#what the fuck did you expect? the rich company to suck Your dick?

[saltypiss]

I'm not sorry, the Diablo fanbase is old enough to know better. I will laugh and cringe at your awful no dignity, no thought consumerism that only enables companies to do this shit.

It's Blizzard. Activision, Blizzard.

You're not truly surprised at shit, you're an imbecile who's object permanence kicked in only at your teen years, pray to god your ability to have a dignified consumerist attitude ever kicks the fuck in.

It's the information age, you knew what you signed up for, dipshit.

#diablo #I couldn't laugh if this was like #fortnite or some shit #because there's mostly children totally unaware of the world and consumerism involved there #I'd be sad to watch them get scammed and groomed into a worse consumerist attitude with all the gambling that seeks only to profit companies #but diablo fans are simply too fucking old to deny what Activision Blizzard is and expect not to get spit in their god damned throat #what the fuck did you expect? the rich company to suck Your dick? #no dipshit they delight on cutting corners and fucking the consumer #you enabled them after literally the decade they've had? my god man #only a republican or Gamerz could possibly be dumb enough to have reasonably expected this Red Flag of a company #to ever give them the time of day without a blood donation they could sell first within 2 to 3 business months

[redwayfarers]

@lilas your prompt is here! tonglr was being weird and i've been trying for so long to just publish the thing? so here it is as a regular post instead...

fandom: wayfarer ship: cassander inteus/melchior larkspur (cassmel) characters: cassander inteus, melchior larkspur rating: gen words: 1045 dividers by @saradika

prompt: kiss in secret

There are a few rules when Mel is on a con job. One, never greet him as Melchior in public. In fact, don’t greet him at all beyond a wave; he may have masked his stretched blue body to others, but to my eye, he sticks out like a sore thumb. I do too, so I get it. Most of the time, “tall red guy” gives me away. 

Chasing wayfarers out of villages sure is fucking fun. The tall red guy has outstayed his welcome, so we chase him out with forks and brooms. Did you know that magiani bring curses on ships and most recently, villages? Red ones more than most! Honorable Guild of Mages has concluded and definitively proved that magiani are somehow fucked in the head (through absolutely no fault of the Guild itself) and they also bring bad luck. Better chase them out quick before it spreads! 

The hair, I mean. There is such a thing as bastards. 

Next thing I gotta do when Mel’s on a job is bring out my collection of headscarves. Just in case. Height gives me away regardless. It’s only Sero’s thoughtful care that helped me not bump my head against all kinds of shit when I was growing up. By now it’s instinct. It helps lessen the chances of him being found out if he ever sees me. 

Not that he normally does, mind. He usually avoids me for those reasons, but just in case we see each other out and about. I don’t mind it, personally. Headscarves make for some nice, inexpensive detailing. I am but a poor wayfarer, after all. With some puppy eyes and dick sucking, I managed to get some face framing pieces in the mix, too. 

If you told me I’d be in a relationship with a con artist and technically complicit in his crimes, I would’ve laughed. But hey, it’s not like I don’t approve of him scamming rich assholes. I bear the name of a long line of rich assholes who hog all the power, I have every right to hate them with all my being. 

So in the midst of one such crime, with my dark headscarf, curls around my face and non-descript clothes, I glide into the crowds of Velantis. What I wasn’t expecting, however, is seeing Mel in them, blue and gorgeous and dressed in absolute finery I’m not sure how he affords. He’s in the company of a human with black hair, equally well dressed, whispering something in her ear. She blushes and looks away. Mel gives her a sweet smile. 

He has such a way with people. 

I don’t know what she’s seeing. Is it a human, like her, or maybe an elf? Probably not a melusine. Maybe an aeda? Certainly not a dwarf, judging by his body language. I don’t know the name off the top of my head, but I can’t go shouting Melchior like this. It’ll probably be a one off sighting and a story he tells me over dinner. 

Yet, as she looks away, Mel glances in my direction. His eyes widen for a fraction of a moment and he whispers something in the woman’s ear. She nods, earning herself a kiss on the cheek, and he makes his way over. 

“Hello,” I say quietly and he signals to a nearby hidden corner between two shops. His hand grips my upper arm and we sneak in there. It isn’t hard to hide our footsteps in the throngs of Velantis. 

As soon as we’re out of sight, his shoulders droop. His smile, acted and fake, drops. He doesn’t let go of my upper arm. “Thank the stars I saw you,” he says, and he sounds.. Off. Nervous. Worried. 

“What’s the matter? Something wrong?” I look over at his face. He offers a small smile. 

“Nothing you’re able to help with much, unfortunately,” he says quietly. “I simply haven’t been this nervous over… in a long time. It’s disconcerting.”

“I’m sure you’re doing great,” I reply, taking his hand in mine. He sighs deeply and leans in. 

“You smell of oranges,” he says. He then kisses me, and I’m careful to not ruin his hair or clothes when I hug him and return the kiss. Thankfully he’s not wearing any lip color, and even then, the importance of not ruining the image he’s presenting. I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if he got in trouble because of me. 

“Wanna talk about it? Tonight, I mean.” 

He squeezes my hand and nods. I kiss his forehead. “You’ll be fine,” I laugh softly. “You could fool the best of them.” 

“As long as I am not ratted out,” he teases. It’s still tense, but not as tense as before. 

“You won’t get any rats from me,” I promise. “Mice, maybe. Rats, no.” 

He barely holds back a laugh. “I really need to go now, Cassander. But I did need that. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.” 

I can’t help stealing yet another quick kiss. It's not my fault he has such kissable lips. He smiles, but this time, it’s genuine and less of a mask. He then lets go of my hand to dig through his pocket and place something in my hand. 

It’s a few crowns, shiny and gold in the sunlight. “Buy yourself that hair oil you like,” he says and touches the curls around my face. It sends the hairs tickling the skin of my cheeks and it’s my turn to hold back a laugh. “It makes your hair look so delightfully bouncy.”

Before I can say much else, he’s off in the crowds again, and I’m left looking at the crowns. They’re so new and maybe possibly freshly forged, and maybe he stole them just for me, or maybe he brought them for himself but decided my hair is a more worthwhile investment, I don’t fucking know. I just know that they make me giggle like I’m a kid again and that there’s more than enough crowns there for two bottles of the oil. 

I also know that there’s a story waiting for me tonight, and that maybe, I’m not as shitty of a person as my head likes to make me think I am.

#wayfarer if #wayfarer #cassander inteus #melchior larkspur #cassander x melchior #inspo birb has come to town #my writing

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #it's long but i like my memes chunky <3 #lemme know if u'd prefer i do things in parts tho ! #also everyone watch this show immediately :knife:

[myherowritings]

PART 4. HOW THE RICH SUCK THEIR OWN DICKS

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.9k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji makes an appearance bleh, enji being classist, enji...ew, okay i swear most of the chapter is shouto and y/n being cute though 

A/N. ngl i have genshin brainrot real bad at the moment but i still have motivation for ceo!shouto and ceo!shouto only u.u there are only 7 parts to this series so we’re at the halfway mark already AHHH i hope u enjoy reading and lmk what u think!! :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

Shouto’s day went from good to bad faster than it took to pull an espresso. 

It started off with a good morning text from you and having a brief, but pleasant, interaction at your work. Actually, the past few weeks have been going along a similar routine that he found himself settling into all too comfortably. You even upheld your promise of stealing him away one weekend to walk around the park, get food, and just have time to relax and be happy for once. 

Getting to be in your presence almost daily became so normalized in his life that even some of his employees heard about the cute barista with the best pastries. Yet, although he saw you often, he found himself wanting to talk to you more and more.

But for now, Shouto told himself to settle with starting the mornings off with you. They were the best mornings he’s had in a while and he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. 

Today, however, went sour fast after he heard his father was coming up to the top floor for a meeting with him. He didn’t find the idea of Enji visiting to be the most abhorrent thing, but the moment his father opened his mouth, Shouto quickly took that back. 

As expected, his father reminded him about the annual charity gala Todoroki Enterprises was expected to attend. Handfuls of galas ran through the year, but the once hosted by Naruhata Industries under the guise of raising money and awareness for the charities of choice.

In theory, a charity gala ball sounded humanitarian and a way for the upper class to give back, but in reality, most of the funds collected didn’t go to the actual charities, instead they went to paying for the venue, live bands, entertainment, the most expensive catering, decorations, and more. What presented itself as a charitable event in the eyes of the public was really a way rich people could flaunt their wealth and feel good about themselves for doing absolutely nothing to benefit society. A way for the rich to suck their own dicks, if you would. 

Shouto absolutely hated it. 

It was also a press opportunity and, in his father’s eyes, a way to gain public favor for the Todoroki business. Today, Enji attempted to tell him that bringing a date that fit the mold of high society was the best way for him to establish rapport through media coverage. Apparently, the image news outlets have placed on Shouto were either a heartbreaker and playboy with no care for other’s emotions, or a monotonous stoic who seemed like a robot with no care for other’s emotions.

In either cases, there seemed to be a theme of Shouto not caring for others. 

He sighed. 

“You can’t keep that image, Shouto,” said Enji with his arms folded across his chest. “If the media sees you with someone—a nice girl with a good upbringing—then your likeability will increase tenfold. If there’s no one you like, I’ll have to set up a date for you.”

For a while, he was torn between telling his dad to fuck off and trying to do as he said to keep peace within the family. But then, an image of you popped into his head.

“Actually, there is someone I like.” 

Enji narrowed his eyes. “Oh? An educated girl with wealthy parents?”

“There’s someone I like,” he simply repeated, the tone in his voice growing cold. 

He didn’t know anything about your upbringing or family nor did he exactly care. Shouto didn’t want to bring a date to the dumb gala, but if he had to, he would want it to be you. Only if you agreed, of course. But if you weren’t willing, then he had to face the facts that his father would most likely force a date of his own choosing upon Shouto. 

“That’s good you like someone, son,” Enji said through his teeth, “but we have to make sure it’s not some sort of...loose woman. That’d be even worse publicity—”

“I like someone and if you really cared about my happiness like you said you did, that’d be enough.”

There was a tense silence in the air. Shouto didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times Enji had told him and his siblings that he would try to be a better dad. A caring dad who only wanted what was best for his children. A better husband for Rei. A better example for the public. The first few times, Shouto believed it. But Enji said the same things over and over again with no lasting change and Shouto was just fed up. 

After hearing the same lie told to him over and over again, it seemed to lose its weight. He seemed to lose his hope in his father ever changing.

Still, Shouto had to deal with him for as long as he lived. That much he knew as a son living in this society. 

But he hoped Enji at least had enough guilt to let him have this.

“Fine.”

Shouto blinked in surprise. 

Enji stated, “If you think your date can help your public image and not be a complete embarrassment to the business, you can bring them.”

That was the closest thing to approval Shouto would get today. He nodded and listened along to whatever else his father had to say, the only thing actually on his mind was thinking about how he would ask you out on a date to some stuffy gala. And hope that you’d say yes.

— ✩ —

“Wait, so, let me get this straight— You’re the CEO of Todoroki Enterprises and even after almost two months of knowing you, I had no clue?”

He inclined his head, looking solemn. “Yes, I’m sorry. Are you upset with me for not telling you sooner?” 

Initial shock aside, you couldn’t say that you were too surprised at the revelation. You knew Shouto was wealthy and probably in some high-up position in the business industry, but you never knew to what extent. A CEO? That had to be the highest rank in a company! And a company as well known as Todoroki Enterprises? 

The thought made you a little nervous. The guy you slowly befriended over the course of short cafe visits and silly texts was Mr. Todoroki? Or worse— The guy you stole away from doing work for a whole weekend was someone as busy as a CEO? You internally groaned. That had to be against laws of the universe or something. 

“I’m not upset, no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I just...can’t believe it I guess.” Eyes widening, you were quick to amend your words. “Well, I can believe it. You seem very intelligent and well-put together and, uh, rich! But I guess I just didn’t think a CEO would be so funny and kind.” You winced. “Oh no, is that mean to say?”

“I don’t think it’s mean.” He shrugged. “You’re right to say most people in this field aren’t known for their delightful temperaments.” 

You absentmindedly drummed your finger against your thigh, trying to process this new information. “So you’re Todoroki Shouto...and you want me to be your date to the Naruhata Charity Ball?” 

“Yeah. I know it’s a huge favor to ask, and I promise you can say no if you choose,” said Shouto in earnest. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to agree.” 

With a hum, you stretched your legs out under the table before crossing one over the other again. It was a Saturday afternoon where you had no work and Shouto managed to escape from his for a few hours of the day. You took him to your favorite ice cream place nearby and the two of you ate at a dining area outside the establishment. 

Just a mundane day as two friends hanging out with each other where you found out one of those friends was the chief executive officer of a billion dollar business headquartered in Japan. 

