#i want him to fucking Earn his asshole nature. the hard way. by making All The Wrong Choices that it took to get him there

[talentforlying]

priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly? constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you? priest: you did what...? constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?

constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know! and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!! ...

constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way. — hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"

babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)

anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.

80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.

and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?

hm. i just don't know about all that.

#also this is where my headcanons tag is from <3 #( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS. #( visage. ) AND I'M A BASTARD. #( character study. ) A WALKING PLAGUE OF A MAN. #sometimes i just think that. people really like to reduce constantine down to one or two things #and somehow. after 250 issues of putting his life on the line bc he could never really make himself look away from people suffering #the soft sullen guilty person who wants so fucking desperately to be a better man? is never one of those two things #idk man. i think about this issue all the time #if i put these pages side-by-side with his grief in hellblazer 2? with his grief in hellblazer 213? 215? during the empathy virus arc? #it becomes CRYSTAL clear that the guy we know at the end of hellblazer isn't someone the guy who sat vigil for gary lester would recognize #in fact i think he's someone that hellblazer 81 constantine would fucking Hate #ANYway yeah. i don't think he lied to dream about the pouch. i don't think he ever got it open. i don't think that's canon for me #i want him to fucking Earn his asshole nature. the hard way. by making All The Wrong Choices that it took to get him there #he paved that road with good intentions himself but. he also used to remember the ones he started with #idk if i'm making sense but i have had this panel open on my laptop for Two Months now #bc i can never stop thinking about how fucking crushed he is here to realize that he might be exactly as bad a man as sarah said he was #and how little it will surprise him later on to learn that he is Easily capable of So Much Fuckin Worse #and with that your honor the defense rests. our evidence? just. just Look at this fuckin guy #scopophobia / #scopophobia #eye contact / #eye contact tw

[kechiwrites]

This is previous ghost anon can I request ghost being mean (in horny way) to reader 👉🏾👈🏾

you absolutely can babes, more ghost x medic!reader because they bring out the bitch in each other.

wc: 1k

cw: pussy spanking, dirty talk, mean ghost, degradation, teasing, brat taming (naturally), edging, overstimulation, maybe one day i'll write them being cute w/ each other...mdni

It is near impossible to not wrench off the bed when his palm makes contact with the already puffy flesh of your cunt. It is impossible, however, to stop yourself from helplessly wailing when he does it again.

"Shut up." His voice is quiet and thick in his throat, like he wants to say more, wants to push you further. And dear God, how could the two of you go further when your hands are tied behind your back while your not-boyfriend slaps your clit with his calloused hand.

"I fucking can't, Simon. Maybe you should stop fucking slapping me?" You hiss, your chest and throat burn with exertion and you wriggle against the binding around your wrist. It's been two hours of this, of Simon trying to force an apology out of you by taking you as close to the edge as he can manage before backing off when your hips start to twitch and your breath stutters. Two hours of his thumb grinding against your clit and his digits curving against your insides and his knees pinning your legs open so he can see you drip onto your mattress, all while he whispers a filthy gospel into your ears. Psalms and passages about the way your body shakes, the feel of your tongue on his cock, how wonderful you look when you come and how badly he wished he could see it, if only you could be a good girl.

The hand not actively engaged with edging you sits just under your chin, not quite squeezing your throat, because according to Simon; "you haven't earned it yet".

"You know what I need to hear to get this to stop. You want to come, you want me to give your cunt a break? You say you're sorry. Simple as."

You try to breath through the sensation when he starts fucking you again, when he forces you to watch, but it's not working. He mouths at the curve of one of your tit and drags the blunt edge of his teeth over your nipple. When you try to jerk away the asshole rolls his eyes, like you desperately trying to keep your mind from shattering like glass is a nuisance to him. And maybe it is. Maybe he's expected somewhere and he thought you'd break much easier. Maybe after this is done he'll have to will his dick to settle down while he runs off smelling like you, your sweat on his tongue and your slick on his hands.

The visual is not enough for you to give in though.

Not a fucking chance.

"Respectfully, Lieutenant? I fucking hate your ass." You huff, letting your head fall back.

"Jesus, you are stupid." He scoffs, spanking you again, and the sting makes you clench down on nothing. Simon's hand forgoes your sex entirely, rubbing small circles into the fat of your thigh, and after hours of direct contact the light touches are somehow worse.

"Are your wrists getting tired? We can take a break if this is too much for you?" You goad him, because it’s almost automatic at this point. You can’t help yourself.

"I should've gagged you." He groans.

"Then how would you h-have gotten your apology, genius?" Your voice is strawberry sweet, just to annoy him that tiniest bit more.

He stops rubbing your thigh at that, and you know you got him, at least here. The consternation in his eyes chokes a laugh out of you.

"I should've known this shit wouldn't work on you. You were made for this weren't you? Next time i'll just choke you on my dick, right there, in front of everyone." The hand around your throat tightens just as three of Simon's fingers slide back into the clutch of your pussy. He’s mad now, again, and it’s hard not to be happy about it. The sound of how wet you are echoes in your head while he fucks you full, the tips if his fingers dragging against your walls, nudging at the spongy bit inside you that pulls tears from your eyes. Your heartbeat ratchets up, pounding in your chest in time with Simon's hand.

"C'mon then. You want to come. Do it. I won't stop you, it's all your little brain can handle anyway."

Which is stupid and untrue. You're a doctor for Christ sake, but it makes your climax burn hot in your abdomen when he talks to you like that, when he talks down to you. It's probably why you rile him up so bad, why you embarrassed him in front of the rest of 141, called him 'cuddle-bear' where you knew everyone would hear it.

"I'm fucking speaking," the hand around your throat slaps not-so-lightly against your cheek, encouraging you to meet Simon's gaze. He looms above you, his still-clothed body blocking out the dimmed light of your room. "If you only act this way to get me to fuck you, maybe I'll keep you on my cock permanently. Strap you down here and visit you every night. They'll find another medic. You've got more important things to do, yes?"

