she puts her hand back on your thigh, azzi jot saying anything else about it.

you’d spend the night cheering, crying and hugging.

when you get back to your hotel, you plop yourself on your bed. paige goes to the bathroom and undresses herself all but the gold chain around her neck. she climbs over to the bed and hovers over you. “hey ma” she says. “hi P” you say with a giggle. “y’know all i could think about the entire night was your pussy. i’m soaked.” she whispers, even tho your alone. you don’t mind, it’s incredibly sexy.

you starts to rip all you clothes off, leaving you completely naked. paige hovers her mouth over you, licking a single stripe down your body. “mhm fuck paige please” you say, desperate. “please what sweetheart? where do you need me?” she says, acting clueless as if she doesn’t know your body inside out “p i need your mouth on my pussy”

she immediately follows your request, circling your clit with her tounge. you let out moans that satisfy paige. she enters her toung inside you, and your legs already start to shake. “fuck i’m close P,” you release on paige, her licking up and down your folds twice more before coming up and kissing you for the purpose of tasting yourself. “u taste so good baby” paige says in a raspy tone.

you were now on top of paige, kissing. you seperate your faces, shoving 2 fingers into paige’s mouth as she swirls them with her toung. when she’s done, she bites her lip, knowing what will happen. you rub her clit, earning gasps from paige. “fuck baby,” paige says breathing out moans. you shove your fingers into her sopping wet cunt. she moans out loudly, murmuring curse words.

after a minute or two, paige’s legs start to shake while she continues to moan your name and cursing. you saw her making the face she makes before she cums, the face you love. she relases under you when you bring your fingers to your mouth, savoring paige’s taste. after you lick her juices off, you bring them to paige’s mouth, still recovering from her orgasm. “taste yourself baby.” you say in a sub tone.

“holy fuck baby.” paige breathes out.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

[yeetlegay]

Why Kinn’s voice fucks me up: a silly little analysis

I’ve been obsessing over this for a solid month now but haven’t seen anybody really talk about it in depth so I’m taking it upon myself to write this meta. Dw my brand as Unhinged Shit-Stirrer in the tag remains intact. 🤙🏻

This post is kind of hard to do without audio clips (and I’m way too lazy to do all that lol) but hopefully screenshots will still give you a sense of what I’m talking about.

First things first, let’s talk about Mile’s voice. Especially next to Apo, he comes across as a lot quieter, more reserved, and even when he’s excited his voice tends to be softer, not really high per se but lighter. My guess is he’d be a tenor if he sang, mayyybe a baritone with a more limited lower range.

In real life, interviews, BTS clips, etc, his voice makes him sound gentler, more mature, more approachable, even a little shy. His voice projects kindness and gives you the sense that he’s the sort of person you’d like automatically if you met him.

It would make sense then, in his role as Kinn, if he altered his voice, spoke lower or louder, affected a different timbre and tone, all to add to his appearance as someone dangerous and maybe even violent. It’s an obvious choice to make, given not just Kinn’s personality on the page but also the world he lives in, a world dominated by men and toxic masculinity where he’s already dealing with derision and snide comments for being openly gay. It would be completely reasonable for someone like Kinn to use every tool he can to protect and enhance his image and especially his masculinity, which would include his voice.

But Kinn doesn’t do that. Mile doesn’t do that. His voice stays more or less the same in the series as it does in real life, obviously with a little more dramatic tension involved. Kinn speaks softly, calmly, even when he’s at his angriest. Sure, he can go a bit louder in certain scenes, like when he’s running from those gunmen in ep1 or when that hot assassin is beating the shit out of him with her baton (ma’am I am begging u for literally just one date, pls), but there’s always a softer undertone to his voice despite the occasional need to yell.

So how exactly does the exact same voice manage to convey two totally different personalities and general energies? How does Mile totally embody this character who’s extremely dangerous, possessive, ruthless, and often violent, with that soft, gentle voice?

Because in the context of the story, that voice tells us something about Kinn. It’s intentional on Mile’s part, an interpretation of who Kinn is and how he interacts with the world, and it immediately breaks him out of the mold of this archetype that viewers will want to instinctively place him in.

In the first episode alone, that voice tells us three things.

1) Kinn is comfortable and confident in his skin. Does he have issues? Fuck yes. But he doesn’t give a shit about trying to appear threatening or dangerous. He expects that everyone already knows this. His quiet voice in moments like that first scene with the Italian mob show that he doesn’t need to appear anything. He knows he’s in control, and he’s confident everyone else knows it too. His reputation precedes him, and he doesn’t bother with projecting power through his voice when he already sees the power as his. (Another indication of this is his clothing. His suits could present as a kind of armor, and they do in a way, but he’s just as comfortable, emits the same level of charisma, when he’s in casual clothes or even matching silk pajamas. I won’t talk more about the silk pajamas because the things I want to say would all get god’s lightning bolt on me w a quickness.)

2) He’s a strategic thinker. He’s learned to keep his outward cool in almost every situation, and moderates his voice accordingly. Even when he yells, it’s well-controlled and only to make himself heard, not to show strength or aggression. In fact, his voice tends to pitch higher when he speaks louder, maintaining that softer undertone. It shows that he’s not reactive, that he’s working to manage his emotions and think ahead while he’s talking. All of that is external though; he’s still a freak and certified gay disaster on the inside.

3) He’s not cruel. He may look like it, may even want people to think he is, but his voice gives him away. His scene with Yok in the bar is staged to threaten Porsche, to make him nervous, but the way he speaks to her, even though it’s partly for effect, is still courteous and kind. He wants Porsche to feel the threat of that interaction, but he doesn’t make anyone else feel that threat unnecessarily. Yok may understand more than she lets on about what’s happening, but there’s no sign she’s overly nervous or uncomfortable around Kinn despite that. (As an aside, the low-class mafia comment and the way he says it is hot, but it also ties back to the first point. He has no need to force artificial authority or strength or power into his voice. His confidence and charisma speak for themselves, and he’s so self-assured that the people around him don’t need any reminders of who he is or what he’s capable of.)

There are a few scenes from eps 2 and 3 that stick out in my mind too where Kinn’s voice is especially important to setting the tone for the scene.

The coffee scene:

Kinn adds a bit of bluster to his voice in this scene, inflecting more and speaking just a little louder overall than he usually does in ordinary conversation. His body language and facial movements are also interesting here, along with the blocking, with him seated and looking up at Porsche, but that’s another post lol. Essentially he’s projecting his voice more, which he doesn’t do much with Porsche, and directing it upward to meet Porsche’s eyes. It adds such a subtle vibe to the scene that I didn’t even notice it on a first watch, but after seeing it a few times it’s obvious what his voice is indicating here: he feels bad. We know (from how he talks but also just the hints we’ve gotten so far) that he’s not cruel by nature or needlessly violent. He did what he did in the previous scene to protect Porsche, but he didn’t like doing it. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it real guilt. He’s practical enough to know he made the right call and he’s not close enough to Porsche to truly care about him yet. But I really think in this scene he’s working a little too hard to meet Porsche’s eyes, to act like himself. His voice is a little louder and more...provocative isn’t the word, but something like it, to give no room in the scene for any appearance that he does feel bad for what he did. This is one instance where he does raise his voice to project an image of strength and maybe even defiance, and all so Porsche doesn’t have any reason to wonder if he regrets hurting him. Babie behavior imo but go off king

The wound tending scene:

Kinn does this really fun thing where when he’s being possessive or reasserting his dominance (jfc Kinn are u gonna pee on him next, like ffs), he softens his voice, makes it a teensy bit slower, and enunciates very clearly. When he does this, it’s to make you lean in to listen, to make you pay extra attention. It’s a power play, and it’s interesting that he uses it so often on Porsche. He wants Porsche to lean in, to pay extra attention to him, and even if he thinks it’s solely to put an employee in his place, it’s obvious to the viewer that there’s something else going on.

The pier scene:

This is pretty much the first scene where we see Kinn really let down his guard and be emotionally intimate with Porsche, even if it’s only because he’s drunk and his inhibitions are lowered, as seen earlier when he was shaking his tiddies at Porsche like it was a Lizzo concert. It’s not just that he’s looser and smiles more easily and talks more freely; it’s also that his voice is lower, which lends a sense of intimacy to the scene despite the open space around them. He’s talking to Porsche, focusing his eyes and his voice on him, rather than at him. There’s also something about his tone that feels...idk receptive, like he’s speaking to Porsche on equal footing for the first time. It makes me wonder what he’ll sound like when he’s being genuinely affectionate and loving toward Porsche, because his voice here sounds like a taster of that even though they’re nowhere near that point yet.

In general, Porsche makes Kinn’s voice do things it doesn’t usually do. Kinn is actually a little less well-modulated with Porsche, given how much he gets under his skin, and it shows. His voice has more variety in it when he talks to Porsche; he swings from a soft murmur to a more brash, loud tone in the span of a few seconds. It’s like Porsche’s chaos is rubbing off on him a little, messing with his control. He feels more human because of it, more dynamic, which I think is a good indicator of how Porsche will change him more generally as a person.

Other posts in this series:

Kinn’s voice in episode 4: basically my man is losing it

Kinn’s voice in episode 5: Kinn, respectfully, go to therapy

Kinn’s voice in episode 6: aka Kinn’s Camp Rock “this is real, this is me” era

Kinn’s voice in episode 7: heart boners everywhere

#kinnporsche #meta #now back to my regularly scheduled shitposting

[rarestdoll]

abby (nsfw) headcanons

this is my fist post so pls be nice ໒꒰ྀི𖦹ࡇ𖦹꒱ྀི১ it’s absolute pure filth and somewhat self indulgent hehe

content warning for: NSFW/18+!!! choking, primal play, S/M, pure filth, description of female anatomy

tags: wlw, smut, dom/sub, fem!sub reader

she’s definitely a strict top/hard dom, focuses on pleasing u but with make u work to be able to touch and please her

is open to anything (not anything u don’t like tho) and loves having discussions about u guys boundaries, kinks, discoveries, etc

abby is a real cocky mf when it comes to her confidence in pleasuring her partner

she’s only been with owen but boy has she been steadily learning about the ins and out of being gay and pleasuring a body much like her own (somehow managed to her get hands on books abt gay romance n sex)

the first time she goes to make a move on u, it’s incredibly endearing yet hot cuz she’s so damn confident despite never bein with anyone who’s not a man

the way she kisses… soft at first like she’s trying not to break u (yet) but gets needy for more contact and control… domination seeping through her lips like she wants to consume u whole

she will grab ur neck/chin firmly in one hand to hold u steady while she absolutely devours u and takes u apart with her tongue, exploring every inch of ur mouth to get a thorough taste of u

bites at ur lips in carnal desire, hard enough to draw blood, soothing the pain over with repeated swipes of her tongue

kissing her jus feels so good

keeps a hand at ur throat to remind u to hold still unless she says so

abby loves marking u, she loves the feeling of satisfaction in her veins when she sees the marks of her ownership adorning ur skin… plus she thinks is so pretty seeing u bruised red blue and purple

definitely a growler, it scares u how attractive it is hearing the deep feral noises come from her chest

she has a size/strength kink, she loves manhandling u and how much stronger she is than u

pinning u down and rendering u helpless is her favorite to get u to submit, it’s amusing to her to see u struggle against her

rarely will have to but loves putting u in ur place, reminding u who u belong and for u to behave

calls u (her) princess, doll, sweetheart, sweet girl, darling in that syrupy condescending tone she loves to tease u with

loves choking u a lil TOO much

can be extremely sadistic, so mean that it leaves u in a sobbing head dizzying daze (she loves seeing u cry the bastard)

also a masochist herself (of course she is she’s the type of mf who will smile when she gets punched wtf) especially likes her hair getting pulled

into primal play, u can see the way her eyes harden dangerously after u guys play a game of “chase” and she’s finally got u pinned under her, it’s terrifyingly attractive how much she has to hold herself back

likes being called daddy/sir/ma’am

she always knows when ur horny, knows ur body language like the back of her hand, can see when ur eyes glaze over mind filling with filthy thoughts of her and can smell ur arousal once it becomes strong enough and will absolutely tease u for it, running a feather light touch of her fingers over ur clit

has such a dirty mouth wtf literally where and how did she learn to speak like that (she already curses like a sailor so that doesn’t make it any better)

WILL absolutely overstimulate and edge u cuz she wants to see u break so badly

cooes at u when u get so overwhelmed by her ruining u, will lick ur tears off ur cheeks

abby is a pussy eater and takes pride in it !! begs to eat u out, her favorite way to do so is with ur legs wide open slung over her shoulders and her big hands holding u down, licking u out like it’s her last meal, intentionally focusing on ur leaking hole before flicking her tongue harshly over ur bud, switching back and forth, making u scream and arch dangerously to point of her having to press u down into the bed to hold u still, the way she moans from how good u taste >>

will go on for hours stretching u out w her thick fingers, long enough to make u beg pathetically for her to let u cum, voice hoarse with needy and exhaustion, it’s only when ur absolutely shaking and clinging on her will she allow u to let go, watching u as u throw ur head back and unabashedly moan her name, amazed by how beautiful u look

that stupid smirk she has when u finally reach point where u can only let out whines and broken fragments of words cuz of how good and floaty u feel >>> that’s when she knows she’s successfully done her job

when she uses the strap… good god… hips snapping against u like the fake cock attached to her is her own, brutally pounding into ur cunt and she just tells u to take it. her favorite position is missionary cuz she’s a fucking sadist and wants to see u fall apart under her. the absolute primal need to fill u up only makes her go harder, one hand around ur throat and the other holding ur legs open, going deep enough to make u see stars behind ur eyelids

“ur taking me so well, princess. can u feel how deep i am?” she’ll say, putting emphasis on her words by thrusting harder, pressing her hand on ur stomach, laughing darkly when u sob brokenly, head only filled with how good her cock feels

SHE LOVES TO PACK TOO !! GOOD HEAVENS !!

if she doesn’t have her strap, she’ll fuck u with her own cunt, holding ur hands in her own, pushing her hips in a slow sinful pace, rocking her clit onto ur own while she marks up ur throat with bites and bruises, moving so powerfully that u think she’ll break u if she wasn’t so careful. she enjoys doing this too much, loves how u feel under her and hearing her name fall from ur lips like a god’s prayer makes her feel damn near close to one

comes from pleasing u, that’s how much she enjoys it, just seeing and hearing how beautiful u are is more than enough for her

gives excellent aftercare, will immediately hold u when ur session is finally done, peppering ur face and chest with light kisses, wiping ur tears and smoothing down ur sex wild hair, waits til uve come down a lil out of ur haze before picking u up in her strong arms and carrying u into the bathroom so u both can take a bath

sets u in her lap and holds u close while u wait for it to fill up, whispering praise to u in a low sweet voice, telling u how much she loves u and how perfect u are and how good u did, goes on and on about how gorgeous u look in her post sex glow while u smack her chest for being so shameless

scrubs u throughoutly, washes and detangles ur hair for u, and gets u ready for bed cuz she just loves taking care of u, ur her baby

makes sure uve had a good fill of water and a snack before putting u in bed and tucking u against her, her strong arms wrapped wholly around ur body, secure and safe from the world

a/n: i have absolutely no shame when it comes to abby. lemme know what y’all think ! ♡

#♡ navigation #the last of us #abby anderson #abby x reader #tlou smut #wlw #abby is lesbian cuz i said so #🧁

[elysianslove]

Hewwooo! This ask just came into my mind and I wanted to share. So Yuuji has a girlfriend that is a civilian and at first Sukuna is annoyed by her but as time passed he starts to take a like on her since she's always so nice to him despite him being a curse. And he's just so confused about his feelings because him being the king of curses falling for a weakling? Ridiculous. I want to read your interpretation of this idc if its hcs or scenario. Do whatever you like❤

hi my love!! i really hope you like this!! i made it into headcanons so i can go over a larger span of time more smoothly, so i hope that’s okay!

i’m getting so many sukuna requests hell yes 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

okay so let’s make it that you’re yuuji’s gf from before he ate sukuna’s finger ( yeah btw wtf is up with your bf ??? )

he called you as soon as they’d announced the death of his grandpa, because it had felt like you were the last family he had left. seriously you’re his whole world

you’re there when megumi starts explaining stuff about how this finger’s super dangerous and people will die you and yuuji are like 😃✋🏼 wha 

but also so unbothered bc he can’t be serious

turns out he is serious laugh out loud

yuuji makes you go home as you’re at the school gate and you’re like mf what??? no???? i’m not leaving you?? 