Totally normal, everyday occurrences, obviously. 

“And you need a date for this event?” you asked. In all honesty, you would be more than happy if Shouto asked you out on a date. He was fun and you enjoyed getting to know him. But these particular circumstances made you a tad bit more nervous.

“I normally wouldn’t need to bring one, but my father insists it’d help my public image and in turn the image of the company.” With a pinched look on his face, he took a bite of his ice cream. “In other words I bring a date or he picks one for me.” 

You weren’t the most caught up on super rich people drama, but it was almost infamous how estranged the Todoroki family was. Again, you didn’t know much but you did know enough to say that Todoroki Enji seemed like a Class A asshole. If you could help Shouto out with his weird dilemma, you saw no reason not to. 

“So this charita gala is like where they have those live auctions and silent auctions and get tipsy on fancy wine and champagne for hours right?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. Have you attended one?” 

“Not quite,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve volunteered at one in school though. As one of those runners? It was fun. I got a bunch of those tiny complimentary candies!” Your mouth watered at the memory. “What kind of drug were in those candies? I’ve never had candy so good before!”

“The tiny, circular candies with the excessively big wrapper? The fruity ones?”

You shot up in your seat, excited he knew what you were talking about. “Yes! That’s the one!” 

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “I always see those at these types of events.”

“So… The candy will be there at the gala you want me to accompany you to?” 

“Most likely.”

“Can I take a bunch of those from candies there…?” you asked with an optimistic grin.

“I’ll be your accomplice in sneaking them out.”

“It’s a date!” you said before Shouto could get another word out. 

You’d be reunited with those yummy, fancy candies you’ve been separated from for far too long. What other reason did you need to agree? 

With a determined look on your face, you held your hand out for Shouto to shake to seal the deal. 

He blinked. “Wait. Did you want to discuss it some more? Maybe have a few days to think it through? I’m grateful, of course, but I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“No. I won’t regret it. I’d do anything to taste those candies again.”

Shouto looked unsure what to say. “Isn’t there some parable warning people not to be bribed by candy?”

“Not to take candy from a baby?”

“No. Not that one.”

“That’s the only one I know.”

“Never mind then.” 

The two of you exchanged confused looks before letting out fits of laughter. You weren’t sure if either of you knew exactly what the other was laughing at, but the moment was an enjoyable one nonetheless. 

“Yet another reason to bring me to that fancy event— I’ll make sure you’re entertained all the way through,” you playfully bragged, smoothing down the front of your shirt. 

“The event will definitely be more bearable with you there.” He licked a small bit of his ice cream from his pink spoon, making a sound of approval. “But you can change your mind about coming at any time, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you said, holding a pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

With what seemed like a bashful expression on his face, Shouto extended his own pinky to interlock yours. You sealed it with a kiss and a heart, like you were a kid again. 

“Now, am I supposed to be in love with you at the gala?” you asked nonchalantly, finishing off your last bite of ice cream. He offered you a spoonful of his and you tried not to grow too flustered at Shouto feeding you his dessert. You murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome. As for being in love… I don’t think that’s necessary. Just pretend you like being around me, I think.”

Under the table, you nudged his shoe with yours, pulling a face. “I don’t have to pretend about that, silly.” 

“Ah, well,” he paused, offering you another spoonful of ice cream, “I don’t either.”

“I’m glad.” Then, “Is this strawberry? I was never a big strawberry ice cream fan but for some reason this tastes so good.” 

You ignored the nagging voice in your head that said maybe it wasn’t so much the ice cream flavor but who you were enjoying it with. 

The two of you finished his dessert in peace and after cleaning up the area with a napkin, Shouto turned to you with an intent look on his face.

“Before the gala, would you mind if I talk you shopping so you could pick out what to wear?” he asked. “I would pay of course— It’s the least I could do to say thank you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me! You’re my friend and I want to help.” You thought about it for a moment. “And get the candy.”

“Anything for the candy.”

“Exactly,” you said in complete seriousness. “But I wouldn’t mind going shopping with you. You could help me decide what to wear! I’m not exactly sure how to dress for an event as fancy as this.”

“You could wear anything to the event and still look amazing.” His words were ones of flattery but his tone sounded completely genuine. 

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. “Look who’s talking— You’re practically runway ready no matter what time of day.”

“I’ve never walked a runway before.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation of your words. Cute. “Me neither.”

He looked confused at why you were grinning, but it still brought a smile to his own lips.

By now the sun had begun to set and Shouto was walking you to the train to see you off before you went home.

“Can I pick you up next weekend in the morning?” he said. “So we can get your outfit for the gala?”

“Sure! I’ll text you my address.” 

He nodded in contentment. “And again, you don’t have to worry about any costs.”

“Is this why my friends have called you a sugar daddy?” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked down the street, side-by-side. “But thank you. Shopping will be fun— We can even match colors!” 

“Mn.” He looked between the both of you, as if trying to picture what colors would complement each other. 

You crossed the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery by Shouto’s side. A few times, you even felt his knuckles brush against yours and you had the undeniable urge to hold his hand. Would that be weird? you asked yourself before deciding against it. 

Just because he asked you to be his date for the Naruhata Charity Ball didn’t mean he actually liked you, right? It was just a favor from a friend to a friend.

Something about that though made your stomach unsettled. Maybe part of you wanted it to be a real date— Wanted this to be a real date. 

“So I won’t be seeing you tomorrow,” you said after a moment’s silence, trying not to look too dejected. 

You knew he’d still text good morning and good night and ask you random things throughout the day (all of which you found really endearing, by the way), but it was still different from seeing him in person. Even though your time together in the morning was small, they still were enough to make your day. The thought of your waking hours being so entwined made you nervous, but for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it was sort of...nice. 

“I’ll see you Monday morning, right?” you asked hopefully, though you were already fairly certain of the answer.

Shouto nodded. “Of course. It’s already marked on my calendar.”

“Ever the flatterer, hmm?” 

“Not flattery, just the truth.” He pulled his phone out and showed you his (rather packed) calendar app. To your surprise, a little reminder that said ‘See Y/N :)’ was marked on his Monday schedule. 

Unable to stop the beam from spreading across your lips, you hid your face in your hands. Gosh— Did he have to be so cute? He was making it harder and harder to only like him as a friend. And even now, you weren’t sure if you liked him only as a friend.

But you pushed those thoughts away.

That was something to deal with at a later time.

When you reached the train station you normally took home, you turned to Shouto, giving him a big hug. He was tall and warm. You could feel his lean muscles through his button-down shirt as you rested your head against his chest and arms around his waist. 

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you again soon.”

After a pause, he gave you a hug back, hands rubbing hesitant circles on your back in a way that made you smile. “Text me when you get home safe,” he said as you both reluctantly released each other from an embrace.

“I will,” you promised. “You do the same! Later, Shouto!” 

And with that, you waved goodbye and boarded the train, unable to shake the unwavering grin on your face all the way home.

a/n: when shouto started feeding y/n spoonfuls of his ice cream i cried (Ｔ▽Ｔ) that’s so cUTE OF HIM LIKE PLS SIR STOP BEFORE I FALL MORE IN LOVE WITH U !! >:O he’s such a sweetheart ahhhh,, i hope all the fluff made up for the brief appearance of endeavor ಠ╭╮ಠ  FHDJKF 

what to expect in the next part:

shopping for the gala time !! 

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~ part 2

oh my, y/n has to try on dresses? oh my, it’d be a shame if they needed help putting it on :o *fake gasp* 

yeah things get just a lil steamy but shh

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #bnha scenarios #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki imagines #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #todoroki x y/n #bnha fluff #mha scenarios #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #bnha todoroki

[ragingbookdragon]

Hell In A Cell

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Violence

Author's Note: I can't believe I haven't put this one back up yet. Nothing's more fun than WWE references when you're kicking ass, ya feel? -Thorne

They could feel her eyes on them as they stared at their hands, too afraid to meet her gaze. Dick suddenly found the beds of his nails interesting, Jason and Tim kept looking at the steel seats they were sitting on, and Damian just turned towards the front. She sat opposite of them, on the bench against the other wall, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. The last time any of them had looked, she had her fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips, her eyes cold and infuriated. After a few moments, Dick gathered the courage to look up from his nails and glanced at her.

He gave a fearful smile and asked, “Uh…sis? Are you still…mad?” Her eyes drifted to his and he visibly flinched from her gaze.

She tipped her mouth away from her fingers and seethed, “Mad is the smallest word for what I am right now.” The others flinched at her fury and looked up, taking in the image of their angered sister.

“It wasn’t that bad (Y/N). We’re just…detained…” Jason’s words died as (Y/N) turned her eyes to him.

“I told you four chuckleheads that the property we were on was protected, but nooooo, ‘we’ll just be in there for five minutes. No one is going to find out’.” She growled as she stood, flinging her arms out to gesture around them.

“Well guess what?! Someone found out! And now we’re stuck in a goddamn jail cell at GCPD, waiting for dad to come bail us out!” Each of their necks disappeared into their shoulders.

Tim spoke quietly. “At least none of us got hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter if none of us got hurt! This is going to be all over the news tomorrow! ‘Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s kids found trespassing on personal property’.” She looked at them as she snapped, “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our reputations?!”

She turned to Tim. “What this can and will do to the company and future deals?!” (Y/N) sat back down and dropped her head into her hands. “We’ll be lucky to come out of this unscathed.” She groaned loudly and rubbed her face with her hands, sighing tiredly, “Dad’s going to be so pissed when he gets here.”

“Father will not be angry at us sister. He will understand what we were doing.”

(Y/N) let out another heavy sigh and from behind her hands, she muttered, “Oh, he’s going to be angry. He’s going to blow a gasket he’s going to be so angry. I highly doubt—”

A shout from the back of the room cut her off. “Will you five shut the hell up? God, you’ve been complaining ever since you got in here.” The comments made the four boys turn their heads to a group sitting in the back.

(Y/N) pulled her head up and turned, her voice dark as she retorted, “Buddy, I’m in a less than stellar mood right now and unless you don’t want me to show you what your insides look like—I’d advise you to shut the fuck up.”

Her threat made him stand up and he started walking towards her, his group of thugs following in tow. “What did you just say to me rich-bitch? Wanna repeat that?”

When he finally stopped walking, he was right in front of her, and she could see her brothers beginning to rise from their seats for a quick defense. She raised a few fingers in their direction, telling them to wait.

(Y/N) looked up at him as she rose from her seat, coming nose to nose with him. She pulled the most intimidating face she could muster and repeated, “I said, unless you want me to show you what your insides look like…shut the fuck up.”

The man turned to his friends and started laughing, causing them to follow in suit, then he turned back to her. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in sweetheart.” He motioned to his friends. “We’re in Two-Face’s gang.” He motioned to a group in the corner. “And those clowns work for Joker.”

He turned back to her and reached out, shoving her shoulder. “You’re locked in here with us. Imagine what we’ll do to five rich kids that don’t have any bodyguards to protect ‘em.” The others laughed, and (Y/N) shot a quick glance to her brothers along with a nod before looking back at the man and letting out a dark chuckle. A feeling of apprehension came over them as they stopped laughing.

She flashed him an unsettling grin and leaned forward, whispering, “No pal, I don’t think you understand. We aren’t locked in here with you.” Her brothers rose, moving to her sides and she leaned back. “You’re locked in here with us.”

The man’s eyes widened, and she jerked forward to grab the back of his neck and slammed his head into the seat she’d previously been sitting on. He dropped and the cell went dead silent.

The gang members in the back had stood up, and (Y/N) looked at the ones in front of her. “Who’s next?” No one moved an inch, and she tipped her head side-to-side. “C’mon jackasses, we’re gonna be here all night. We might as well get this over with.”

The gang members looked at each other before nodding and they turned to her and her brothers. “You’re so going to regret that.”

(Y/N) tipped her head and gave a quick glance to her brothers, grinning evilly. “Whoever knocks out the most thugs gets to come with me to Tokyo next week.” They matched her grins and they got into fighting stances.

She turned back to the group and taunted, “Let’s dance.”

***

They all collapsed onto the metal benches, sweating and bleeding; (Y/N) glanced at Dick who was holding the collar of his shirt to his busted lip. “You good Dickie?”

He looked at her and tossed her a thumbs up, and she turned to Jason. “How’s the nose?” He grunted and held his nose before sucking in a breath and shoving it back into place with a sickening crunch. The others winced at the sound, and Jason let go of his nose, slamming his head back into the wall a few times.

“I’ll take it that you’re better now?” He raised a few fingers and she reached down, tearing a piece of one of the unconscious gang-member’s shirts and tossing it to Tim. “Put that on your eyebrow Timmy.” He caught it and raised it to his left eyebrow that had been spilt open.

He nodded at her and she finally looked at Damian who was continually spitting blood on the floor. “You alright Dami?”