You bob your head along mindlessly while you clench down on his fingers, your whole body shivering as he forces an orgasm out of you. It hits like a freight train after hours of being so close, your legs jerk, trying to close but Simon keeps you exposed, fingering you through the height of it. His hand tightens around your neck until your ears are ringing, making it impossible to force a breath out of your mouth. It feels like your brain is on fire, your lips parting to choke on his name.

He finally lets go, and you gulp large lungfuls of air, even with his fingers still inside you.

"Good?" He peers down at you and you wish you could rip his mask off his face, find some way to disrupt the smugness in his eyes, his tone.

"Yeah." You rasp, if only to get him to stop staring at your sweat slick chest and fucked out expression.

"Good." He murmurs, pushing your knees apart. He flexes his fingers inside you and pushes down on your abdomen with his free hand. "Try to be a little louder on the next one, I don't think the men's barracks heard you." A fourth finger slides into your cunt, stretching you wide while he pinches the hood of your clit. You choke on your own spit.

Apparently he has nowhere to be.

fingering is so underrated imo. requests are open, support content creators and city girls, reblog! part 4 here!

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x black reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x black!reader #ghost x you #simon riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod #ghost smut #cod mw2 fic #cod mw2 smut #cod x reader #kechi chat #kechiwrites #requests #cod x you #call of duty x reader

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

ANNOUNCEMENT — SEVENTEEN World

✧ The second chapter — Melon Pang! (Coming soon!!)

— CEO au, optional SMUT [18+], fluff, angst, slow-burn, strangers to lovers; word count: 10k+ (but based on the storyline probably closer to 20-30k lol)

💼 Part of the SEVENTEEN World Series ღ I advise you to read the prologue and Wonwoo's chapter first :) ✎ Really couldn't wait to share this teaser with you all!!!! But please note that it may take a while for me to publish the actual chapter since I still have a lot to write and I really want it to be perfect :') But I will (hopefully) publish some smaller projects while you wait for the chapter ^^

Barista!reader x Managing CEO Choi Seungcheol ~ The last thing Seungcheol expected was to argue with a random stranger in a bakery after an awfully stressful day. But how could he not when this person was about to take the last melon pan? You were in a similar position. Your boss had been nagging you non-stop at work and all you wanted was your favorite snack, followed by a movie marathon on the couch. Instead, you find yourself having to deal with this stubborn guy who thinks the whole world is his.

Preview

“Excuse me?” You turned around at the sound of a male voice, assuming that he was talking to you since the bakery was pretty much empty at this hour.

“Can I help you?” you asked wearily, raising your eyebrows at the blond man that had approached you – the mask he was wearing covered most of his face, so it was hard to get a read on him. And seeing as you’d gone through your fair share of uncomfortable encounters with strangers, it was only natural for you to have your guard up.

To your surprise, he pointed towards the hand that was holding the snack you were planning on buying. “Would you mind giving me that melon pan? I really need it tonight,” he spoke.

Your weary expression slowly morphed into a confused one as you raised the sweet bread slightly. “This...melon pan?” you asked, wondering where this was going.

The stranger nodded. “Yes, that one. I just got off from work and I’ve had a pretty rough day, so I need it. It’s my favorite snack and I’m not planning to leave the store without it.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the audacity of this guy. As if you would hand it over just because he supposedly ‘needed’ it. It wasn’t your problem that you'd been faster.

“Well, it happens to be my favorite snack too and I’ve also had a pretty rough day, so no. I’m not giving it to you.”

“Oh, come on. What’s it going to take? Name your price,” he motioned before reaching into his pocket to pull out what you assumed was his wallet. What the hell was he doing?

“I just told you, I’m not giving you this melon pan,” you responded firmly – your free hand automatically squeezed into a fist as you tried to keep your blood pressure under control. Getting into an argument with some random stranger was not part of the relaxing evening you’d planned.

“And I said, name your price. Everyone has one. How much do you want for it? Fifty thousand won? A hundred thousand? More? Just tell me. Money is not an issue here,” he shrugged nonchalantly, his wallet now wide open for you to see.

His outrageous proposition left you in a state of awe. The disgust was no doubt evident on your face, but he didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Are you seriously trying to bribe me for a fucking melon pan?!”

Judging by the way he was dressed, you were pretty certain that the guy was loaded – the combination of the dark brown suit and black coat he was wearing probably cost more than what you earned in a whole month.

Still, that didn’t give him the right to treat others like garbage.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He didn’t. “You have something that I want. You’re not giving it to me, so I’m offering you an alternative that will make both of us happy,” he stated, completely oblivious to the fact that he was coming off as an entitled asshole.

“You are so unbelievably rude,” you scoffed. “I’ve never met anyone as ignorant and entitled as you. Just wow. If that’s how you treat people in your life, then you probably don’t have many friends.”

It was clear that your words had struck a nerve when the shameless stranger narrowed his eyes in response. “I’m rude? I think you are pretty rude to someone who’s just trying to reason with you. Trust me, if you had any idea who I was, you wouldn’t be speaking to me like that.”

Oh look, he’s a narcissist too...surprising.

“Listen, mister whatever-your-name-is. I’m going to say this one time. I don’t give two shits about who you are and I’m not giving you my melon pan, so you can keep your damn money. Now, I’m going to walk away, pay for my snack and leave so that this,” you motioned between the two of you, “doesn’t escalate into something worse. Have a good life,” was the last thing you said before rushing towards the checkout.

Your blood was boiling by the time you left the store. The whole encounter with the rude stranger had put another damper on your mood, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. Because just who the fuck did he think he was? And what kind of weirdo would try to bribe someone for a melon pan?

You truly hoped to never see him again.