he ends up making you wait and then he just never comes back

megumi explains everything to you 

but again you’re like 😃✋🏼 pause wtf 

you keep texting him and calling him and he’s not responding you’d be angry at him if you weren’t so fucking worried 

and so eventually he finds you again 

after eating sukuna’s second finger (again, what the fuck sir) 

now megumi had told you he was now like ? possessed ? by a curse? it sounded like gibberish to you tbh and it was the last thing you were thinking about when you finally saw him again

all that mattered was that he was okay and alive and in your arms 

you’ve never hugged him tighter tbh 

so anyways ! yuuji does not want you to meet sukuna 

like ever 

but when he meets you one day really frustrated from a mission, you ask him about it, and he just vents out everything to you. he tells you how the responsibility can be so overwhelming sometimes, and how sukuna can be so infuriating and you can’t imagine what it must be like having this guy in your head 

and then you just go 

“can i meet him?” 

at first he’s like absolutely not ma’am are u insane 

but then you convince him, telling him you trust him and reminding him he has control 

so he shifts 

you really were expecting something horrendous like seriously you were anticipating fainting from fear 

he’s just your bf 

with a rougher edge 

you like instantly relax 

even if this guy’s expressions are nothing like yuuji’s, you remind yourself that it’s still yuuji inside, no matter what 

“i like your — tats?” 

what do you even say to a curse??? 

he’s scowling at you so much you might piss yourself but you just repeat constantly that he can’t hurt you 

“you disgust me,” he spits out

yuuji shifts back so quick, and just groups you on his arms 

“that wasn’t me, i swear,” he says to you and you have to calm him down and tell him it’s okay !!  it’s not his fault the guy’s an ass 

now! yuuji’s pretty comfortable with your level of physical affection 

in fact, he loves it so much. it’s one of his favorite things about you. 

so he’s always welcoming an embrace from his favorite person in the world, but it’s so hard to ignore sukuna’s words in his mind repeatedly saying how this is so revolting 

he tries his best to pay him no attention 

sometimes y’all will be cuddling and a mouth appear somewhere on yuuji’s body and it’ll say “get ur hands off my vessel human!” and ngl

it always makes you laugh

like how comical is that

eventually, over time, the hugs are 

kinda nice, sukuna realizes 

like he’s a thousand year old cursed spirit

he’s not really gotten any affection yk 

like ever 

and it’s not that he ever wanted it

but being with you

or well, him possessing yuuji and yuuji being with you and you being with him through transitive property (thank you grade 7 math)  

it really like softens him

kinda 

a little bit 

like the tiniest bit 

some part of him, he probably thinks it’s yuuji and not even him and that he’s just confused but really some part of him grows to anticipate the hugs 

and when you kiss yuuji 

god

your mouth feels so good he wants to feel it for himself 

it’s like angering him how you’re growing onto him, so he asks yuuji to shift them 

and they do shift

you’re a little surprised bc yuuji gave u like a 3 sec warning before those familiar markings appeared on his skin

“i never thought i’d see you again,” you admit. 

and he just kisses you 

like full on the mouth 

no warning

you pull him back in shock, and rest a hand on his shoulder to keep a distance between you two

“i don’t know where this is coming from but it doesn’t feel right, sukuna.” 

and you’re just

you’re just so nice

why are you so nice???

“i love yuuji, so much, and even though you’re sharing a body you’re still a whole other person. it feels wrong.” 

god why are you so good? it’s infuriating???? 

yuuji shifts back, starts apologizing again like the first time

“you have to stop apologizing for something someone else did, babe.” 

when he’s alone with sukuna that night he’s like dude, dude, bro, my man — we gotta talk boundaries bc wtf

sukuna just goes “not fair u get to kiss her” 

like yeah??? she’s my girlfriend tf ???? 

so sukuna resorts to watching (or feeling) from the sidelines again

as he grows more and more affectionate towards you 

until he’s just as protective over you as yuuji is

until he realizes that 

what yhe fuck

maybe he has feelings for you because, one of the main things about you is that the two times you’ve encountered him, you’ve never treated him like a curse. even if being treated human was once considered belittling to him, having you dote on him like that, speak to him as softly

it made his brain go brrrr 

so he asks yuuji one day, “can i kiss your gf” 

like that’s something you just casually ask

took a lotta convincing but eventually yuuji says “if she says yes then okay” 

it takes like 

90 minutes for both you and yuuji to decide that you’re okay with it. sukuna’s like fuck it ion wanna anymore lmfao

but anyways 

yuuji shifts into him 

and 

he doesn’t even wait the impatient mf 

he just kisses you so suddenly, cupping your neck and tugging at your hair like damn how long has he been wanting to do this

clearly way longer than even he thought 

after that yuuji doesn’t exactly share you, but yeah he’ll let sukuna kiss you every now and then

sukuna’s still not fully accepting of his feelings towards you, but he learns to appreciate you

especially your kindness towards him and yuuji, and the tenderness of your touch 

he never would’ve seen it coming when he awoke in this teenage boy’s body, but he can admit that you’re definitely an added benefit

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna headcanons

[claireunoia]

hi !! Can I request "If you're hurt you can tell me, I don't mind carrying you, honest." With Peter Parker please ☺️🤍

❥ ҉ warnings : CONTAINS SPOILERS OF NO WAY HOME if u haven’t watch yet pls look away!! fluff!!!, dangerous situations, usual spiderman fighting stuff

❥ ҉ word count : 1331

❥ ҉ a/n : ❝hii everyone, i’m gonna be writing for nwh bc i need ways to cope with watching it so writing is my plan to do so,, PLS. so i’m accepting request for drabbles, imagines, full fics, or blurbs so send them in if u want. also pls blocked the tags below that has anything to do with nwh if u don’t want to see any spoilers! :) ilu guys <3!!!❞

☁︎ masterlist | navigation ☁︎

absolute chaos.

is the only way you can describe your current situation and the current situation that was unraveling around you. it felt so surreal yet mind-boggling at the same time, as you watched a man with metal tentacles destroy the bridge you and hundreds of other people were on.

you don’t know how you managed to end up in such a predicament. you were just on your way to see your family since being away from them after such a long time and now you weren’t even sure if you’ll ever be able to see them again.

you were stuck in a problematic position. after seeing the first few rows of people's cars being blown up, you hurried and rushed to try to get out of yours and run out as completely fast as you could.

while you had got out, it wasn’t a completely successful mission.

you had moved to get out right at the last second, the car blowing before you even made it past the second car door window. the blast sending you in the air before landing you on your side harshly and onto the concreted, hard, road ground.

a painful cry left your lips as you felt the rough impact, your side feeling like it was crushed completely in. you were grateful though, internally grateful that you weren’t dead or yet blown up into pieces. that wouldn’t be good.

you couldn’t move, not even an inch. after a second you had start to believe you were beginning to go even more crazy when you saw a glimpse of red and blue start to soar and web through the air as it try to help citizens get away while beating up the tentacle guy as you like to call him.

it was spider-man or peter parker. the boy behind the mask that was all over the news and every social media platform there is and all around the school you attend that he attends as well. even had his own glassed window with decorated stuff just for him inside it.

and there he was, fighting the guy right ahead of you.

while everyone else was evacuating and running far, far away as possible. you were stuck, in the same position and same spot. and you don’t think you can get up, your body just will not let you at all. when you saw a car flying in the air that was dangerously close to you, you decided then. you had to get up. you couldn’t just lay there and wait to get imploded, you refused to. with a push of your hands on the warm ground, you begin to try and lift yourself up and off the road.

a loud cry escaped from your lips as soon as you tried to get up, the paining sound alerting spider-man who wasn’t so far from you as soon as the cry left you.

you saw the boy snapped his head in your direction, the large eyes of the masks boring into you from a couple ways down before he turned to a black truck that was leaning on the edge of the bridge, seconds away from dropping.

“don’t worry ma’am! i’m coming!!!” you hear him screamed, towards the woman that was in a car ahead of you, dangling right off the edge of the bridge. his voice picking back up soon after. “don’t worry other ma’am! i’m coming too!!” he addressed you as loud as he could so you could hear him.

you can hear the woman you supposed was the lady dangling in the car faintly scream the name “peter” frighteningly. a few seconds later you saw the car falling down and seeing peter web it and began getting dragged across the road as he tried to catch a hold of the car. soon enough both the car and peter disappeared from your sight, along with the big tentacle guy, he must’ve followed them both. you sighed, laying completely flat on you back with a loud huff.

“and i’m stuck, great”

what you saw was probably a dream but anything is possible at this point so it didn’t really faze you at all when you saw the car that was hanging on the edge of the bridge that you swore you saw fall, come rising and flying up and back onto the bridge. the metal tentacle thingy being the thing that's bringing the car back up and on the road successfully.

soon enough you saw spider-man’s figure running up to the car and making sure the lady who’s in there is safe and okay, but now instead of the cool iron suit now his attire consists of a very wrinkled suit with a tie that’s half destroyed. you also notice how the man that was just trying to kill him was standing right next to him was not trying to kill him anymore.

when peter was done with talking and dealing with the lady in the car, you could see how his face lit up with realization as his mind drifted to you and remember your scream from earlier.

“shoot!” the boy hisses as he quickly makes his way over to the spot where he remembers he saw you at. you see and hear his loud footsteps against the pavements as he runs closer and closer to you.

“uh miss! are you alright?“ he quickly speaks as he reaches you, noticing you laid out on the floor.

“well, i don’t think so” at your words peter head snaps up to your features, noticing your face with wonder before his eyes widened. crouching down to your level on the floor to interact with you more efficiently and easier.

“hey, i know you” he whispers with curiosity, not quite placing his finger on how he knows you and your name. you wince as he felt the spot above your eyebrow where you got cut during the whole incident. you nod at his words with a little smile.

“yeah, we go to mid-town together. i was on the decathlon team with you, peter” at your statement you hear him gasp loudly in realization with a smile on his face.

“right! smartie pants, wasn’t it?” he teased with a chuckle as you laughed along with him at the memories of him and the others members on the team calling you that. “just messing with you, y/n” you smiled at the remembrance of your name.

a quick beat of seconds passed before he lifted you up or more like he tried. a shriek leaving your lips as he did so, the aggravating pain in your side screaming at you as he kept you lifted and balanced by his hands.

“are you okay?” his concerned voice questions as he looked you over. you nod your head with a sigh heaving from you, eyes closing shut momentarily at the sensation from your injury. “hey, if you’re hurt, which you clearly are, you can tell me you know. i’m kinda a superhero”

you lightly scoff. “oh yeah, cause you fighting a guy with metal tentacles wasn’t a good enough example”

peter giggled at your sarcasm before raising a brow, waiting for you to comply and tell him what’s hurting you. “its my side, landed pretty badly on it when my car went boom during the whole thing” you responded with a hiss. peter nodded in understanding before looking around at the wrecked bridge before looking back at you. “well obviously you can’t get up, barely sit up at that, you know i don’t mind carrying you. i can swing you to the hospital”

you nod in relief and chuckle lightly, “yes please, but can i make a request?” you asked while peter began moving his arm under your legs while his other one supported your back, picking you up bridal style.

you hear the brunette boy hum with a friendly “sure” coming from in response.

“can you please swing me gently? it hurts with every movement” peter laughs before nodding, accepting your request. “it’ll be a bit bumpy but sure”

#nwh #spiderman nwh #nwh spoilers #no way home #no way home spoilers #spiderman nwh spoilers #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter x fem! reader #peter parker x fem! reader #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #avengers fic

[no-droids]

Ch 17 was so, so, so good (thank you!!) 🥺 i am still processing. ((Edit: this turned into an essay so i Am Very Sorry in advance, there is a tldr at the end though))

First of all. We get to see Din going through it the same way sweet girl was a couple chapters ago and I love it! She’s been so clear from the start that she doesn’t want to run away from him and now Din’s getting to the point where he doesn’t want to chase her anymore because he just wants her to be physically there with him again. The second night of comms while she’s camped out at the orphanage?? “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it.” ??????????? i am a Puddle of Emotions no one look at me 😭

And then the way he’s so unsure about whether she hasnt begun to reconsider wanting to keep up with his bounty-hunter life now that she’s finally gotten a break if being forced to outrun a mandalorian can be really even be called a break for the first time in a year?? And he can SEE all the places she’s stopped to talk to people on this planet (his comment about the number of times the blond guy turned around to talk to her in the line? 🥺.) Din knows she’s enjoying these small encounters with people, getting to interact with a new planet and learn new things as she’s making her way through each place, and since they’re only talking at night he gets to think about it literally all day long as he follows her trail and tries to figure out what her plan is. This is truly an exercise in Din thinking nonstop about sweet girl (which ofc he does already, but like, thinking critically about what she thinks/wants/does/needs and why) and I feel like that’s causing him to slowly start to second guess himself in terms of where he would put himself on sweet girl’s list of priorities. And I wonder how much of this he’s actually considering for the first time? because it’s always him who leaves and comes back when he gets jobs — this is the first time that sweet girl has left him instead of the other way around. Sweet girl has had tons of time to think about these things, whereas Din hasn’t really had to... because it’s not the one who leaves who feels the absence most, it’s the one who’s left behind (even if just temporarily).

I can just picture Din’s increasing doubts as the chase keeps going, whether he’s worth putting up with his lifestyle and whether sweet girl wouldn’t rather have a life like the people he sees in the footprints around hers? because he knows her, knows she likes soft beds and meeting people and fresh fruit and beautiful scenery, which are all things that living on the razor crest can’t always provide except for the last one bc Din Djarin IS beautiful scenery let’s be clear and just. the ANGST. I cannot. ( a n d meanwhile sweet girl is having a breakdown thinking he wants to STOP looking and LEAVE her? As if)

So when she shuts down his tentative doubts about it on the second night she’s at the orphanage and Din starts asking questions about favorite animals and flowers and things?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I lost it. Din is mirroring the love and care he receives from sweet girl (and learning to tap into those emotions as he does) and I am just in awe of both his character development from ch 1 to here and your ability to show that gradual shift in your writing.