He spat once more and looked at her. “I got a tooth knocked out.”

The others turned to him and leaned forward, trying to see. “Lemme see!”

He opened his mouth, pointing to a tooth in the bottom left of his mouth. “It was a baby tooth, so there’s no problem.”

Jason snorted, but immediately regretted it as he reached up to hold his nose; he turned to Damian. “You’re thirteen and you still have baby-teeth?” Damian’s retort was cut off by a tennis shoe whacking Jason in the head, and they turned to see (Y/N) reclining against the wall.

“Jason don’t be a douchebag.” He grumbled at her and rubbed the side of his head, but conceded, and silence filled the cell once again.

After a few moments, the sound of footsteps came from down the hall and they all turned their heads to see their father, Alfred, and Gordon staring at them in shock. They flashed sheepish smiles, and (Y/N) waved a hand. “Hey dad, hey Alfie…hey Commissioner Gordon.”

“What in God’s name happened here?!”

(Y/N) looked around at the ground littered with unconscious gangmembers and turned back, grinning. “Uh…they got their asses kicked six ways from Sunday.”

“Why?!”

“Well, first they insulted us, and secondly, they put their hands on us. So technically, we were well within our rights to whoop ass.”

Her father glared at her and rebuked angrily. “(Y/N) Wayne, not another word.” She gave him a mock salute and shut her mouth; Bruce turned to Gordon and began discussing something, and a few minutes later, her and her family were walking out to the waiting car.

They all climbed in and waited for Bruce to start yelling at them; no words came from him, but they could tell he was seething with rage. A few moments went by and they pulled into an abandoned parking lot.

Bruce turned around and let them all have it. “You’re all off patrol for two months. Reason number one, the trespassing. Reason number two, the Hell in a Cell you five had.” He paused and threw his hands in the air. “What the hell were you five thinking?”

They all looked at (Y/N) who rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Yeah sure, look at the oldest and expect her to explain.” They giggled at her and she turned to her dad. “First and foremost, I can’t believe you just used a WWE term. Secondly, they were thugs, and we were attacked. So, by default, we just responded naturally.”

“And breaking skulls and bones is natural?”

“Is that a legit question?”

“Don’t make me ground you, young lady.”

(Y/N) grunted at him. “I’m twenty-six. You can’t ground me. I don’t even live at home.”

The others watched them bicker until Bruce raised a hand. “Enough. We’ll discuss this at home.”

“Again, I don’t live with you. I live on my own.”

“(Y/N) Wayne.”

“Alright…whatever.” He turned back around and nodded to Alfred, and the car began moving once more.

After a few minutes of silence, Jason cleared his throat and nonchalantly mumbled, “Not that it’s super important right now…but I get to go to Tokyo with you next week.”

“The hell you do! I knocked out the most thugs!”

“No, you didn’t replacement. I did.”

“Neither of you Robin failures completed the challenge correctly. I won it.”

“Not to be rude little D, but you would be incorrect. I won the challenge.”

“Ain’t nobody asked you Dickhead.” This spurred an even bigger fight as the four of them began to bicker in the backseat, and (Y/N) groaned, leaning forward and rested her chin on Bruce’s shoulder.

His head tipped downwards, and he eyed her. “What’s wrong with you?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I gotta them all to Tokyo next week because we aren’t going to be able to figure out who knocked out the most.”

Bruce sighed, but a small grin crossed his lips, and after a few seconds he murmured, “You won the most knocked out, didn’t you?”

“Oh totally.”

“That’s my badass daughter.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Master Bruce! Ms. (Y/N)! Your language!”

They both glanced at Alfred and said, “Sorry Alfred.” They looked back at each other before sharing a smile, then the sound of flying fists reached their ears and they both sighed. Then,

“OW THAT WAS MY NOSE!”

“AND THAT WAS MY LIP!”

“OW YOU LITTLE SPAWN! THAT’S MY ARM YOU’RE BITING!”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder and looked at her fighting brothers: Jason had Dick in a headlock while giving him a noogie, and Tim was trying to remove Damian’s teeth from his forearm. She turned back around and looked at Alfred and her dad.

“Do you guys wanna come with me instead of them?”

Bruce eyed her with an eyebrow raised. “Do you really think leaving the city to the four of them is a good idea?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before muttering, “I mean it’s not a great idea, but it’s an idea nonetheless.”

“One that’s bound to end up in a city on fire.”

“…Yeah you got me there.” She paused a slight second before affirming, “But the offer still stands.”

“No (Y/N).”

“But I don’t want to take them with me.”

“Too bad.”

“Fuck my life.”

“MS. (Y/N)! LANGUAGE!”

#batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily #batsis #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #dc #dc imagine #dc imagines #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine

[cherryatiny]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐑)

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

„Please welcome the world-wide known cellist Ian Park, who will lead today's concert, please applause for him.“ loud sounds of hands clapping resonated in the spacious orchestra hall, when the man in question stood up with a cello in his hands.

Over the time you two were together, it became a tradition for you and your sugar daddy Hongjoong to go to a classical music concert at least once a month. Always get dressed up in new robes he bought for you and walk down the corridors of the historical theatre as the people around you were amazed by how beautiful and a powerful couple you two were.

As the first tones of the symphony came out, your ears felt like melting from the lovely music played by the greatest musicians of the present time. Hongjoong's hand was resting on the part of your thigh exposed by the high slit in your dress. Fingertips drawing figures on your skin and going higher under the velvety material of your dress and reaching the seamless thong you wore underneath. „Don't you dare go any higher.“

„Was that meant to the soprano lady, or me?“ chuckled Hongjoong lowly as his hand went higher, his fingers rubbing up and down the wet patch on your underwear. Instead of an answer, a quiet whimper left your mouth unwillingly. Thank god, you were in one of the balcony booths and covered by dark, too far from the prying eyes.

His hand skillfully pushed your panties to the side, exposing your slit to the fresh air, the sudden chilly feeling and Hongjoong's fervent touches, made goosebumps rise up on your upper thighs.

As soon as his thumb came in a contact with your reddened clit that was desperately in need of his touch, your body started squirming in the seat, his second hand keeping you down from moving too much by gripping your thighs.

Having decided that you seemed to be aroused more than enough by the delicate stimulation of your clitoris he gave you, Hongjoong slipped two of his fingers covered by rings, into your heat, coating them in your slick right away, which made it only easier for him to thrust them into you in an intense speed and hardness, never failing to brush directly against your sweet spot, making the knot tighten in your stomach as you were getting so close to staining the luxurious seats of the national theatre building.

„Fuck, you gonna let it out, princess? You look so classy, yet you're getting off on my fingers like some bitch in heat in the middle of an opera concert, how pathetic. Your cunt couldn't wait any longer? What were you thinking of, that made you wet so easily, even though we are in public, hm? Tell me, my dirty girl.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Seong- I mean, Mr. Park, I've organized the papers for you, here.“ you announced as you stepped into his spacious office, the glass-wall behind him allowing you to look at the panorama of the city, but even better sight than that was your sugar daddy Seonghwa focused on the papers in front of him.

The white shirt he had on, which covered the body you knew well, was slightly unbuttoned as Seonghwa ran his hands into his hair out of frustration. The level of stress in his body much more higher than it should be, as he tried to finish the paperwork for launching a sub-corporation of the company he ran.

When you first started working as his secretary, you two were mean to each other, always nitpicking on each other's words and arguing, but it all started when he got you the keys to your new apartment in the building he owned, or when you two fucked after the ball that was part of the business conference in Milan, and over the months you two got closer and closer to each other until he eventually became your sugar daddy.

„Mhm, Y/N, come here baby.“ going over to where he was, you stood in front of him, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you down to sit on his lap. „I'm so stressed baby, but I can't leave work until I finish the paperwork, why don't you get on your pretty knees and support me while I'm working?“

„Yes, sir.“ Nodding your head with a sly smirk, you obeyed his request, knowing exactly what he meant, and slipped down from his lap, going under the high desk he worked at, you reached for his pants, your fingers swiftly unbuttoning and tugging them down. Reaching for his briefs, you could hear Seonghwa chuckle at how impatient you were.

Wrapping your hand around his girth, your other hand resting on his thigh, your wet lips neared his tip leaking of pre-cum. Giving the tip kitten licks and teasingly kissing along his shaft, you tried to rile him up as much as possible, but he didn't seem to be having much of it, his hand gripping on your ponytail rather harshly, tugging on it to make you look up.

„Princess, get to work and don't tease, or else I'll have to knock on your apartment door tonight with a collar and a leash. Actually... a whore like you would like that, right? Being a fuck toy for me to use. Look at you right now, on your knees in my office knowing that anyone could walk in right now. Now suck on it like it's a lollipop, my kitten.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

When Yunho said, „Baby baby, your favourite brand launched their new collection today, why don't we go and see some of it“ you did not expect to spend the next few hours shopping for clothes with him. At first, he wanted to see the brand, then he decided he needs some clothes for the press conference of the drama he was starred as the main character in, and then it ended up with you supposedly needing new dresses, „Yunho I don't need any dress.“

Shutting you with 'quiet baby', his hand tugged you to the shop he had in mind. It was a shop that specialized in gowns and formal clothing for different balls and this type of stuff. „Yuyu, I don't need any dress, I'm not going to any ball, so why would I need them.“

But Yunho wasn't having it, already too engaged with picking dresses for you. Going through the different rich materials and colours, his eyes landed on a beautiful black gown, with exposed shoulders and a high slit on the left leg. „Go try them on baby.“

Rolling your eyes at his request, too tired to do anything, but still agreeing to try them on to make your sugar daddy happy, you took the dress from his hand. Closing the door of the changing booth, you got too bothered with undressing, that you didn't notice Yunho slip in. That was until his soft fingertips started brushing against your collar bones, slipping the bra straps off your body. „Yunho what are you doing he-“

The words got caught in your throat as Yunho pressed his fingers against your wet slit, pressing onto your covered clit hardly, earning a moan from you. „What am I doing here? I think that's pretty obvious, I've noticed how desperately my girl looked, so I deducted I should help her... but she has to be quiet.“

Tugging your panties to the side, he got hold of his already hard shaft, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with his pre-cum. Positioning himself at your entrance, he looked at your reflection in the mirror, smirking at the desperate look on your face.

Slipping his length into your heat, he started off with a steady and fast pace, hitting the sweet spot hardly. One of his hands holding you by your waist and the other one shutting you as it was pushed against your mouth. „I don't have that many hands baby, so please rub your clit for me.“

Knowing well as to not anger him by not obeying his instructions, your hand slipped in between your legs, fingers coming to direct contact with the reddened bundle of nerves, desperate for any external stimulation, as the tip of Yunho's cock stimulated it from inside. The work of your fingers on your wet pussy was bringing you closer and closer to your sweet high, which you knew was for sure going to be exquisite.

Letting out incoherent moans as Yunho's pace got faster, his cock twitching signalising that you weren't the only one nearing your high, as your walls clenched around him tightly. „Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Your mouth wide agape from the unexpected pleasure delivered to you, resulting in your fluids squirting not only on Yunho's well-endowed dick, but also the mirror you were pressed against. „Alright, you got tissues? Cuz I don't think the shop assistants will like to clean it..“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

It was Friday, which meant your regular dinner with your sugar daddy Yeosang at the luxurious restaurant you always went to. Dressed up in a comfortable, but pretty and seductive dress, you hopped into the back seat of the black car. Yeosang signalled to the chauffeur that he can get going to the restaurant.

Arriving at the hotel where the restaurant was situated, you went up by an elevator to the highest floor, which secured the impressive panorama. Being greeted by the usual waitress with a bottle of red wine in her hands, you excused yourself to use the restroom, while the cooks prepare food for you two.

Placing your purse down on the limestone sink, you took a look at your reflection in the mirror. Taking out the red lipstick you had with you, you reapplied it, since the previous layer got smudged.

Smudged thanks to Yeosang's hungry lips, because as soon as you sat down on the leather seat of his car, his hand immediately wrapped around your neck to bring you closer, his mouth fervently devouring yours.

Sighing you leaned against the counter, trying to get over the bemusing feeling in your lower parts, because how could he arouse you just with some kisses? Closing your eyes, you breathed out heavily, trying to calm yourself down so you can get back to him, without beseeching him to rail you right there, not noticing that the said man was present in the restroom, standing right behind you... That was until his hands laid themselves on your hips, catching you out of guard as you looked up in the mirror to see his boasting grin.

„What's wrong princess? Did my little actions in the car arouse you that much that you can't get back to me? Did you plan on getting yourself off to get rid of the heat in your panties? Did you think your little fingers could help you? I thought you were smarter than that, you should thank the deity that you have me. I'll free you of the arousal and wetness, all you have to do is beg.“

Weighing your options, you knew he was right..„Sir, please, rub my needy cunt, sir I'm all yours, so please help me release the knot in my stomach.“ Chuckling at the way you begged, knowing well how to do it after Yeosang taught you for months, his hands rolled your dress up to your waist, revealing your cotton panties.