☀ if you want to be added to the tag list, leave a comment or send me an ask, but be sure to mention that it's for the SEVENTEEN World Series!  ✎ Make sure to enable the MATURE community label if you want to read the SMUT!!!!

☀ Tag list: @multiplums​ @hipsdofangirl​ @brrrkdslek @sonybear40​ @omyeol​ @matchahyuck​ @bumblebreanna​ @haneulparadx @queentoriasworld @letsimagineyouandme @jadesniall @kimingyuslover @lockburn-castle @celestialkmg @shinetogether17 @i-dont-give-a-fok @minhui896 @miraes-world @bmkgemz @6969lilithcat @hopefulchick @yoonguurt @fantasies-of-a-bookworm @xiaoting999 @yearnoclock @mingyucookies @itswaffleberry @strxbrymilkkuu @kwonhoeshi @honeywonuu @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @nomnom2001

#JiJis series #seventeen world #fic: melon pang! #teaser 👀 #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #scoups smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #svt fic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x you #seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #seventeen angst #svt au #seventeen au #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups x you #seungcheol x you #svt scoups

[xirayn]

Like Biting Bats (Very Metal)

Read Ch 1 of the full fic here

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Featuring @aibhlynn as Eddie

Singing in the car with Eddie is quickly becoming one of Steve's favorite things. The freedom of it produces a euphoria that leaves him smiling even after dropping Eddie up. Steve wishes he could bottle that feeling; especially since he's likely to lose it once Eddie's van is fixed. They'll still be friends,of course, after all that they've been through it will take more than their differences and lack of forced proximity to end that, but Steve doesn't know if they'll still sing together.

He pulls up in front of the high school. The Hellfire Club has disbanded due to the satanic panic Hawkins is still shaking off, but that has left Eddie time to study with Nancy. She waves at Steve as they walk out together then says something to Eddie that makes him clasp his hands over his heart and stagger as if shot. She shakes her head at his theatrics before heading to where her mother is waiting to pick her up.

Eddie grins after her. Steve swears his smile gets brighter when he turns towards the BMW.

"Is she kicking you ass?" he asks once the passenger door swings open.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Eddie groans as he slumps into the seat. His school bag falls with a thud to the floor. "She threatened to take away my baby if I didn't pass the test on Friday." 

"Ah, man, not the guitar," Steve laughs.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie doesn't say that it isn't his guitar that Nancy is threatening to take away. She is turning out to be a huge help in Eddie's quest to actually graduate this year, but threatening to prevent him from seeing Steve is a line in the sand. Because Nancy knows. She is frighteningly smart, so naturally she has figured out that riding with Steve, belting out tunes and bantering about one another's taste in music, has climbed the ranks of activities that Eddie enjoys by noting how he eagerly waits for the familiar sound of Steve's BMW and that the repairs to his van were taking a suspiciously long time.

Eddie eyes the radio as he buckles himself in.

"We talked about this, Pretty Boy. Why are you listening to Foreigner?" 

He ejects the offending tape to replace with one pulled from his bag and Steve pretends to look offended. The opening of Metallica's latest album flows through the vehicle.

"Because 'Growing up the Hard Way' speaks to me on a personal level," Steve defends.

"Shame on you," Eddie teases.

An idea form's a smirk that crinkles the corner of Steve's hazel eyes. As 'Battery' crashes down on them, he marks the beat and does a few edits on the fly to lyrics he has heard a hundred times before doing his best to sing over Hatfield's vocals.

"He's got nothing to say, 

He's got no excuses,

He was just 

made-that-way

Like a dog on the loose,

In a world of his own,

He won't back down or

Run-a-way'

It is far from a perfect fit, but Steve makes it work to the best of his abilities and a grin sweeps across Eddie's face. He lives for moments like this where he gets to see the tension Steve carries melt away like ice on a warm day. He likes knowing he played a part in relaxing his best friend. And Steve is his best friend as much as that realization had been a surprise. He cared deeply for the band and his players, but Steve fucking Harrington has gotten closer than any of them.

Once Steve is finished, tripping over lyrics turning into a laugh as the music continues, Eddie chuckles along with him. 

"Man, you should come sing with the band."

The suggestion earns a scoff that still holds onto the joy of laughter. Steve's fraction of 'Master of Puppets' done with Corroded Coffin had been fun, but he doubts anyone aside from Eddie actually wants him to join. He is the former King Steve, top asshole jock of Hawkins High. He can't imagine the rest of the band having anything other than contempt for him.

"Sure." Steve shakes his head. "I bet the rest of your band will be all for it."

"Stevie, they are practically harassing me to convince you to join the band." 

Every time Eddie has seen his band mates since they heard Steve, the first question is if he's convinced him to join. Eddie is proud of them for seeing past Steve's high school labels and acknowledging how he has changed. That voice of his is a good added incentive.

He reaches over to flick one of the locks of hair that arcs over Steve's forehead. He's careful not to be too distracting. He has witnessed Steve go off on the Party about the dangers of distracting the driver several times.

"Our next practice is Saturday." Eddie’s voice lowers as if he's sharing a secret or possibly asking a favor. "I want you to be there."

The opening riffs of 'The Thing That Should Not Be' play as Steve fights with himself. His teeth worry his lip. The lecture from his father on 'meaningless hobbies' that led to Steve giving up guitar in middle school plays through his head. Honestly, though, his dad can fuck off. Eddie wants Steve there; said the words with a gentle hope Steve isn't used to. And he wants to be there. Singing those few bars of 'Master of Puppets' was the most alive he had felt in months, maybe years.

"Alright." His voice is lost under the heavy guitar and drum that rolls through them. He clears his throat. "I mean, sure. If the rest of the band is cool with it."

A smile lights up Eddie's face, dimples and teeth on full display.