Tl;dr thank you very much for this latest chapter! I will continue to be a soft emotional little puddle for the foreseeable future, or at least until I can figure out to scrape myself off the floor and function like a human being who has not just read rough day ch 17 and promptly dissolved as a direct result🌻

okay

okay first of all ma’am/sir/friend, please do not put tl;dr’s on a fucking MASTERFUL DISSECTION LIKE THAT like I genuinely hope people read every word of what you have written because you’re so spot on about everything that I was almost taken aback JEJFJJDJFJF

I would like to say, and I need to do this in list form because you have presented so many beautiful points that I’d like to address them one by one,

1.) Din Djarin is used to being alone. Full stop. Like even with sweet girl helping out with the baby and agreeing to stay on the ship while he goes and grabs quarry, he’s gone for weeks sometimes. He is used to being by himself, to fending for himself, protecting himself, patching himself up, EVERYTHING by himself. He is the most independent self-sufficient driven bounty hunter Karga has on the payroll and he’s reliable, which is why Karga would give him four pucks at a time. Giving anyone else four pucks would mean that if they happened to die during their hunts, then more than one puck would be lost and that’s money down the drain. Din doesn’t die, he always comes back with all four bodies and he’s fucking quick about it. Him telling sweet girl “I thought this was gonna be alright” is apt, because he’s been able to exist without her and do good work while he knows she’s safe on the Crest. In fact, the only time he EVER didn’t do good work is when a) she was attacked on the Crest on Corellia, or b) when he desperately wanted to get back to her as quick as possible and he pushed himself too hard and put himself in danger (aka frozen on Hoth scene). And actually c) when he stole Grogu back from the empire and had Karga and the guild on his ass about it. Those were the only times Din had trouble doing his job. The only times he stopped looking and gave up. “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it” means that YES ABSOLUTELY DIN DJARIN DOES NOT LIKE STAYING PUT WHILE SHE LEAVES, even though he’s okay with going out and doing his job when she stays. Even though he’s still hunting, it’s like the roles have been reversed. She’s understanding his side, and he’s understanding her side. It’s been 4 days and he hates it, so imagine weeks or months of that. Not being able to move or chase after her either, just hanging out on the crest with Grogu and waiting to see if she’ll be able to make it back. Which

2.) makes it hurt just a lil more in that wonderful delicious angsty way when he actually asks if she wants this life. On Naboo, he didn’t know where she went or where the kid was—he didn’t know if they were in danger, if she was safe. He said he’d rip the galaxy apart to find her if she ever disappeared like that again. But... she’d be safe on Sanctuary II. This is different, and just like you said, he’s had multiple days where all he did was try to think like her. Get in her head, predict her. Understand her more than he’s ever attempted to do before, in a NECESSARY capacity, like he would a bounty he’s hunting. Din Djarin is used to being alone. He’s used to being silent and that’s how connections are severed before they can even be established. His only practice at empathy was through his job, a job that he is very very good at, but it was never enough to get him to stop looking. He would never be able to empathize enough to ask if the bounty wanted him to stop looking for them. Even with the baby, he turned him in at first and then let the guilt eat him alive before going back to save him. So, if you couple that with his true connection to sweet girl, the natural empathy he has for her and the kid (him immediately following her after he accidentally snapped at her on the Crest and apologizing) and Din is now TRULY beginning to understand her on a level he’s never experienced with another person

3.) BUT!!! Even though he “needed to ask” (meaning he understood enough to know that asking the question was necessary) he started out the entire conversation by admitting he doesn’t think he could do it. Before ever telling her what specifically he doesn’t think he could do, he already knows this about himself and says it flat out. I don’t think I could. Even if you asked me to, even if you said you’d be happier if I did, even if you told me right now that it’s what you wanted, I don’t think I could ever stop looking. And a lot of the turmoil he experiences is because of that. I make you sleep on the floor. I teach you to fight when you just want to look at waterfalls. I do all these things that you’d never willingly do yourself, and I’m a bad person BECAUSE I still want you to always be here with me in spite of all that.

4.) Meanwhile sweet girl just has no fucking clue all this is happening and it seems to come out of nowhere, all she knows is that he’s been in the city when he should’ve caught up to her days ago. She’s out experiencing things and meeting new people and yet she always comes back to Din and the baby and how much they should be here with her. She tries to come up with clever ways to outthink him but she also offers to give her coordinates to him practically every single night. Her wanting to be with him so bad but trying to hold out (“ask me again tomorrow”) while Din is also wanting to be with her so bad and also trying to hold out (“find her again tomorrow”) 🥺

So yeah basically in conclusion I love them together and they’re so different but they make each other somehow both stronger and softer in so many ways and yeah u mighta heard of DD/LG u kinky fucks but lemme present to u DD/SG

#ask #anon #I am so sorry I rambled so long jshdjdjdjddh #rough day spoilers

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

[hiraethparkers]

heyyy can you do an mj x reader soulmate au where you can feel your soulmate's pain and emotions, but when you touch they stop and you're close to each other they're stronger??

hi anon! this might be a little short bc i didn’t wanna leave u waiting too long and this is my first time writing a soulmate au :) i hope u enjoy <3

pairing: mj x reader

warnings: none, italics is mj’s pov and not italics is reader’s pov :)

you sat in your bedroom, taking notes for your upcoming chemistry test.

“hey, my friends are up there!” mj shouted to spiderman. “what? uhhh don’t worry ma’am everything’s gonna be okay,” spiderman replied, going up to save michelle’s classmates. watching as he climbed washington monument, she worried for her friends. hopefully they would be okay. if they got hurt that would be horrible. anxious thoughts running through her head, mj watched closely.

you were sitting in your room at home. doodling in the margins of your chemistry notes, you were awfully bored. all of a sudden, you felt a wave of anxiety and fear. it always caught you by surprise, no matter how many times. you recognized the spike of the emotion as the feelings of your soulmate. you felt another spike in fear.

mj watched as the helicopters closed in on spiderman. was he going to die?

you now felt a small surge of anxiety you recognized as your own. your soulmate was probably okay, right? they couldn’t be in too much danger. they had to be okay. taking a deep breath, you grabbed your computer and started watching some disney movies, those always made you happy.

mj felt a wave of happiness and contentment fall over her. realizing this emotion came from her soulmate she smiled softly. she had noticed recently that whenever she was upset or stressed, you would do things to make the both of you happier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

walking into your chemistry class two weeks later, you sat down at your seat. today you would finally get your test scores back. glancing around the class, you saw that most people looked equally as anxious as you were. you hoped you would get an A. being a perfectionist, you always strived for the best. as the teacher passed back tests, you were almost bouncing in your seat. there it was. B-. you got a B-. it wasn't something you should’ve been upset about. you still passed. it wouldn't affect your grade too much. but you couldn’t help it. you had studied so much, you thought you would do better. involuntary tears started welling in your eyes.

“see ya later losers,” mj replied to peter and ned, as the three of them parted ways while leaving their english class. she was fairly happy; nothing upsetting had happened today. yet suddenly, she started feeling sad.

you walked out of class dejectedly, not looking up as you walked down the hall towards your next class. not looking where you were going apparently wasn’t the best decision today, because you happened to run into flash. “what an idiot,” flash scoffed, and as you hurried to walk away from him he stuck out his foot to trip you. you fell to the floor, it definitely wasn’t your best day. taking a breath and wiping your eyes, you began to gather your dropped books.

seeing you clearly upset, mj walked over. you weren’t extremely close, but you were close enough that she wanted to make sure you were alright.

“hey y/n, are you okay?”

“oh, uh, yeah i guess,” you wiped your tears quickly before she could see them. mj extended her hand to help you up. she smiled as you stood up.

“alright, have a good day then,” mj continued walking to her class, but stopped in five steps. she thought to herself, what just happened? i don’t feel sad anymore. i only feel my emotions. this is so weird. another moment of realization hit. she turned around and ran back to you and hugged you.

“umm mj are you okay?” you asked, concerned. it was very out of character for mj to randomly give hugs, especially to you, whom she didn’t even know super well. “is something wrong?”

pulling away quickly and looking slightly embarrassed, mj cleared her throat.

“y/n... i think you’re my soulmate.”

#mj x reader #mj #michelle jones x reader #marvel #mcu imagine #michelle jones #mj imagine #fluff #imagine #imagines

[koo-aid]

Virgin Mary is a Sinner — Jeon Jungkook ☆

summary: Y/n’s parents make a deal with Satan, but don’t execute their part of the deal. Jungkook, Satan’s son, is sent on a mission to make their life miserable as a punishment. But he doesn’t really care much— he’s only on earth for a good time. He meets the innocent y/n and corrupts her.

pairing: demon!jungkook x fem reader

genre: angst, smut (maaaybe… if u guys are lucky enough), demon!au

word count: 2.3k

warnings: religious themes, bullying, abuse (towards the end), reader is haitian 🙈, more warnings will be added as series progresses

“mom, please!” i said, putting my hands together with a pout.

“i said what i said young lady. you’re wearing whatever i want you to wear if you’re still under my roof.”

“but everyone at school makes fun of me! i want to be able to dress like all the other kids at school.” i whined.

“i didn’t ask you if you wanted to dress like the other kids or not. the outfit is supposed to save your dignity. you want to dress like the whores at school? huh? don’t let me find out that you’re with some boy who’ll taint your innocence.” she spat.

“yes, ma’am.” i whispered as i hung my head low and walked out of the house to catch the school bus.

the school bus was a long ride to the school even though i was one of the last to get on. i didn’t have anything to occupy myself as i had all my homework done and wasn’t allowed a phone or any electronic device. my parents say that it’s too dangerous and i should stay focused on school. i never asked again after my mom smacked me when i sulked.

i was pulling on some loose threads from my shirt thinking about where I’d sit for lunch today when there was a weight on the seat next to me. i looked over and it was a boy I recognized from one of my classes.

“don’t get too excited, mother mary. i’m just sitting here cause all the other seats were taken already. did you really think I’d ever sit next to you willingly?” he snapped.

“i didn’t-“

“just stop talking. sitting next to you is already embarrassing enough, i don’t need people thinking I talk to you.” he rolled his eyes.

i looked out the window and saw trees as the bus drove past them. i couldn’t wait for this trip to be over.

the school day had been going pretty well aside from some teachers laughing at what my mom made me wear today. there were a little more whispers than normal but it was fine.

the bell rung signaling that it was time to go to lunch so i packed my things in my bag and headed out to the cafeteria.

i stood in line waiting to get my food so that i could go sit in ms. harding’s classroom and help with anything she needed since i was a student aide. she allowed me to eat in her classroom and i took the chance because i’m pretty sure nobody wants me at their table.

as i was waiting for the lunch lady to put today’s menu on my tray, i heard boys laughing and goofing off behind me. from the corner of my eye i could see them pushing each other and then i was shoved into the girl standing in front of me. she turned around with a scowl on her face.

“bitch I know you lyin! you just stepped on my jordan’s! do you even know how much these cost?” she yelled as she looked me up and down. “doesn’t look like it.”

“heesa, what happened?” her friend came up and asked. “this hoe stepped on my shoe! they’re ruined!” she screeched as she pointed at me.

“i don’t think it’s that seriou-“

a third girl came. “pay for the shoes.”

at this point everyone was looking.

“i’m not paying for anything.” that seems like that hit a nerve for them as heesa grabbed my hair and dragged me to the floor. she and her friends all came at me.

i couldn’t focus on where i was getting hit because it’s hard when 3 girls are all stomping on you at the same time.

the cafeteria went wild as people took out their phones and started recording. i could’ve swore i saw a teacher recording as well but maybe i was just seeing things. my vision was starting to get blurry and my whole body aching in pain. i tried putting my hand up to stop them but couldn’t get it up.

“ladies stop!”

i felt two hands pulling on one of my legs trying to save me from the assault of the three girls. as they were pulling me from under the heavy stomping, my skirt started rising up and soon the whole cafeteria could see my heart printed underwear. i scrambled up to my feet, pulling my skirt down. my face felt hot as i looked around and saw everyone laughing. there was school security holding heesa and her friends back and one behind me who i assumed was the one who was pulling on my legs. heesa and her friends were led to the office by security.

needless to say, i decided to skip lunch that day. i picked my backpack off of the floor and left the cafeteria to get to ms. harding’s classroom before lunch ended so that i could help her out.

y/n made it to the classroom with 20 minutes remaining of lunch. she went up to ms. harding’s door and saw her sitting at her desk from the glass. she knocked on the door three times and stood there with her back hunched over in pain as she waited for her teacher to come and open the door.

“y/n! what happened to you?” she gasped as she took in y/n’s appearance.

“i just got jumped at lunch. I’m fine.” y/n says with a small smile on her lips.

“jumped?! are you alright? who were those girls? do i need to tell the principal about this?” ms. harding ranted as she led y/n into the classroom and into a seat.

“i’m ok, really.” y/n assures.

“do you want me to call your parents?”

“no, it’s fine.”

“are you sure?”

“yes.”

“positive?”

“yes ms. harding, i’m positive.” y/n chuckled

“i don’t have anything that i need help with so would you like to go on your phone for a bit until your next class starts.” she was obviously lying. she was worried for y/n, her favorite student. she always paid attention and turned in work on time.

“i don’t have a phone. i’ll just put my head down.” y/n sighed in silent relief.

the rest of the day passed by smoothly. y/n avoided heesa and ignored the people who laughed at her when she entered the room.

she got onto the bus and went straight for her usual seat only to find that it was already occupied. there weren’t anymore seats in the front so the only option was the back. she put her head down for a second and closed her eyes hoping that when she opened them it would be a dream but it wasn’t. the boys at the back looked busy with each other anyways so she just hoped for the best praying that nobody would say anything.

she found a seat that had just enough space for her to fit in so she took it. she glanced to the side and to her relief, the boy next to her was too absorbed into his phone to notice her. she relaxed and let he back hit the seat only to wince in pain.  

she stared up at the ceiling of the bus and tried forming excuses as to why she had all these bruises.

i watched as people got dropped off at their stops. i was one of the last people remaining on the bus when the driver finally pulled up to my stop. i grasped my long skirt on both sides and lifted it up a bit so that i wouldn’t trip and fall and embarrass myself even more today.

the short walk back home took only about 3 minutes. once i reached the front door, i picked up a bottle of holy water that sat on a table on the porch and opened it. i took some into my hands and splashed it onto the door and onto my feet before capping the bottle and opening the door.

i walked into the kitchen and saw mom standing in front of the stove cooking and dad standing in front of the microwave, fixing his tie.

“God be with you mother,” i said as i put my hands together and bowed. “God be with you father.”

“God be with you y/n” they both said together.

i was lucky that neither of them had noticed my slouch. i set my bag on the counter and walked next to mother.

“what are you making?”

“mayi moulen, sós pwa, and legume.” she said as she pulled out 2 plates from the cabinet beside her. (pls search up the food, idk how to translate it in english)

i looked over to father and he was slipping on his suit jacket.

“will father be eating with us?”

“no. he’s going to bible study. he’ll eat when he comes back.” she replied, handing me a plate full of food.

“alright, thank you.” i said, walking to the dining room and setting my plate down on to a placemat. i waited for mother to come over so that we could begin eating.

father walked over to mother and pecked her on the lips, muttering a goodbye. he did the same thing but to my forehead before he was out the door.

we bowed our heads and closed our eyes to pray before we started to eat.

“how was school today? did anyone compliment your outfit? you looked very nice.” she asked, bringing a spoonful of food up to her mouth.

“i got bullied today because of my outfit.” i muttered.

she dropped her spoon with disappointment written all over her face. “i thought you were better than that y/n. lying because you want to go out and be a tart?”

“no! i’m just tired of people always making fun of me,” i said as tears welled up in my eyes. “please ma, just let m-“

“SATAN! GET OUT OF MY DAUGHTER!” she shrieked, as i held on to my stinging cheek. she slapped me.

i looked over to her and tried my best not to let the tears fall. “since you wanna start acting like a prostitute, you can go to bible study with your father. maybe that’ll knock some sense into you.”

“yes ma’am.” i mumbled

i held my cheek as we ate in silence. i didn’t dare say anything in fear of getting slapped again so i just kept my mouth shut.

“thank you for the food.” i whispered as i stood up, taking my plate to the sink to wash. “i’ll go get ready now.”

saturday, 0800am

i was woken up by the sound of my bedroom door opening. opening my eyes, i saw mother holding a tray and father standing behind her with a bible in his hands. i sat up, rubbing my eyes and swung my feet off the bed. i stood up, pulling off my night dress and sliding my underwear down my legs. walking over to where mother stood, i got down onto my knees. bowing my head and closing my eyes, i waited for father to begin the prayer.

it was 10 minutes into the prayer and everything was going normally. father had his hand over my head as he read from the bible. mother stood to the side, preparing the holy water.

father’s hand pressed onto my head aggressively and he started reciting the words harshly. this hadn’t been the first time this had happened before.

he started gripping my forehead and shaking me. this had never happened before. i opened my eyes to see what was going on. mother was pouring the blessed water into her hand and walking over to me as father put both of his hands on my shoulders, dropping the bible and pushing me into a laying position on the floor.

i felt droplets of water being splashed onto my back and the sound of a belt being unbuckled hit my ears. i clambered, trying to get my self off the floor but it was too late. the leather hit my back with a “woosh” sound. i yelped and my body trembled as i lurched forward, falling on the ground. tears gathered up in my eyes from the force of the hit.

“i heard yesterday you wanted to be a prostitute. is that true?! huh??” he roared, hitting me over and over again.

“no! please stop!!” i bawled, trying to crawl away.

“you think that’s gonna stop me? i know that’s satan talking. BLOOD OF JESUS!”

“hallelujah, amen!” mother praised, clapping her hands together.

tears were pouring out of my eyes. i looked over to mother and stretched my arm out to her with whatever strength that i had left.

it seemed like the hits were getting harder each time i let out a sob. the pain was becoming unbearable, but i had no choice but to lay there and take it. i don’t know how i’ll be able to get up after this.

after about 2 minutes of constant hits, father finally stopped and sighed in satisfaction.