Tugging them down to your knees, Yeosang leaned closer to you, looking at your reflection in the mirror, while whispering into your ear, „Relax, mister will rub your little cunt so well, so lean into his touch and be a good girl for him.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

As you remember falling asleep in San's car, waking up in your sugar daddy's private jet was quite astounding. Lying on the soft cushions of the seat you were in, you let out a few whimpers as you stretched your sore body.

„Well, good morning baby. Did you get good sleep? I tried to move you to the jet as carefully as possible to not wake you up.“ Smiling at him, you murmured a few words of your thankfulness and how your sleep was.

Unclassping the seat belt, you stood up from your seat and approached San who was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. He placed the bundle of papers on the coffee table in front of him, straightening his arms up, to wrap around your waist and tug you down to his lap.

Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, your wrapped your arms around it tiredly. His hand wrapped around your waist and the second one laid on your thigh, keeping you close to him. You let out a few whimpers, wriggling in his lap, to satisfy the growing heat and rub your core against his muscular thighs. „Is there something wrong baby?“

„Can you help me out?“ you said with a quiet almost unhearable voice, a little pout forming on your lips. „Help you out with what, princess?“ you averted your gaze to the hem of your skirt, fingers playing with it. „I've had a naughty dream about you...“

San chuckled at the way your ears turned red at how embarrassed you were because of the request you had. His hand forgot its place on your knee as it moved up, way under your skirt. Tugging your panties to the side, he could feel just how much the wet dream aroused you. His fingers moved up and down your wet slit, purposely coating them with slick and moving them up to your clit.

Rubbing your clit, pressing on it and occasionally changing the intensity of his actions, you couldn't stop the gasps from spilling out from your mouth, you were so engaged by this, that you did not notice San unbuttoning his shorts in the meanwhile, freeing his hardened dick from the tight garments.

You noticed it only when the movement on your swollen bundle of nerves stopped, right before you neared the sweet release, an unsatisfied cry that was cut in your throat leaving your lips. „Shh, baby. Daddy got hard hearing those blissful moans leave your mouth, so it's only right we help each other out. But you can't forget that we aren't alone, so all you gotta do I hope that the pilot can't hear us...“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

High mountains covered in a white blanket of snow were illuminated by the fierce sun rays as they created a scene straight out of a painting. The sound of champagne glasses clicking was heard, as you and Mingi sat in the hot and bubbling water, located on a balcony of the luxurious mountain resort you were in. Only you, your sugar daddy and maybe a few deers out there, but still possibly visible to others, „Do you like it here, princess?“

Nodding at his questions enthusiastically, you sipped off the champagne as your body melted to the feeling of jacuzzi jets massaging your sore muscles, „Yes, it's amazing here, thank you Mingi, for taking me here, I don't even know how to repay you.“

„You don't have to repay me, anything princess, I'm just happy that you like my present, now come here.“ standing up from your 'seat' on the other side of the jacuzzi, goosebumps immediately rose up on your body as the winter breeze attacked your wet skin. Coming over to his seat, you sat back down rushedly as to not catch a cold, the hot water welcoming you, as you found your comfortable spot in Mingi's lap.

His large hands rested on your back, pulling you closer to his chest as they twiddled with the knot that kept the top part of your bikini together. „Mingi, I know we're alone, but you never know when someone's watching...“ you spoke nervously. „Don't think about it, relax into my touch, let the water massage your body.“ Untying the top of your swimwear, he let it fall to the water, the piece of cloth floating on the water surface.

His hands reached for your soft breasts, squeezing them softly as to your hurt you, twirling your hardening nipples between his fingers. Mingi leaned closer to your chest, his plump lips latching onto one of your breasts, sucking on it passionately. Your head was thrown back as you let out low moans, your hands going straight into his locks.

While his face was dipped into your chest, sucking on your soft mounds, your hands travelled down to where the hem of his swimsuit was. „It's only fair I repay you by taking care of you my prince, so now, you should be the one to relax to my touch.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

„What are you reading?“ Averting your eyes from the flavescent pages of the book in your hands, you looked up at the man who stood in front of you. His skin sunbathed into a caramel tinted tone only added to how attractively his muscular body looked like, abs covered in beads of water as he just finished swimming in the sea, „50 shades of grey. A colleague of mine told me to read, it's kinda vanilla I have to say, nothing compared to what you do to me at nights.“

Smirking at your remark, he laid by your side on the soft cushions of the large beach couchette as soon as he finished drying his body. Keeping himself close to you, he threw a towel over your bodies, covering them completely, „Why are you covering us, Woo? Are you still cold from the water?“

„Let's just say I don't want other people to see that I got horny as fuck seeing my beautiful girl in her bikini and I just can't get my dick down, so try to act like nothing is happening as I stuff you full of my cock.“

Widening your eyes at how straightforward he was being to you in public, your cheeks got heated up as you could feel his fingers tugging your bikini bottoms down to your knees.

You looked around the beach, trying to act like nothing is happening just as he said, but when you locked eye contact with an older couple who were enjoying their time on the private beach and were looking at you awkwardly, you got even more embarrassed, so looking down into the mattress seemed like the best option. Wooyoung did the same with his swimsuit as he did with your, tugging it down to his knees, pulling out his leaking cock.

Without any more protraction, he sank his length into your wet hole. You had to bite on your lips to keep the moans from escaping past your lips. „Fuck, your cunt is taking me so well, you seem to like having a cock balls-deep in you, while we're in the public.“ His arms wrapped around your waist from behind as he pulled your back closer to his chest, his fingers playing with your nipples through the material of your swimsuit as he bottomed himself into you.

„Fuck, I don't think railing you once will be enough to satisfy our needs, should we go to the hotel room after this and recreate some of the book's chapters?“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

Sitting bored in the studio, your fingers typing something into your phone, you side-eyed the clock on the wall frequently, as you waited for the end of your partner's song recording. Black headphones on his head as he let out angel-like sounds into the microphone. „Woow, Jongho, good job for today, I think we can finish this up for today.“

Jongho smiled at the producer who sat in his seat in front of the computer screen, coming back from the recording room to where you were. Standing up from your seat on the couch, you went to him, almost jumping at him out of happiness that this boring session was finally over.

„Jongho, can you please keep guard over the studio for about fifteen minutes? I have to go pick up something but I have no idea where I put my keys.“ Looking over to you, to ask whether it was okay, you nodded although you were not very happy about it, and with that Jongho agreed to watch the studio while the producer left.

„How did you like my recording today?“ mischievous smile on his face as he asked you that, knowing very well while he brought you here. „Did you bring me here today on purpose? Who would have thought that the sweet and awkwardly shy Choi Jongho, would record a song with such naughty lyrics? Hmm, tell me, who were you singing about? Who were you imagining fucking, while you were writing those lyrics?“ Taking small steps, you were slowly cornering him, up until he fell on the couch behind him.

Sitting down onto his thick thighs, the material of his jeans coming straight to contact with your core as the skirt you wore covered you two. Leaning closer to him, you attached your lips onto the skin on his neck, nibbling on it softly as to not leave any marks. „We have around ten minutes left, should I give you a preview of what is waiting for you tonight?“

Your cleavage was straight in front of his eyes as you straddled his lap, purposely pressing your breasts against his chest to accentuate it and catch his attention more. Subtly griding against the tent forming in his jeans, your hand caressing his temples innocently. You could feel him shifting underneath you, some incoherent babble stammering out of his lips at your actions. Your hands took hold of his wrists, placing them on your waist,

„Now, do you think you'll be able to cum and get rid of your boner in less than seven minutes, pretty boy?“

❁ tag list : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @voidednightmares

#ateez #sugar daddy!ateez #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez sugar daddy au

[nightswithkookmin]

Hi Goldy!

Do you know that Jimins part in Butter was cut from the transmission in Golden Disc Awards?

And apparently even footage of him dancing to the break dance was cut.

Here is a comparison:

https://www.instagram.com/p/CYeoklDJ3bd/?utm_medium=copy_link

The post above is also mentioning that this is not the first time his part gets cut, appart from lights getting cut during his performance and BH editors calling Jimin nicknames given by haters.

Idk if this is true or what are the reasons behind it so I am hoping you can shed some light in it.

I remember Jimin not flying with the other members and having to fly in another class or something going to LA.

But I also remember seeing something in your blog(maybe in the comments) that Jimin might have upset someone "from the high levels".

What do you think about all of this?

See if I go off people will say I'm victimizing him so I won't go off.

With Hybe I know Jimin does have a say in the output and input. We've seen him ask for retakes, examine the monitors and footage till he is satisfied with a take. He has agency and he is not playing a passive role in Hybe.

After all he is Male, rich and privileged. If hybe is not working for him he can always walk out they won't shoot him down.

He has independent counsel, managers and support systems working in his interests to make sure he gets the right exposure and resources needed to nurture and advance his career.

If all these people cannot point out to Hybe that Jimin's lightening is bad and must be improved, or that his wardrobe sucks, or that the direction the company is taking his career is wack then he needs to fire all of them and hire me cos I can definitely do a better job minus the simping and sexual harassment I'd submit him to.

I'm sure he has an exit clause somewhere in his contract for when Hybe fails to uphold their side of the agreement to push him support him and take him to the max.

What I can't take is a third party like Golden disk doing shit like this

Did Hybe not approve of the final footage to be broadcasted or what? And I fail to believe they didn't cross check that footage or perhaps edit it out themselves cos that interviewer from India mentioned how after she and the team had edited the interview they'd sent it to Hybe for approval and hybe asked them to take out certain parts of the interview she thought was harmless.

Hybe will let the gay slide but Good forbid we ask about their breakfast or Jimin's part in butter PTD concert.

What a mess.

Hybe needs to fire someone cos they certainly aren't doing their jobs well. The artists need to cuss them out more and threaten to leave the band and company cos they are not the helpless broke teenagers they were in 2013.

Sis they forgot to tell Jimin his own song was to be used in a Marvel movie. I don't expect much from them.

Won't lie they surely act like they have a problem with him sometimes. But I know Jimin is very nice to everyone. Personally I think that's a character flaw but whatever. I'm sure Jungkook will agree with his mini hearts and compliments to all and sundry- yall did great today, bows and claps and proceeds to hug them😐

I mean with how nice he is to them you'd think they would feel motivated to make sure he comes out pretty every take but no and be included and all. ungrateful brats.

What happened to the whole 'take care of me' schtick? Do they want him to suck their dicks before they do the jobs they are being paid to do? Send flowers to their door steps? Is it latent homophobia?

Lightening sound camera angles, yea sometimes they can be mean and petty and fuck you up if they have a problem with you. Your mic suddenly goes off in the middle of a performance, the lightening makes you look a zombie reject etc. Sometimes it's technical failure or someone being incompetent and lazy on the job.

Either way it's not good. It's not a good look on a company that prides itself on quality super advanced technological innovation. SHAME ON THEM.

I said JM might have upset someone higher up? Was it a Joke? What was the context of that conversation?

Pretty sure it's not the same context cos if someone higher up is pulling these strings whew that's abuse of office and power, a rather toxic work environment and JM needs to get out!

But I'm also not sure it's that deep. People are just being lazy and Golden disk is being an asshole.

GOLDY

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

#bts x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #bangtanidx #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #btswritersnet #ksmutclub #thekimlinenet #taejin #taehyung x reader #ot7 x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 smut #hoseok x reader #jihope #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonmin #vmin

[withoneheadlight]

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So. 

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while.  Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands,  feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e.  When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this:  the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

#harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #xask #askfic #xharringrove #the harrington-hargrove household #xaskwithoneheadlight #xfluff #xpronight

[loversandantiheroes]

Hotel Hobbies - Prelude

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Reader Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself other than the most shameful of yee-honks.  This was largely just an attempt to break through some writer’s block, but also a little bit of a fuck you to Whiskey’s godawful characterization (get thee hence, canon, thou art dead to me).  In either case I 110% blame @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for dragging me into the Pedro pit and for making the “yeehonk loser” tag funny enough for me to go see what the fuss was about.  Either way, this is unbeta’d and barely edited and is probably just a big goddamn mess.  Which fits, quite frankly. Apologies in advance if it sucks. Summary:  He’s an insufferable, obnoxious blowhard.  Which would be fine if he wasn’t also - some-fucking-how - hotter than a fucking wildfire. Warnings: Drinking, flirting, swearing, Whiskey being the obnoxious prick that we know and mostly tolerate. Rating: Mature (for the moment) Word Count: 1510

You’d met him, of all places, in the hotel bar, shored up over a drawn-out business conference.  He’d turned up three nights running, a brash braggart in a stetson and too-tight jeans that seemed to stroll dick-first around the room, tossing pickup lines at anything that moved.  By sheer luck he’d missed you, leaving the first night with a leggy blonde and the second night with a considerably curvier brunette.