"Cool," he teases. With Steve as their front man, Eddis is certain the band will succeed. Their music might change, but he finds the prospect of creating a new sound exciting. Something like Foreigner lyrics set to Metallica's instrumentals except entirely their own. "Two on Saturday. If you don't have anything planned, you can stay over Friday night and we can drive over together. I have a new record I have been waiting to listen to." 

Waiting for Steve to come over to listen with him.

"You mean I can drive you," Steve corrects.

"Of course, Big Boy," Eddie responds with mock exasperation. He can't stop smiling.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things au #let steve be in the band #steddie ficlet #corroded coffin #steddie au

[cherrycudy]

hi! Can you make a vampire fem reader x scaramouche smut its been in my mind the whole day♥ and also gj with your work keep it up<3!

'Till It Draws Blood''

Scara X fem!vampire!reader smut

A/N: sorry I left this out for so long!! I hope this is to your standards! Speech in red is scaramouche talking. Enjoy!

Mdni

'fuck...'

You thought, as the two of you close the distance between each other, your heated sex grinding on his.

You felt his hot breath against your neck, aching for the moment to go further. Dim red lighting adorned and cloaked your skin.

The non stop moaning and soft grunting, both of you were aching to reach your high.

'dammit...'

You hear Scara grunt under his breath. You took this opportunity to hover your head against his collarbone, painfully licking and sucking, trying to locate his sweet spot.

'tch, what are you do-'

His breath hitches. You place your hand against his aching hard member.

'No sudden movements now...'

A smirk crawls onto your face, with your other hand crawling its way to cup his face, making him face you.

'wipe that stupid smile off your face, asshole'

Scaramouche comments, making you chuckle. He knows what you want, he knows you need it, you need his blood, and he won't admit it, he finds its so damn hot that you need it.

'fuck, fine, I'll let you have your fun... For now'

'thats more like it, now hold still, dear'

You can hear him gulp as you move your mouth towards his neck, smelling for just the right spot. You look into his prideful eyes, but underneath, you see a pleading bitch, just ready, aching, for you to break him.

'May I?'

He nods slightly, not sure of what to feel. You kiss the sweet spot on his neck, hearing a small hum as a response from him. Right then, you sink your teeth deep into his neck earning a grunt mixed with pain and pleasure. You feel his strong hands against you, wanting to fight back, afterall, it was only natural but he surrenders beneath you.

You sit against his lap, harder this time while eagerly sucking the sweet blood from his neck. You felt his member twitch beneath you as you start to slowly grind onto him once more earning another eager moan from him once again.

You let go of his neck, licking over the wound for good measure.

'Shit, that's all you got for me?'

He says, but you know he would never let his pride shatter against you, no matter how hard you try. But you had one more trick up your sleeve before he takes over and has his fun.

You kiss his cheek, leaving a tiny bit of his own blood on him before getting off his lap. He was confused for a second before he saw what you were doing. Now on your knees, you spread his legs with your hands, wide enough for you to get comfortable. You see a smile grow on his face. This was all just the beginning.

Your mouth moved its way to his zipper, slowly unzipping it, releasing his now throbbing member, with the tip leaking a small amount of pre already. You move your head towards the tip, sucking and making your way further down slowly and painfully that you could feel the veins throb.

'oh fuuck~'

Scara moans pushing your head down further down his member. So far you could feel it hit the back of your throat. You once again start your slow pace, bobbing your head up and down and looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, able to make him mesmerised in a snap.

But something snapped in him, tired of the agonisingly slow pace, he took matters into his own hands. Grabbing your head with both hands, he begins to throat fuck you, thrusting himself up your mouth with a sinful sounding slap each time. You gag at the action earning a small breathy Chuck's from him. His eyes changed, back to those stupid prideful and arrogant ones, the ones that he would use when he'd look down at you.

'ah, I'm gonna cum'

He warns as he fastens his pace, his cock and balls now so sinfully wet. Your hands try and push and pull away from the force but he had locked you in, and you were not getting out of it.

'i-im cumming...'

He warns right before he shoots his thick seed into your throat, head pulled back on the couch and his hands remaining on your head, holstering you as he dumps his cum into you.

He pulls out of your mouth with a small pop and a line of saliva connecting from his tip and your lips. Oh but this wasn't over, not until he's pleasured you back.

You feel his hand cup your cheek as he slightly tilts your head to make you look up at him. He lets out a small chuckle, unbuttoning his top before sinking into the couch in a more relaxed sitting position. He spreads his legs and pats his lap indicating for you to sit. Now it was his turn.

You climb on top of him, his hand snaking its way on your neck, grabbing it, tight.

'Strip'

That was enough for you to make you shiver. Hesitantly, you take off your top to reveal your bra, and then the same with your bottoms. Now you are only in your bra and underwear, displayed right in front of him.

'aww, you were hiding this all under those clothes? Fuck...'

He took in the sight before holstering your waist and tracing his hands down to your ass.

'Cmon, let's not waste any more time...'

In a swift movement, he was on top of you, now the roles are reversed now. His hand grappled your throat before he passionately kisses your abused lips.

He lines up his member against your pulsing entrance, sticking the tip ever so slightly in you, earning a soft moan from you.

'Shit, you're this wet? Ha, whore'

'Isnt that ironic?'

You chuckle in response. His aura had changed though, he was no longer trying to play around.

'A-ahh~'

You were not expecting that, he shoved himself into you without warning. You could feel him stretch you out. Your sex was aching from the pleasurable pain. A couple of heavy thrusts in, he suddenly stops and pulls out.

Confused, you look up at him.

'Turn over.'

You gulp at the sight. Obediently, you get on all fours against the couch for him.

Once again, he lines up against your soaking pussy before shoving himself all the way in, hitting your g-spot like no other position has. You felt his hand snake its way up your throat and the other one against the bulge on your tummy, feeling his dick penetrate you. He leans over your shaking and sensitive body putting his bodyweight into you. He leans into your neck before biting it.