“you better hope i don’t hear or catch you doing something like that again” he snapped, putting his belt back on and leaving the room.

i laid there on the floor, shaking. mother walked over to me and crouched down on the floor, caressing my hair.

“it hu-hurts ma,” i sniffled. “everything hurts”

“the pain will be over soon.”

“how could you let him do this to me.” i whispered

“he’s only trying to help you y/n. he just wants what’s best for you.” she said. i looked at her and i could see guilt in her eyes. she slowly help me up, sitting me down carefully on the bed. mother picked my nightgown and underwear up off the floor and helped into them. she took the covers and tucked me in, putting pillows under my back so that it was elevated.

“i will bring your breakfast upstairs.” she mumbled, leaving the room.

as i lie down, i started wondering why i had to go through all of this pain. i was beginning to think that none of this is worth it.

y/n’s outfit inspo 🎀

#jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #demon au #bts x reader #reader insert #scenarios #imagines

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (2/2) (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | woooo, part 2 ! as stated previously, this is heavily inspired by @/mystic-sky on tumblr or skyfelt on ao3. amazing writer, check her out (but this isn’t a direct copy, just same storyline in a way). i’m cleaning up my writing a lot, i think. maybe im getting better as well? probably not but uh i kinda gave up at the end and uh.. hope u enjoy.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Voyeurism To Some Degree, Teasing, Ripped Tights, I didn’t proof read. 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom! Gojo x Sub! Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 4561

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | In which you finally get fucked by this mysterious, yet freakishly handsome stranger. That’s it, you just get fucked.

       The first thing you realize is how cold it is.     The wind is working against you, it seems, as you take your first step out of the warm building. Hair blows in every direction, you button up your cardigan, your breath coming out in puffs of smoke. Shivers went down your spine.    Not too far behind you, the mysterious man that you had met just an hour ago trailed behind, winking and waving at the girls confidently using him as eye-candy. Long strides, hands shoved into his pockets.    Your heart swells as you watch other woman stare flirtatiously as he gestured back at them, before their eyes set on you. He followed you like a duckling, and you’re sure to relish in how powerful it made you feel.    He walked like a model, with so much confidence. He didn’t appear as cold, his cheeks were flush and he reeked of fruity sugary alcohol, a playful grin still stubbornly on his face, 5 minutes later.    “Uber should be coming soon... I think, too lazy to check. You cold?” he slurred huskily.    You nod. For a one night stand, he was strangely kind to you.     He doesn’t say anything after that, so you opt to listen to the life around you. The clicking of high heels, the chatter, the drunken rants.     “Aw, come here.”     He didn’t give you much of a choice, though. Pulling you in to his chest, without warning. Your first instinct is to scream bloody murder, but he’s so warm, and you definitely need it.    One loose arm over your figure, his unoccupied arm dangled dangerously close to your butt. Taking in a deep breath, anticipating the feeling of being so scandalous in public, he chuckles breathily, almost like a taunt. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he cleared his throat.    You stare up at him, confused as to why you’re not feeling anything in your lower regions, before you realize what he was doing.    Rubbing your head with the once unoccupied hand, his fingers weaved into your hair as he sniffled. Something about the interaction was strangely intimate, but you don’t dare to say a word.     You inhale sharply, rubbing your face into his chest. You want to get closer, deep in bliss as he seemed to return the want back. You want to close any remaining space between the two of you, but making the first move was scary.    He yawns, and this triggers you to yawn as well. It was probably well past 1 AM by now, and you were tired.    You couldn’t hear much around you other then the honk of the growing sea of cars, some people just starting their night, and the others ending it.     “Oh shit. Our Uber’s here.” he mutters under his breath, pushing you out of his chest gently.    Whining, you try to push yourself back into his arms, he takes a quick glance down at you, traces of a faint lukewarm smile playing upon his lips. Almost like he’s saying, “Are you kidding me right now?” before taking a hold of your hand.     Fingers intertwining as if they were meant to be together, you gawk down at your hands, before looking back up at him.     There were a few issues, one, you had no idea if this man had an intent to kidnap you. Second, you didn’t know what the Uber looked like, and you’re too embarrassed to ask. Third, he was holding your hand with no hesitation, and the feeling in your chest was indescribable.    You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you hope that it’s something along the lines of what you’re thinking. Your eyes briefly flickering over his jawline as you pondered to yourself, but what you do know is that you’re being dragged towards the presumed Uber. It’s sleek, and black, with a glossy finish, you note.    “Yo chill, I’m not gonna kidnap you, missy.” chuckling, examining your doubtful, yet frightened expression. He swung open the car door carelessly.    “After you, m’lady.” he adds, bowing and straightening, his chin up.     “Thank you, Sir Mysterious.” you give him a small smile before sliding into the sleek, comfortable seats.     His eyebrow raised, he looked at you.    “That’s a first.”     “It’s also a shit nickname, maybe that’s why you’ve never heard it.” you suggested.    “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.” a lukewarm smile played at his glossy lips.    The sly smile wipes clean off your face, he laughs at you while sliding into his designated seat, as if he owned the car.    Right. You were in a car, and it would be best for you to study your surroundings, just to make sure you weren’t being kidnapped.     The car was obviously expensive, black leather reclining seats, and a sweet offering of warmth against the chill of the midnight air.    A coffee cup idly stood in the cup holder, the driver taking a quick sip and turning his body to look at you two. Air fresheners and various trinkets dangled from the rear-view mirror, swinging back and forth     “A couple, eh? You wanna go to this address?”     The driver whipped his phone out, an address in black, bold text stood out.     “Yep.” the man says confidently.     Opening your mouth to speak, you try to inform the driver that he wasn’t your boyfriend, before your supposed boyfriend covers your mouth with his hand as soon as the driver repositioned towards the steering wheel.     You realize that his other hand is on your thigh, stroking your skin.    This newfound position was at the very least, terrifying. There was another person in the vehicle, for starters, and you weren’t exactly the quiet type when it came to, well, anything in general.     Cold, large calloused hands considerately caressed your thigh, and your breathing hitches. His other arm against his side, but you know his fingers are itching to feel you all over. You want to moan, but the driver’s presence is enough to tell you that it would be stupid.    Fingers drawing shapes, words, anything would repeatedly loop on the sensitive skin just barely. He was definitely teasing you, but you couldn’t quite fight back.    “Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” he whispers, you anticipate the driver to look back at the two of you, and to throw both of you off the car, but he does no such thing.    Feebly, you raise your arm up, ignoring the flirtatious request. Swatting his hand away in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before it got out of hand, but he’s persistent.    It’s getting even more difficult to breathe quietly now, your body getting hotter and hotter and hotter.    It doesn’t take long for a noise to slip out from your lips that you can’t quite shut up, and the driver turns to look at you.     “So precious.” the white haired man mouths to you before quickly turning his head to look at the window, humming to himself, still caressing your thigh.     “Ma’am? Are you okay?”     About to respond, the white haired man scooched closer to you. His clothed leg now rubbing your bare skin. He whistles innocently in the opposite direction before skimming his hand against your inner thigh, and you almost shriek.    Instead, you let out a pathetic gasp.    Panning his gaze over to you, he gives you a sly, playful smirk, before looking away again.    Drawing more shapes onto your skin, he hums. It was so hard to focus, or even remember the words the driver had said literally just a minute ago. You feel yourself shiver, almost losing yourself entirely to his hands before shakily responding to the driver, praying to any divine figure in the skies that you would be coherent.     “Y-yeah. Just, spilled water on m-my clothes.” you reply, barely audible.     The driver’s eyes stared back at yours, concern etched onto his features, before sighing. Tension grew inside of you.    “Alright, if you need anything, just ask, okay ma’am?”     Trying to respond, no sound comes out of your mouth, and the reason dawns on you. Taking a quick look down, the man’s digits were now fumbling with your panties, brushing against your wetness.     It takes a moment for you to register in your brain, you thank every entity possible for preventing the inevitable slew of noises you’d make. Waves of need crashing over your body. You hungrily stare at him, hoping that he’d be kind enough to stop and save it for later.     Circling your entrance through the now utterly soaked panties, he dips his finger in, just enough so you could feel the slight pressure against your sensitive skin.    He’s fucking taunting you again.    Driver be damned, you needed him.    Opening your legs more, you confidently peer at him, inviting him to explore your body even more. His fingers are drumming against the leather surface, the other hand had retreated back to your thigh,  boldly looking at you back.     “No. I thought you didn’t want to, what’s with the change of thought?” he mouths, stifling a chuckle and a smug tone, already knowing what you were going to ask.   Bewildered, you gape at him before shaking your head curtly, making sure you’re staring daggers at his stupidly arrogant face.     “Stop fucking playing with me then!”     “You’re too cute.”    “Fine then.” closing your legs, you stare out the window, your chin sitting on the palm of your hand. Flickering blurry lights passing by quickly. Looking at your reflection, you steal a quick glance at the flirtatious bastard.     “If you’re so angry, why can’t you look away from me for 1 second?” he whispers proudly.    You can’t think of a snarky remark, so you huff and look back at the window defeatedly.    What a cocky arrogant little-    Your bruised pride burning into ashes, you grunt in response before the car abruptly halts to its stop.    Were you two too loud?    “What are you two so scared for? Freezing up like a deer in headlights, we’re at your destination.” the driver said, twisting his head around, his eyebrow slightly raised.     “Oh, yeah, thanks.”     That was way too close to comfort, and you’re resisting the urge of banging on his chest for being so overly confident in his endeavors. You open the car door, cursing under your breath, swinging your legs out and lightly stepping out.     First thing you realize in the new destination? This guy was obviously loaded.     In front of you were a bunch of condos, and it was bound to cost a lot. Modern architecture was all you could see, wide windows and balconies in every corner. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about your outfit, were you too poorly dressed?    The man hums, placing his hand on your shoulder. Plant life was meticulously placed in such a beautiful manner that you promise yourself that you would search up his name- if you ever got it, on the Forbes lists.    “Like what you see?”    Snapping out of it, you look back at him, and you nod, still astounded by his presumed riches.    “Yeah? Lets go up missy, I got more to show, in more ways then one.”  ‧₊˚✩彡.            Standing in front of his door, you realize how quiet and still the atmosphere is. He fumbles with his keys, muttering to himself, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re about to have sex with some celebrity.     Not knowing how to start conversation, you clear your throat.     “You ever going to tell me your name?”     “Aw, the little baby still wants my name.” he cooed    “Call me Gojo.” he adds nonchalantly.    “(Y/N).” you reply, ecstatic. That wasn’t too hard, but you wonder why he didn’t just give up his name to you at the club earlier. Perhaps he didn’t think he was going to take you back?    “Aw, sugar. You scared?” Gojo says, looking you up and down. Well, that’s what you assumed. He still had his glasses on.    “No I’m not, who said that?”    “Look at your legs, missy.” he cheekily replies.    Looking down, you realize you’re violently shaking, and you didn’t even realize it.    “...Maybe.” you say coyly.    He breathily chuckles, finally opening the door with the right key.    You’re surprised by the presence of such a spotless place, a large, plush black leather couch was in one corner, the other, an island. Amazingly large windows replaced what would usually be the walls, and you could see the extent of the city life from where you’re standing.      “Slip your shoes off girly, sandals on the left. Can I offer you something?” Gojo questions you, walking over to the island.     “...I’m not much of a drinker.” you reply, still standing in the doorway. You were honestly more interested in him then the small talk.     “Baby, sit down. Don’t you wanna see me up close?” he pats the cushioned island seats, and you sheepishly walk over.    “I have apple juice too. If that’s more your vibe.” you watched him swirl some melting ice cubes around in a glass of water with a spoon.    “I’m not 12.” you retort, maybe the guy wasn’t a celebrity. No famous guy has apple juice in the fridge, rather then fancy champagne and wine.     Gojo snickers, “Hey, I’m not 12 either, I’m nearing my fucking 30′s but I can never reject a good box of apple juice, plus, I teach a group of kiddos that drink this shit like it’s fine wine.”     You pause, this guy was NEAR 30? He certainly didn’t look the age, and second of all, he bought apple juice just for the kids he taught? That was surprisingly sweet, but that didn’t explain the richness.    “You’re a teacher?” you nod as he hands you a chilled box of apple juice.     “Uh, yeah.” he scratches the back of his neck. “International Japanese teacher, sometimes I just teach in Japan as well. It pays good.”     “No way you actually live here. Is this your friends place?”     He laughs loudly, “So backhanded, and sassy! Nah, this is my place. As I said, job pays well. Feel free to stop by for a good fucking.” he says whilst pouring liquor into his glass cup.    “You’re really confident in your abilities of fucking people.” you sarcastically note aloud as he slides into the comfortable tall stool next to you, drink in hand.    “Hm, you weren’t saying that when I was touching you in that car, brat. How strange.” sipping his beverage lightly.     Your mouth zipped shut, and he laughs again.     “Aw, don’t go all awkward on me.” his once vacant hand now rubbing your shoulder. Setting down his drink, taking off his glasses. He doesn’t give you much time to admire his eyes, but what you can see is an almost aquamarine color, flecks of darker blue sprinkled throughout. So brilliantly colored it didn’t look real.     Before you realize it, he leans closer into your neck, suckling your skin and lightly nibbling. His breath fanning over your delicate skin, you can’t even hold back, gasping a little as his hands played with the hem of your cardigan, tugging at it playfully.     You can’t even formulate words. He was undeniably good, his suckling now gradually getting more harsher and harsher, and you dread coming back to your friends place, neck full of hickeys, you’d be nudged for whoever did that to you for the rest of your life.     He grunts, standing up in the little space between what was his stool and yours, even on such a surprisingly tall stool he still towered over you. He has to slightly crouch before his eyes is at the level of your neck, hungrily crashing back down.      “G-Gojo!” you squeaked, struggling to do much of anything. You’re limp on the stool, slumped and burning up. Your skin was ridiculously hot.     “Hmmm?” he smiles into your neck, pausing momentarily, you can feel him exhale harshly on your skin. You look him up and down, the sexual tension between the two of you was prominent, and so was the tent in his pants.     You feel a whine creep up towards your throat, now realizing just how wet you are. Ignoring this, you gesture to your clothes. The layers were sticking to you, and you never wanted anything more then to just get the sex started.    “...Hot.” is all you can muster pathetically.     “What was, baby?” he coos at you.     “Me.” shrugging off your cardigan the best you can, you let out a subtle whine, the weird feeling growing between your legs.     “Yes, we both know you’re hot.” tipping your chin upwards to look at him, he smiles. “use your words.”     “Clothes.. Off.” you pant, obviously sick and tired of the stupid sexual tension and the teasing.     “Full sentence, girly.” he repeats, stroking your cheek with his thumb.     You inhale his scent, smelling of expensive cologne and lingering sickeningly sweet alcohol. Looking up at him, but averting your gaze as soon as you saw those incredible eyes once again.    “Look at me.” he orders.    You peer up at him, swallowing.     “P-please, take my clothes off.” you say politely.     “All it took was a few hickeys? You really are a pretty kitty.” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Get down.”     You nod obediently, getting off the stool and looking back up at him, anticipating his next step.     He bends down, swooping you up bridal style. One arm under your legs, gripped firmly onto the skin, the other under your waist. Your arms instinctively and rather slackly around his shoulders.     You expect something, a kiss, anything, but all Gojo does is walk down an endless hallway full of doors.     You lean closer into him while pouting, hoping that’ll catch his attention, but he doesn’t say a word.     “Where are we going?” you finally ask, growing needy.    “Bedroom. I’m not fucking on the couch. Pretty princesses deserve to be nice and comfy.” he replies back, fidgeting with the door knob. For a few seconds, all you can hear is how rapidly your heart is beating inside your chest, the rustling of clothes brushing against one another, and then the feeling sets in again.     You could very well be fucking someone that was out of your league.     He breathes a sigh of relief, and before you have the time to fully study his bedroom, he throws you off of the bed with a grunt.     Gojo’s toned forearms by your side, you were obviously trapped. You can see his chain just dangle barely swing back and forth on the tip of your nose, his lips curled into a lukewarm smile.    “You were so cheeky with me earlier, where’d she go?” stroking the corner of your lips.     He doesn’t give you the time to respond, instead locking lips with you and rolling over to be on your side. It starts off small and soft first, but it gradually grew hot. The fluttering in your chest only intensified. Tongues exploring every inch of one another’s mouth, you swear you can taste mint. The anxiety melted off of you like wax, and the only thing he could focus on was how soft you felt against his lips. Delightfully experienced enough for it to be good, but not better then him.    The smell of him was stronger now, and you’re sure you won’t be able to leave without some of it remaining on your clothes. Regardless, it was an addicting smell. Something you needed to come back to. Furiously exhaling through both of your noses, he finally lets go.     Dazed, your whole body tingles. You want him to claim you all as your own, hungrily staring at him for more. Both of you were radiating heat. The kissing left little for thought, and all you can think about is kissing him once again. It seemed that the more you spent with him, the more demand you had for his attention.    “Such cute noises. Makes me want to ravish you more.”     Gojo tenderly pulls you in, claiming your mouth as his once again. Fumbling with your cardigan, yanking it off of your body. Large, hot hands brushing against your now semi-exposed skin, and you know he wants more. His hands brushed against your butt under your skirt, and you shiver just a bit.     Pulling out from the kiss, he looks at you, panting heavily.     “So beautiful.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your swollen lips.     “You wanna know why they call me the best?”     You nod, his arm snakes above your waist, forcefully flipping you down head first into the blankets.     Just now realizing that all your clothes are no where to be found, presumably on the floor, you shiver at the cold air conditioner blowing against you. That is, besides your skirts and your tights.     “On your arms, baby. Knees too.” he instructs, patting your butt.     You obey, a warmth rushing to your cheeks again. He had you like a dog being trained by it’s owner, following their every order.     “Good girl.” he says under his breath.     You’re about to tell him that you’re still wearing tights, about to open your mouth, you heard a loud rip disturb the peaceful atmosphere, and a cold exposure to your lower regions.     You squeal, digging your face into the covers, and he chuckles again.     “Oh baby. You were begging for this, I can see why now.” you felt him drag his fingers against your panties, and you whimper.    “So impatient for my touch, aren’t you kitty? You’ll have to wait.”     About to complain, you look back at him before you find him shoving you down, sitting on your knees now, your nipples hardened in the air, but you want to be stimulated else where.    “Be patient, and you’ll be rewarded, no complaining.”     “But-” he cuts you off.     “Don’t fucking talk over me, you got that?”     “...Yes sir.”      His eyes soften, and he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his hands brushed against your nipples, rubbing them with his thumb. Rolling the sensitive bud, you loudly moan, trying to express that you wanted more.    “God, you’re so cute.” he says under his breath, still rubbing and now slightly pulling them. Placing his mouth upon the abused buds, you stifle a cry out.     Gently suckling, he used his other hand to play with the other attention-starved nipple mildly.     You whine out again, beginning to melt under his stupidly experienced hands and mouth. The attention was nice, but you needed it some place else, his eyes looked up at you, his wet mouth still suckling your breast.     Taking his wet mouth off your nipple, he looked at you, mischief still evident on his face.     “You like that?” he says,  cocking his head to his side.    “I-If I say anything, It’ll fill your stupid ego.” you breathed.     “And if you don’t say anything I’m not doing shit.” his hand now rubbing your butt.     “You ripped my tights!” you spat back.     “I’ll pay for it and more, no bother babygirl. Now tell me what I want to hear.”      He obviously wasn’t lying, he could probably turn any girl into putty if he just wanted to, and here you were, in the palm of his hand.     “...Please touch me more.” you uttered shamelessly.    “Good girl. On your back, spread those pretty little legs for me too, why don’t you?”     Lying down on the plush mattress and warm pillows, you stare at the ceilings.    You peered at him starting where he left off. Giving you faint, yet chaste kisses on your breasts, trailing kisses down your stomach.     “Aw, your panties are absolutely fucking soaked baby, how cute.” he cooed, parting the soaked fabric to the side.     You look at him undress thoughtlessly, but you’re sure he’s done this several times. He did it with little to no effort, but that would mean that you’re not special.    It would be useless to think about right now, you were gonna have the dicking of your lifetime anyway, it was called a one night-stand for a reason. The mountain of clothes grew taller.    Growing impatient, you look up to where he was once standing, only to find him already in between your legs.     “So pretty.” Gojo purred, circling your entrance just as he had done previously in the car ride, you squeak.     “So lucky this is all mine.”     Gojo had figured he could add, “for the night.” but that strangely felt wrong.     He dips his fingers into your walls, and you cry out. Wrapping around his digits, sobbing, this wasn’t enough to satisfy your cravings.     “You want more?” he huskily said, a tone of playfulness still rampant.     “Yes! Please, just fuck me!” you croaked, already damn near about to cum from the teasing.     “That’s my girl.” he whispered under his breath, slipping off boxers you didn’t even realize were there in the first place.      He doesn’t give you a chance to see his full length, instead ramming inside of you. You inhale sharply at the sudden disruption.     The throbbing evaporated into thin air, and you’re desperately grabbing at the sheets to steady yourself. Sweaty and sticky skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room, along with your moans and his grunts. You could feel him reaching heights that you would never be able to do with the dildos you had at your house, much less your fingers. One hand on your waist to steady your flailing body, the other, roughly groping your breast.    You were finding it hard to think, pleasure and euphoria filling your senses. Unknowingly, you wrap yourself around Gojo even harder then before.     “Fuck, baby, I can barely pull out.” he panted. “you’re too tight.”      You can’t even begin to respond, still deep in your state of pleasure, instead responding incoherently with a jumble of delicate moans and gasps in between.     “C-cum!”      “Hm? Repeat that princess?” he soothed.    You’re unable to respond again, instead you try to lift your head up, and Gojo feels himself throb again, watching your eyes flutter back.     It’s not until it’s too late, realizing a hot fluid flow down your holes. He pulls out, he himself ejaculating on your stomach.     Both muscles stretched taut, you both laid on the bedsheets, sweating and panting.     “Fuck, I haven’t had a girl like you in a while.” he says, turning his head to look at you. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead.     “R-Really?” he kissed your forehead, tipping your chin with his long fingers.     “Yes, really. I’m so lucky I spotted such a pretty little thing at a club.”      The sun was starting to rise, you note, and you realize just how perfect his body is with the new light.     A sudden warmth on your cheeks, you look down, still panting.     “Clubs aren’t my thing.” you said breathlessly.     “Fuck. It’s 5 AM” he says, eyes now glued to his phone, ruffling his white hair.     “I’ll go-”     “No, here, lets take a shower with each other, and then we sleep.”      “Okay.” you responded, hoping to not make conversation, still believing that he was a celebrity.     He handed you his phone, rubbing the back of his neck.     “Can I get your number?”     “...Why?” you questioned.     “...To call you back again, duh.” he teases, rubbing your head.      No way, he wanted you back at his house?      You?    Not wanting to fuck up your chances, you nod, something was growing inside of you, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you knew he made you feel special.    