Both times you counted your blessings as you watched him walk out with his arm around the unlucky lady.  You didn’t know the man but you knew the type: the costume cowboys that laid on the charm as thick as their cologne to mask the smell of their shitty personalities.

But now on Sunday, night number three, your luck seems to have finally run out.  Just as you finish your drink the bartender sets down another – whiskey, neat – and gestures at the end of the bar.  “From the gentleman.”

You hardly need to look up to know what you’ll see.  Smug, half-cocked grin.  A gentle tip of the hat.  

Fuck.  Jesus, why.

You grimace out a polite smile out of sheer habit, and before you can even begin to slide the drink back towards the bartender the man has appeared at your elbow like a country-fried jack-in-the-box.

His cologne, at the very least, is not as heavy as you’d expected.  Small mercies.

“Thanks, but-” you begin, already bracing yourself against the bar to stand.

“Oh no need for thanks.”  He rolls right over you with all the practiced ease of a well-oiled steamroller.  His voice is low, with a thick, heavy drawl that feels just a bit too put-upon to be completely real.  “You’ll have to forgive me for being so forward, but I simply couldn’t stand to see a lady as lovely as yourself drinking alone three nights in a row.  Thought I might offer the benefit of some company.”

He extends a broad brown hand.  A tiny blurred bullseye marks the skin between the thumb and forefinger.  “Name’s Jack.  Most folks just call me Whiskey.”

“Whiskey,” you repeat, trying not to roll your eyes at the rather awful joke.

“Yes ma’am.”

You purse your lips, considering, as his hand hangs between you.  You know more than a few ways to cut this little introduction short, though several of them – while wholly effective – might just see you banned from the hotel bar.  And with easily another three days of bureaucratic bullshit on the horizon, you’re really not keen on that happening. Present company aside, the bar’s pretty nice.

 Maybe if you're lucky you can bore him to death.

Begrudgingly you take his hand.  The skin of his palms is thick with calluses.  A surprising thing.  His clothing is more designer than LL Bean, which made you think he was a business man or entertainer – the sort of rich asshole that owned a prized stallion at a private stable somewhere that he rode once or twice a month when he wanted to feel a little authentic.  

But those callouses are hard and smooth.  Not quite a workman's hands, but certainly the result of something a good deal more tactile and involved than pencil pushing.  And that’s enough to make you wonder a little.  Now that he's up close and personal, his face makes you wonder a lot. This is no Kentucky white boy.  Not with eyes that dark, or that curving nose.  And honestly, if it wasn’t for that insufferably cocky look on his face, he’d be a hell of a looker.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says, thumb grazing your knuckles before releasing your hand.

"No, you didn't," you say lightly.  "And I'm afraid I don't have much of a taste for whiskey."

He grins, leaning heavily against the bar and motioning for the bartender. "Well now, if my namesake isn't up to your liking, what would be to your taste?"  He hooks the tumbler of whiskey towards himself with a finger – a rather thick finger, and that's one detail you're a little dismayed to find yourself lingering on – and takes a slow sip.

You tap your glass with three fingers as the bartender approaches.  "Tequila."

The man who calls himself Whiskey gives an appreciative whistle as three shots line up in front of you. "Well now ain't that a plot twist.  You must have a hell of a constitution.  Tequila always leaves me flat on my back."  He eyes you up and down, grinning, and the hot flush that brings on isn't half as uncomfortable as you'd like it to be.  "Reckon I can see a similarity or two."

"I just get the feeling I'm going to need something a little stronger than a Cosmo to get me through this conversation," you reply coolly, ignoring the innuendo.  "You have until I finish these shots, by the way."

Whiskey purses his lips, pouting.  "I see you've already jumped to a few conclusions about me.  Hardly seems fair."

You shrug, downing the first shot with little fanfare.  "You've hardly been subtle.  What happened to Friday and Saturday's girls?"

He takes a sip of his own drink, thumb rubbing thoughtfully against the side of his jaw.  You try not to watch the way his throat works when he swallows.  "Now if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you were a little sore it took me so long to come and see you."

He positively croons that last, and you tell yourself the warmth you feel kicking up in your belly is just the tequila.  Thank God for plausible deniability.

"Don't flatter yourself, cowboy," you say with a glare.

He chuckles. "Darlin', had I known you'd had eyes on me this whole time I would've come over a hell of a lot sooner," he teases.

You can only shake your head, half in wonder and half in contempt.  "How did you even fit that much ego through the door?"

Whiskey tips his glass to you with a smirk, unfazed.  "Patience, dedication, and a whole lotta practice."

You reach for the second shot, and Whiskey lets out a little sigh.  He puts his hand over your wrist, fingers flat.

"Hey c'mon now.  Slow down, sugar.  As much as I like to tease, I ain't about to put sensibilities or your liver out of sorts for the sake of poking fun."

When he pulls his hand back, reaching for his own glass, it's everything you can do to mask the little shiver that ripples up your back.  He is quite warm.

"I figured you for the sort that'd prefer a girl to be out of her sensibilities," you say quietly, fingers tapping against the rim of your glass.  The skin on the back of your wrist hums where he touched you, and you do your damnedest to ignore it.

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a half-grin.  "Oh, afterward, surely.  But never before."

You roll your eyes.  "An asshole with a sense of propriety.  Now that's novel."

"Part of my charm," he says.  “Bastard by profession and gentleman by nature.  But I mean it.  You are well within every right to walk away.  Ain't gonna harm nothin' but my ego, and Lord knows there’s enough of that to go around.“

You roll the shot glass between your palms.  "And if I walk away?"

Whiskey shrugs.  “Well, then I get to cherish the view as you leave."

"God, shut up."

His grin widens and he leans in, teasing.  "A bittersweet thought to keep me warm, alone in that big empty hotel bed tonight."

The glass almost rolls straight out of your hands.  "I am not fucking you," you sputter, and your cheeks burn as you realize you practically pole vaulted directly to that conclusion with barely any preamble.

The silence hangs after that, heavy and charged.  Somehow you think Whiskey's eyes have gone even darker.  

“I said nothin’ of the sort,” Whiskey says delicately, hands raised in supplication.

There's a cold-burning fire in the pit of your stomach.Some of it's the alcohol.  But most of it is a shameful delight at the way he's looking at you, and the mounting surety that you are probably certainly definitely going to fuck him if you don't walk away and call it a night now. You're not sure whether you hate him more for the assumption, or for almost certainly being right.

He says nothing, just looks you over expectantly.  Waiting to see what you’ll do.

Slowly, you down your second shot.  Fuck it.  If this asshole is going to be your next mistake, you might as well make it on your own goddamned terms.

"So," you say, resting your elbows on the bar.  “Whiskey.  What is it that you do?"

He laughs, full-throated, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up in what you suspect might be a genuine smile.  It's lovely, and that might just be the most infuriating thing of all.  

"Oh darlin'.  You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

#agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #I hesitate to tag for the source bc I have Strong Feelings About It #wtf am I doing with my life #yeehonk

[wildernessuntothemselves]

The Last Exhale | Prologue

Summary: The honest and hardworking poor girl finds love in the arms of the rebellious and charming rich boy, and despite all odds, their love prevails and their inspiring story gets its fairytale ending when the two tie the knot, cementing their love under the sacred vows of marriage. Except real life isn’t a drama, and the story doesn’t end here for our protagonists who, instead of being the heroes they set out to be, end up taking on the role of the villain in each other’s life story.

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Angst, slight smut

Warnings: substance use, domestic violence, choking, bj

A/N: if you feel like you’ve read this as a bts fic before dw I’m the original author trying to continue it as a skz fic. Hopefully I can succeed in that. The general concept of this fic is that each chapter is based on a specific song and set in alternating POVs between the MC and the member so you can see their differing opinions and takes on each event and highlight how biased every person’s perception is.

Song and title of the prologue: Back to Black

POV of this chapter: 3rd person

The member in this story isn’t decided yet so please help me decide by voting between Chan and Lix. And if you can give me a reason for either member that would favor your choice being picked.

____________________

“I can’t believe you just stood there and let your parents humiliate me like that.” She shouts at him, not caring that the entire house staff can hear her argument with her husband.

“But I thought you were a strong woman, an Amazon, who doesn’t need my help.” He mocks her cheerfully.

She grits her teeth together so hard she thinks she could taste the pulverized bone on her tongue. “There is a difference between treating me like a prized show horse and coming to my aid when I genuinely need you.”

He cracks up. “Look at what you’re wearing! A show horse is worth more than your entire life, baby.”

She slaps him. At any other time, He would’ve returned the favor but not right now.

“Ohh, baby, are you in that mood again?” He places a hand on her ass, pulling her up against him. “Told you that you wouldn’t be able to stop for long. It feels good doesn’t it, punishing me? Hurting me? But that’s ok, I like it too. Hit me more.”

All colors drain from her face. That was a mistake. A colossal, fucked up mistake. It was during the worst time of her life, a time where she would’ve killed herself if he’d only left her alone for a second, but he just wouldn’t leave. And before she even knew what she was doing, as if she had blacked out, she was striking him, over and over again. It had started as a way to get him to leave so she can finally do it, she remembers now, but along the way, it morphed into a sick redirection of all her anger and remorse onto him, and instead of leaving or shouting or fighting back, he let her. He stood there, head bowed, and neck bared--and god help her, that only made her hit him more. But it was over now, and she would never go back to being that monster again.

A crazed laugh snaps her attention back to the source of all her torment who was staring at her with a euphoric smile on his face. “What do you say, babe?”

“Are you fucking high? You couldn’t even stay sober one night for me?” She pushed him off. She had specifically requested that he doesn’t do coke today so he can stay alert and by her side at his parent’s dinner party, but what did she really expect from him?

“You can’t blame me when you insist on embarrassing me in front of everyone I know.” She gives him a confused look and he comes up to her and tugs harshly on her dress, ripping a piece right off. “What is this shit? Why couldn’t you just let me buy you something nice to wear? How do you think it makes me feel when people see that my wife dresses cheaper than one of my father’s whores?”

She is about to slap him again but he catches her hand this time. “Not all of us have fathers who can get us what we want before we even think it up.”

“But you have me. Let me take care of you.” He puts his hands on her upper arms and searches her eyes. “Just like I used to before.”

“And have your parents think that they were right about me? That I was a gold digger all along.” She shakes his hands off of her. “And even if I do that, what happens after your father dies and your brother takes control of the company and throws you out. How will you take care of me then? You’re doing nothing to secure your place in the company and soon we will be out on the streets. What are you doing to prevent that? Going to parties and driving your expensive cars around with your friends, denying like a child that your father will ever die?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t such an uptight cunt, we could’ve worked together to find a solution instead of you spending all of your energy on constantly tearing me down and saying how useless I am.” The words held a lot of meaning but her husband’s tone was lightheartedly insane, and that stupid euphoric grin was still plastered on his face.

She could easily argue back that he wasn’t such an angel himself and that he always treated her like she were inferior to him and spoke down to her whenever she tried to suggest something that could help, always making sure to point out that she had no idea what she was talking about because she’s just a cook’s daughter.

But it was useless. He’s high out of his fucking mind and they’ve had the same argument a thousand times before. She turns her back to him and heads up the elegant marble stairway of the outrageously expensive house, looking to wash the night’s events off of herself.

“Fine, just walk away from me after you’ve ruined my fucking buzz,” He shouts up at her, but she’s sure she didn’t really. He’ll be in bliss for hours still while she sits in bed contemplating how in the world she ended up like this.

They used to be so happy before. Nothing could ever dim the love they had for each other, not his parents’ disapproval nor their different backgrounds. They were different people when they were together. They changed just for each other, and they vowed on their wedding day that they wouldn’t let anything come between them.

But the years proved them wrong. They never changed at all. They just came back full circle, and hard. The differences between them became more apparent than ever and as the years went by, they stopped seeing from the other person’s point of view and became more unyielding in their own opinions than even the people that stood in their way in the past were.

So where do they go from this?

The sound of feet dragging heavily across the floor as someone makes their way slowly down the hall would surely frighten anyone, but she doesn’t even flinch. She knew it was her husband finally back home after disappearing for hours like always.

The sound continues for a few minutes until it stops just behind her, and she turns away from the window of her little alcove to look at him. She takes his appearance in, hair and clothes disheveled and a dark aura about him. She holds the joint in between her lips and reaches out to him, looping her thumbs through the waistband of his pants and pulling him close to her before unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his thighs along with his boxers.

There on the inner side of his boxers was the evidence of his night out, dried cum and pussy juices. He didn’t even bother cleaning himself up or changing his underwear before coming to her. He wanted her to know.