'That's my girl~'

He coos. His arms now wrapped around your waist before thrusting into you repeatedly at a neck breaking pace. His heavy balls slap against your wet clit and his member consistently hits your g-spot, with your sweet slick dripping onto the couch. You couldn't hold it for much longer, the knot in your stomach felt tighter and tighter, waiting, begging for release. You want him, no you need him.

'Fuck! Scara! I'm gonna- I-Im gonna cum!'

He took it to account and fastened the already break neck speed pace and thrusted into you like a dog in heat. Fluids dripping and spilling from the both of you. He bites down onto your shoulder from the irresistible pleasure. You could feel the walls shake from how hard and fast he was going. The knot was almost released, your high was so close, and so was his.

'I-Im cumming!'

Finally you reached your aching euphoria. You felt his hot seed spill onto you as both of your fluids spill out, overflowing onto the couch. The two of you lay down onto the bed, sweating and exhausted.

'Shit, I love you, dumbass'

'Ha, I love you too...'

The night was still young, and let's just say scaramouche still had energy in the shower.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x female reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x female reader

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

General HCs on what is like to be Black Mask's parnter? And the man himself too? Thanks <3

Black Mask Romance and General HCs

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS. Time to brush your man up and out of the dumpster, friend!

TW: Unhealthy/controlling romance dynamics, BDSM, violence, smut

Trust Issues. Roman had a lot of things happen as a kid due to parental neglect and was constantly made to "toughen up" via double crossing or outright emotional abuse by his family. Then his previous partner abandoned him after he went to the criminal life. He has SO MANY trust issues that you'll either double cross him, poison him, something or other-

It feeds into a controlling nature he has concerning everything: Business, the underworld and now you! He wants to know where you are at all times, about your friends, your family. He's not such an asshole that he would tell you who to see and not see, but he has ways of making you unavailable if he decides he doesn't like someone...

Other people NEED to know that you are his. I briefly touched on this in the general kink post, but he would do the 24/7 BDSM aligned Master/sub dynamic with you in a collar if you were down. Public sex and fondling where his goons or underworld powers could see. If there's no collars, he's definitely marking you up. If you let his ego get away with cockwarming during a meeting, he'll do it. Honestly, if you don't set hard boundaries, he can and will get degrading during sex. Depends on if that does it for you!

If you DO set boundaries, though, he will respect them. Might take you telling him you're serious, but he will. Especially once he's fond of you and it's not just about sex. You potentially getting done with his shit and leaving is a threat he doesn't take lightly.

If there is any aftercare that needs to be done, he'll take you somewhere privately and make sure you're taken care of. It's probably one of the few instances you'll see a truly softer side where he's genuine, sincere and gentle. He knows the importance of fixing his things after breaking them down.

On more of a relationship standpoint, you'll be well taken care of with him. Nice clothes, fancy shit, but a strict budget on what you can ask for. And don't expect him to slip just for a pretty face. He used to work in cosmetics, he's seen beauty- it's fucking worthless and can disappear in an instant.

Be ready to be cool and collected when he loses his temper, something that happens more often than not. He'll throw things, knock goons on their ass, pull out a gun and threaten people- not you, doll, these FUCKING knuckleheads- he might fire a shot for proof into the ceiling. Hope you aren't prone to anxiety or anything!

That anger and rage does sometimes translate into the bedroom which can lead to some pretty passionate rough sex. You'll be sore after but by god, he'll make sure you're satisfied.

If anyone ever tries to fuck with you, they'll end up a bloody puddle. He'll make them suffer and let you watch and participate if you really want. If not, he's more than happy to have his fun on his own.

There's only a few things that are soft spots in terms of his life: His father, his mistake at Janus Cosmetics that caused hundreds of women to be disfigured and the failure of said company after, and his face under the mask. Don't ask about his face under the mask. As far as he's concerned, the ebony wood-metal combo skull mask that covers his whole head IS his face. You can see the outline of his burned lips just under the "teeth" of the death's head skull. He carved it from his father's casket and it became fused to his flesh after a fire during his first true criminal outing against Bruce Wayne/Batman. Sore subject.

You'll likely get caught up in his criminal business one way or another. Either to earn his trust in some way or by accident because uh hey babe, I don't mean to bug you but I'm kind of prison again-

Overall, it's never a boring time dating Black Mask.

#black mask #black mask x reader #foxwriting #smut #I went more romance/relationship in this vs background but i tried to sprinkle stuff in there #certain things i didn't stray too far from comics such as the carved mask because lets be real that's metal as fuck #we're not giving this man rabies though #roman sionis

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Hello how are you doing? What is your honest opinion about Shinsou?

I'm doing well thank you!

As for Shinsou - I think he's a character with a ton of wasted potential. I've mentioned before I think he should have become Midoriya's main 'peer' rival character as opposed to Bakugo and I stand by that.

He could have mirrored Midoriya very well - they both experienced discrimination due to the Quirks/lack of, I think Shinsou should have also been bullied in his backstory, only now Midoriya has the Quirk he's always wanted only he's still kinda bad at using it, as opposed to Shinsou who's very good with his Quirk and good at getting people to talk, but it's nature as a 'villainous' Quirk holds him back societally.

He's got a very cool Quirk (though I would like them to establish a few more limitations to it), and I like his design. But he suffers from something Horikoshi keeps doing, where he states that an issue exists (discrimination against Quirkless people, against Mutants/Heteromorphs, against Villainous Quirks here) yet we never get to see it.

We don't see anyone discriminate against Shinsou or refuse to work with him, just "geez that sounds like a Quirk a villain might have". Add to that there's zero indication he trained prior to the UA entrance exams when we do see just how hard Midoriya and Shouto, for example, trained, and he comes across as a whiny asshole instead of someone who's experienced discrimination and is angry about it.