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #jjk headcanons #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #dom gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou x you #fanfic #fic #anime fic #im learning how to write well ok

[arianajbb]

FIC RECS - 1

💕 Clueless by @justsomebucky 

Movie AU. Inspired by Clueless - A high society boy and a do-gooder-type girl find love.

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💕 as you wish, ma’am by @aescapisms

SOCIAL MEDIA AU || Bucky Barnes fucks up and sends you the wrong presentation file.

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💕 A Lesson In Love by @buckyywiththegoodhair 

(College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

. 💕 The End Of The War by @redgillan 

Everyone knows you and Steve can’t stand each other, but after he runs into you after one of his fights, he starts to see you in a different light.

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💕 Babies! Assemble by @honeyloverogers 

On a mission involving time travel, as if they haven’t learned at all that it’s dangerous, the Avengers get turned into babies. Including your boyfriend.

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💕 Have You Any Wool by @threeminutesoflife 

Dinner with Ransom doesn’t go as planned.

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💕 Peaches and Plums by @cptnbvcks 

After escaping hydra, Bucky finds a pretty peach vendor to work out his troubled mind with.

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💕 Stitches by @revengingbarnes 

You’re just a clueless new medical student. You’re not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.

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💕 Saturdays by @sunmoonandbucky 

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

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💕 Love Made Me Crazy by @sinner-as-saint 

It was all strategic; a plan meticulously constructed by you and your business partner; against James Buchanan Barnes. Not to take him down, no. But just to surpass him in the business world by uncovering his secrets; to learn his ways and hope to be better than him in every way possible. The façade you put up – of being close to him and earning his trust was supposed to be short-lived, most importantly; harmless. But then as always, things got a tad bit more complex when feelings intervened…

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💕  To Be So Lonely by @wlntrsldler 

When Bucky and Y/N signed up for this online pen pal system, they never expected to grow attached to the other person behind the screen. In the pen pal system, they can only unlock the other person’s messages on the 25th of each month. They can write and send off their response as soon as they want but the other person is not able to see it until the 25th.

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💕 eye candy by @angelwidow 

Being Tony Stark’s receptionist was hard. Working alongside the most gorgeous salesman you’d ever seen was even harder. Actually talking to said salesman? Well, that was just insane.

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💕  Strange Times by @beccaanne814 

You have a certain type - smart, charming, and handsome as sin. For years you’ve been in love with the only man you thought possessed all of those traits, but a chance encounter with a Strange individual sends you and a certain ex-assassin on a journey of self-discovery. As you try to find a way back home, will you also be able to uncover the perfect man hidden beneath layers of guilt and self-loathing.

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💕 Stuck Wit U by @slyyywriting 

You and Bucky don’t get along. Your fights have become too destructive so Tony and Steve decide that enough is enough.

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💕 Take Me Higher by @buckychrist 

Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle?

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💕 x by @mcfreakin-bitch

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💕 x by @thejamesoldier 

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💕 Betrayal by @midnightsunfae 

Bucky catches you flirting with someone at a party and he doesn’t take to it very well.

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💕 two paper airplanes flying by @feliciahardyn 

ransom drysdale will always find you, no matter where you are. always.

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💕 Dear Lover by @feliciahardyn 

you dance with bucky barnes in the obscurity of your room as you recalled the first time you met and how three years later you ended up tangled in each other’s arms. (based on the song “lover” by taylor swift)

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💕 Make You Love Me by @slyyywriting 

You flirt with Bucky every single chance you get.

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💕 The unseen one by @extremelyblackandwhite 

The God of the Underworld falls in love with a mortal.

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💕  Hellfire by @chamomilebottom 

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💕 Promised by @cherienymphe 

when you start waking up with bruises you can’t explain, your nightmares turn into a reality.

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💕  Everything by @trillian-anders 

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💕 tell me you own me by @darthstyles 

mean daddy harry comes out to play

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💕 The Chef’s Strike by @bucky-smiles 

A contract went unfulfilled…

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💕  Bittersweet Temptations by @revengingbarnes 

Y/N Y/L/N loves coffee, always has, which is why she spent all her adult years creating the perfect coffee shop. Cutesy, homey and cozy, it’s the job of her dreams. So what if business has been a little slow lately? It’s her happy place, it would always be. But that was all until the flirty, witty and obnoxious Bucky Barnes opened up a rival coffee shop two blocks down the street. Business and profit are all Bucky cares about. He’s the exact opposite of everything Y/N stands for, and naturally, she can’t stand him. But what happens when Y/N is running the risk of losing her beloved shop and Bucky’s the only one lending her a helping hand?

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💕 The Neighbor by @staymay5 

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💕 came in close by @buckyskorpion 

what could possibly go wrong with a couple of good-natured pranks between sworn enemies?

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💕 (1) New Message by @yikeswtfmate 

One night Wanda and Nat dare Y/N to text her hottest ex. She complies, only to realise it’s not her ex she’s texting and this might be the most attractive man she’s actually laid eyes on.

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💕 Eye For An Eye by @sinner-as-saint 

Battered and bruising, Y/N is out to seek sweet revenge from a man, James Buchanan Barnes, who tore her family apart 10 years ago. Y/N’s plan was simple; infiltrate his life, mess with his head, toy with his heart and leave him broken. Headstrong, she will stop at nothing, not even when it comes down to her being the villain in her own story…

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💕 Under Oath by @ugh-supersoldiers 

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

. 💕 Hate To Love You by @revengingbarnes 

While on her death bed, Y/N’s mother has just one wish; her daughter to be married and settled in her life. It’s something her mother has never stopped pestering her about. But up until now, Y/N had managed to not give into her family’s traditions of arranged marriage. And she might have continued to do so if weren’t her mother’s last desire. Unable to refuse her mother’s desperate plea, Y/N agrees to meet the man her parents have chosen for her. There’s just one tiny problem. Her soon-to-be husband is her ex. More tragically, he’s the one ex she never managed to get over.

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💕 Everything by @hootyhoobuckaroo

. 💕 late night devils by @whistlingwillows 

Bucky gets revenge on his ex with you, the girl he never got over no matter how much he thought he did.

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💕 Safe with Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff 

When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.    

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💕 Wildest Dreams by @hopesbarnes 

Everyone said he was a bad guy, that he broke hearts. But maybe they were wrong about him.

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💕 Things Bucky says during sex. by @steveodinsonbarnes 

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💕 charming by @venusbarnes 

in which you’re a girl in need of protection, and Bucky’s the perfect man for the job.

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💕 one stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days by @buckthegrump 

Bucky has a pen pal.

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💕 Just One Kiss by @sarahwroteathing 

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU)

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💕 Come Over by @moonstruckbucky 

You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

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💕 Even In The Darkest Times by @justauthoring 

Bucky x reader where they were together in the forties and when Steve goes back, he sends her into the future so she can be with Bucky while he stays in the past with Peggy.

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💕 Hearts Don’t Lie by @daenyara 

when y/n and her family have to leave Europe to escape the war, finding love in New York is the last thing she expects (and the last thing that interests her). Much to her annoyance, her parents set her up with the one person in all Brooklyn she cannot stand: the charming James Barnes, who’s decided to show her he’s not as bad as she thinks.

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💕 A Bid on Bucky by @samingtonwilson 

You spend thousands of dollars at a bachelor auction for Bucky when you could’ve had him for free this entire time.

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💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky 

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

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💕 Lavender by @wkemeup 

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know.

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💕 Fixed by @drawlfoy 

draco has a teasing relationship with the reader–they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

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💕 Anytime by @notimetoblog

Bucky is still cautious when it comes to touching people & vice versa. one day after a mission, the avengers are in the quinjet on their way home, Bucky sat down beside the reader & accidentally falling asleep on her & snuggling her. she doesn’t make it a big deal but all the other members are surprised. just fluff involving soft Bucky.

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fic recs #rec list 1 #fics rec #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic recs #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic recs #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki smut #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale x reader

[nazyalenskyism]

Alone Together

Summary: After observing the same mysterious stranger from afar at party after party, Zoya finds herself swept into a familiar sort of dance, but for the first time in her life she finds herself faced with an equally capable partner. A/N: This fic is based on song, if you send me an ask with a prompt and your guess, I'll write a short fic for whoever gets it right first! This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, I really hope you like it! Ao3: Alone Together There he was again, a flash of gold on the edge of the dance floor, a smile as bright as his hair illuminating the room. Keeping an eye on him over the rim of her glass she pondered for a moment, she had been coming to Morozova Foundation events since she was a child, at one point she’d been the belle of the ball, a prodigy touted around by the great entrepreneur himself. ‘ My talented pupil,’ was what he used to boast, well as much as his stoicism would allow. Zoya had once let herself be examined by a ballroom full of strangers, all clamoring for a look at her, trying to see what set her apart. At least until someone shinier had come along, that was. Then she’d been discarded as easily as yesterday’s paper and slowly she’d begun to see what he really was. A master manipulator, he’d played her for the fool she was, taking the only things she ever truly loved. 

This stranger had begun making appearances at not just Morozova Foundation events, but at every event with even the slightest connection to the man. Usually this wouldn’t set off her alarm bells, many familiar faces would make the rounds at multiple parties but they were all Morozova’s mother’s age, usually none were as young as her and if they were then they belonged to a big name family. This man had no name she knew of, yet, and the way he worked the room, charmed the guests left and right was in a way not unlike her own. Zoya was entranced by the way he worked each table he sat down at, turning the grumpiest people she had ever encountered into putty in his hands. As intrigued as she was, she wasn’t going to let a pretty boy in a fancy jacket distract her from the task at hand. The man she had been conversing with all night, Mr.Kirigin had come back from a phone call and said nothing as she smiled sweetly, leading him to the quiet hall just outside the main ballroom. Kirigin was supposed to have information as to why Morozova had cancelled his appearance tonight at the last second, and lucky for her, from the second she stepped foot into the ballroom, the fool’s eyes had been transfixed on her. 