She takes a deep breath from the joint and turns her back to him again, blowing out the smoke through the open window.

He never liked when she ignored him. He doesn’t like that at all. He reaches forward and snatches the joint out of her hand and snuffs it out violently with his boot. His high is very obviously over. She’s relaxed now and he’s the one on edge.  

The cool gaze she regards him with pisses him off more and he grabs her by the hair and pulls her down to his dick, “Suck.”

He wanted her to taste that woman on him. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to hurt her, but all she felt was numbness.

He is not gentle with her, those days were long over. He moves her around like a ragdoll over his cock, thrusting it down her throat and not stopping even when he hears her gagging around him and clawing at his thighs. Instead, he pinches her nose, cutting off her oxygen supply completely.

“Should I let you die like this? No court would dare condemn me, my father would see to that.” He growls, taunting her with his father’s power the same way she belittled him for it earlier. “It’s what a cheap bitch like you deserves for not knowing her place with her master.”

Her face was turning blue, and her throat was constricting vigorously around her husband’s cock, fighting to let a breath in but only increasing his pleasure. She hears him moaning and grunting above her but she can’t see him through her rapidly blurring vision.

She doesn’t know if he knew just when to stop or if it was a stroke of luck but right as she thought she was about to pass out, he pulls his cock out of her mouth and stops pinching her nose. She falls forward on the floor at his feet, coughing and sputtering, and he watches her from above while he gives himself those last few strokes before cumming all over her. Some of it lands on her face, some on her hair, some on her clothes…In the end, she looks as much of a mess as she feels she is inside.

Despite having nothing obstructing her airway anymore, her lungs still couldn’t believe it, heaving in huge gulps of air as if the supply would be cut off again at any moment.

Her husband tucks himself back into his pants before crouching down over her. He holds her chin in his hand causing more of the cum stuck to his palm to mess up her face. “Why do you have to make me do this, baby? You know that I love you.”

His voice sounded so hurt and sincere that she couldn’t stop yourself from spitting in his face. What did it matter that he loved her, that she loved him, when it wasn’t enough anymore? “You’re nothing to me.”

He retaliates by slapping her, sending her crashing against the floor from the powerful blow. “I’ll make you yield, you’ll see, and then we’ll be happy again.”

He walks away and she stares after him with a hatred that taints her very soul. How was it possible for the human heart to contain so much hate and love for the same person without just giving up?

_______

A/N: before I put this fic on hiatus, I had posted 4 (very long) chapters. I will be reposting one every week and hopefully by then I would’ve written chapter 5.

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #felix smut

[catxsnow]

NSFW entire alphabet for Bruce Wayne? I love love loooove the posts you've already written but gurl pls you know we're all dying for the whole thing!!! Xoxo

Me: don’t do it girl, it’s not worth it

Also me, to Me: I’m not gonna do it girl, I was just thinking about it

Also me: I did it

This is filth. Pure fucking filth. 18+ only. I made the exception to do the whole alphabet because I’m a Bruce whore, as we know. I hope you sluts enjoy. 

All alphabet requests are closed. 

Bruce x Female!reader. 

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Bruce almost always eats you out after sex. He wants to prolong your orgasm for as long as he possible can. Also, he wants one final taste of your pussy because he doesn't know when he's gonna get another chance. He'll kiss up your body, stopping at any bruise that he left on you before meeting your lips a final time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Bruce is a boob guy. He loves watching them bounce up and down as you're riding him. Literally constantly grabbing them sucking them, kissing them, he can't keep away. Always hickies on your chest, you might be adults but he loves to see marks on that he caused in places no one else is allowed to see.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Bruce loves to see his cum drip out of you. More times than not he'll fuck it back in you whether it's with his cock or his fingers. He wants you to take every ounce of him.

His favourite is to come on your chest. And if you lick any of it off he's hard again and ready for another round instantly.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bruce had to wear a neck brace for a couple days. The company thought that he had a minor car accident and his kids thought that it happened while it was Batman. Truth be told you had been sitting on his face and he had gone a little to hard with it. No one knows the truth besides you. Alfred doesn't bother asking but he knows it didn't happen while he was Batman.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Experience? Bruce? This man could look at you and make you cum on the spot. Genius, billionaire, playboy means he's got loads of experience. He knows exactly how to make you cum until your shaking. I don't think I can express enough just how much he knows what he's doing. He can and will make you cum over and over again, each time a completely different way than the last.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. Bruce wants your ass on full display. He'll grip your hard enough to leave faint bruises and slap your ass every time you hold back a moan. The second that your head rests on the pillow, he'll pull you back up (most times by the hair but like not aggressively) so that he can hear every sound you make.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not at all. Bruce is so serious all the time and that is upheld in the bedroom too. He's far too focused on giving and receiving pleasure to goof off (not that he ever does anyways). However, when the two of you are finished and settled down for the night, he relaxes more and occasionally he'll be more humorous.

H = Harmony (do they like music in the background?)

Nope. Bruce wants your moans and whines to echo off his walls. He wants to hear nothing else but the sounds coming from you. It shows just how well he's dicking you down and he fucking loves it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Bruce can be romantic if he wants to. There'll be the occasional night where he plans for a romantic evening but a majority of the time, he's not. Bruce fucks, he doesn't make love very often.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Bruce isn't cruel to you very often, but there is the occasion where he takes his teasing nearly too far. Bruce would have your hands tied up so you can't touch yourself or him. You were being bad, very bad. Instead of one of his favourite punishments of spanking or orgasm denial, he decided to do something completely unexpected.

Bruce made you watch as he pleasured himself. He was moaning out your name and how much he wished that it was your lips on his cock instead of his hand. You strained against your restraints to try and break free and touch him. "I can see you dripping from here and I'm not even touching you."

He gets himself off and only lets you touch him for the sole reason that you can swallow his load. Pure torture not being able to help him get off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Am I allowed to say that he has a daddy kink? Because like... he does. Bruce fucks you harder and faster if you call him daddy. He'll take you from behind and pound you so hard into your bed that you're seeing stars. Oh my god if you say you've been bad? Bruce is spanking you for what feels like decades.

Bondage kink 100% Selina knows this very well. He ties your hands to his bed frame and its torture not being able to touch him.

Choking

He's down for a threesome if you are.

Bruce has so many kinks

cockwarming oh yeah that's a thing

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bruce doesn't have a favourite. He's got dozens and dozens of rooms in his Manor and you've fucked in almost every single one of them. However, the batcave was probably the most memorable.

Bruce was overworking himself and you were begging him to come back to bed. The only way to get his focus off the screen was by sucking his dick. He tried to hold out but the second he looked down at you and your eyes were brimmed with tears from taking him so deep, he had lost it. Talk about a fuck fest down there. Against the computers, the batmobile, smudges of your body left on the glass casing of where his suit was held. Literally everywhere down there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you lick your lips, he's done for. You do it out in public all the time and it drives him crazy. All he can think about is your lips on his cock and how badly he needs you.

Begging. Bruce thinks it's so fucking hot if you're begging for his cock. He loves to know that you need him that bad that you're willing to plead.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

I honestly think it takes a lot to turn him off. He needs you to be vocal otherwise he assumes that you're not enjoying yourself. He doesn't like the idea of anything ridiculous in bed, but he's always willing to experiment. The two of you have had lengthy conversations of things that you both want to try sometime in the future.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He has an equal like towards receiving and giving. Bruce is immaculate at eating pussy. He will get you into a hot mess in a matter of minutes. And when he's got a mix of fingering and sucking? That's it. Bruce has you undone in record time. Oh my god and when he wants you to sit on his face? You have to grip the headboard or you're not staying upright.

Only if you're down, Bruce loves to fuck your mouth. He'll have you laying on you back at the edge of his bed and he'll go off. He'll never force you to do it if you don't want to.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bruce knows hard. He doesn't care if he's going fast or slow, as long as he feels the snap of his hips against yours that's what matters. The position always depends on the speed for him. Doggy? Fast. When you're riding him? He likes to take it slow. The side spoon fuck? He's more worried about the perfect angle inside you than the speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bruce loves them. He's a busy man so even if he's only got ten minutes to fuck you he will. Quickies are a mandatory and he'll take them as often as he can. There’s occasions that he tried to make you cum in record time, just to see how many minutes he can get it down to. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bruce is always willing to try new things. He doesn't like anything too crazy, but he certainly open to a lot of wild things. He's always taking risks. The most recent had been at WE you had stopped by for lunch and ended up giving him a blow job under his desk. When one of the executives walked in, you didn't stop and Bruce nearly blew your cover.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Bruce lasts as many rounds as you want. However, as he got older, he can't keep up like he was when he was twenty. He'll break in between rounds with giving you oral. He might not be able to go as many rounds, but each one lasts a ridiculous amount of time. Bruce doesn't want the feeling of his cock in you to stop so he drags it out for as long as he possibly can (when he's got the time).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bruce is rich enough to own every single toy that you can imagine. I like to think he also pulled a fifty-shades at one point and has entire room dedicated to them but that's just above expectations.

All in all, Bruce loves in incorporate some kind of toys in bed. His favourite is definitely the cuffs and blindfold though. When he takes those out you know your up for a long night of teasing. He'll use sensory deprivation to keep you going for hours.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bruce teases you constantly - and in public. He's got a ridiculously bad habit running his hand up your skirt or dress to finger you under the table. He knows you can't say anything or make a scene. He loves to see how wet you get when you're surrounded by people. He'll never bring you close enough to an orgasm but he knows that he's going to be in for a long night afterwards.

Oh god he's the biggest fan of orgasm denial. Bruce will bring you to the brink over and over again but never letting you cum. He wants to see you begging and pleading for his cock. When he finally lets you cum, you're seeing spots at how fucking amazing it is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not super loud. Bruce mostly makes grunts, mutters your name and 'fuck'. He likes the room to fill with your noises, not his. He knows he likes to hear you, so he always assume that you want to know exactly how he's feeling too. He’s got the filthiest dirty talk.

"Fuck baby your pussy takes my cock so well"

"Look at you, you're dripping"

"I'm gonna fuck you until you're legs are shaking. Until your pussy is clenching around my cock and you can't take the fucking pleasure anymore"

"Mmm, fuck you look so hot with my cock in your mouth. Look at those pretty lips taking me so well"

"You can take it, I know you can fucking take another one. Cum on my fingers one more time"

Okay I need to stop I'm getting horny writing these.

"You're gonna ride my face like a good girl and you'r not gonna move until I tell you" Okay last one.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

At one of his gala's, Bruce saw you dancing with another man who had been far too grabby with you. He knew that you didn't want to be in that situation so he pulled you out of it. However, instead of dancing with you himself, Bruce pulled you into the nearest empty room to fuck you. He had you bent over the desk and your dress hiked up. The dirty words he whispered in your ear got you so fucking horny that you were ready to call the rest of the night just so he could keep pounding his cock deep inside you. He gets jealous very easily and he just hoped that the man knew exactly what you two were up to.

X = X-marks the spot (where's their favourite place to give/receive hickies)

Bruce only ever leaves hickies on your tits where only he can sees it. However, he does love to see faint little bruises on your thighs. He doesn't ever want to hurt you, but if he see's little imprints of where his fingers were gripping you, he get's horny all over again. When he sees those, he knows he was fucking you real good.

His favourite place to receive hickies is right below his jawline. He's so sensitive there that whenever you nip at it, he feels a jolt of pleasure. You don't leave them very often, being the biggest business man in Gotham and all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. Bruce has been having a lot of sex his whole life. Being away for you for Justice League missions drives him crazy. He gets grumpy (more than usual) when he hasn't tasted your pussy in a while.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quick. When you guys have been fucking for a long time, he uses up all his energy and he's wiped. However, he always tries to make sure that you're at least half asleep before he passes out completely in case you need anything.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x fem!reader #smut #smut alphabet #dc smut #bruce wayne smut #batman smut #batfam smut

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Neither of them said anything for a long minute. Murky water dripping carelessly into a puddle somewhere. 

Asivus looked Astor up and down, taking him in. He then nodded, before kicking his legs back out and resting his arms behind his head, resuming his entertainment of staring at the wall. This time he put on the smile.

“Welp! I was kinda hoping a couple decades imprisonment would do the trick, but execution is fine too, I guess. Swiftness and punctuality and all that.” He let out a fake yawn. “Though you’re wasting your time if you’re looking to give a prayer. I intend to go out without asking the gods for anything.”

“I’m not a priest.” Astor said bluntly.

Siv cocked an eyebrow. “Uh…...n...nun—?”

“What happened to you, Assivus?” 

“Ahhhh…And interrogation…” He nodded up and down again. “Then I’ll tell you what I told the other guy—you can goooooooo suck my dick.”