Also, I hate that Aizawa decided to exclusively train him when he's already a shit teacher to the students in his actual fucking class. When you put it all together, you get a character who seems like he expected to just coast into UA with a strong Quirk and was pissy he couldn't, and then got special treatment by the school so he could move up in a way he didn't earn. His personality isn't very appealing either; I like the idea of someone who's become snarky and good at talking shit both for his Quirk and to protect himself, but again, we never get to see that.

I think Shinsou needed some serious development. He's a cool concept, but I think if Horikoshi wanted him to be sympathetic he should have fleshed out discrimination against Villainous Quirks more. Have it happen more beforehand, have people refuse to work with Shinou because of it; we've seen characters like Toga hurt by family for their Quirks, maybe something like that?

Also, make it clear that he did train before UA, but because he didn't have an All Might training him, he wasn't able to get as far as Midoriya did. Make it clear that he's not pissy because he's an entitled prick, but because he legitimately did his best and he was still held back because of his Quirk and resources.

But yeah, canon Shinsou? I don't really like him. He's not sympathetic and he's honestly really annoying.

#mha #my hero academia #my hero academia critical #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha critical #mha critical #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #thanks for the ask!

[svartalfhild]

Svar Watches BBC Robin Hood for the First Time - Season 1

So I recently decided to finally get around to seeing a show I've been meaning to watch for like nearly 10 years. I am so far past missing the boat on this one, but since I've been doing a bit of a "catching up on shows from the 2000's I didn't really get to see at the time" run lately, I thought I'd record my thoughts for y'all's amusement.

So here we go, Season 1 thoughts:

Every single one of these Merry Men, including Robin, suffers from Just Some Guy disease, fucking RIP

Except Djaq. Djaq is cool.

We can all agree that Much is clearly a little gay for Robin, right?

Guy of Gisborne is such an asshole, but unfortunately Richard Armitage is too good at his job, so Guy is also hot.

The Sheriff is cartoonishly evil and I hate him, but I'm kind of loving how just like a lot his personality is. Like this bitch belongs in a cracktastic Crusader Kings playthrough, holy shit.

Damn, Marian really is the only fully competent motherfucker in the whole place, huh?

Make that two competent motherfuckers, adding Djaq.

Man, this writing is super shabby in places, but when they hit, they fucking hit.

This show really bills itself as a fun adventure show but boy does it have shit to say at times, shit that was kinda ballsy of them to be saying in 2006. Like positively portraying Muslim characters and condemning pointless wars in the Middle East (the messaging on this gets muddled in a few places, but the fact that it's in there at all is impressive). Like you expect to see class struggle and sexism talked about in Robin Hood, but I wasn't expecting them to do so much with the "oh yeah, we just got back from Palestine and we have PTSD and maybe the Crusade is really bad actually". Bravo.

Ah, but this is a BBC show, so we can't have anti-monarchism. King Richard is totally awesome and is definitely going to make everything better when he gets back. Like I know that's baked into the Robin Hood tales, but they could lean into it less in places, I feel.

I think part of what makes Guy so captivating is that he's complicated and clearly suffers from a lot of inner conflict. I love knowing why villains are Like That, and we get so much about him from seeing his initial reactions to things vs. his behaviour after the Sheriff talks to him. Even just watching Richard Armitage's facial expressions is so rewarding. He gives us so much information about Guy just with his body language. Fucking brilliant.

Holy shit the more of this I watch, the more I'm like oh yeah Guy is an abuse victim and the Sheriff is his abuser. Like obviously that's not an excuse for any of the multitudes of evil things he does, but damn that boy is caught in a cycle. It has all the classic abuse features. Having his impressionable nature/eagerness to please taken advantage of. Being constantly inflicted with physical and emotional violence. Being manipulated into making choices against his judgement and editing himself to better fit what his abuser wants him to be. Being isolated from positive influences and being told to reject other sources of validation and support. Having his toxic masculinity heavily reinforced. Being consistently ignored and undervalued. The list goes on.

Anyway, I think I have a new blorbo now. I don't have many evil blorbos these days, but he's earned his place. I hope he gets good character development. Or at least gets to stab the Sheriff.

Much annoyed me a bit in the beginning, but he's starting to grow on me after he stood up to Robin and went through that business of the noble title.

God, I just want to shake Guy by the shoulders like you have everything you need to be more interesting to Marian than Robin, but you're fucking blowing it so hard, my dude. Ah, but alas, it must be this way.

I want to shake Robin by the shoulders like you would have this in the bag dude if you would just actually listen to Marian and support her instead of telling her what you think she should do all the time. Goddamn he and Guy ultimately have the same fucking problem.

#TeamFuckAllYallLetMarianRunEverythingActually

BRUH IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY TIME GUY WANTED TO MAKE A GOOD DECISION FOR ONCE IN HIS LIFE AND THEN FUCKING SWERVED AT THE LAST SECOND BECAUSE OF SOME SHIT THE SHERIFF SAID I'D BE RICH BY NOW SWEET JESUS.

I can't believe they ended this season on the most Good Job, Lads moment oh my god it's so cheesy but so on brand.

To see my Season 2 thoughts, go here.