Zoya pulled him towards an alcove in the wall between two ornate paintings, the gold of their frames reminding her just how gaudy this place was, how rich Kirigin was, he was throwing this party for Morozova’s foundation and money was clearly not an object. Yes, she was here to get information, but she wasn’t opposed to leaving with a little bit of financial compensation for her time either. She leaned back against the wall, watching Kirigin move towards her, fully enthralled by her and she nearly laughed, all men were really the same.

“What a beautiful time tonight has been, Mr.Kirigin.”

“Thank you, it took many endless nights of planning, or so my assistants tell me,” Zoya resisted the urge to smash his toes under her heel, what an ass.

“I would really like to thank whoever made it possible,” she slipped closer to him batting her eyelashes demurely, “I was looking forward to meeting the legendary Morozova too, why wasn’t he in attendance?”  

“He said he had urgent business,” Kirigin moved as if to touch her hair, but Zoya grabbed his wrist instinctively.

“Where did he go?” she said abruptly, forgetting herself for a split second, just as someone coughed nearby. This hallway was supposed to be empty.

“I-- I don’t…” Kirigin took a step back, the trance quickly washing away. Shit, she couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” She made her voice honey sweet but the man still shook his head, taking another dazed step back from her when his phone buzzed, as if it fully snapped him out of it. He vanished back into the main ballroom as Zoya cursed to herself, how could she have let him get away so easily, she had been so close.

“Get it together,” she hissed. “Stop making rookie mistakes.”

“Talking to ourselves, are we now?” She whirled on her heel, she’d recognize that lilting voice anywhere, that bastard.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I’m just admiring the view.”

“That’s the best line you can come up with? How do you get the ladies to fall for that?” 

“It works just fine, it doesn’t hurt when it comes from a mouth as pretty as this.”

“Trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“How long did you spend staring at my lips before arriving at that incorrect conclusion?”

Zoya scowled, “I don’t need to stare, I just assume every part of you is as insufferable as your personality.”

“How would you know my personality if I’ve never had the pleasure of talking to you?” He was next to her now, perfectly polished and dashing except for one stubborn strand of curled hair that only added to his boyish looks. She refused to think about how it made him all the more endearing, instantly understanding why all the rich women fawned over him. He was young, handsome, charming, witty and handed out compliments and praise in a way that was so sincere, no one could ever doubt his intentions. She had been watching him, not that she’d admit it but she was no fool, she couldn’t let some stranger waltz in under her nose and steal what she’d worked so hard for. 

“I can sense inanities from miles away, and it seems your head is full of them.”

He pulled a face and she thought she’d finally wounded him into leaving her alone but the next thing she knew he was offering her his elbow with a gallant smile, “shall we take a walk?”

 The estate was decorated lavishly for the party, not a single thing looked out of place. The gardens were strung with lights, even the tennis courts hadn’t been spared, with large outdoor tents concealing them from the French doors of the ballroom. Neither of them spoke as they made their way to the dancefloor, the guests had all moved back inside, the night being too chilly for their expensive fashions. Zoya let her mind wander as she kept up with the stranger's long strides— she’d refused to take his arm, she didn’t get that intimate until a man was giving her something worth more than a law school’s semester’s tuition. Then of course in the days following, he would never hear from her again. This man was clearly wealthy, though he spent time catering his attention to rich folk he evidently didn’t need it. You could often tell someone’s status based on the way they handled themselves. Most people didn’t practice as much as she had, from age 9 learning to carry herself as a queen would so that no one would ever doubt that she was anything less. The stranger had the posture and pose of a rich man’s son but there was something more to it— a light swagger-- as if he knew something no one else did, but he was perfectly fine being alone in that knowledge. A type of confidence she saw the partygoers try to emulate but something that they never could quite live up to. It was the ease of a man who had learned how to be free but a bird who was trapped in a cage again, desperately trying to get back to the skies.

“Can I have this dance?” The hall was packed, but most people were seated at the moment, only a few couples hurrying to the dancefloor before the next song started. She really didn’t want to dance with him, but she had lost her best chances tonight due to her own impatience and there was nothing left for her here. A woman the stranger had been chattering away with earlier in the night waved them over from a nearby table before she had a chance to respond, however.

“Mr.Lantsov, why haven’t I seen you on the dance floor yet, you said you were an excellent dancer, yet…” she trailed off as she finally noticed Zoya standing next to her precious, Mr.Lantsov, now where did she remember that name from? 

“Yes ma’am my partner and I were just on our way there, as long as she agrees to dance?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” The woman glared at Zoya in a way that communicated that this man was the most desirable person at the party and she’d be a fool to turn him down. As stubborn as she was, she did not want to come across as a fool tonight. 

“Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr. Lantsov,” she said, her eyes flicking to him to make sure he understood what she was saying. All he did was wink coyly at her before nodding to the woman and leading Zoya to the dancefloor. Fantastic.

“So, Miss…?” he began, taking her hand in his while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close. She tried to repress the slight shudder as his fingers brushed against her exposed back. If she had planned on dancing today she definitely wouldn't have worn a backless dress. Although she couldn’t deny that he was handsome, at least she was dancing with the best looking person in the room… well, second best . She was showstopping and that was why all eyes were on them as she slipped her free hand onto his shoulder, curling against the smooth material of his jacket. Saints, his suit was at least three thousand dollars, his watch at least two thousand, and she didn’t even want to look at his shoes but she knew they probably cost more than her car.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well, Miss ‘None of my Business’, what brings you here tonight?”

“Ooh, none of your business.” 

“Are you having fun?”

“None of your business.”

“Intriguing! Is there anything that is my business?”

“No. Aren’t you tired yet?”

“No,” he grinned roguishly, “I don’t tire that easily.” Zoya turned her face quickly so he didn’t catch the blush colouring her cheeks. Thankfully he just kept talking. “Since you insist on being so mysterious, why don’t you ask me about myself?”

“Okay,” she looked up at him, how was he so tall? Even in her heels she had to look up into his eyes, eyes that were a brilliant emerald green with flecks of bronze. Before she forgot herself, she managed to grind out,  “why are you here?”

“My family is expected to attend functions like this.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He let out a laugh as he spun her, gracefully catching her against him before they resumed their steps. They were nearly flush now, she could feel the heat radiating from him as he leaned in, “ let’s say, an old friend usually attends these sorts of things and I’m hoping to run into him.”

Zoya tried to bite back her surprise, could she be thinking of the same person? “And what did the old friend do to you to earn your visits? I’ve seen you at every event I’ve been to this month.”

He paused for a second as if weighing just how much he wanted to reveal to her.  Good, at least he seemed to have a brain in that big head of his. “ I’ve been at university for the past few years and I came back once I heard he was planning on taking something of mine.”

“Oh, so not so much a friend, more like an enemy?”

“I don’t have enemies, Miss None of My—“

“Nazyalensky,” she supplied absentmindedly, she wanted to hear more of his story.

“ Nazyalensky… I don’t recall hearing that name before.”

“You probably forgot,” she said hurriedly, “I’m at every party and you’ve only just come back to town.” He didn’t need to know that she had only started using her last name again after her aunt died, hearing people associate her with her aunt’s maiden name had hurt too much. It helped that Morozova had only ever known her with that surname, it helped her disappear into crowds that had once marvelled at her and her skills. She’d stayed away from the social scene for a few years, watching from the outside, learning and perfecting her craft so that she would one day be ready to take him down. 

“I remember most names and faces,” he mused, “and I would definitely remember someone as beautiful as you.” 

Zoya rolled her eyes, she wasn’t that easy to woo. “I’ve been away from the scene for a while too, I’m also looking for an old friend, but he’s never here.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“You wouldn’t—“

“Trust me, he interrupted, “I would.”

“Morozova,” she blurted out, biting her tongue at how easily she’d let him uncover her secret. She needed to know if that’s who he meant too, and there was something about him that made him seem so sincere. 

A shadow passed over his face and Zoya realized he hadn’t been expecting her to say that name. “Funny, he’s my ‘friend’ too.”

“Oh,” she mouthed softly, trying to step back as the music ended, but Mr. Lantsov kept a firm hand on her waist, his other hand slipping up to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps we could speak outside?”

Zoya shook out her head, he may have dazed her for a second but she needed to call the shots again. She took his elbow as he released her tentatively, “lead the way, Mr. Lantsov.”

 They had found their way back outside and Nazyalensky had yet to let go of him, her warm fingers pressed into his arm. He was fully aware of what she was doing, she had realized that since they had the same enemy, she could put on an act like she did with the people inside and get the information she needed from him. He admired her skill, most others didn’t get this far on tricks alone which meant that she had to hide something else as well. He also knew that as adept as she was, she hadn’t quite pinned him down yet. For one, he had seen her assess his worth, scanning him and figuring out the price tag of each item, but unfortunately for her, at the moment he was only worth a little more than the clothes on his back. From observing her at the last few events and staying at her side this night he found that he quite enjoyed being in her company. She was quick and clever, not unlike himself, and she knew just how to move, just what to say to get people to give her what she wanted, but as they conversed he found himself believing that she wasn’t putting up as much of a front with him. Perhaps it was a tactic to lower his guard, or maybe he only wanted to think she was being truthful for his own sake. He’d been at this game for a very, very long time and he was beginning to wonder what it would be like to not have to run alone for once. 

“What did you think of tonight’s party? Even if you didn’t get exactly what you came for?”

“Maybe I didn’t get what I came for,” she said slowly, turning to face him, “but maybe I found what I needed.” Nikolai had to admit that she was very good at that, and had he been anyone but himself he would’ve gladly thrown himself into the grand fountains if she asked. Unfortunately for her, well maybe both of them, that’s not what he was looking for tonight. He simply smiled at her, taking the second before Nazyalensky spoke again to admire the way the silver moonlight illuminated her dress, creating a shimmering aura around her. She did look even more ethereal in the moonlight and even he was beginning to question his own ability to resist her.

“Well,” she drawled, finger running down his chest, “what do you think?” She looked up at him through thick lashes, the endless blue of her eyes threatening to drown him if he didn’t pull himself away. 

Instead, he leaned in further, “I think,” he breathed, “that you’re playing a game I’m used to winning.” A genuine gasp flew from her lips as he grasped her wrist pulling it out from behind his back to reveal his wallet between her fingers.

“Nice try,” he smiled, “but I’m not that easy.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffed, pulling at his lapel unceremoniously, her ornate sapphire hairpin tumbling into her awaiting palm. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.”

“I figured,” he pulled a large ruby tie pin from her inside her sleeve, each of them pulled out hidden treasures from the other, stumbling a step back when they realized they were both equally good at their game of choice.

“Have you ever considered a partnership, Nazyalensky?”

“In your dreams, Lantsov,” she leaned in, “you couldn’t keep up with me.” Her lips brushed against his skin with each word, slowly trailing down to the corner of his mouth, “even if you tried.” Turning on her heel, she was gone in a flash of silver leaving him alone in the tennis court, with nothing but the feeling of her lips grazing his skin. 

 “Hello?” The phone calls had begun a few weeks ago, the morning after he had been marked with red lipstick over his cheeks and a truth stamped over his heart. Nazyalensky’s calls had only been a minute long and every other day at first but now they were sporadic, more than five times a day at all hours of the night. Nikolai tried to ask what she was up to, all he ever wanted was to know more about the alluring woman who wouldn’t leave his mind. But to his dismay, every time he surrendered a story of his own she repaid him with a sentence or two at most, and it was usually about what she’d eaten for breakfast. As much as he enjoyed hearing himself talk he was captivated by the images the calls planted in his head, Nazyalensky soaring down a coastal highway in her convertible, the top down and her hair caught in the everpresent wind that seemed to cocoon her every movement. All he could think about was himself in the passenger seat, her sharp words cutting him before her soft lips healed them with a kiss. He was a mess.

“Are you going tonight?”

“I RSVP’ed but I’m not sure, I heard Morozova won’t be attending.” 

“Get your suit pressed,” she snapped, “you’re picking me up at 7 and you better not be late.”

“I’m picking you up, oh however did I get so lucky? But he’s not going to be there tonight, we should spend the evening strategizing instead.”

“First off, there is no, ‘we,’ Lantsov, get that through your big head. Secondly, he will be there tonight.”

“My sources are never wrong, Nazyalensky, if they say he’s not coming--”

“He’ll be there,” she jutted in. “He’ll be there because I’ll be there.”

He froze, an uncomfortable weight setting in his chest. What was that supposed to mean? 

“ Seven, Lantsov.”

“Seven,” Nikolai agreed.

  The glimmer of streetlights danced against her hair, illuminating the shimmer of Nazyalensky’s vibrant orange dress, the fabric catching her every movement and he swore his heart had stopped when she first stepped out to get into his car. She had been quiet the entire car ride until now, “are you done staring yet?”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t, and I don’t look magnificent tonight,” she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the tension easing between them as they fell into the easy back and forth that had become nearly natural. “Your car isn’t what I was expecting.” 

Nikolai raised a brow, “what were you expecting?”

“Something flashy and obnoxious, I don’t know, a Bugatti?”

“If I had a Bugatti do you really think you would’ve found me with your hairpins up my sleeve?”

She cut him a disbelieving glance, “I don’t know what to make of you. You say so much about yourself and yet I feel like I hardly know a thing about you.”

He let out a measured breath, she already knew more than anyone else did, she was wrong about that, yet this tale stuck in his throat unlike all others. “I wanted something with as much character as me,” he began, “after my issues with Morozova, this was one of the few possessions I still owned.”

“What do you mean?”

Nikolai drew in a breath, if he had any hope of understanding what she’d meant on the phone earlier, he had to be willing to show her his hand, as much as the stubborn, lonely part of him protested, he knew he wanted to do this. “My family is wealthy. They have traditional values like the rest of their friends, ideas about passing their dynasty down to their eldest son, that type of thing. Or it was. I’ve always known that the people who rely on my family’s services deserve more than them, they don’t care about helping them, not really. I’ve spent years, since I was a boy trying to be better, trying to make myself into someone who could take care of the legacy properly. It was working, I thought they were going to agree. I went away to university for a few years, tried to help in new ways, from a distance, but when I came back, there was nothing left.” He glanced at Nazyalensky and she only cocked her head at him, waiting for him to continue. He’d never told anyone this story before, and he still wasn’t sure why he was telling her, someone whose name he didn’t even know.

“Morozova, an old consultant slithered his way back into their lives the moment that I left. He knew my older brother wasn’t clever, was easily manipulated, and so that’s what he did. He and my brother turned the favour his way, cheated me out of everything I had fought to earn, and convinced the board that Vasily should get to take over, with Morozova pulling all the strings of course. When I heard word of it, I came back immediately, but it was too late, they had written me out of almost everything. I was left with no money, no power, nothing. All the plans I had came crashing down and now, I know that if I can get rid of Morozova’s influence, my family might see sense.”

They sat in silence until Nazyalensky spoke again, “that’s more… noble than I was expecting.” 

 “I might look like a feckless rogue but I’d like to think that I possess an endearing quality or two.”

“You seem like you’re anything but feckless, a rogue, however? That seems much more likely.”

He winked, “for you, Nazyalensky, I could be as roguish as they come.”

She turned away quickly but Nikolai didn’t miss the pink flush in her cheeks at his words, grinning to himself. Although he had just revealed his biggest secret, he didn’t find himself particularly regretting it.

They continued in a comfortable silence until a loud ring cut through, a few blocks from their destination. “What’s up, Tamar?” he asked, accepting his friend’s call on the car’s display. Yes it was an old car with character, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t spruced up the technology to his liking.

“He’s not here,” she replied, Nazyalensky’s head snapping towards him at this, her eyes darkening.

“What do you mean? I thought he was supposed to be there?”

“He’s in Italy, he’s not coming.”