Siv turned to the side, fiddling with something metal in his right pocket, the rattling echoing on the stone floor.  He finally pulled out an old flask, shaking it back and for, the sound revealing a little less than a third of alcohol left in the container. He shook it again and looked at the seer. 

“Snuck this bad boy in, earlier! I know my way around a pat down or two, heheh…” He took a swig before gesturing towards Astor again. “How ‘bout you, choir man? Got any sorrows to drown?”

“A kind offer, but I actually value my health,” he replied. “You got any other contraband keeping you company, then?”

He tensed, but recovered so quickly Astor nearly thought he imagined it. Asivus then let out a laugh before taking another drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—which despite the grime, was probably the cleanest part of his person. 

“So they took the nearest homeless looking pal and sent them down to ask me shit...that’s certainly new.” He studied the seer again. “What? We supposed to bond over our greasy hair? Lack of fashion?” Another beat of silence. “...I’ll admit, it’s working a bit!” He laughed, leaning back against the wall. 

Astor sighed silently, before cutting to the chase. “You’re being charged with manslaughter—the rampaging Guardian that destroyed part of the castle. But I know it wasn’t you.” Water dripped in the back end of the cell. “I want you to tell me about the malice.”

One of the cells down the corridor rattled, some Lizalfo shifting in it’s sleep. The echoing metal left a sense of unease in the air. 

“Listen…” Assivus’s voice dropped to a dangerously quiet tone. “I’m not looking for a defense attorney, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. So you should probably get on your way before you miss your sermon.” He glared at Astor, blue eyes seemingly a shade darker. 

“There were timelines where the world ends today, you know.” He stepped closer to the cell bars. “The princess far too weak to awaken her powers, the Calamity having grown just strong enough to erupt around the castle, infecting stone and flesh alike.” 

“Well whatareya doing here, then, Mr. Doomsday?” Assivus cocked his head to the side. “If the world’s supposed to end, shouldn’t you be...out there? Maybe holding an ‘End is Nigh’ sign or something?”

“It doesn’t end for us, though. I’ve spent my life studying the endeavours and feats that await this world and the next. We’ve luckily still got a few years before hell starts to walk.” Astor stepped closer again, unwavering to Assivus’ gaze. “I’m merely curious about how your little disturbance—or perhaps, failure of a disturbance—coincides with the Calamity’s potential return.”

“I fucked with some Sheikah Tech. Guardian got funky. Brat nephew saves the day. I get arrested. Don’t remember running into any ancient evils on this little joy ride.”   

“You and I both know the official report is made-up bullshit. I imagine your spite is derived from the unfairness of the situation.” He tucked his hair behind his ears. “Guardians can’t be corrupted through mechanical means. They’re forces crafted to take on ancient magical forces, and as such are engrained with magical components. They don’t just break out into violence over a broken gear, much less be purposefully made to go against their ancient purposes.” He scoffed at the smirk on Asivus’ face. “Especially not by some idiot like you.” Asivus placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. 

“In addition,” Astor continued, “I imagine your father didn’t have purple and gold slitted eyes. So that trait you occasionally have is certainly suspect.”

Assivus blinked, and the creeping colors in his eyes faded along with his confident smirk. He rubbed his blue eyes and sighed. 

“Hey well that’s just rude,” Siv said, playfully. “Maybe I got it from my mom.”

Astor clicked his tongue, before clenching his jaw.

“Welp, you’re certainly a smarter cookie than I gave you credit for, purple man.” Asivus crossed his legs—criss-cross-applesauce—and turned completely too Astor. “But the fact of the matter is, I don’t really care anymore. And I don’t know why you care. Knowing doesn’t change anything for your little predictions, does it?”

The prophet’s face remained unreadable. Siv started scratching his head. “You know I do remember you now...I’ve seen you around. You used to pester the Dick-Rhoam a bunch. Walking around with your little maps and star charts or whatever...yeah, yeah. The weirdo that would tell the rich bastards around here that they were useless. Very bitter insults, I respect it! Suppose some heroes wear robes over capes.”

“It’s not about insults, it’s the truth.” Astor narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help you, but rest assured, we all are doomed to be consumed by the Calamity.”

There was silence between them again, but the slight smile on Siv’s face didn’t fade.

“You know, this whole dark and edgy doomsday act is great and all, don’t get me wrong. But since it’s just us alone here there’s no need to keep up the act. I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw you left that anonymous gift of exotic bird encyclopedias in Larc’s office last year.” Astor’s jaw tightened and Siv winked. “And I know because he claimed he saw me leave it—and I don’t buy books, ever. Might wanna change your wardrobe, you wouldn’t wanna be confused as the homeless orator—”

“The Malice.” The seer cut in. “How’d you get it?”

“Ah, it all started when I was born in Rauru Settlement to Lord Ligero Arist—”

“I mean how did you manifest it?” He articulated.  “Everyone has malice, yes. But it takes something else to make it a physical power. Much less enough to infect Sheikah Technology.”

Asivus tapped his chin for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t I just perish in peace? The ol’ axe seems for sharper conversation.”

“Look, I just want...I want to…” Astor shook his head, restarting. “Any information I get is something I can use to make our future demise just slightly more bearable for whatever unlucky generation lives. Don’t you care about that?”

“Nope! Got no kids. Larc and his brats either didn’t care to look at me, or Larc’s too much of a spineless brother to care about me over the rules. Soooo, I’m all for looking out for me, myself, and I, thank you very much.” He tapped his foot against the stone floor. “Plus, I had an ex that used his kids to scam me of 6k rupees in a pocket monster match a while back, so I’m still recovering from that.” 

“Can I trade you then? What do you want? If I come back here with a good wine, will your lips loosen?” Astor was already mentally planning who he could buy a bottle from without a paper trail, already expecting Siv to say yes.

Water continued to drip and drip and drip. Asivus sighed.

“...Nah.” Astor raised an eyebrow. “I’m good...you can’t get what I want, anyhow…”

The seer looked at him for a long moment. Siv had gone back to staring into blank space, deep in thought about something that had caused his smirk to fade.

Let’s see...What would a dead man value? He’s got a rough relationship with his family, he’s got no friends, he’s tainted by a crime of his past…

“Are you interested in the past?” The prophet finally asked. “I know stuff about your mother. If the material doesn’t mean much to a dead man, then I’m all for a trade of information.”

Siv’s eyes suddenly shot up, specks of gold appeared in his pupils before disappearing.

“Wh..*What...?*”

“I’ll start. We’ll both trade details bit by bit, alright?” It was his turn to smirk at the look on Asivus’ face. 

“I’m a bastard child.”

Asivus scrunched his eyebrows. “The fuck does that have to do with my…” His eyes suddenly widened, his mouth opening and closing. He quickly checked his flask to see how much was left, and took a swig. He stared back at Astor. “Explains a bit but...What the actual fuck.”

“Her name was Serenity. Serenity Lior Astor, from Deya Village. There, I think that’s adequate, yes?” Astor gestured down to him. “Your turn.”

Asivus scratched his chin, before standing. He drank the rest of his flask, before dropping it to the ground. “How’d she die?”

“Your father is Lord Ligero. You know how this game works.”

Siv bit his lip, for a moment, before shrugging. Suddenly, purple started to creep at the edges of his eyes, pupils thinning to gold.

“OK, magic man. But don’t be a snitch, alright?” Assivus raised one of his hands open in the air, and for a moment, Astor wondered if he was supposed to take it in a weird sideways handshake. 

Then, the air swirled, a sensation of mixed euphoria and misery tainting the corridor. Cell occupants were rustling.

A glow of magenta swirled up Assivus’ forearm, before swirling in an orb hovering over his palm. The sound of it forming was like the thick, suffocating scream of hot metal as a smith plunges it into water.

The malice left as quick as it came, and hovering in Assivus’ palm was a strange, and beautiful astrolabe. It’s alluring faint glow nearly made him reach out between the bars to touch it.

“Your turn.”

#Digging In and Sinking #Assivus Hartell #??? #hku spoilers

[ivarswickedqueen]

Hello darkness, my old friend

This story is dedicate to my friend @walkxthexmoon​​ as a very late birthday present 😘 It’s modern day AU where Ivar and Roman are vampires 😏

The moodboard was made by talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​​

As always English isn’t my first language and this is my first time writing for Bill/Roman so I hope it doesn’t suck too much... 

Warning: swearing, killing, oral sex, definitely 18+ 

Word account: 2246

Paring: Ivar x reader, Roman x reader

„I should go home“ you thought to yourself. You lost your friend Julia somewhere in the crowd. As you knew her, she will text you any minute, saying that she met a cute boy and you should not wait for her. Fucking typical. She was having fun and you were sitting here all alone sipping your beer and being bored. Unlike you friend you weren’t the biggest fan of one-night stands, plus there was nobody here who caught your attention tonight. Well, it wasn’t exactly true. You saw your two hot neighbors Ivar and Roman when you and Julia came here two hours earlier, but you wouldn’t dare to start anything with them. They were dangerous; people were avoiding them and their house. Nobody knew what they did for a living, but they both seemed very rich, so it probably was something illegal, because you have never seen them leave their house during the daytime hours. All of your friends told you to stay away from them and to never forget to lock your house at night. You felt that danger and mystery radiating from them too, but unlike your friends you felt yourself being drew to them like a mouth to a flame. You kept your distance, because you listened to your brain which was telling you to stay away from them, but your heart wanted to knock on that dark red door of their house and see what will happen next. And it seemed that they also noticed you. Sometimes you found Ivar looking at you, his deep blue eyes burning holes into you, his soft lips were smirking, but his smile was cruel, almost mocking, but you found it very sexy. Every time when he caught you staring at him, his smirk grew bigger and you felt your heart pumping in your chest. And sometimes it seemed to you like if he could hear it, which was extremely stupid thought. Tonight you felt Roman staring at you from across the room. His green eyes never left your figure, eyeing you from head to toe, making you shiver and blush deeply. He looked like a predator watching his little innocent prey, making it feel at ease before snapping its neck and having it for dinner. Later you noticed him talking with some petite blond girl and judging by that amazed look on her face, Roman would get lucky tonight. You couldn’t help yourself and felt jealous, which was stupid, considering that you never even talked to him in person. You groaned and tried to find him again, but he was nowhere to be seen. He probably already left with that blond girl and you will hear her moans and screams from their house later tonight. It always made you so angry when you could hear the girls screaming their names. You looked around again, trying to find a glimpse of Ivar, but you didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he left with Roman and the girl, you knew that they had threesomes with the girls, because sometimes you heard the girls calling both of their names.

“I need a cigarette” you thought to yourself and went outside to the dark alley next to the club. You lighted your cigarette and but almost dropped it, when you looked to your right. You saw Roman leaning against the cold wall, his eyes closed and that petite girl kneeling in front of him and giving him a blowjob. You were shocked. Of course this dark place was a hiding spot for a lot of horny couples, but you did not expect to find Roman here. You couldn’t force yourself to stop staring at him. He was so gorgeous, so relaxed, the girl was definitely making him feel good. You should have turn around and leave before he will notice you, but you couldn’t. As always you felt the need to get closer to him, you wanted to yank the girl by her hair and tear her away from him. You suddenly wanted to be the one whose mouth was warming up his cock, you wanted to feel his hand in your hair, guiding you to suck him in the way he likes it, making you choke on his dick, feeling his cum dripping down your throat. It was like if he hypnotized you even though his eyes were still closed.

“See something you like, doll?” a deep voice whispered into your ear and you gasped in shock. You wanted to turn around but you felt strong arm wrapped around your waist and another around your neck.

“Don’t be afraid, doll. I won’t hurt you. Tell me, my cute little neighbor, do you enjoy watching my buddy Roman getting his cock sucked by that slut?” he asked darkly and squeezed your neck.

You felt like if you lost your sanity, because you should be scared shitless, but you felt aroused by the proximity of Ivar’s body, his dirty talk and his hand around your neck.

“I am not watching him, I came here to smoke a cigarette,” you pathetically tried to defend yourself.

“You mean this one?” he asked smugly and pointed at your cigarette which at some point slipped from your fingers and was lying on the dirty pavement.

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything” you tried again.

“Don’t make any more excuses, doll. Maybe your previous intention was to smoke here, but it changed pretty quickly,” he chuckled and you shivered.

“You were thinking how much you would like to be on your knees in front of him, don’t you?” he said and your heart started beating so fast.

“No-o-o!!” you stuttered.

“Liar,” Ivar whispered and his lips touched your ear, this little contact with his skin made your knees go weak and your back leaned closer against his chest.

“Don’t lie to me, doll, I don’t like it,” he warned you while his sinful lips left your ear and moved to your neck.

“Ivar,” you moaned, when he started placing open mouth kisses on your exposed neck, making him smirk against your skin.