#Robin Hood #BBC Robin Hood #Svar shitposts

[pitgritted]

wounded   is   the   other   ,   and   it   is   to   this   man   broken   and   breaking   before   him   that   the   invitation   to   stay   the   night   is   extended   (   lest   worry   flirts   with   insomnia   and   yone   fret   the   whole   night   away   that   sett   does   not   make   it   home   safely   )   .   offer   declined   in   whole   and   this   worry   spins   itself   to   annoyance   brewing   like   lightning   between   his   temples   .   ❛   …   do   you   not   get   tired   wearing   that   mask   ?   ❜   it   feels   hypocritical   …   wrong   ,   even   ,   for   yone   to   point   this   out   ,   for   what   is   he   but   another   man   also   bound   to   the   expectations   of   society   and   self   ?

still   ,   it   is   between   the   exhaustion   of   the   night   transpired   ,   the   exhaustion   from   lack   of   consistent   sleep   ,   and   the   exhaustion   of   it   all   then   that   emotions   run   raw   and   he's   compelled   to   press   .   ❛   is   it   so   goddamn   hard   to   just   say   yes   ?   ——   agh   ,   ❜   he   presses   the   base   of   his   palm   to   his   brows   ,   nauseated   and   with   his   other   hand   braced for support   against   the   wall   .   ❛   fuck   .   sorry   .   i   shouldn't   have   said   that   .   ❜   he   is   tired   and   frustrated   but   that   is   no   reason   —   no   excuse   —   to   be   on   sett's   case   right   now   .   yone   pushes   himself   from   the   wall   ,   moving   towards   the   couch   .   ❛   just   ——   fine   .   if   you're sure you   can   make   it   back   — ❜ fingers   snag   in   sett's   jacket   where   it   lays   on   the   couch   ,   dragging   it   from   its   pile   and   tossing   it   at   him   . ❛ — then   do   it   .   ❜

❛   get   home   safely   .   ❜   and   please   — text   me   when   you   get   there   ,   he   wants   to   say   ,   but   can't   bring   himself   to   .

// hi jojo :)c

           sett is quiet . but emotions are conveyed . almost taken aback by yone’s vehemence . to add salt to the wound , his jacket being thrown at him just felt like that fuckin’ consolidated everything . he could try to stop &. think . he could have sympathy or empathy or whatever the fuck it was . but he just happened to be a man who was given the misfortune of being in the moment . he was a man that was not ashamed of his hubris . &. yone knew it . ‘cuz you know why ? “ shit , if i knew you were gonna bitch , i wouldn’t have even come to you . why don’t you get off your privileged high horse ‘n’ think what i do all of this for , eh ?! ” sett spat . it felt like some kind of unspoken rule — whatever good comes out , something real shitty would follow suit . like it was nature’s “ fuck you “ . &. as of today , sett was probably royally screwed . probably .

it wasn’t like it was a doled fight to begin with . sett had earnings to fetch from fat bastards . his fists were concussive &. frankly he could hardly care who he was thrashing against . as long as he won &. got his pay . gettin’ hurt was just apart of the job . on some weeks … it’s a broken nose . on some weeks … it’s a bullet wound ( usually when sett gets jumped by some petty bet placers that didn’t win the ticket ) . he wasn’t scared of death or getting his ass kicked . at least he could live throwing his punches &. giving assholes a run for their money . he wasn’t going to be swayed easily , all he asks is for a fair fight .

he goes quiet again , heavy breaths escaping him . damn was he going to actually get upset over this ? his face feels hot . he makes an effort of hurriedly hiding it , making it an effort for his pulse not to stutter . sett was already heated , &. the last thing he needed was to blow up more on yone . his shoulders stiffened , not quite forthcoming with his apology . sett had never been forced into defending himself this way before . he was used to standing up for his values &. goals , but this was different . this wasn’t about right &. wrong . it was trust . understanding .

he takes another breath , fangs clinking together . sett forces his feet to carry him towards yone , sighing heavily , feeling guilty for reacting the way he had even though it was justified . he never wanted to hold his only close friend in vindication . “ come ‘ere , ‘yer so damn serious all the time . just … shut up . ” his rasped bass grew breathy . he doesn’t hesitate , &. sett moves to advance closer to yone .

although it hurt like hell , being as sore as he were , he encircles a palm against yone’s head , pressing the man’s weight against him . “ so fucking serious … ” he repeats . “ i’ll stay , ‘ight ? just to get you off my ass … ”

ugly weeping hi mars D:

#windchaser #𓆰ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀? 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀. 〞 — 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 : MESSAGE TO THE BOSS. #𓆰 ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲… 〞 — 𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 : SETT THE BOSS. #modern verse. #sett ic.

[earthsickwithoutyou]

Saw III 2006 - (contains spoilers)

This review may contain spoilers.

Okie dokie, time to try and evaluate this one. UHHH. There are great strengths and some jarring weaknesses.

Strengths: As a whole, I admire Whannell's writing in raising the suspense and tension to absolute fever pitch and keeping us guessing the whole time. There's also no denying that while I'm not a fan of how over-the-top Jeff's plotline was, the story and performances tug the heartstrings.

We got more Amanda. That is my baby girl who never did anything wrong in her life and was rejected by the surrogate father figure who twisted her mentality while she was recovering from hard drugs and trauma (which HE gave her!). So sassy, so cute, Ily Amanda 🥰

Characters were deeper and easier to root for at times: I believe this is because Jeff and Lynn were both good people. That has its pros and cons, though...to be discussed soon.

Traps were genius; particularly memorable were the angel and freezing devices; the pig one was just freaking gross, and the rack was horrifying.

Leave it to Jigsaw to bring back the most cruel, unjust form of torture from Tudor England. WOW so random yet so fucking mean for no good reason. That's Jigsaw alright, check check check (he designed all of these no matter who built them and carried them out; he also designed the entire game for Jeff and Lynn).

However, still have to rank that trap as a plus for the genuine fear factor.

We got a lil bit of my boyfriend Eric Matthews back, albeit in sequences that were a bit confusing in places. But it was enough to hold me over until I continue the rewatch and get to my husband, Peter Strahm.

The SCORE was tremendous in this one. I loved the way the movie quietly brought in the "game over/main theme" music, which is totally iconic, throughout the film instead of only at the end. Every time it happens I have to bob my head and dance a lil.

WEAKNESSES: It's no secret I hate it when movies spend long, indulgent amounts of time on the suffering of children or parents who lost their children tragically. First of all, and most problematically, it's repetitive, which after a while, naturally gets monotonous, punishing on the viewer not in the fun way, and irritating.