Nikolai let out a sigh as his partner’s head fell back against her seat, her fingers curled tightly into her palms. “Thanks, Tamar, I’ll talk to you later.” Another wasted opportunity, and he had believed Nazyalensky when she had insisted on Morozova being there. He knew there would be other chances, but it felt like he was running out of time, that if he didn’t hurry Morozova would find him out and try to finish him for good.

A sharp hiss from Nazyalensky drew his focus to her, and he saw that her unfurling palms were scored with crescent shaped indentations, the result of her nails pressing into skin. As she began to curl her fingers inwards again, his hand shot out, stopping her with the press of his palm against hers. The red light before them allowed him the briefest second to realize what he’d done, pulling his hand back to the wheel. “I—” he began, only to be cut off before he could apologize.

“Morozova, he had this school that he started when he was young, barely older than the students himself. He cultivated talent. Pitted students against one another and chose the best ones-- the ones most useful to him, and would take them under his wing.” She was staring straight out the windshield, her gaze distant, her eyes hollow. “Can you guess what I was?” She let out a humourless laugh. “I was talented and would do anything he asked without hesitation. He used that and when someone who suited his needs better came along, I was thrown aside, as if I’d never mattered. Not just me, it happened to us all. I don’t want to ruin him for my own hurt, but for theirs too.”

Her eyes met his in the front mirror and he nodded at her to continue. They had been driving in circles as they’d shared their stories, and he wasn’t going to stop until he heard the rest of hers.

“The reason I stopped being his favourite was because a new student came along. And whenever she called, he would come. Maybe a small part of me thought that since my name was on the list, he would come tonight. Is that foolish?”

“No,” Nikolai returned with quiet honesty. “It’s not.”

Her eyes seemed troubled as they met his again, but her tone was cool when she spoke. “Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky.”

“Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

“Nikolai,” she hummed, pulling out the syllables, as if testing the feeling of his name against her tongue. “ Nikolai .” Saints, he didn’t think that his own name had ever sounded sweeter. “What do we do now, Nikolai?”

“We wait, and we try again. Now that we’re working together we can come up with a better plan and make this work.”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, “but what about tonight?”

“I could drop you back off at home? There’s not much use going if Morozova isn’t there.”

“I share a too-small apartment with a couple who is disgustingly in love and it’s date night, I think I’d rather not.”

“And I share a too-small houseboat with a set of twins who wake up at 4am to do combat training in the living room.”

“We could keep driving,” she suggested, her voice low, fingers dancing over the dashboard as she awaited his reply.

“We could keep driving,” he agreed, trying to keep his focus on the road as Zoya’s head came to rest gently against his shoulder. Nikolai knew this particular luxury would cost him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

  “Zoya Nazyalensky and Nikolai Lantsov.” His voice was filled with a quality she’d never heard before but found that she quite liked. It was a mixture of indolent arrogance and jauntyness, a rare combination, but she supposed nothing was too out there for Nikolai, the last few months had been filled with him surprising her daily. Whether it was stories of his past, or his friendships or exploits, she found herself listening raptly, as if she couldn’t turn away. And she didn’t want to. His stories painted the world in a way that made her hunger for more. In a way that made her believe, for a few silly seconds, that she could get on his boat and sail away from it all. And then he would drop her off at her apartment and the second she walked through the door, the magic was shattered and she remembered that she existed, not in the textured fantasy world spun by Nikolai’s silver tongue.

With a quick glance at their invitations and a wave, they were making their way to table 2 as instructed. Zoya’s arm was looped lazily through Nikolai’s, but they were both on high alert tonight. They had received personal invites to tonight’s function, and while they were planning a much longer game than springing on Morozova today, they had ultimately decided that their strategy would be to convince Morozova that they didn’t want to strangle him on the spot. Easier said than done, her fingers were itching to wrap around his greasy throat, and they’d only just gotten here.

Whether he would buy it or not was a whole other question, but their plan relied on him being cocky enough to underestimate them or to want to keep his enemies close. Drifting through the crowd, Zoya was able to pick up more than a few of the whispers at tables, each one making her want to roll her eyes a little bit more than the last. 

"She’s the girl who locked Nikolai Lantsov down.”

"I heard she blackmailed him into taking her to parties.”

“I heard her parents are forigen millionaires and the Lantsovs who are in crushing debt want to be bailed out.” 

“I heard she’s the lost twin to the princess of some country or the other and they need his money to keep up their lifestyle.

“I heard that she knows black magic and seduced him into being devoted to her, that he spends his weekends feeding her grapes like she’s a queen.

Zoya leaned up, her lips brushing his ear, “that’s my favourite one.” 

She watched him hold back a laugh, “if you wanted me to feed you grapes, you could’ve just asked.” 

“Who cares about grapes, are you or are you not going to fund my jewelry-hungry long-lost twin sister?”

He gave her an incredulous look, “with what money?”

Biting back a smile of her own, they settled at their table, Nikolai’s knee brushing hers as it jounced underneath the table, more whispers flooding over them now. 

“Nikolai Lantsov used to ask every single lady to dance with him before the party was over, even the old ones.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to come over and sit at our table for hours and listen to our stories.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to be the most eligible bachelor in town before she came around and locked it down.”

“Did you hear that, Lantsov?” she mused, leaning over to adjust his crooked bow tie. “Apparently I’ve locked it down.”

He let out a huff, “apparently?” 

Zoya rolled her eyes, tilting his mouth down to hers, smiling at the glint in his eyes as she murmured, “definitely.” Definitely locked it down.”

                         Nikolai awoke to a hand flopping against his abdomen halfheartedly, what on Earth?

“Come closer,” a tired voice groaned, “what good are you if you can’t warm the bed.”

He shuffled closer, “you’re sure there’s no other reason I’m here?” he questioned.

“No.”

“An interesting way of getting me into bed but who am I to question your methods?” Nikolai teased, grinning at Zoya’s look of annoyance. It was first thing in the morning and he considered himself nothing if not a man of routine, and a part of that sacred routine involved annoying Zoya into affection as soon as she woke up.

“As if I’d ever let you into my bed,” she growled, flipping her back towards him.

“That’s interesting considering how I’m in your bed right now.”

“Oh that can be easily fixed,” she nudged him off the edge of the bed, relishing the groan of impact as he hit the floor. 

Nikolai sighed, figuring that he very well couldn’t spend the day lazing in bed with Zoya anyways, as much as he wanted to. He found his clothes flung in opposite sides of the room, putting on a piece at a time until it came to his shoes.

“Have you seen my loafers?”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoya replied, her voice muffled from the pillow she’d thrown over her head in an attempt to drown him out. 

“Does that mean you haven’t seen them?”

“Your shoes sound as pretentious as you.”

“That’s not helping,” he muttered, spotting a wagging tail with a familiar looking shoe in his mouth. Nikolai couldn’t believe that this was his life now, half dressed , trying to extract his ridiculously expensive shoes from his girlfriends’ dog’s mouth while she laughed from above.

“Give it back.” The puppy refused to relent, disappearing back under Zoya’s bed, undoubtedly gnawing on Nikolai’s leather shoes even more now that he’d dissented. “Well, I guess I can’t leave now that the dog’s got my shoes.”

“Goodbye Nikolai.”

“Zoya, your dog has fully destroyed my shoes.”

“Oh no,” she groaned, “his taste is as shit as yours.” 

“Good thing I keep another pair here,” he sighed, glaring at the dog. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured, kissing a chaste kiss to her hair. This was their routine now, nights spent planning and talking, falling asleep on the sofa, waking up to the cold, Zoya back in her bed, with Nikolai’s arms wrapped around her.

He had already reached the doorway when he heard her speak. “Or,” Zoya’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “You don’t have to leave.”

Nikolai paused, “what are you asking?”

“I’m asking you to stay.” 

The words were sweet music to his ears, but he wanted to check she was certain. “Are you sure, Nazyalensky?”

Zoya turned onto her side to face him, her midnight waves cascading over her shoulder, her bronze skin glowing in the lazy late morning light. Nikolai was sure that he must have died and been taken to paradise. How else would he be fortunate enough to have woken up entangled with the sight before him?

“Stop staring and get in,” she grumbled, “before I change my mind.” 

Nikolai slipped back into bed, letting out a sigh as the covers enveloped him again. He would much rather spend the day here, like this.

“Get your frozen toes off of mine!” Zoya hissed, cutting through his moment of quiet. 

“They’re not that cold,” he groaned, pressing his nose to her cheek as she tried to squirm out of his grip.

“Why is your nose cold too?”

“That’s what you get for hogging the covers.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, “I don't hog the covers!”

“Of course you don’t,” Nikolai soothed, pulling her to him as she rested her head against his chest. “You’re an equitable bedmate.”

“Damn right.” she huffed, her eyes starting to sink closed already. “I’m the best.”

“How long am I allowed to stay this time?” Nikolai murmured against her hair, unsure if the response would be the same as always, the usual until the morning. Something had changed, and he didn’t want to shatter the precarious nature of today’s agreement, but he had to know.

“How about forever?” Zoya mumbled, half asleep. “Forever.”

Nikolai’s heart had likely come to the conclusion months ago, but it was then that his head caught up. This was it for him, he didn’t think he would ever love again, not after this. Forever sounded like the perfect amount of time. 

“Forever,” he agreed, slipping into sleep after her.

#zoyalai #zoyalai fic #my writings #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #kos #king of scars #tgt fic #kos fic

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

-

-

MASTERLIST

#bts ff #jimin ff #jimin fluff #btsghostie #bangtanedu #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #bangtanuniversity #magicshopnet #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts scenarios #jimin smut #jimin scenarios #bts smau #bts fake texts #bts imagines #jimin imagines #jimin #park jimin #bts fanfiction

[cinnabaeks]

Code #0012 Treasure!Mafia au

- hi! can you do mafia! treasure jihoon where reader secretly dating him behind her brother's back (hyunsuk) and one day he found out. (sorry for my bad english..)

Pairing; Park Jihoon x reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, mafia

Warnings: Violence, Weapons, Strong language

1,2K Words

summary; Jihoon and Y/N have to keep their relationship a secret from Y/N’s older brother Hyunsuk. Hyunsuk doesn’t want Y/N involved in his business because it is dangerous but when she falls in love with their undercover hitman things take a turn.

PART 1 //

ask to be added to taglist!

“ Where you going?” Y/N mumbled with her mouth full of cereal as she looked at her brother who hastily grabbed his stuff. “ Work stuff, sorry honey.” He kissed his little sister’s forehead and made his way to the door of their house in outskirts of Seoul. “ I’ll text you when i’m coming home! Love you!” He yelled before closing the door behind him. Y/N Sighed as she watched her brother step into his way too expensive car. She knew his job was not the safest, eventhough he never told what he did, she knew. The money, private house and over the top security kind of gave it away, along with the weapons she would find whenever she entered his room. She couldn’t really blame him either. With mom and dad out of the picture, he was desperate for something to provide himself and his little sister with food and a roof over their head.

After finishing her food, Y/N made her way to the couch. She made sure to turn on her notifications in case Hyunsuk texted her before grabbing her bag and heading to school. The ride to school was the same as usual. A bus full of students, the smell of coffee and the noise from various passing cars. However, 1 thing about Y/N’s day was a little off. As she was about to enter school grounds, an unfamiliar hand grabbed hers. When she wanted to yank it away the stranger quietly spoke to her. “ You are being followed. Keep calm and just follow my lead.” The boy spoke before walking off to the main building. He wore the same school uniform as you, but you swore you’ve never seen him before. Y/N was too caught up in her thoughts to notice the stranger had released his grip and was now standing in front of her. “ Don’t worry, I know you might be scared and weirded out but trust me on this okay?” He looked Y/N in the eye. She nervously nodded and stuttered out a yes. “ I’m Park Jihoon, I transferred here today.” He reached his hand out for her to shake. “ Choi Y/N” She smiled a little at his kind behaviour. “ Jihoon..” She paused and thought for a second. “ Do you know the people who followed me? Did they look dangerous?” “No, i don’t know them, but don’t worry. I’ll be your personal bodyguard if i have too!” He gave Y/N the sweetest eye smile which reassured her and eased her mind a little. “ Mind showing me around the school before we head to class?” He asked to which Y/N gladly agreed.

“So this is usually where me and my friends hang out during breaks. So if you’re looking for me I’m probably in here.” Y/N said as she opened a somewhat hidden door to an old music room. “ Isn’t it a little scary in here?” Jihoon teased her with spooky noises to which she could only roll her eyes and snicker. “ Do you like music?” He asked as she sat down behind the piano. She nodded and started playing a little something on the instrument in front of her. He moved closer to her and sat next to her on the piano bench. Jihoon joined in on the piano on their fingers seemed to move perfectly in sync. That is until they both mess up. It isn’t until they look at each other that Y/N notices how close they are. Everything suddenly seemed so perfect, at least for Y/N..

Jihoon POV

shit shit shit what am i doing. I know Hyunsuk told me to watch over Y/N to protect her from other gangs, but he didn’t tell me his little sister was so fucking cute. Get your shit together Park Jihoon, you’re a cold blooded killer and nothing more than that. “So this is usually where me and my friends hang out during breaks. So if you’re looking for me I’m probably in here.” Y/N said as she opened the door to an old music room. ... As she started playing piano, I knew exactly who she got it from. Hyunsuk was always interested in music. I absentmindedly joined in on her piano play and started to match her rhythm. I could swear my heart skipped a beat when she looked at me. Hyunsuk is going to kill me once he finds out, but i couldn’t help it. I leaned in and softly grabbed the side of her face before lightly pecking her lips. I waited for her to react and once she did, i kissed her, but this time a little deeper.

Regular POV

RIIIIING

“ shit we should hurry and get to class!” Y/N Grabbed Jihoon’s hand and dragged him to their class room. “ Choi Y/N, late as ever i see..” The teacher said without having to look up. “ And the boy next to u is Mr. Park i assume.”

“ Sorry ma’am, I was giving him a tour of the school and we lost track of time!” Y/N bowed and apologised, feeling a little guilt for making Jihoon late on his first day.

As the day passed. Jihoon remembered how nice it was to be free from school. Hyunsuk was definitely gonna hear about how boring it was. Well except from the fact that he got to spend the whole day with a cute girl he kissed after knowing each other for 1 hour. “Hey Y/N i’ll drive you home waitup!” Jihoon said as he caught up with her. “Oh it’s okay, I usually just take the bus.” She smiled slightly as she continued walking. He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. He suddenly got a little serious. “ Did you not remember what happened on your way to school, who knows where those guys might me hiding right now.” Y/N nodded hastily and agreed to come with him. “ Yeah you’re probably right. They walked towards the school parking lot. You scanned the cars until Jihoon dragged you into the direction of what u assumed to be his. A high school student with the same car as hyunsukie? she thought to herself. Jihoon caught her dazed gaze and told her his dad is ceo of a large company. “ After you m’lady.” He joked around as he held the door for her. Y/N got in with a goofy smile. Not long after she got in Jihoon started driving, but something was off. “ Wait how do you know the directions to my house?” She frowned. SHiT PArk JihOoN. “ Oh my bad, i was driving towards mine, we must live in similar directions? What’s your address?” He asked as he pulled over to start the navigation. “ Aahh, That’s not too shocking, this part of town seems to have an awful lot of big houses.” Y/N said as she put in the address for him. Ppfoo almost caught. “ WAIT, Jihoon can you drop me off here, my house is around the corner but if my brother sees me with a boy he’ll freak out! Last time he went to the guy’s house and smashed his window, I WAS 12 BACK THEN i can’t imagine what he’ll do now.” Y/N begged jihoon. “ Of course princess, I’ll follow you from the car though, is that okay?” “Yes thank you so much you’re the best.. See you tomorrow at school?” “ of course” There it was again, that adorable eye smile. As Y/N opened the door Jihoon let out a tssk. “You’re forgetting something princess.” He said before giving her a long peck on the lips.

#Treasure #treasure imagines #Park jihoon #Jihoon Treasure #Mafia au #Treasure mafia au #Jihoon Imagines

[infini-tree]

FANFIC: in post

Summary: A unexpected reunion takes place. Captain may be the one who starts it, but its Benjamin who ends it.

A/N: (alternate title - i don’t know what possessed me to write this post in fic form, but its here now and you all have to deal with it)

in post stuff isn’t going to be an ongoing multi-chapter thing, let alone in order, but just a place to put all the little drabbles I have. Unlike what the name suggests not all of them happen after the main story of the AU, though this one definitely does. The only way I can imagine this is after years after the main story has wrapped up.

though lbr i mostly because I got tired of trying to figure out titles for WIPs.