“I see, that you know my name,” he noted and kept kissing your neck, bruising the sensitive skin, occasionally biting down on it to make you moan his name again.

“You shouldn’t do this!!” you tried to protest weakly when you felt his strong hand slowly sneaking into your skirt.

“Says who?” he sassed.

“I can smell that your pussy is dripping wet for me, just relax doll. I have very skillful fingers,” he bragged and you were so distracted that you didn’t pay much attention to his confession that he could "smell" you.

“I also have a very skillful tongue, but you will find out later, because unlike that bitch over there, I won’t kneel down on that dirty ground,” he added and his fingers slipped into your panties.

“As I said, you are wet as fuck, doll!!” he said victoriously. And you cried out when his fingers found your clit, and started playing with it slowly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from moaning loudly when he increased the pressure on your little bud and started rubbing it faster. You quickly looked at Roman but his eyes were still closed and he seemed to be lost in his own pleasure. Somehow Ivar knew that you took a quick glance at Roman and as his long fingers slipped into your dripping pussy he said “his eyes might be closed but he knows about you since the moment you walked out of that door, doll”.

 You forget about Ivar for a second and looked again at Roman, but this time his eyes were half opened and he was staring at you with that predatory look in his eyes. You were completely lost in the greens of his eyes, and Ivar noticed that and he didn’t like it one bit.

He bit harder down on your neck, you could have sworn that he drew blood, but you felt like if you were high; then his fingers started pumping into you in fast pace, making you roll your eyes in pure pleasure. You shamelessly moaned his name when you came all over his fingers, you turned around and kissed him, definitely feeling a taste of blood on his lips, but you didn’t care. You felt sudden rush of joy and happiness, and you couldn’t get enough of him. You were climbing him like a tree, ready to start tearing off his clothes. You heard a loud thud behind you, but you didn’t pay it much attention. Roman snapped that girl neck and tossed her aside. He came closer to you and Ivar and tore you away from his friend angrily.

“Why the fuck did you bit her, you asshole!” he growled and you whimpered because he interrupted your kissing fest with Ivar.

“Because I fucking wanted to,” Ivar said and licked his lips.

“She tastes so sweet, Roman. Exactly how she smells - sweet but spicy. There is definitely something about this girl,” he added and smirked at Roman’s pissed of face.

“Relax, it was only a small bite. It will wear off quickly,” but Roman still looked like if he wanted to kill someone, probably his best friend.

“We had a deal!” he growled.

“Yes we had, but it was before you let that blondie suck your dick and left our little neighbor all alone here. She was so lonely, I had to give her company!”

“Yes sure, you are such a great gentleman, Ivar,” he snorted and grabbed your hand.

“Come here, princess,” he pulled you closer to him and grabbed your chin and made you look at him, when you tried to look at Ivar again and you pouted your lips when Roman didn’t let you do it.

“You want Ivar so much, because he bit you, princess. Vampire bites send endorphins through your body. It’s like if you took a very powerful drug. It makes our victims willing to go with us wherever we want them to go without screaming,” he smirked at you when you finally started to process his words. You realized that only two feet away from you lay the girl who was sucking his dick earlier. She was motionless, she seemed… dead. You looked at Roman in horror and you wanted to run away from him, but he was holding you firmly in his arms.

“I think, doll, that it’s only fair for me to have a bite,” he smirked and he looked like angel of death, beautiful but deadly.

“Please don’t kill me!” you begged him, but he laughed.

“Oh, no, princess. We won’t kill you. At least not tonight. We have a lot of things prepared for you at our house. We were watching you for a very long time! We will have so much fun together, princess. But enough talking, I want to taste your blood that smells so deliciously,” he said but he didn’t go straight for your neck, he kissed you first. That kiss was possessive, dominant, his tongue slipped into your mouth while he wrapped his long white hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t know if you were still dazed by Ivar’s bite or if you were completely mental, but you slowly relaxed and melted into his arms, kissing him back hungrily, pulling at his shirt to pull him closer to you since he was much taller than you.

“Such a good little girl,” Roman praised you and you felt your pussy clenched. He started kissing down your throat, his long skinny fingers running up and down your sides, making you shiver when he touched the sides of your boobs.

“Roman,” you moaned desperately and he chuckled while Ivar rolled his eyes.

“Can you hurry, I want to go home.”

“You had your time with her, it’s my turn now,” he said while looking into your eyes, slowly putting his leg between yours, making your already sensitive pussy rubbing against the denim of his jeans. You gasped, when his strong arms grabbed your waist and started sliding you up and down his leg, making you ride it. You felt your second orgasm coming quickly.

“Look at Ivar, princess,” Roman commanded and you obeyed him. Ivar watched you with mixture of jealousy, anger, possessiveness and greed in his blue eyes.

“I want you to keep looking into his eyes when you cum, princess. I could feel that you are very close. Can you do that for me?” he asked and you nodded, unable to say anything coherent. It only took few more movements and you came, moaning Roman’s name, rolling your eyes when he bit down at the other side of your neck, missing the pissed off look on Ivar’s face.

“Come here, doll,” Ivar grabbed your hand and sink his teeth into the wound he already made earlier

“Hey, you asshole, don’t drink too much, she will be too weak and no fun. And we want her to stay with us for as long as possible,” he smirked and bumped into his friend shoulder.  

“She will never leave our house again,” Ivar smirked and they both take your hands in theirs and slowly led you towards their home and you were smiling happily, high as a kite, looking at both of them with love sick eyes, knowing that you were always tempted by darkness and tonight that darkness finally found you.

#ivar the boneless #Roman Godfrey #alex høgh andersen #bill skarsgard #Ivar x Roman #bill skarsgård

[howdoyousleep3]

Hello and Happy Friday! Let us consider:

Three-Day Weekend Daddy.

This started as a harmless and specific Headcannon that turned into a pairing and version of Steve that I...well I just can’t stop fucking thinking about. This has always been my favorite gif of Evans and I am downright tickled that this has morphed into something that will never leave my mind.

This is definitely Stucky (I know my other HCs haven’t been) and definitely the longest Headcannon I’ve ever posted so as per usual, I advise you to buckle up. :)

This Steve actually is a little bit of a rich Daddy but it’s new money, like he sold his start up or something, was self-taught on the skills he used to build his own company up from the ground

He likes to work with his hands, doesn’t want to change anything he’s been doing all along simply because he has the money now

Mows his own lawn, tampers with his motorcycle and car, attempts to fix household problems before calling in an expert

Is intelligent, a quick-learner, a universal natural talent

Could not put a number on the amount of trucker hats he owns

Never takes himself too seriously

Owns a boat

Is extremely tan in the summertime, never wears a shirt, waves at everyone when they’re on the lake

Likes to take care of his body but does not believe in cardio, has a tiniest bit of a soft lower belly that he complains about, but loves beer too much to do anything about it

Bucky fucking gags for it, kisses at his belly--wet, open-mouth, sloppy as all hell--on his way down for a suck job 

Speaking of Daddy’s lil’ bunny...

Bucky comes from a background with a slightly higher place in society than Steve did (which Bucky isn’t particularly a fan of and probably why it was easier to fall for Steve) and so sometimes he ends up teaching Steve little things

The first time Steve meets Bucky’s parents at a nice dinner place Bucky has to kind of whisper to Steve under his breath about which spoon to use and where his water glass goes 

Takes Bucky to dates at expensive seafood places and also Waffle House

Bucky jokes about taking ballroom dancing lessons and Steve fucking makes that happen, looks like a fucking fool trying to follow Bucky’s natural grace but he’s smiling like he won the lottery the whole damn time

Wakes up hard damn near every morning, nibbles on Bucky’s shoulder, his ear, “can’t help it, darlin’, not when I wake up with my dick nestled between these sweet cheeks, goddamn”

They stumbled upon the appeal of the Daddy Kink by complete accident

“Look at you: mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, working on your bike, marinating steaks-- you somebody's Daddy or somethin’?” Bucky jokes one day but it results in Steve pressing Bucky in tight against the counter, whispering in his ear, “You wan’me to be your Daddy, baby? I’ll be your Daddy, darlin’...”

And then Bucky is just so fucking knocked off his feet by the never-ending onslaught of his own arousal that ‘Daddy’ is actually the only word he can form when Steve puts him chest-down on the kitchen counter and fucks his ass so hard the cabinet doors won’t stay closed

This Daddy lives for three-day weekends where he can spend time outside and invite people over...

Bucky feels like a little housewife when he brings Steve a glass of water (“it’s hot, you need to stay hydrated. You can’t always drink beer, punk”) or beer or lunch and Steve squeezes at his hips or his ass, kisses him sloppy on the cheek, “Look at’chu, thank you, honey...”

It’s a really hot fuckin’ day and Steve is definitely overdue for a haircut, but Bucky just can’t stop staring at the little droplets of sweat that collect at the tail of each tendril of Steve’s hair where it sticks out from under his hat to lay against Steve’s neck

Wears swim trunks that hit well above his knees and makes Bucky wanna lick the inside of his thighs, a length that isn’t as masculine as you might expect on Steve “where’s the grill brush” rogers, but it somehow adds to all that virility seeping out through Steve’s pores

Asks, “What is this song? Who sings this?” to every other song on Bucky’s playlist

Turns his hat around backwards at one point and it’s how Bucky knows he’s a little tipsy, a little loose

Bucky has to tell him to put on a shirt when he goes to grill but Steve is a stubborn sonofabitch and Bucky doesn’t fight too hard because Daddy looks good in front of that grill, beer in one hand, tongs in the other, broad and glistening all over

Steve is always asking what kind of beer Bucky is drinking and asking him if he likes the taste of that one, the hops in this one, offering suggestions on what he might try next, not because Steve is a beer snob but because he just wants to keep tabs on what Bucky likes to drink so he can buy more next time and just because he thinks it’s interesting to know his baby’s thoughts on that kind of stuff

Jokes about a hot dog eating contest with a wink thrown Bucky’s way

Wrestles and tosses Bucky into the pool, jumps in anyway after Bucky pouts, “Goddamnit, Bucky…”, yanks his shirt over his head, dives in

Sneaks hot and heavy kisses against the side of the house like a couple’a teenagers

Fucks like an animal after spending the day being handsy and teasing and looking at Bucky in his swim trunks, strutting around the yard in front of all their fucking friends, and maybe some other Daddy might get jealous ‘cause‘a that but it only makes Steve grin like a damn wolf who’s just put eyes on tonight’s dinner...

Bucky has never wanted Steve’s cock in his mouth more, sucks him off right there on the kitchen floor when everyone leaves, Steve’s trunks barely pulled down his thighs enough, “Fuck, baby, you spent all day thinkin’ about havin’ Daddy’s dick to suck on?”

“Do that thing with your tongue again, that thing from last -- yeah, fuck that’s nice” and “Come on, honey suck on Daddy’s balls, there ya go. Fuck…”

A lot of grinding and pushing and pressing, this Daddy a handsy motherfucker, picks up Bucky right from the floor, hands under Bucky’s armpits, under his ass, carries him up the stairs

Does a lot of “every man” physical labor in the yard, moving furniture etc., and his body isn’t just a machine that he’s gotta work on like his bike, but more like a house that he lives in and knows every detail

Which means that Steve knows his own strength -- even after three or four beers -- and doesn’t actually have to try and be careful with Bucky when he’s tossin’ him around

He’s carefree and confident enough that he trusts his own touch, and it makes everything more passionate and intense for Bucky because if Steve wants to grind on him or squeeze on him or love on him with all of his muscle and bone then he’s just gonna do that, gonna do whatever feels good

Steve wants Bucky on top when they finally get to the bed, wants to feel him all over, run his hands up those thighs, wants to bite at those pretty nipples

Both smell like chlorine and sunscreen, Steve’s beard smells like grill smoke

Stops halfway to orgasm and tells Bucky to turn around, to be Daddy’s little reverse cowgirl so he can spread his cheeks and smush ‘em together and watch the way his slicked-up cock disappears inside

Eyes half-lidded, smirk tugging at his lips slightly, super vocal

Likes to egg Bucky on, encourages him to take what he wants, but also knows Bucky well and knows when he’s about to come and uses that to his advantage, knows Bucky won’t want to come but know what he loves to hear that pushes him over the edge

Has such a mastery of control over his own body that he can bring Bucky over that precipice even when he’s on his back just by pistoning his hips up in just the right way

Prefers to be the one in control when he comes, loves to roll and fuck the both of them into their climax, a groaner, a biter

Sleeps in a little later, morning snuggles galore, goes out to get breakfast, Steve wakes up first and makes sure that Bucky has a fresh bottle of water on his nightstand, it was hot out yesterday...

Eeeee, who else would do bad bad things for this Daddy? 👋

Love you bunches! 😘😘😘

#stucky #headcannon #gimme this Daddy any fuckin day