Secondly, there is no need to repeatedly hammer home the awful loss of that young boy, especially since -- as the supposed spark that sets off the whole game -- Jigsaw could not give a fuck that this kid died. Cah-learly.

If Jigsaw had one tiny bit of empathy in him, at least there would be some redeeming factor to this plotline. I understand that it's intended to be bleak, etc. But bleak works better when it's balanced with enough reasons to make it feel earned.

Jigsaw became sort of obsessed with poor Jeff, because it was easy to project his twisted hero complex by deceitfully forcing the man through room after room of torment "to prove you can spare a life and stop living in the past."

If I were Jeff and Jigsaw made me BURN the belongings of a cherished loved one who passed, I, too would use one of the cruel implements he so helpfully supplied at the end of the film.

Asshole behavior across the board. John is perfectly happy with these results. He barely cares when Amanda dies, because he had come to see her as too unstable/unpredictable to be a trustworthy continuer of his legacy. Cuz he really loves fooling himself that most of his traps are escapable. What a LOSER.

He smiles when Jeff comes for him with the saw, despite the fact that he fucking knows this is gonna kill Lynn, who helped him and had already suffered enough, plus who he seemed to almost connect with a tiny bit. That's like besties for him. But no, off with her face! Why? Because John HAS to be right. He wants to prove that Jeff is never going to live a good life, but will, instead continue striving for foolish revenge? Well, hey, bud, maybe don't fucking torture him and his wife and mess with his already-unstable and traumatized head. He goaded Jeff into killing him so he could lie there like Saint Jigsaw with a halo going "*oh, dear, I so hoped that he was going to change.* But he chose wrong, game over, goodbye innocent bystander who won her game and should be allowed to live. My rules only matter when they are entertaining and gratifying to me and mah ego."

After forcing us to suffer agonies along with Jeff, the ending just feels like a mean punch in the face with no redeeming virtues. I also find it hard to believe Jeff made it THAT far in his completely unfair game, having mercy on all those other people (even if he was too slow to act a couple times) and then suddenly he turns his back on progressing in and getting out of the game.

He's dumb enough to listen to Saint Jigsaw telling him not to do that because others will suffer and "our lives" are in the balance, and then go through with it? Since when?? Because true facts, my mans never would have made it all the way through to his Holiness' room if he was that stupid. PLEASE.

Direction was solid, I could do without the Mtv "edgy" / yellow acid rock video vibe that randomly comes in, but on the other hand, it is also super endearing.

I'm so excited to move onto Saw IV, my fave! Peter I'm coming for you 😍

from Letterboxd - Virginia Mae https://ift.tt/NXg0wIM

#letterboxd reviews #my film reviews #my ongoing battle with jigsaw #saw iii #horror

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

#tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo manji gang #bonten mikey #sano manjiro x reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #haitani rindou imagines #haitani x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya scenarios #mitsuya takashi x reader

[bakuthedeku]

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

[rainy-bangbeom]

Sweet Rivalry | Bambam (m)

pairing(s): Bambam x Fem!Reader

genre: Enemies with Benefits!AU, Smut

warnings: Mature language, explicit sexual content (18+), basically hate sex in public

word count: 451 

synopsis: Having Bambam as your enemy may have some perks afterall… 

“God, I hate you so fucking much…” The remark that slips from your lips is venomous. Through the white-hot pleasure spilling through your veins, you can sense the rage boiling within your chest. Even with his cock buried inside you, the hatred toward his presence still remains—not that it’s surprising in the least. You two have been enemies since the very moment you laid eyes on each other. 

“And yet you’re letting me fuck you in a public bathroom…” Bambam chuckles, enunciating his words with a powerful thrust. The sudden movement steals a surprised moan from your lips—the sound working to spread the usual shit-eating grin across his face. “Seems like you’re either a liar, or just really, really desperate…” 

Annoyed, you purposely squeeze your walls around his hard member, silently celebrating as Bambam releases a surprised groan of his own. 

You snicker, “Uh huh, seems like I’m not the only desperate one here…” 

Bambam seethes, rearranging his grip on your hips before plunging deeper into your core. 

You’re not exactly sure when your and Bam’s relationship took to a lustful path, but after years of bitterness and undeniable sexual tension, there’s only so much one can do to relieve such elements. Plus, your rivalry against one another actually makes the sex that much better—so it’s a win-win situation.  

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, you bite your lip to hold back your sounds and try to focus on anything other than the delicious way his fingernails are sinking into your skin or the pillow-like nature of his plump lips. Unfortunately, your companion notices your stare and smirks, “If you want to kiss me, babygirl, all you have to do is ask…”  

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole…” You hiss, grabbing a fistful of his dyed hair and yanking at the tresses—hard. “Now, actually be of some use and make me cum…” 

You expect Bambam to retort with another insult, but he, in fact, does not. Without even so much as a petty glare, your adversary lifts you atop the edge of the sink, throws your knees over his shoulder and begins a steady, yet harsh pace that leaves your toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. You tighten your grip on his already tousled strands, earning a loud, guttural moan in response. 

“So we’re not even trying to be quiet then?...” You manage through heavy pants, leaning back against the surface of the mirror. This time, Bambam shoots you an irked expression before it quickly shifts. He tilts his head with an evil smile, the sudden workings of a scary idea written across his features: 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to make you scream then…” 

My works are not to be reuploaded, modified, or translated anywhere besides this blog. If you see someone plagiarizing my work, please let me know right way. Otherwise, thank you for reading! Reblogs and feedback are always very much appreciated!

#got7 smut #got7 x reader smut #got7 smut imagines #bambam smut #bambam x reader smut #bambam smut imagines #kpop smut

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic

[piecksz]

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by 

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!��

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.  

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket.  “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.  

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.  

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.  

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot au #eren yaeger smut #attack on titan au #eren yeager au

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts jungkook