And just in case: slight content warning for verbal abuse from a parent. Its nothing explicit and is just a flashback, but it does take up the entire paragraph chunk its in and starts with “Suddenly he was back at his living room”.

                                                        ——–

Captain comes back to a gymnasium full of people and music, which wasn’t the weirdest part. Nor was the fact that the people were grown-ups. 

No, the weirdest part was that the gym wasn’t the one he had come to associate with Jerome Horwitz. Though, it was difficult to appreciate the novelty; between the sudden noise and people, he feels out of his depth.

His body moved automatically. Every accidental bump into someone was a shock, each trumpet blare was like a blow to his skull, and he dimly recalled thinking ah, that’s it when hearing the sound of snapping in the music. The clothes, while leagues comfier than his counterpart’s go-to, it was still there.

After what felt like ages of wading through a sea of people, he stumbled into a hallway just as unfamiliar as the gym. He really, really wanted to get out of this place quickly-- or at least, bring Benjamin back to deal with whatever this place is himself.

(Which bears the question: why did Benjamin come here? Parties aren’t exactly his Thing.)

The music faded as he moved away from the gymnasium, which helped a little.  Captain forced himself to look around. The walls looked the same as Jerome Horwitz was, but if the details were reshuffled. The lockers were in different places, the corridors weren’t exactly where he expected them to be and neither were the bulletin boards with posters on it-- wait, posters!

There were a lot of random stuff about clubs and other announcements, but one stood out. Its top edges curled in on itself, so he couldn’t read the top part, but the rest read: REUNION.

“Welcome back, class of--” Captain repeated, until--

Someone cleared their throat. He leapt up in the air with a short yell, nearly stumbling over his shoe-covered feet.

The newcomer winced, but nonetheless stayed silent. If the Waistband Warrior could describe her, then it would be... sharp. Sharp look, sharp flat top, sharp gaze. Not mean, though it could be. It reminded her of his sidekicks’ freshly sharpened pencils, ready and full of potential.

“...Are you lost?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You’ve been wandering the same hallway intersection and--” she pointed a thumb towards a distant hallway. “The gymnasium is over there.”

Captain blinked for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Oh-- ohhh. Oh no, I meant to get out of the gymnasium,” he said matter-of-factly. “Though yes, I am lost. Do you, ah, could you show me where the nearest washroom or... water fountain is around here, er--”

“Moxie.” It looked like she was expecting something, but when nothing did, her shoulders untensed.

“Captain!” he beamed.

The sharp look turned severe. “Is that a joke?”

He flinched, unsure of what set her off. “U-- uh, no?”

Sensing his nervous energy, the severe look shifted to apprehension. Her brow furrowed. Did she not know either?

“Ma’am?”

“...Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I’m no good with faces.”

Captain paled. Either she knew Benjamin-- which was not a conversation he was equipped for-- or she recognized him as Captain Underpants-- which was a whole other, potentially dangerous can of worms.

“Uh, nope!” he chirped. “About that washroom--”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she said after a moment, pointing a thumb down a nearby corridor. “There should be one down the hall.”

"Alrighty, thank you! Have a lovely night, Moxie.” And with that, Captain rushed to the washroom to wash his face and get out of whatever that was.

And only when he looked in the mirror of the dingy washroom, to the clothes that made it hard to think did he slap a hand to his forehead. He really did just introduce himself as himself while dressed up as Benjamin. 

He was definitely going to read an essay’s worth of complaining after this whole thing.

                                                       ——–

“Hey, Captain.”

Benjamin gripped at his chest at the sudden voice. He just stepped outside and into the parking lot only to find Moxie Swaggerman, straight A student, the envy of literally half the school, now astronaut just...

“Uh, what are you doing out here?” his lip curls up wryly out of old habit-- he’ll address the whole Captain thing later-- what did that idiot do while he was out?! “Got tired of people asking for your autograph?”

She tilted her head, adjusting her aviator glasses. “Oh, so you do know me.” She almost seemed... disappointed by that. “Why, you want one?”

“Urgh, no.” He crinkled his nose. Opinions about her aside, that just sounded... weird to ask from someone he knew, even if said knowledge was periphery at best and non-existent at worst.

Moxie let out an amused huff. “Good, because I can only take so much people trying to kiss up to me.”

Despite himself, Benjamin couldn’t help but let out a laugh, short and loud and practically a cackle. The woman’s brow quirked up as she regarded him.

“What?” he snapped back.

“The lack of hair threw me off, since I remember you with that weird swoop back, but I finally figured it out--” And he couldn’t help but adjust his toupee as she swept back her hands on both sides as a pale imitation of how his hair was all those decades ago. “You were the one who competed against me for Prom Queen.”

Benjamin wanted to say something, but all that came out was half-noises. His entire body grew hot and his hands became clammy as she just... continued to stare. The worst part about all this was that, with the low light of outside, he couldn’t tell why. 

Suddenly he was back at his living room-- but not his, not anymore, he refused to consider that place his own-- staring down at the floor and clutching at the hems. Seeing his brother just peering in in his periphery vision as his mother continued her tirade, each word bullwhip-precise at hitting him in his core. But this was different; he was older and under no one’s thumb.

“A-- and what about it,” he managed to pry out of his throat.

Moxie’s posture shifted, and he could see her surprised expression now. If the circumstances were a bit different, then he would be reveling in the fact. Right now, though, he felt exposed, which was saying something considering who his counterpart was.

“Whoa-- hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” she clarified, and was that a hint of awkwardness? Remorse in her voice? “Honestly, it’s... nice to see you again.”

It was his turn to gawk. “...Really?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s uh-- like, its nice to see, ah... people like me still kicking.”

And it was then that Benjamin remembered the old rumors about Swaggerman-- about why she couldn’t get a nice guy to fall for her, and the girl from the rival school that clung by her side like a second shadow during summer vacation.

“I’ve always wondered for the longest time if you did that whole thing as a...” she paused, pursing her lips. “A joke, or something.”

“Oh,” he managed. “No, it wasn’t.”

“OK.” She nodded. “OK. Good to know.”

“Why, was that eating away at you?”

A passing car lit up her features in relief. When had her annoyingly cool façade been just that? It looked guarded now. A little more awkward. Funny how a few decades of separation can do.

Moxie shrugged. “Would have been nice to know back then.”

Benjamin wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he shrugged sympathetically and began to fiddle with the keys in his hand-- he had almost forgotten why he was out here in the first place.

She gaze followed the source of the glint. “Leaving early? Figure I should head out too.” She sighed. “Thanks.”

“...For what?”

“For making my last night before I get put to my paces a little more bearable.” She stretched her arms in front of her.

“Really, last night before you go to space and you choose to come here,” Benjamin deadpanned.

“First of all, no that’s not--” she shook her head. “Never mind. Basically, I wanted a normal night, and at least I got a bit of that. So, thanks, Captain.”

Benjamin had half a mind to correct her, but the moment had long passed and frankly he didn’t want to break the moment he was in now.

“Uh, yeah.” He waved her off awkwardly. “See you later.” 

She's going to space, idiot, not a weekend road trip, his own mind admonished.

Moxie only nodded in reply before she went off as well-- presumably to her own car.

#mellsian fanfics #captain underpants #sticky notes au #im not sure How to end this but its There #the au can have bits of tetocu in its continuity as a Treat

[thesunshinebunny]

May I be the first to ask for a reaction of the dorm leaders to a fem!reader dancing erotically/sexy?

OF COURSEEE U CAN SWEETY!!!!!

I am very excited to start having the first orders for TW. This is the one that caught my attention the most and  wanted to write ASAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Off with the spiciness!!

Vice Dorm Leaders reaction

Cater/Jack/Floyd/Epel/Sebek/silver reaction

Riddle

King’s and Queen’s - Ava Max (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rj--hAP_Zo0&list=RDRj--hAP_Zo0&start_radio=1)

The tea party was being a total disaster. Dorm members breaking the rules left to right, incompletely painted white roses, lack of control at the tables, a total madness.

Riddle was getting redder and redder, until he reached the same shade as his hair color.

Time to intervene.

“Cater go get your speakers and connect them to your phone with the music I am going to tell you, on my sign you press play. Trey distracts Riddle for a few minutes, lead him to the loung room if necessary. Ace, Deuce, Grimm, get away everything on the main table. NOW NOW NOW”

“YES MA’AM”

You ran into the bushes behind the main table and started to peel off your top, leaving you in a red lingerie bra. You ripped the bottom to fit some modern shorts and waited for everyone to be in position.

Show time, press play

With the beginning of the music, everyone fell silent, looking for the origin of it, but only finding you positioning yourself on the table.

Riddle shot out into the gardens, about to go "OF WITH YOUR HEAD" who deigned to put that kind of music. But ... like everyone else, he only found you....starting to dance.

People were crazy to see you dance with fluidity and speed ... a good crazyness. They were deconcentrated.

Ace and Deuce cheering as gay friends

Riddle was bewildered, he wanted to speak but the words didn’t come out of his mouth.

ASS TIME!

You broke this boy right then. His eyes followed the movement of your hips and hands, unable to avoid thinking of...

Cheers were raised when you stopped at "of with your head" Your eyes locked at Riddle’s and you gave him a...lewd smile.

Ace and Deuce came up to the table to dance with you and all the members of Heartslabyul began to dance in their places.

Cater had filmed everything and had a mischievous smile drawn on his face, just like Trey. May or may not will send it to Riddle late at night

One thing for sure. That day, you broke Riddle in the most erotic way there is.

Leona

Theeth - Lady Gaga (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnwLh6CWdUY)

That fucking bet. That damn Ruggie.

He convince you that if you managed to do the challenge without Leona being intimidated, he would do your homework for a whole month.

You accepted without measuring the consequences and without even thinking clearly about the challenge.

Leona, Ruggie and Jack were going to be training magift after class with their teams in their arena. Time to attack.

The game was about to start, each player in his position, when suddenly ... a few blows began to sound.

Music came from the speakers. Everyone was baffled, including Leona, he was going to teach the herbivore who dared to interrupt his training a good lesson.

Before he even raised his voice angrily, he caught sight of Ruggie who was pointing him, with a wicked smile, toward the stands.

You were standing there, slowly going down and positioning yourself on your stomach. It’s when you started moving your hips that Leona clicked.

You’re dancing, erotically.

No dorm member could swear to have seen Leona so expressive before. His eyes wide open, his mouth almost reaching the floor, and ... if they dared to go lower, they could sight a tent in his pants.

In the middle of the choreography, you turned around, and Leona was nope and went to you, grabbed your hips and placed you on his shoulders.

“the show is over, go back to training”

From your escort, you could see Ruggie laughing and waving at you with an evil grin. You lost the bet.

“You want to move your hips? I'll give you a reason to move them”

He spanked you and took you to his room.

Moans and grolws could be heard at the arena.

Azul

Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tkfX2phlfE)

It was a disaster.

The person hired to give an entertainment canceled at the last minute. Azul’s throat vein was about to explode.

Customers in Mostro Lounge were getting hysterical, demanding music, dancing, singing, whatever, something.

In desperation he turned to you.

"You need someone for a show, I can help with pleasure"

"Do you know someone who dances, sings, plays an instrument, or tells jokes?"

you gave him a look. Is he serious? You asked him to give you about ten minutes to get ready.

When the lights went down, leaving a dim light directed at you, Azul immediately regretted his choice.

positioned in the middle of the stage, wearing a black top, leaving little to the imagination and tights squeezing your butt, you began to dance a song that he did not know.

“Oh Carp”

The clients, now hypnotized by your dance, began to scream with happiness. Finally the show they were promised.

"The little shrimp sure know how to move" Damn Floyd, don’t make it worse than already is.

Azul felt very uncomfortable from the waist down and felt that at any moment he was going to get ink wink wonk

He asked you to go to the vip room when you’re done to ... discuss your little show in private.

He’ll have to get a few customers to sign a contract to avoid putting their dirty hands on you.

But for now, he's pleased to put his own hands all over your body, and inside you.

Kalim

O Saki Saki - Nora Fatehi (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohRFMg9OxfU)

I know, I know, it is too cliché to put a hindu song for Kalim, but this choreo was around all over tiktok and I couldn't get it out of my head.

Kalim was fascinated when you told him about your old hobby back at your world. Belly dance

He organized a party at his dorm only and exclusively for you and that you could teach not only him but also everyone your fantastic steps.

He even left you a change of clothes in his room and asked you to tell him when you were ready.

Show time, press play

At first he was delighted, you had directed him to cloud nine and had no intention of going down. But...when your movements started to go down, his happy gaze started to fade away.

He settled into his seat and put his hand on his mouth, trying to hide his obvious redness. Jamil realized don't worry. It was hard not to realize that Kalim’s mood had changed and that he needed to solve a...thing.

When you got to the famous part of the dance, he was controlling himself not to go up to you and take you to his room in front of everyone.

Whe you were done, he excused himself from his dorm members and Jamil, grabbed your hand, and the two of you didn't leave his room until the next morning.

Let's say that Jamil didn’t sleep well that night ... or nothing at all.

Vil

Earned It - The Weeknd (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji-l0n6GcnA)

You went to his dorm asking if you could use his ballroom. You've been wanting to dance again for a long time and your own dorm wasn't going to give you the space you needed.

He said yes without problem and left you alone while you practiced.

After a while and intrigued to see your practice, Vil returned to the ballroom hoping to surprise you, but it was he who was surprised.

"Oh ... my, what a view"

His gaze was on your butt, for it round and apple-shaped.

He was intrigued by your dance, impressed by your flexibility and how in those lewd movements, he could find pure beauty.

You were completely immersed in your choreography that you didn't notice Vil standing at the door.

Reaching the end of the dance, you noticed Vil smiling from ear to ear. "Oh no potato, don't stop for me"

You smiled at him and positioned yourself in the middle of the room, turning your back on Vil and looking at him through the huge mirror.

He stood behind you, his hands on your hips. You both waited for the start of a new song.

The two danced together an erotic moves with it’s ending was between the bars and the mirror.

Idia

God is a Woman - Ariana Grande (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evlwPF6g-c8)

Idia was playing on his computer when a movement on his camera caught his attention.

You two used to make video calls constantly because of his fear of interact to other people.

When he opened his app, he noticed that you had left the camera and the computer audio on. He was to say something when music started playing.

You appeared in his field of vision wearing only shorts and a transparent black shirt, which left your nipples visible.

“Oh my Aphrodite. What is this? An unlocked Ero scene?”

Seeing you move so smoothly, he couldn't help but imagine his blue lips on your nipples, watch them harden and turn violet when sucked by him.

Ortho had to enter his room with a fire extinguisher when he started to see smoke coming out of his door.

Idia was completely red, from feet to hair and with a serious problem in his pants.

You may or may not have known he was watching from the beginning.

You will have to pay a visit to Ignihyde dorm leader that night.

Malleus

Buttons - The Pussycat Dolls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7E3CgGyPSr4)

Malleus was taking his night walk when he heard music come out of your dorm. Interested on that unrecognizable music, he went to your door.

He was about to knock when it slammed wide, apparently you had forgotten to close it. It wasn't in his plans to interrupt you, but he was completely curious about what was happening here.

His gaze met with your body dancing something he deciphered as erotic.

"my, my"

He was delighted with your movements to the point of bringing out a genuine smile, which disappeared when your top disappeared, leaving you alone in black and green lingerie.

His eyes widened. His hands began to sweat and he had a strange need to get close to you.

At the end of your dance, you had the scare of your life when you saw the tall and horned figure of Malleus on the doorway of the lounge room.

"Sorry if I scared you, it was not my intention to interrupt you while you’re enjoying yourself"

"How long have you been standing there?" "Since the beginning"

He approched you. He put his thumb on your lips and his piercing gaze met yours. You weren't sure if your legs were shaking from the exercise or how hot and wet Malleus could make you with just his gaze.

"Could you dance for me again?"

You nodded, unable to speak.

He kissed you, lifting you up from your hips and heading to your room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

If you like what you read, I would appreciate if you could support me on: https://ko-fi.com/abrightsunshine

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia