#*brain is a dick worries about it anyway*
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A little annoyed, amused, and relieved every time I see someone else's take on Avatar Sokka and it doesn't match mine.
#relieved because that means no one will point and go “you're just taking ideas from [person]!”#even though that's a very silly worry to have#it's the two cakes thing right?#it's fine#don't worry about it#*brain is a dick worries about it anyway*#annoyed briefly at the other take in question because what??? That's not how it would go!!#and then annoyed at myself because of course it's not how I thought it would go#they're not writing my story!#I have lived with this AU in my head getting refined and added to for more than a year!!#of course other people are going to have different ideas!#then amused at the whole thing because it's very silly#my brain is dumb#lizard is starting to ramble#sokka
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sorry for being Problematic™ but goddAMN, smoking cigarettes is so hot, it shouldn't be allowed to be this hot
#half of my brain is like. im worried about you. the other half is like can i suck your dick#and i feel both of those emotions VERY strongly#okay not always tbh. but some people have a certain vibe and it Works for them#anyway this is about hot dude from work specifically and i have been thinking about it since last night. in case you're wondering
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YUCK
Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader
Genre: fluff, suggestive moments
warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy
Length: ~2.9k
Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore
series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f]
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable.
You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact).
It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him.
You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.
Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.
Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.
Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.
“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”
“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway.
She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.
You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.
“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor.
Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.”
“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”
“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.”
“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?”
“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought. “When was the last time you showered?”
“I don’t know. Like two days ago?”
“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.”
His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though.
“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.”
“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.”
“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.”
Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady.
Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.
“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch.
You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.
“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.”
You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.”
You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.
“I can do that on my own,” you argue.
The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.
“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”
He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close.
How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.
Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.
When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.
“Hmmm?”
“I said, it’s time to get out.”
More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.
“Alright, arms up,” he commands.
You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.
“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head.
“And you call me a freak?”
Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.
You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet.
Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him.
And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.
“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”
The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.
After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance.
“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.
He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Because I like you.”
Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.
You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.
“Why?”
“Because I just do.”
Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not.
“I don’t date.”
“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.
“You aren’t gonna argue?”
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.”
You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.”
“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”
“Deal with the devil.”
He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.
“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”
“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”
“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.
“It really wasn’t any trouble.”
It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.
“I’m tired,” you tell him.
The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way.
You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.
Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.
“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.
“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”
You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does.
I sleep better when you’re here.
You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.
It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.
What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie
@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire
@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes
@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
#svthub#kvanity#kwon soonyoung#hoshi#kwon soonyoung smut#hoshi smut#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#svt x reader#soonyoung x reader#hoshi x reader#svt#svt smut#seventeen#seventeen hoshi#hoshi flufff#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#soonyoung fluff#kwon soonyoung fluff#🫡 highvern
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Hm. I'm rereading something I wrote, and I can't decide if it's going to be infuriating for some readers, or if there will be more going "OH, same!"
Given that my readership is largely in the Autistic 🤝ADHD vampire fan club (Vlad), I'm hoping it'll be the latter, but it's still making me hesitate because it's not how people expect sex scenes to read.
Everything's usually boiled down to a laser-focused precision of sensations and evocative, heated language -- and that does eventually happen with this. You just have to get past Vlad's brain wandering around for a bit because while Nathan's doing a good job of getting his attention in the moment, he's not being consistent, and it's giving Vlad's brain time to wander. Like noticing that Nathan squints a bit when he reads. ("(Hyperopia, Vlad’s brain supplied helpfully before he could smother it.)") Or just generally having full-on conversations in his head in the downtimes between stimulation -- and by downtime, I mean the split second it takes for Nathan to grab something from the nightstand.
Another part of me worries people will think I'm playing to stereotypes or I'm hamming it up to be "quirky," but given my brain is the epitome of the "hyper 8-year-old boy who can't sit still shiny disorder" despite being a 36yo cis woman, I've pretty much resigned myself to some people calling Vlad a stereotype anyway.
A larger part of me just... kind of really wants to see this kind of thing in a sex scene. I want to see my own thought patterns and acknowledge that even when you're getting hot and heavy with someone -- arguably an act that should consume all of your attention -- you'll still find your mind wandering. You'll notice something out the corner of your eye and go, "fucking shit, laundry, do not forget, do not forget" (and then you'll forget), or you'll be about to go down on someone, and the dick joke your friend told you three months ago will pop into your head and suddenly you're snickering with no tactful way to explain it.
(This is another thing that I always think is sorely lacking in sex scenes. No one's messy. No one's laughing like an idiot because they just thumped their head into the headboard, or a joke just popped into their head. Or someone's body made a fart sound because there's lube in places and things are thrusting. Like, maybe it's me, maybe I'm weird, but I think those are the moments you can build real romance out of. Not necessarily erotica, because those things (supposedly) aren't sexy, but there's so much emotion you can show with partners who are able to laugh with each other in those moments. You can show so much love and reverence through the mundane it hurts.)
It'd just be nice, for once, to have the character be absolved of the guilt that often happens in those moments because you're supposed to be focusing on what is happening, and your idiot brain just won't shut up.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter too much. It's a short story I'm hoping to fling out at some point (as soon as my idiot brain shuts up and lets me finish it). But it feels more important than it actually is because it feels like I'm exposing a major part of my psyche. Like pinning down all the ugly parts of my brain that can't ever actually be pinned down, no matter how much I try.
idk. Words. Things. Stuff. I'm going to try and finish this and then see what I want to do with it.
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I’ve been here before lol. I just had to let you know, your virgin Bucky stories live rent free in my head. I hope one day to see him become… not a virgin 👀 if you feel like writing it of course ❤️
Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader
Warnings: fluff, smut, loss of virginity, slightly sub Bucky, soft!dom reader, riding, multiple orgasms (both), overstimulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (Don’t do that), copious amounts of cum, like so much, Bucky has a big dick, cumming untouched, cumming in boxers, ball riding (I know, there’s something wrong with me), crying during sex (Bucky this time, not reader lol), crying after sex, aftercare, Bucky is so sweet, taking care of Bucky, washing Bucky’s hair (This is a warning), my limited ass vocabulary (It’s a warning), actual brain rot, no use of Y/N, check tags at the bottom
Word Count: 3.6k
A/N: This has been in the works for so long but I took so damn long to finish it. I would have never guessed that so many of yall would be so invested in this story and Bucky’s journey. This is not the last you will see of these two, don’t worry. I think we should give them each a nickname. Leave a comment on what each of their names should be. Legit just had them call each other baby this entire fic. If I end up giving them nicknames, I’ll go back and put them in for all their stories. Anyway, enjoy!
As you slowly open your eyes, feeling the warmth and comfort of Bucky's embrace, a sense of safety washes over you. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around you. As you turn to face him, you see that Bucky is already awake, his deep blue eyes gazing at you with adoration and love. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing, steady and soothing against your skin. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the love and contentment you feel in each other's arms
"Good morning," he whispers, his voice husky with sleep. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a gentle glow upon his face, accentuating the lines of worry etched there.
With a small smile, you shift closer to him, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "Good morning," you reply softly, tracing circles on his chest.
Bucky's fingers instinctively tighten around you, as if afraid to let go. "Last night... I didn't mean to let go like that" he admits shyly, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "I didn't know I was into that." Bucky felt embarrassed, not being used to letting go and having someone else take care of him. It was such a foreign feeling, yet he loved it, being able to trust someone completely, trusting you more than he does himself. Your heart swells at his vulnerability.
"Oh Bucky, it's okay. I liked it, I liked taking care of you. There's nothing to be ashamed about."
Bucky's eyes soften, relief flooding his features as he takes in your words. "You liked it?" he asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and hope.
A gentle nod escapes you, your fingers continuing their soothing motion on his chest. "Yes, Bucky. I enjoyed every moment of it," you reassure him, your voice filled with sincerity.
He exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "I've never let myself be vulnerable like that before," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of losing control."
A tender smile graces your lips as you cup his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "Bucky, being vulnerable doesn't mean losing control. It means trusting someone enough to let them in, to share yourself completely." Your words carry the weight of understanding and acceptance.
He gazes at you, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and hesitation. "I don't want to disappoint you, you know? You've been with experienced men before who knew how to pleasure you. I'm not sure if I can do the same for you." The poor thing was terrified of letting you down. He loves you so much, but what if he can’t please you? Would you leave him for someone better? How many people would even want to be with a man who knows almost nothing about pleasing a woman?
Your hand reaches out to cup Bucky's cheek, your thumb brushing across his rough stubble. His skin is warm and soft under your touch. As you sit up, your hand still resting on Bucky's chest, feeling the faster beat of his heart under your palm. His skin is warm and smooth against your fingertips, a reassuring and comforting touch.
"Last night you gave me the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced with a man. Those other men? They think that one trick that worked on one woman will work on every woman. But you, my love? You listened to me and my body, which is more than most men can say."
Your voice softens as you look into Bucky's eyes, seeing the raw emotion and vulnerability that lies within them. "Bucky, I don't want to give you the impression that you're not enough. You were amazing last night, and I’m glad that you trust me enough to share that part of yourself."
His eyes soften, a look of gratitude and relief washing over him. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "Thank you," he whispers, the words feeling like a heavy weight finally lifting off his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, and you can see a newfound confidence and determination in his eyes. "I want to learn, to be better for you. To make you feel the way you felt last night, every time."
A smile tug at the corner of your lips as you lean in to kiss him gently. "I believe in you, Bucky. And I know that you'll learn and grow, just like you did last night. And I’ll be right there to show you how." With a reassuring nod, Bucky pulls you into a deep and passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.
Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss, leaving behind a trail of electric energy on your lips. "I want to make love to you today," he whispers. "I want to give you everything I have, and show you just how much I care." Your heart swells with love for the man who would give you anything.
“Are you sure, Bucky? We don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable doing. I’m perfectly fine waiting for you, however long it takes.” You cup his face, staring into his eyes, seeing determination yet anxiety in his eyes. He wants to do this, have you be his first and only, he’s sure of it.
“Yes. I want more, I want everything with you. Last night, making you feel good, it sparked something in me. I want to do it again. Fuck, you looked so sexy when you came.” Just at the thought of the taste of your pussy and the image of you writhing on the bed in pleasure makes his cock throb, filling with blood. The feel of your naked breasts pressed against him is doing nothing to stop it either.
“If you’re sure, baby, we will. You want to follow my lead or experiment by yourself?” The thought of you trusting him enough to let him do whatever he wants to your body makes him whine, bucking his hip into your bare core, the boxers doing little to hinder the feeling on his sensitive dick.
“Want to follow you, please.” As you take the covers of the pair of you, Bucky’s eyes go right to your tits, hands moving on their own accord to cup them. You’re proud that he was comfortable enough to touch you without hesitancy.
You roll onto your back, Bucky following without a second thought, hands still on you, Bucky sits on his knees, admiring the view of your spread pussy. “I want you to finger me. You remember how, baby?” Of course Bucky remembers how, he remembers how much it made you moan and wiggle on the bed, how you were clenching on them when you came, how fucking tight you got. Bucky nods, right hand moving to your pussy. He needs to use his right hand, needs to feel how wet and tight you are.
Thumb moving to your slit, he gathers the wetness that has been pooling there since you felt his hard cock through his boxers and drags it up to your clit, rubbing it just the way you taught him, the small gasp that leaves your lips lets him know he’s doing it right. His eyes can’t leave your pussy, memorized by the wetness leaving it. He trails his middle and ring finger down and slowly enters you, cock somehow getting even harder at your feel.
His metal hand comes down to rub your clit as his fingers speed up, wanting you to cum so fucking bad. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so fucking well. Making me feel so good.” Bucky can feel his heavy balls pulling up, cum about to burst from his cock, hips thrusting in the air, meeting nothing. Heat creeps up his cheeks, he knows he’s going to cum before you without even touching anything. He wants so fucking bad to jerk his cock, coaxing his huge load out, but he can’t leave your pussy.
You clench tights around him, your orgasm building up as well. Bucky can’t handle it, the way your head hits the pillows, eyes closed in pleasure, moans getting higher in pitch. Within seconds, Bucky’s cock bursts, cum pouring from his tip, immediately soaking the front of his boxers, leaking down until it lands on the bed, his moans louder than yours. At the sound of his pleasure you cum, clit twitching under his fingers, waves upon waves passing through you.
As you come down from your orgasm, you realize that Bucky is still cumming. “Baby, why won’t it stoppp, fuckk, please, feels so fucking good, shitt, please.”At his words the last of him cum dribbles out. The sight of his flushed cheeks and the soaking wet boxers almost makes you cum again. Sitting up, you push Bucky off the bed until he stands, taking off his underwear and pulling him back onto the bed, laying him down.
“You still want to do anything else, baby?” You desperately want to have his cock inside of you, have him cumming that much in your pussy, letting it leak out all over his balls down to the bed, but if he doesn’t want to go any further you’ll stop, no questions asked.
“Oh fuck yes! Want you to ride me please.” The whole of his sentence comes out as a moan, cock still sensitive and hard, ready for you to take it however you please. Straddling him, you grab him lining him up with your pussy. You look at him and at his nod, you start to sit on him. As soon as the tip breaches you, he cums, and he cums hard. “OH SHIT! FUCK, YES! FUCK I’M CUMMING!” He’s practically screaming, but he can’t find it in himself to care, the most intense orgasm of his life coursing through him.
Hands flying to your hips, he pulls you all the way down, bucking into you with so much force you have to grab the headboard. “ OH FUCKING SHIT! DON’T FUCKING STOP! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” It’s not like you could even if you tried, only option to take his assault, and fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. Your moans almost match his in volume, pussy still trying to adjust to the size of him, balls slapping against your ass. After a few seconds, you already feel his cum being forced out of you to make room for his cock. His cum now all over both of your sexes, his balls, your ass, and the bed.
His orgasm lasts minutes, the amount of cum leaving his cock never slowing down, hips never stop slamming into yours. During his orgasm, you cum too, the sight was so hot you couldn’t help yourself. When your pussy was clenching around him so tight he somehow got louder. Eventually, he orgasm abated and his hips stopped, laying limb on the bed.
Shame washed over him, at how much he lost himself to his orgasm, how rough he was with you. “I’m so sorry, baby. Please tell me you’re okay. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
“Fuck, Bucky, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting you to be so turned on by his orgasm. His cock was still rock hard inside of you, giving you an idea. “What position do you want to do next?” Bucky almost cums again at those words, he knows what he wants, but is almost embarrassed to ask. However, his cock is thinking for him, washing away his inhibitions.
“Can you ride me?” You just smile and start to pick up your hips but he stops you. “From the back.” You throb at that. He wants to watch your ass bounce on him.
You pull off, hissing at the empty feeling and turn around. You grab his cum soaked balls and you feel them twitch in your palm. Pulling them up you turn your head to Bucky. “Do me a favor and close your legs for me.” He doesn’t ask a single question and does so immediately. You let his balls fall on top of his legs and put his cock right back in, not waiting a second to start bouncing, grinding your clit on his slick balls at the end of every bounce.
“Oh, fuck. How does your ass move like that, shit. Looks so sexy.” His hands ghost over your cheeks, not knowing what to do with the sight in front of him.
“Smack my ass, baby.” He groans, and lays a light slap to your right cheek. “Harder, Bucky. Leave your mark on me.” His Oh shit is ignored as he slaps you a little harder, still not hard enough, cock pulsing at the sight of your ass bouncing, feeling it move under his hands. “Don’t be a little pussy, baby. Give it a slap like a fucking man.” Maybe it was a little mean, but you needed to feel his hand coming down on you. His near constant moans get louder, clearing enjoying the degradation. The next slap is hard. “Yes, little harder, baby. Fuck! Just like that, keep going. Don’t stop, want your handprints all week.”
He keeps going, smacking you harder each time. His balls rubbing on your clit pull up and he cums once again. This time, though, he pulls out, jerking his cock, cumming all over your ass. “Fucking shit! Wanted me to mark your fucking ass? Well I’m fucking doing it. Cumming so much. Maybe I’ll just stick my dick in your ass and cum in there too.” You don’t know where that came from, but it makes you ride his balls faster, ass jiggling as he continues to cum on it. “That’s so fucking hot, keeping moving that fat ass on me.” You really don’t know where his dirty mouth is coming from but you don’t care because holy hell is it hot.
Seconds later, Bucky can’t take it anymore and shoves his cock back in your pussy, spreading his legs back out and planting them on the bed so he can fuck up into you. With your ass moving so much with his thrusts, his cum is going everywhere. Bucky lands a hard slap to your cheeks, smacking his cum into them, spreading it all around.
Just like before, he cums for minutes, cum flowing out of your pussy. The entire of both of your hips and your ass and the bed is completely drenched with his cum. When he’s done he pulls you off his cock and spins you around so you’re facing him again. “Baby, my cock is still so fucking hard, I don’t know what to do.” You coo at him, setting your hand against his cheek.
“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.” Instead of slipping his cock back into you, you grind against it, with every roll of your hips his sensitive tip rubs your clit. “Does this feel good, baby?”
“Uh huh, so good.” You see his adam's apple bob and his bottom lip wobble. The feral part of his brain that was fucking you earlier is gone, now your sweet boyfriend is left. He’s not even looking at the way his tip pops out between your folds, no, he’s staring right into your eyes. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, every part of your body touching his in some way.
You rest your forehead against his and meet his gaze, tears spilling over and running down the sides of his face. You gently wipe them away but they keep coming. One of his hands goes in between your bodies pushing his cock back inside its home, your warm walls enveloping every inch, both of you gasping. Bucky can’t decide if he wants to keep going or stop, a twinge of pain biting its way up his cock, but you just feel too good. He can’t leave your pussy, needing to cum one last time. The slow grind of your hips never speeds up, gently fucking him, no, making love to him.
Bucky tries to kiss you but the pleasure you’re giving leaves him putty in your hands. The kiss is sloppy and wet, but one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, feeling the words neither of you can get out at the moment. The hairs at the base of his cock rub your clit, building up your final orgasm, Bucky not long behind, trying to hold out for you.
“You’re okay, baby. Want you to cum for me, not far behind.” Any restraint left in Bucky’s body disappears, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cums for the last time.
“Fuckkk, baby, love you so much, please, I need you to cum for me. Need it so bad.” The slow roll of his tears before shifts to full on sobs, pleasure too much. You pull yourself off his cock, knowing that it’s now too much for him. “No, no, I need you to cum, please.” Your hand trails down your body, fingers rubbing your clit, the sight of you makes Bucky whine, and pull you down into a kiss, where you cum, moaning into his mouth.
You roll the both of you over, placing Bucky’s head on your chest, lightly scratching his scalp, tracing shapes on his back with your other hand. When his tears subside, Bucky is the first to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
You feel a lump form in your throat. Of course you would always take care of him. There is nothing that you wouldn’t do for him. “I love you so much, Bucky. I could never hurt you, only want to give you the best in life. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I could do.” Bucky doesn’t say anything after that, not knowing what to say, not being used to such unbridled love.
A few minutes pass before the amount of cum and sweat surrounding you gets uncomfortable. “Come on, baby, lets get cleaned up.” Bucky whines but complies anyway. “Get the shower started for me? I’ll change the bed.” He nods and heads to the shower. You work as fast as you can to get the sheets off and a fresh set on. Still naked you run to the washroom and throw the soiled sheets in the wash and start it before running back to the bathroom.
Bucky is waiting outside of the shower for you, eyes still red from crying, almost shying away from you. Grabbing his hand you lead him into the hot water. “You did so good for me, Bucky. Made me feel incredible. You know, if that was your first time, I’m going to need help from the gods to handle you when you practice more.” That gets a small smile from him. “Don’t get all bashful on me, big man, after you rocked my world back there.”
“Stop it, baby.” His words hold no heat to them, secretly loving your complements. “You did too, rocked my world, you know? Didn’t know it could feel that good. There isn’t anyone else I would rather do that with.” He’s going to make you cry one of these days, saying all this sweet shit to you, and you know he means every single word of it.
“Yeah? How do you feel? Feel okay? I know that was a lot for you.” He dips his head down when you reach for his shampoo, letting you wash his hair, then grabbing the soap and lathering the wash cloth, running it along his body. At the feeling of your soft hands on his body, taking care of him after he gave himself over to you, Bucky can’t respond, too caught up in your love. “Bucky?” Your hands stop, fearing the worst at his silence.
“Feel so good, baby. I…” Bucky chokes up, tears resurfacing. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. You pull him to you, hugging him until he stops. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just, you make me feel so safe, I can’t control myself, I just feel, you know?” You know because he makes you feel the same way.
“Yeah, I do, baby, I do.”
“Can I wash you?” After you took care of him, Bucky wants to do the same for you, never wanting you to feel like he was using you. You nod and Bucky takes extra care to get all of his cum off of you, cleaning you up just like you did to him. By the time you’re done in the shower, the water’s cold. Bucky takes a towel and wraps you up first. Before he can reach for his, you take it and dry him off.
“What do you want to do now? We can cuddle, get something to eat, watch a movie, whatever you want.” You know how important aftercare is, especially when Bucky was feeling so vulnerable after his first time.
“Can we just cuddle?” He looks almost scared to ask you for such a simple gesture.
“Of course we can.” Taking your hand, Bucky leads you to the bed, foregoing clothes. You pull the blankets up and let him rest his head on your chest, listening to the beat of your heart and steady breathing. Not too long after you hear his light snoring and know he’s asleep, you following soon after in the arms of the love of your life, excited to experience all of Bucky’s firsts with him, seeing him grow, not only in experience, but also confidence.
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#sebastian stan x reader#virgin!bucky#Virgin!bucky barnes#Omg this took me so fucking long to finish#thank you for the ask because it gave me the motivation to finish#Sorry to make you guys wait so damn long#Love you all#If you're still reading this drink some water
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ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫
rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.
he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.
he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.
when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.
he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.
as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.
of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.
as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.
ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.
i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon smut#aot onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon smut
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Hiii!!! so I just read your cheol fic when he was being a dick for his s/o caring (it hurts... it's the beginning of the title, sorry brain is fried from uni) I was wondering if we could get the in-between of the fight like in the practice room after s/o left and everyone was shocked. mingyu fought him?? like gotta know what happened, anyway sorry if this is too long
hope yoyr day, night, evening, morning, or whatever time it is for you is going well!! your writing is so captivating too btw
-Nabi
thank you so much for your request 💜 hope you enjoy this!
you can find part 1 here
HURTS SO BAD | PART 2 | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
summary | seungcheol’s pov from my previous fic
genre | angst
word count | 1k
pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader
“Fuck you, Seungcheol.”
Instantly, as these words escaped your mouth, he regretted every single thing he just said, praying that he could somehow turn back time. But there was nothing he could do now, the damage was done, and he simply watched you leave with a heartbroken expression.
He wanted nothing more than to crumble into a small ball and hide somewhere far from here.
Despite the music still playing from the speakers, the silence in the room was almost deafening. Seungcheol could feel the hard stares from the boys, as they tried to wrap their heads around what just happened.
“Did you actually lose your mind?” Jeonghan was the first to speak up. Seungcheol didn’t dare to look up and face the disappointed expressions of his friends.
“Never in all those years we have been together have you ever said anything so cruel, no matter how fuck up things were. And now you lash out at your, mind you, partner for being worried about you?” Jeonghan scoffed, clearly angry at his bandmate.
Seungcheol knew that there was nothing he could say or do to make this situation better, he only stood there with hunched shoulders and a tight throat.
“What has gotten into me,” he thought.
Yes, he was stressed as hell, and everything irritated him lately, but he swore he would never take his anxiety out on you. Well, until now.
The jacket you threw at him caught his attention, laying abandoned on the floor. Is this how you feel right now - left behind and neglected, by the person who was supposed to love you no matter what? He took a step to pick it up, still feeling the warmth of your body coming from it.
“I’m going to fix this,” Seungcheol said quietly, putting the fabric to his chest.
“Did I hear you right, hyung? You’re going to make it right?” laughed Mingyu, approaching the older one. “You just yelled at your partner and told them the worst things you could have ever possibly said. We can put up with your bitchy behavior, but that’s not an excuse to treat them like shit,” he said, clearly very agitated by the whole affair.
“Let it go Mingyu, he knows what he has done. It’s his problem now how he’s going to get out of this shit,” said Jihoon, putting an arm on the taller’s shoulder to calm him down.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change the fact that he just basically emotionally abused one of my best friends.”
“Hey, don’t you fucking dare saying I abused them in any way,” Seungcheol raised his voice at at younger boy, his emotions getting out of hand. “I know what I have done, and I’m going to make it right again,” he said, not exactly convinced himself.
“So what, you think you'll buy them flowers, pout and make puppy eyes, and they'll forgive you?” he scoffed and crossed his arms, making him look bigger than he already was.
“No, making puppy eyes is your thing, I’m not that cheap,” Seungcheol fired right back at him.
With each exchange between Seungcheol and Mingyu the tension only escalated, the atmosphere becoming charged with a mix of anger, frustration, and hurt. Their tones harsh and cutting, both of them tried to defend their position. Sadness, and disappointment were evident on their faces, further fueling the intensity of the situation.
“I messed up, alright? But you're acting like I hurt them on purpose-.”
“Well, to us it looked like you wanted to-.”
“Could you just stay the fuck away from my relationship and focus on your shitty love life?”
The rest of the boys, who were skeptically watching what was going on, knew this wouldn’t end well. Mingyu might have been passive most of the time, letting the others walk over him and still not batting an eye, but when it comes to his friends and their well being, he wouldn’t just stand around and watch.
Wonwoo who was standing by the mirrors slowly came up to Mingyu and patted his back.
“There is no use Mingoo, you’re not helping here,” he said sternly.
“Well, I have the right to be angry.”
“No one said you didn’t, but let’s not add more fuel to the fire, okay?”
Mingyu glared at Seungcheol for the final time, before turning around and walking out of the room.
“I’m going to check up on him,” said Mingaho.
As the tension evaporated the second Mingyu left, Seungcheol could feel his anger turn to sadness and powerlessness. Now not only has he hurt you, but also his friend, who was so dear to him.
Seungcheol felt trapped, not knowing what to do next and feeling extremely mentally and emotionally drained. He sighed deeply with a blank stare, drained from all of his usual energy.
With the silence still apparent, everyone parted ways to give Seungcheol some space. Only Jeonghan and Joshua stayed by his side, not knowing what to do.
“What am I supposed to do now?” asked the oldest, with a tired voice.
“We’re all here for you, Coups and you're not alone in this. Don’t worry about Mingyu for now, he’ll come around,” said Joshua. “Take a deep breath and try to think clearly about this.”
“It's just that everything seems to be going wrong, and I feel like I have no control over it.”
“We know, but you should have just talked to them. Why didn’t you do it? Why did it have to come to this Coups?” asked Jeonghan.
“I don’t know, I really don’t. I thought I was stronger than this, that it would pass and everything would be okay. I just didn’t want to be a burden to them.”
“Well that didn’t end up too well,” said Joshua, laughing at Seungcheol’s pouting face.
“Thank you for being here for me. I really need that right now.”
“Of course! That's what family is for. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re all so pissed at you right now,” said Jeonghan.
“Yeah, for a second there I thought Mingyu was going to punch me or something,” chuckled Sungcheol.
“I wish he did,” muttered Joshua, and walked away quickly before the oldest could respond.
“I’m going to make this right,” thought Seungcheol. “No matter what it takes.”
#seventeen#seventeen carat#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen kpop#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt fluff#svt reactions#seventeen reaction#svt mingyu#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt jeonghan#svt wonwoo#svt choi seungcheol#mingyu#woozi#svt fanfic#svtsource#svtdaily#wonwoo#choi seungcheol#svt seungcheol#seungcheol fluff#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol fanfic
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Solace
Pairing: KNJ x Reader
WC: 13.5k
Genre: Roommates2L
Rating: M (minors dni)
Warnings: Brief blood mention from a cut, mention of minor character death (sickness), fingering, hand job, big dick joon, belly bulge, unprotected sex, mentions of choking, creampie, dirty talk, inconsistent POV
Banner by @sugarwithtea
Beta’d by @yoongiobsessed and Sara (twitter link)
Summary: Namjoon thought getting used to a new roommate would take time and adaptation but you fit yourself into his apartment with ease. He swears he only landed in your bed to keep you safe in his arms when you get spooked by the storm. Surely he can blame the eventual lack of clothing on the summer’s heat stroke.
Author’s Note: This should have been written months ago. I don’t have an excuse. Oh well, it’s here now!
Part of the Room For Rent collab
There needs to be a word that describes the feeling of being happy for someone while simultaneously going through betrayal.
Namjoon is happy for Yoongi, of course he is, but watching him from across their kitchen table is sending an uncomfortable wave through him. He didn’t expect his oldest and closest friend to run from him, leave him in the dust, just straight up abandon him.
“Oh my God, you’re being dramatic. I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving to Gangnam. It’s just across the river! You and your freakishly thick thighs can bike to my new place in 20 minutes.”
Okay so perhaps he’s being a little dramatic but what else was he supposed to think? He and Yoongi had shared this apartment for years. There had been countless sleepless nights fueled by too much ramen, the living room littered with energy drinks as they bumped heads and helped each other brainstorm ideas for new beats. These walls hold melodies and memories, and he’s just expected to share them with someone else now?
“Plus, I told you you’re welcome to move in with Jin and I. His dad’s some CEO and the apartment is ridiculously lavish. There’s a room with your name on the door if you want it. I’m serious, Jin has this thing with plaques and has a name for every room, it’s honestly worrying. I won’t even tell you what he decided to name the master bedroom.”
Namjoon purses his lips at the thought. That was the main reason behind turning Yoongi’s offer down. He likes Jin and genuinely loves that he brings so much light into Yoongi’s naturally dreary life. Seeing Yoongi’s lips fight against a smile only to burst into the cheesiest, gummy grin while audibly groaning about his boyfriend’s terrible jokes brings a warmth to Namjoon’s chest every time. Yoongi deserves to be happy and he knows Jin is the best person for the job. But he knows full well the couple will christen every room of that apartment and he wants no part of it.
“I know,” he agrees, “But with the proximity to Yongsan park? I don’t know if I’ll ever leave this place.” The open fields just outside the doors of their apartment are the first solace he reaches for when the instrumentals in his brain just keep fighting each other, transforming into the screeching noise of the streets under his window. The trees don’t talk back but letting out his frustrations under the canopy of leaves feels like it helps anyway. “I guess I’ll have to try to pick up some extra freelance contracts to make up for having to pay the rent alone. I hate having to produce meaningless pop but it brings in decent cash when I’m in a tight spot,” he laments.
“Dude, I’m not heartless. I didn’t just decide to move out and leave you stranded. I have a friend from high school. I don’t see her often but she’s a good time and she’s looking to move out of her parents’ place now that she’s done with her degree. It’ll be easier to find work in the city. I’ve mentioned her. Y/N? I go out to dinner with her every couple months to make sure we keep in touch. She’s pretty shy and she’s quiet, you’ll barely notice she’s here.”
There’s a wave of relief that comes with knowing he won’t have to pinch pennies but it quickly turns frigid at the realization that he’ll have to live with a stranger. What if she was a morning person? What if she was a smoker and made the whole apartment fill with the lingering acrid smell? What if she killed his plants?
“I can see your brain working overtime. Breathe, I wouldn’t offer the place to someone I know doesn’t fit your vibe,” Yoongi reassures. I guess there’s not much else to do but wait and see how compatible your living situations are.
Thankfully their own music equipment had been bought separately because they’ve been bickering all day when Yoongi tries to put something in a box from their shared spaces only to have Namjoon object.
“What are you going to do with a wok, Joon? YOU DON’T COOK!”
“Jin has a plethora of different ones in his kitchen and we both know it! Maybe your friend likes to cook, huh? Maybe she’ll want the wok to make meals.”
“Make you meals, you mean?” Okay so maybe he was hoping the new roommate situation came with food because losing both Yoongi and Jin’s cooking overnight was going to hit him hard. He’ll wither away into a string bean at this rate seeing as he’s not allowed near the knives nor the stove.
Yoongi must take pity in the pleading look in his eyes because he puts down the wok with a sigh and passes to the next cupboard. Namjoon is distracted by Jin’s entrance, always loud and boisterous.
“Hey! How is packing going? I just parked the moving van downstairs but I don’t know how long I’m allowed to be there.”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi shouts from across the apartment. “I’d be done already if Joon didn’t try to steal all my shit and force me to leave them here.” He’s zooming past him, bony shoulder purposefully digging into Joon’s bicep.
“I’m monitoring the fair share of roommate assets,” he huffs. “Jin’s apartment has more shit in it than he already needs. You’re leaving me alone with only memories that you once cared for me. The least you could do is not leave with half of what’s in this measly dwelling when your sugar daddy’s got you up in a penthouse.”
They both know the jabs are jokes. Jin has more money than anyone needs, but he’s also a hard worker and spent his youth learning how to take over the business from his father when the time comes. He’d swept Yoongi off his feet with expensive dinners and outrageous gifts when they were first dating, only knowing how to flaunt his money for attention before Yoongi set him straight and taught him that he’d have to put more thought into his courting if he expected him to stick around. Clearly, he did.
Reminiscing about his, nearly ex, roommate almost distracts him enough to miss Yoongi trying to sneak a thin square package into his last remaining box.
“You’re going to take that vinyl out of here over my dead body, Yoongi!” The apartment echoes the lament in surround sound.
They do eventually make it to the van parked downstairs after Yoongi finishes taping up his boxes with only a limited amount of protest from Namjoon.. The air is humid, clothes sticking to Namjoon’s skin as he chases after the wind from Yoongi’s open window like a dog on his first car ride. Jin’s apartment building is a stark opposite from their, his, own. Whereas the outside of his building is all grey concrete walls, Jin’s is all sleek glass of floor-to-ceiling windows causing the brightness of the sun to reflect off and into Namjoon’s eyes as he looks up to the top where his friend will now be living.
The air conditioning of the lobby hits full force, the trio letting out a pleasant hum which quickly turns into a deep groan when they see the elevator boasting an out of order sign. Two pairs of sharp eyes round on Jin, malice dripping from furrowed brows.
“I swear it was working when I left this morning. They must be using all the power to keep each unit’s AC going through the heat wave. The stairs are this way.” He points to a corner of the lobby, tight corridor leading to a single door.
“The stairs? You live in the penthouse, that’s FIFTEEN flights, babe.” Yoongi is quick to point out.
“Are you trusting enough to keep all your music equipment in the van for who knows how long this heat is going to last? I know you’re going to complain about all the moisture in the air messing with your delicate settings.” Namjoon knows he’s got him there. Yoongi would suffer through a natural disaster if it meant keeping his equipment safe and at peak performance.
“You’re right,” Yoongi sighs dejectedly, head thrown backwards. “But I won’t be any help bringing the gear up. You see these legs? They’ll snap like toothpicks if I try to bring them up. Guess Biceps and Shoulders need to do all the heavy lifting.” There’s an airy lilt to his voice when he figures he’s saved himself from the worst bit.
“Doubt they’ll stay that small seeing how many times you’ll be going up and down those stairs to bring up all the light boxes while we deal with the heavy stuff. You’ll have lungs of steel with all that cardio, buddy. I’m sure Jin will appreciate how long he can hold his dick in your throat without you needing to breathe after that.” Namjoon sends him a salacious wink.
Yoongi’s face, which had been a flushed shade of pink from the heat, drains immediately when he realizes the position he’s put himself in but Namjoon doesn’t let him change his mind. He just claps a hand on his shoulder and turns around to get to the van and pick up the first console they’ll need to bring up to Yoongi’s new designated studio space.
Namjoon regrets showing Friends to Jin after today. If he has to hear ‘PIVOT’ one more forsaken time he might choke that windshield wiper laugh right out his friend’s throat. His whole body is aching when he sets his ass down on Jin’s plush couch, finally tasting a bite of heaven after all those steps but it can’t be savored long.
“Get up.” Yoongi’s voice breaks through his needed rest. “The elevator mishap made us take way longer than planned and we’re already late to pick up Y/N.” If anyone sees him fighting back tears that’s none of their business.
The drive out to the suburbs of Seoul is peaceful, the population seems to have holed up inside and away from the sun’s rays. They pull up to a nice two-story home. Namjoon can’t see much into the property since it’s surrounded by tall brick walls, but it’s unnecessary as he can see the silhouette of a young woman waiting outside the gate, piles of boxes at her feet.
They all pour out of the truck, Yoongi darts out first to meet her halfway where she throws herself in his arms. There’s a lot of squealing and Namjoon isn’t sure from who it’s coming out of in the mess of limbs. They separate and approach where he and Jin had waited by the vehicle.
“I’m Y/N, you must be Jin!” There’s a hand out ready to be shaken but it’s presented in front of the wrong man.
“Actually, Jin is this one,” Yoongi corrects, taking your wrist and moving it to the correct person.
“Oh my God, that’s embarrassing. I just figured it was the big one. I’ve heard about your muscle kink enough once you figured out you were into men that I just-- You know what? I’m going to shut up now. Hi, sorry about that. Nice to meet you.” There’s a nervous giggle in between words that’s instantly endearing.
Jin doesn’t seem offended, laughing alongside her. “No worries, he’s plenty satisfied without the beefiness of his teenage crushes.” He wiggles his eyebrows comically which has her chuckling and Yoongi whining.
“This is Namjoon, your new roommate. Joon, this is Y/N.” It’s his turn to shake hands, your fingers so thin and delicate around his much bigger grasp. He takes the time to really take you in, looking down at you; wide grin and smooth skin that spans from your neck down into your… Nope, face!
“You have a nice face.” For a lyricist he sure did have a way with words.
“Thank you?” Your eyes trail to the side where Yoongi stands, eyes deadpan and mouth shut tight.
“He grows on you, I swear. Get in the car, we’ll grab your boxes.” Yoongi says as he passes in front of you with an icy stare towards Namjoon. Okay, so he could have made a better first impression.
You don’t have many boxes which makes sense. The apartment is furnished and Yoongi had left his bedroom set for you since he wouldn’t need it at Jin’s. He remembers leaving his parent’s house with barely anything. It had taken a while for Yoongi and him to make the apartment seem like people actually lived in it. They’d spent far too long eating cup noodles while sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen.
Jin takes his place behind the wheel, Yoongi slipping in beside him in the passenger seat. The earlier ride in the backseat wasn’t so bad for Namjoon since he could sit crookedly to fit his long legs behind the couple’s seats in front of him but your presence beside him forces his knees to hit the back of Yoongi’s seat.
“Can you push your seat up a bit? Your little legs don’t need that much space,” Namjoon shoots ahead of him.
“And just for that comment your giant ass and long limbs can suck it up. Respect your elders, brat,” Yoongi snaps back. Maybe he deserved that one.
He sends you a sheepish look and an awkward smile as he spreads open his thighs lewdly. His knee hits yours despite you sticking your legs together demurely, hands politely sitting in your lap. The touch attracts your gaze and Namjoon can track your eyes as they drag up the bare skin of his quad, past the hem where the material of his shorts dig into his thighs, and settles just a little too long where both his legs meet. He can practically feel your stare burning a hole into his groin, a heat expanding through his body.
He doesn’t even realize when he lets out an uneasy cough and you’re quick to look away with a start when you hear it; clearly having been caught in your little perversion. The flush that builds on your cheeks is shameful enough that he doesn’t mention anything more, only locking away the memory of you blushing and embarrassed for later.
Namjoon is thankful that with four pairs of arms there won’t be a need to do multiple trips for your boxes. Jin sends you and Yoongi off with a box each but loads Namjoon’s arms with three; enough to block his view so he has to peek around them to see where he’s going. There might not be many boxes but the ones he’s been given are heavy enough to make his arms shake underneath their weight. He’s absolutely going to blame that on having had to haul all of Yoongi’s belongings during the day and definitely not on the fact he’s weak. He goes to the gym regularly!
“Thanks for helping! Just leave them by the door, I’ll take care of unloading everything,” you call from across the apartment. Yoongi must be giving you a tour of the place.
Namjoon kicks off his shoes and crashes head first into the couch, his big body halfway dropping off of it. All his muscles ache and he’s sticky with sweat. His lids close, reaching for some rest. His stomach rumbles, the memory of breakfast fading. There’s soft footsteps sneaking up on him. He’s trained himself enough to catch Yoongi coming. He’s broken enough things when his roommate suddenly appeared by his side and gave him a spook.
“Don’t think I’m an idiot, Joon. I could see the way you looked at her. I’m only going to say this once, don’t fuck my friend.” His voice is almost sinister as it whispers in his ear. Namjoon’s eyes quickly open wide. He wasn’t looking at you in any sort of way and he was about to defend himself, mouth open with a denial on his tongue. He doesn’t have the chance since you pop around the corner, seeing them both with their heads too close to each other, Yoongi’s glare facing Namjoon’s incredulous look.
“Everything good here?” you ask.
Yoongi’s expression shifts, gummy smile on full display but Namjoon still sees the daggers in his eyes. “Yep, I was just saying bye to Joon. Jin’s already back at the van and we need to get it back to the vendor. Text me if you need anything Y/N. And Joon? Remember what I said.” He and Jin take their leave, surely to start desecrating their new shared space.
“Okay? Is it just me or was he being weird?” You look back at Namjoon but there’s only a shrug of his shoulders as your reply. “Alright, well I’m going to start unpacking then.” You’re just about to turn tail when you can hear the growl coming from Namjoon again. “Ah, you must be hungry, you’ve been going around the city all day. Is there anything already in the kitchen?”
“No, we went through all of it when Yoongi and Jin decided to have a goodbye dinner this week. You get started on unpacking and I’ll run down to the store for some stuff. I think we’re both too tired to do much effort but I can grab ingredients for some decent ramen.” Namjoon slips his shoes back on and running out the door as soon as he finishes speaking.
Luckily, there’s a small family owned market just down the street from the apartment. Mrs. Park is going to be sad to hear that her ‘little dumpling’, as she called Yoongi, won’t be visiting her anymore. She’s mostly used to seeing Namjoon anyway. Yoongi may have been the one cooking but Joon was always the one sent off on errands for any ingredients that were missing midway through the meal preparation.
The bell chimes above him when he walks into the little shop. Mrs. Park doesn’t even look up from her newspaper, head staring firmly into her lap. There’s a low buzz emitting from the artificial lights mixing with the music that’s playing in the shop, something Namjoon doesn’t know, a beat that hasn’t been popular in half a century.
The aisles are familiar and he grabs the ingredients absentmindedly, throwing things in the handheld basket hooked onto the crook of his arm. Green onions from the produce section, a carton of eggs and a hunk of cheese from the dairy section, and spam from the canned goods area.
Mrs. Park finally lifts her eyes from whatever news story that had her attention and gives him a warm smile that reaches her eyes. He should give his grandma a call. A smooth wrinkled hand grabs his groceries one by one, slowly bringing them closer for inspection. Her frail finger punches into the keys of the register.
His eyes wander while his items disappear from the counter and into a bag beneath the surface. The sky has turned a slate grey from an overbearing cloud covering the sun, bringing the vibrance of outside down to a dull.
Against the window is a shelf filled with flowers. Namjoon has often seen people grabbing a bouquet as they wait for their total. He remembers a man with a tie midway undone, suit jacket flapping behind him as he rushed out frantically. A forgotten anniversary he suspected. Just last week, there was a small child tugging at his father’s sleeve, pointing at a particularly bright blossom and requesting to bring it home to his mother. The memory brings a small smile to his lips.
He doesn’t contemplate long before reaching for a lonely white rose in a near empty bucket. He remembers certain symbolism from the time he read The Language of Flowers. Purity, innocence, a new beginning, and reverence. He thinks he catches a mischievous glint in Mrs. Park’s eye as she hands him the bag of groceries in one hand while the rose remains in his other.
The universe allows him only long enough to step out of the shop before the skies open up with a loud clap and water erupts in a downpour. Shock overtakes him and he freezes on the spot as he lets the fat water droplets sink into the fabric of his clothes. The cold immediately seepsinto his skin and settles in his bones, eyes shut tight and mouth open.
The loud rumble of distant thunder urges him to start moving. The plastic of the bag is slippery in his grasp and there’s a stinging pain in his palm from where the rose’s thorns dig in. There’s an uncomfortable squeak from the leather of his sandals with every heavy step he takes. As he sprints the few blocks back to the apartment, the loud slap slap slap of his foot hitting the pavement.
The door of the apartment slams into the wall as Namjoon rushes to get inside, the doorknob undoubtedly leaving a mark from the force at which Namjoon has opened it to throw himself inside.
“Namjoon? Is everything okay?” you call from the living room. “I’m sorry for the mess, I’m trying to fit in my own books across your collection. I don’t want to mess up the system you’ve got going on.”
“Yeah, all good, just wasn’t paying attention,” he reassures.
Your head pops out from the hallway to take inventory of the situation yourself, not quite trusting the waver in his voice. “Oh god, it started raining? I was so in my bubble that I didn’t even notice. You’re soaked! Let me grab you a towel.” You’re off to the bathroom before he can even thank you, already back to exchange the flower still in his grasp for the towel you hand him.
“I hope it didn’t take a beating on my way back over here,” he says, worry tainting the edge of his voice.
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you. Do you know if you have any vases?”
“I’m sure Yoongi’s left some in the kitchen. Jin had a habit of getting him a new bouquet every month. Don’t tell Yoongi I said this but he’d blush every time despite all the grumbling he did about it. Happened every month for two years, like clockwork,” he teases.
“That sounds about right. Yoongi will never admit it but I know how much praise and appreciation means to him. I’m glad Jin gives him that. I’ll go find it.” You’re turning tail and heading into the kitchen in search of the vase.
He pats himself dry enough so that he’s no longer dripping on the floor before he follows you in. You’re in front of an open cabinet, head tilted back to look at the top shelf of it. Your hand is stretched to its capacity, boosted by the tip of your toes, one knee nearly hiking onto the countertop to give yourself enough reach.
He truly only means to help when he sneaks in behind you to grab at the vase. He doesn’t expect to catch you off guard, sending you backwards and off balance with a squeak. His grasp abandons its path towards the top shelf and instead redirects to land on your hips, pinning you against his chest.
You’re taken by surprise at the strong hands grabbing onto your side, a hard wall of muscle at your back, heat radiating from his skin, his wet clothes dampening yours.
“Are you okay?” he asks, breath just a little too close to your ear.
There’s a hitch in your voice when you reply hastily, “Mhm! All good. I’ll let you get that actually. I’m going to change. My clothes are gross from today. You should too, you’re going to catch a chill if you stay in those wet clothes. Your shirt’s so soaked I can see right through it. Not that I was looking! I’ll just- right.”
You’re running off before he can articulate a thought, the door of your room slamming shut behind you. He’s nearly certain he can hear an embarrassed groan through the wall despite that. He does get the vase down and fills it with water, dropping the rose into it before he slips into his room as well.
The rain will be good for the heat in the long run but as it stands it just permeates the apartment with heavy humidity. He grabs a pair of comfortable shorts and a tank top to change into. He passes next to your room on his way to the bathroom. He takes the time to stop and knock at your door.
“Y/N? Do you need to use the bathroom? I’m going to jump in the shower really quick.”
“Go ahead! I’ll take one after dinner.”
His clumsy fingers struggle with the lock behind him, clothes falling onto the floor. The bluetooth speaker that has a permanent residence in the bathroom is turned on, a playlist going at random. He makes sure to adjust the temperature of the water, slightly colder than he usually would. It’s absolutely to combat the heat and definitely not the memory of your body pressed against his in the kitchen; soft under his hands and plump against where his crotch pushed in under the curve of your ass.
Oh god, focus on something else. Listen to the music. The beat is uplifting and he finds himself singing along to the lyrics. A popular song from a girl group member. He recalls Yoongi mentioning he’s worked on something similar.
He lets the tepid water run down his body, hands quick and rough where he scrubs the soap into his skin, not letting them stay in one spot too long to melt into the feeling. Yep, he definitely needs to have it colder. It’s near shivering levels of frigid when he ducks his head under the stream to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.
He’s nearly forgotten about the shape of your body against him, mind preoccupied with the soprano of the singer in his ears. Pop pop, pop, you want it. His body responds as if with muscle memory from seeing this song trend with its choreo everywhere online. His hands take turns pointing at an open hand and back again, fists then popping as if miming fireworks going down a zig zag pattern.
The haunting thoughts of the kitchen eventually disperse enough for him to exit the stream of water and change into the clean, dry clothes. You’re already in the kitchen humming to yourself once he leaves the room followed by a puff of steam.
“Do you need me to help with anything?” he proposes.
“Yeah, that’d be great. Can you slice up the spam and drop the eggs into the water? There’s a pot already boiling.” Put eggs in water and cut up some meat. Sure, he can do that.
The eggs may have cracked a little when he quite literally dropped them into the pot but that’s fine. A little hard boiled never hurt anyone. He swears he’s extra careful when you hand him a knife and let him stand in front of the cutting board. Just going to very daintily hold down the spam and slowly bring the knife down-
“You’re holding it upside down. Sharp edge towards the bottom and make sure you curl your knuckles in so you don’t nick yourself.” Right, of course, he knew the knife was upside down. Just making sure you did, hah.
He manages to make some slightly uneven slices until about halfway through the block but eventually there’s just not enough space for his big sausage fingers to hold on and the knife just slips…right into his palm.
“Ah, shit!” He jumps back, letting the knife clatter to the floor. His uninjured hand keeps the pressure onto the wound as small river of red runs between his fingers. He’s taken by surprise and lets himself be manhandled to the sink before his wounded hand is pushed under the cold, running water.
“I should have figured why Yoongi was so ominously telling me where the first aid kit was in the kitchen. And why he asked how often I cooked at home.” There’s shuffling behind him and a small hand sneaking its way between his body and the sink.
“Take it out, I’ll pat it dry and put a bandage on.” He’s careful to keep his hand stable as your delicate fingers patch him up. A soft pressure with a gauze and a more instant one for the wrap that goes around his palm.
“My friend JK is going to think I took up boxing and ask me to go to the gym with him if he sees this.” He tries to laugh it off, bringing humor into his near amputation.
“I don’t think you need any incentive to go to the gym.” Your eyes are trailing up his arm, stopping at his bicep and following all the way to the middle of his chest. The flex he pushes is completely accidental and was absolutely not to show off the progress he’s been building.
“I take care of myself, I guess.”
“Right.” There’s a small laugh in your voice. “Go take care of yourself, away from the kitchen. I’ll handle the rest.”
He lets himself be shooed out of the hot space, out into the living room where he sees your earlier comment about a mess. There’s books all over the floor in little towers looking for a home on his already overly compacted bookshelf. He picks a few of his bigger tomes to rehouse to his room which allows space for yours to make themselves at home.
He doesn’t notice how long he’s been calculating which books need to be relocated until he hears the clatter of bowls hitting the coffee table behind him.
“I figured we could eat in here today, more casual and all. Thank you for helping me make sense of where to put my stuff. I didn’t want to impose.”
“This is your home too now, you deserve to have space for your things. Yoongi wasn’t much of a reader. Thank you for dinner. I’m afraid you’re going to be in charge of feeding me a lot. I can always just order in but Yoongi was always on my ass for spending money on takeout.” He has the humility to look ashamed at his incapacity to nurture himself.
“No worries, it was kind of implied when he told me to take his spot. I like cooking, so I don’t mind, really. Tell me more about yourself though, I only know what Yoongi’s told me which is pretty much only that you produce music like he does. You’ve got an eye for art from what I can see of the prints on the walls.”
“Ah, actually those are all mine,” he blushes and points to a camera that takes a place on one of the higher shelves. “I like biking around and I figured it was a shame to see all the pretty landscapes without getting to commemorate them properly so I got into photography. I’m not a professional or anything but I enjoy it. I’m actually going to Comic Con this weekend with a group of my friends. They’re cosplaying and they wanted someone around to take pictures of them in costume. JK's actually got a pretty great Spiderman thing going on and it works for him with all the, you know, muscles and spandex.” He’s gesturing a little wildly over his body, as if you’re familiar with Jungkook’s physique.
“I don’t but I can imagine.” Your eyes are following where his hands had gestured over him, gaze roaming over the muscles he’s boasting himself. “You don’t happen to have any spandex hiding in your closet yourself?”
“Nothing like him, riding shorts for when I take particularly long bike rides. I don’t tend to favor it, they really ride up.” His sentence ends in an uncomfortable chuckle and he avoids your view, completely missing how your eyes have started to glaze over.
The small talk fades after that, replaced with the sound of chopsticks hitting the edge of bowls and the occasional slurps. You hold your chopsticks loosely between bites, your phone in your spare hand just mindlessly scrolling.
There’s a familiar tune coming softly from your direction, a low hum of a melody that triggers Namjoon’s receptors. He can place it pretty quickly, pop pop pop uh uh.
His hands take on a mind of their own. He doesn’t stop chewing as his fists go through the movement. Open palm, point, switch, zigzag.
He wouldn’t have even not realized what he was doing if a little giggle hadn’t interrupted the flow of the song. He freezes, eyes widening. It’s a slow pan of his eyes to look into his peripheral, as if not moving his head would somehow render him invisible and able to melt away from the embarrassing situation he’s caught himself in.
You’re doing your best to hold it in, lips nearly completely sucked into your mouth, teeth forcing them closed. He appreciates the effort but he can admit the jig is up. He picks his chopsticks back up with a little cough, gathering his bearings.
“It’s a catchy song,” he defends.
“Oh absolutely, it gets stuck in your head so easily. Even when hearing it off key and through the rush of running water,” you tease.
He pretends to be offended by that. “I’m a producer! I’ll have you know I have great pitch.”
“Of course, someone should tell Nayeon that she’s in the wrong key then. How embarrassing for her to be performing it that way.”
You both dissolve into laughter after that. The silence that follows feels a lot lighter than it previously had been and he breathes a little easier.
“Leave your dishes in the sink, I’ll take care of it in exchange for the cooking labour. I rarely break things anymore. Even if Yoongi won’t let me forget about his favorite mug. I still insist that the shape wasn’t ergonomic and that’s why it slipped out of my hand. He was so mad he refused to drink any coffee that day and knowing Yoongi you know how that was more a punishment for me than it was for himself,” he shares the memory of how grumpy Yoongi had been that day. They must have restarted the same beat half a dozen times. Suffice to say it wasn’t a very productive day and Namjoon owed him a new mug of his choosing.
Your first night together was fruitful. You’ve managed to unpack and meld your belongings with his, have dinner - where he didn’t kill himself in the kitchen - and bond over some banter. You’ve practically ingrained yourself in his life already and Namjoon isn’t sure if that’s good or a little terrifying. He’s not the type to usually feel comfortable with a stranger so quickly. He’s glad Yoongi had you take his place, he doubts it would have been this pleasurable if he had had to place an ad online.
There’s a ghost of a smile stuck on his face when he closes the door to his bedroom. Being alone in his room brings forth the thoughts he’d pushed aside back to the forefront. His computer monitor lights up the space, calling him back. The mixing board on his desk blares a signal he can’t ignore. He has a project to finish and the deadline is knocking at his door incessantly. He sits in his chair with a sigh and slips his headphones over his ears, blocking out the loud patter of raindrops on his window.
He awakes with a start. His back is sore and his skin is damp with sweat. He’s too old to be falling asleep on his desk like this, he’s going to feel it in the morning. The room is pitch black around him. A quick jiggle of the mouse tells him the computer is dead and there’s a hint of panic at the thought of having lost his work. Rationale takes over to remind him that it automatically gets stored on the cloud at consistent intervals. They’ve learned their lesson too many times before implementing that.
There’s an odd irritation at the back of his mind and he realizes the thrum of the AC is missing. Ah, no power. The storm must have knocked it out. His muscles scream from the stretch and there’s more than a few uncomfortable cracks when he gets up and extends his arms above his head. He slips out of his clothes in hopes that more skin in contact with any air might help him cool down. Besides, he always sleeps in his boxers anyway. The air has dried up his throat and he can feel his body begging for water. He grabs the latest water bottle to litter his desk, tips it all the way upside down but not a drop comes.
He hopes he can traverse the apartment to the kitchen silently. Between his heavy footsteps and the stubborn squeaky floorboard outside his bedroom he’s worried about waking you. He sends a silent prayer into the universe that you’re a deep sleeper.
He does hit the floorboard, sending a creek into the night and he freezes for a second but no angry outbursts come from your room to scold him. He’s slowly taking a step in front of the other, carefully moving his weight from one foot to the next, the little smack of his sole hitting the wooden floor melding into the sounds of the rain still pouring outside.
The pressure from the faucet sends the water stream beating onto the metal of the sink and he hopes the curse he lets out fades into the night. He downs two whole glasses before he feels sated and prepares for the slow trek back to his room.
He’s just outside your door when the apartment flashes as lightning touches down in the distance. Namjoon stops moving as the roll of thunder comes quickly behind, nearly covering the strangled gasp from the other side of the door.
“Y/N? Are you okay in there?" The door to Yoongi’s room always had trouble latching since Namjoon drunkenly threw himself into the frame thinking he was heading into his own bed one night.
There’s a small crack where he can press his ear to. He holds his breath, straining to hear above the rattle of the heavy rain against the windows. For a second he believes he must’ve imagined it, or perhaps you’d shifted in your sleep.
He has one foot in the air, prepared to shuffle back to his own room when he hears it again. A choked sob hidden between the pitter patter of drops slamming against the glass.
He’s more insistent this time when he calls your name and pairs it with a soft knock against the wood of your door.
The noise seems to give you a spook because he swears you let out a high pitched ‘EEK’ in your surprise. There’s no additional verbal answer so he takes his chances on turning the knob and poking his head inside.
“Y/N? It’s okay, it’s just me. It’s Namjoon,” he reassures.
He can’t see a thing, the room is pure darkness. The streetlights outside have gone down with the rest of the power grid so he can’t tell if you’re hurt or might need help.
“Joonie?” There’s a soft voice coming from where he knows the bed is, muffled and timid.
“Yeah, can I come in?” he asks.
“Yeah,” comes an answer, meek and nearly whispered.
He hadn’t come into this room since you unpacked so he’s careful to take small, careful steps towards the bed, nearly bent in half with his arms out to feel for any furniture you might have moved into the path. He taps the bed tentatively when he finally reaches it, feeling long limbs under his palm.
He shyly takes his hands off you and makes his way towards the headboard, knees hitting the edge of the mattress as guidance. He reaches out again, expecting to find you but he only feels more blanket covered lumps.
“Are you hiding under the blanket?”
No words come but the hard shape under his palm moves in a nodding motion. He sinks down, kneeling onto the floor a little harder than he expected. Difficult to judge distance in the darkness.
“Can I pull the comforter down? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
The fabric moves under his touch until the feeling of goose down turns into silky hair. He moves his fingers down, grazing your ears until they reach your cheeks, damp and hot against his skin.
“Are you crying? What’s going on? Is moving away from home for the first time getting to you?” It definitely had for him at first. He’d go back to his parents’ house every night to have his mother’s cooking for dinner and only started spending the evenings at the apartment after his younger sister had mocked him about not being able to stay too far from his mother’s comfort.
You let out a shamed whine below him. “No…” He stays silent, waiting to see if you’ll share more. “The thunder woke me up and then I tried to turn on the light but it wouldn’t work. And-”
Lightning interrupts you and as the room flashes in sudden light Namjoon sees your face for an instant. Your eyes are wide, laced with red from the tears but one thing he can tell for sure is that in that second- you’re absolutely terrified.
Your breath gets shaky and there’s a twitch in your hands where he can tell you struggle not to throw the blanket back over your head to escape.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re afraid of the storm, I get it.” His grip on you tightens when he feels you tremble as the thunder rolls behind.
“You can say it. It’s stupid to be scared of storms. I’m just a big weenie.”
“I’d never call you a weenie, Y/N. You know, my friend JK is afraid of microwaves. Runs out of the kitchen and hides across his apartment every time he needs to heat something up. He’s convinced they’re going to blow up and take him with them in the blast.”
You snort, which is followed by a loud slap of skin on skin that he can only assume is you covering your mouth in response to the noise that just escaped. He’s huffing out his own chuckle in response. Adorable.
“Okay, so what are you afraid of then Mr. Tough Guy?” You’re more combative now. He’ll take that over the fearful demeanor you had a minute ago.
“Me? Hmm, I don’t think there’s anything too unusual. I’m not super fond of spiders, I suppose?”
“Spiders? But Yoongi told me you’re obsessed with crabs. They’re basically water spiders. They walk similarly and they’ve even got more legs!” Oh, you’re heated now but you’ve hit him where it hurts.
“How dare you!” The offended gasp he lets out overtakes the drone of rain coming from outside. “Crabs are cute little friends. I have half a mind to walk out and leave you alone in this storm after that.” He fakes getting up but a small hand digs into the flesh of his bicep.
“Don’t! Please. I’m sorry, crabs are adorable, you’re right. I was just kidding. Don’t leave.” He can hear the fear engulfing your voice in your plea.
“No, no, it’s okay. I was just joking. I’ll stay as long as you need.” He didn’t mean to trigger your panic again, especially since he had just gotten you to calm down a bit.
“You might be here a while then, it doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.”
“No worries. Let me just get off my knees. I won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I spend all night bent like this.” He makes to switch to sitting on the floor but you stop him.
“Do you… uhm, want to lay on the bed? There’s more than enough room for two. I’m not like Rose, that bitch.”
“Are you sure? I can sit here, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You’d known each other barely 12 hours. He didn’t want to appear pushy in your vulnerable state. He’s enough of a gentleman to know to make space for the women in his life to ease themselves into his presence in a manner where they feel safe.
“Don’t worry. Yoongi told me enough about you for me to know you’re the least scary man on this planet. Only way you’d hurt me is if you fell on top of me, which I’ve been warned may happen more than I expect so be careful climbing in.” He feels you scooch over to the other side of the bed, leaving a wide open space for him to settle into.
There’s still some hesitation that weighs heavily in his limbs but when he sees how your body jumps when another bolt touches down and illuminates the room his resistance melts away. His movements are slow as he eases himself onto the mattress.
“Do you have enough space?” you ask.
If he’s being honest he’s certain half his body is teetering off the edge but he’s more concerned about overcrowding you. “I’m fine, don’t worry. You should try to sleep, you had a long day.”
You’re answering with a half hearted mumble and the room is overtaken with the battering of rain on the windows. Namjoon stays alert, hoping to feel your breathing even out to indicate that sleep has claimed you but it never comes.
“Are you still awake?” Your voice is barely a whisper and if he wasn’t specifically keeping an ear out, he would’ve missed it completely.
He turns onto his side, body now settled fully onto the bed with no risk of suddenly tumbling out with a wrong move. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Can we just talk for a bit? I think that’ll help me calm down.”
“Of course, as long as you don’t insult my little crustacean friends again.”
“Were you one of those kids that would do that shark chant? ‘Fish are friends, not food.’”
“Nah, Pixar and Bruce are wrong for that. Fish are food, crabs are friends.”
“You’ll have to give me a history lesson as to why kiddie Joonie came to that conclusion if Nemo wasn’t the inspiration.” There it is again, Joonie. Namjoon huffs out a little chuckle at hearing it, letting the nickname slip under it.
“Oh,” you gasp. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked before calling you that. Do you not like it? I’ll stick to your name. Or should I be using honorifics, oppa?”
Oh, he’ll have to unpack how his stomach flips with that last part but now isn’t the time for sudden self discoveries.
“No, no! Don’t worry, it’s cute. I just wasn’t expecting it. My friends usually stick to just Joon but you can get special roomie privileges.”
“I fear you’ll one day regret that. I’m going to be so annoying from now on.” He can hear how your words are blanketed in a mischievous teasing, and he believes you but won’t admit defeat that easily.
“You’ll have to give Tae a run for his money. If he pairs up with Jimin then they’re insufferable. Hobi is a saint for having them both under the same roof with him. You don’t know the guys yet but you’ll figure it out soon enough.”
It’s easy to imagine you already melding into his little group of misfits. He thinks back to dinner when you’d teased him about listening to that ‘girly’ song, and he knows he’ll soon be babysitting four wiley dongsaengs instead of three. Sometimes five when Jungkook manages to set Seokjin off. He doesn’t realize the smile that sets itself on his lips and it’s too dark for you to comment on it.
The bed shifts and your voice is suddenly closer, indicating you’d mirrored his movements and were now facing him.
“You talk about them a lot, your friends. Yoongi does too. You must all be really close.”
“We are, like brothers honestly. I have a younger sister but meeting Yoongi was the first time I felt like I had a hyung. He’s not much for declarations of affection but I love that dude.”
“He knows. You guys are all he talks about besides his music. He loves you, too. I can tell.” Namjoon never doubted that but it’s always nice to hear.
“What about you? Do you have any siblings?” It should be an innocent question but the silence that follows feels heavy and loaded.
“I did. My little brother. He was five. He spiked a bad fever one night and had to be rushed to the hospital. My father packed him up in the middle of the night while I slept. My mother woke me up at 4 am in hysterics. We drove to the emergency room and I watched my parents fall to the floor from across the room as the doctor told them he didn’t make it. I couldn’t hear what they said from that far away but it was obvious. I’m haunted by the sounds of the storm that was raging outside as the windows shaked around me. Acute bacterial meningitis.”
“Fuck, Y/N. I’m-”
“Don’t,” you interrupt. “Don’t say you’re sorry. You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that. It doesn’t bring him back, nothing will. I’m just left with distant memories of what his laugh sounded like, and this stupid fear of storms that just reminds me of the day my family broke apart.” Your words are being spit vehemently, your throat clearly closing up as it tries to choke back sobs.
Namjoon’s arms reach out to scoop you into his chest where you lose it in earnest. You hide into the crook of his neck as he can feel your resolve break. Tears hit his skin but he says nothing. There is nothing to say, he knows. You need something to hold onto as you let the emotions run their course and that’s something he can be for you.
It’s not too long before you catch your breath, great big gasps helping your body to settle back into rhythm.
“God, I’m so sorry. Having a breakdown because of some rain, trauma dumping, having a full breakdown. I must be making a great first impression as a new roommate.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re able to let it out. Bottling all that up would cause more damage.”
“Who knew I was shacking up with a therapist. It’s the same thing my counselor told me.” You’re back to teasing and Namjoon lets out the tension in his muscles that he didn’t realize he was holding. Your giggles fade off into a comfortable silence. The rain is still loud against the glass but the trembling that shook yo uhas subsided.
“‘Joonie? Can you hold me until I fall asleep?” Your voice is shy, the request bold for someone you barely know but he agrees without apprehension.
He expects you to burrow back into his chest as you’re already nestled in from your impromptu need for comfort but you surprise him by turning around and slotting yourself against him, back pushing into his front.
“Need to sleep on my left side. You don’t mind, do you?” After your revelation, he’d give you the moon if you asked, some spooning was an easy favor to fulfill.
He simply hums in agreement not entirely trusting himself not to put his foot in his mouth at that moment. He allows you to push back until you’re comfortable and slings his arm over your waist, letting his hand hang limp over your abdomen, careful not to push any unspoken boundaries.
You take it upon yourself to scoop his arm up and hold it close to you. Namjoon closes his fingers into a fist to avoid any accidental groping since his hand now rests on your chest, just above your breasts. He can feel the curve of them against his wrist, the mounds pressing into his forearm.
No! He needs to send his mind elsewhere. He tries to focus on the patter of the drops on the window. Pit pat. Would a roll of thunder fit into any of the songs he’s currently working on? What about the clap where the beat could drop? Anything to distract him from how warm you are beside him. The humidity of the storm only aggravates the heat that seeps through his skin, making it clammy and nearly wet. You, wet against him… NO! The heat is pooling at his crotch, the pressure rising when his blood is sent southward to fill a chub in his boxers. No, stop!
He’s trying desperately to inch his pelvis away from where your ass was resting against him. The universe is truly out for his demise because another round of lightning and thunder sends you jumping, forcefully seeking the hardness of his body against you. The grip on his arm turns vicious, your nails digging into his skin and your rear flies backwards in search of a seat and finds an unexpected obstacle.
Namjoon isn’t sure which sound rings louder. The gasp you let out at your discovery or his moan as his hips involuntarily thrust up against your ass. He doesn’t dare even breathe. What were you thinking? That your new roommate was a giant pervert? That he was taking advantage of the situation when all you asked for was some comfort in a time of need? Would you tell Yoongi? His hyung might be smaller than him but he has no doubt the older man could and would beat his ass into next week for this.
He seems to be the only one spiraling into a panic because instead of screaming and shoving him out of bed you only push back again. Your movements are tentative, slowly adding pressure and grinding your ass in circles against him as if trying to memorize the shape of him against your cheeks.
He slips his arm out of your grasp to bring his hand against your hip, pushing it down to pin you into the mattress and stop the maddening teasing.
“Y/N...” His voice comes out rough in between his teeth, a clear warning.
“Are you-?” You don’t need to finish your sentence with words, opting instead to push against his hold and roll your hips backwards again to feel the length behind you.
“I definitely am now since you can’t lie still. I’m trying to comfort you right now, so I am asking very politely to please have some mercy on me and go to sleep.”
For a second, Namjoon thinks he may have been too harsh.You’re quiet against him and he hopes he hasn’t triggered another round of distress with his tone.
The worries ebb when he feels your hand sneak behind to cup where his dick pushing against the fabric of his underwear. His eyes close when the pressure against the head sends little jolts of electricity flying through his body, a loud moan accompanying them.
“What if this is the comfort I need right now? Will you give it to me?” There’s a confidence in your voice now that had been missing when the sun went down. Namjoon is glad to hear it even if it beckons his doom.
He tries his best not to move, simply letting you tease along his length, your fingers wrapped around his cock through the thin fabric barrier. The drag is dry and nearly painful but he still twitches and wets a patch when your hand comes to squeeze at the head at every stroke.
You seem to take the lack of fighting back on his part as encouragement, and you push at the waistband to finally get under his boxers and meet the feverish skin hiding under them. He helps you reach your goal by shimmying the fabric down and under his balls, freeing his cock to let you handle it as you wish.
Your hand disappears for a second only to come back wet with spit and making the first tug of skin on skin both tortuous and heavenly. He can’t help but meet your fist with a thrust, precum dripping into your hand and easing the next strokes.
You’re showing your impatience when you grab his hand from your hip to aim it towards the waistband of your own underwear. You let him figure out the rest and go back to focus on jerking him off, a little harder this time as your hips roll against thin air.
He doesn’t keep you waiting too long, slipping his hand into your panties, realizing you’ve also opted out of sleeping with bottoms. His fingers plunge low and he’s surprised at how wet you are.
“All this just from rubbing against my dick a little bit?”
“No, I’ve been wet since you pulled me into your arms. Stupid thick biceps and big tits. Figured you’d notice it wasn’t just my eyes that were leaking.” Your words come staccato while your hips desperately try to chase his fingers.
He gives you what you seek and dips his middle finger into your heat. Your muscles contract around him, hot and so wet.
“Fuck, more,” you beg. You’re doing your best to clench around him but there’s not enough to bring relief.
“Impatient.” He wants this to last. He’s barely just gotten his hands on you after all the tension of the day finally snapping. He wants to savor it but you seem to have other plans.
“Namjoon, if you don’t start fingering me properly I’ll kick you out of this bed and do it myself.”
In any other situation he’d probably call that bluff, but he doesn’t want to risk you going through with it. He adds a second finger to your core and gets to work on a punishing rhythm. He uses the angle to his advantage and digs the heel of his palm against your clit to grind onto it with every thrust of his hand.
Your threats devolve into mewls. You’re trying to keep up your own pace against his dick but your grasp is loosening and losing rhythm. Hedoesn’t care. It allows him to focus on making you lose your mind, but you don’t seem to agree with the imbalance because you’re tugging him closer to you, tip bumping into the cotton of your panties. The need overtakes you and you’re ripping his fingers out of your pussy, letting it clench around nothing and mourning the loss. Your legs clamp shut to allow you to reach around and pull the fabric away from your entrance. You push back against his cock, trying to guide him through the darkness.
“In. Want you inside.” Your words aren’t quite begging but Namjoon can hear the plea clearlyin your voice.
“Fuck, Y/N. I should stretch you out more. I don’t think you should take it like this.” He knows he’s above average and he’s unsure that between the darkness and your horny haze you've realized quite what you’re up against in the short span of the mutual masturbation session that’s happened.
“I felt it. I know you’ve got a big dick. I don’t care. Fuck. Me.”
He hesitates to argue with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you but he can feel the warm wet heat enticing the head of his cock and it’s hard to ignore the call. He loses his battle and sinks himself into you. He brings his hand back to your hip and holds himself still as you shake through acclimating to his size.
“Oh god, fuck.” He can feel your pussy tightening around him, the pulses of your walls essentially jerking him off and it’s taking all his resistance not to start rocking his hips up to meet your ass.
“I-” He’s cut off as soon as he tries to start.
“You better not say ‘I told you so’ while you’re inside me or else you’ll never be again.” The possibility of this happening again shut him up pretty quickly.
He opts to try and ease you into the feeling, lets his hand trace along your skin, up to your torso. He peppers kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder. His hand seeks out a breast under your shirt and gently takes it into his palm, massaging the flesh as his fingers tweak at the nipple.
He tries to imagine what it must look like pebbled between his thumb and index; the color of them in contrast to your skin. He’s overwhelmed with the urge to slip it between his teeth and test how hard he could nibble at it before you broke, but the current position makes it impossible and he doesn’t dare switch it now.
Your breathing becomes heavier at every pinch and twist. He can feel your chest heaving under his hand and you’re melting against him. The chokehold your pussy has on his cock also lets up a little, allowing you to rock back and forth seeking more friction.
“I’m ready.” Your voice calls him back. “You can move. Fuck me.” He starts slow and careful, long languid strokes out until only the head stays inside you, and back in with a smooth confident thrust; letting as much of his length fit as he can from this angle.
He lets his hand wander once he feels you matching his strokes, backing up to meet him at each push in. Your skin is damp under his palm and the sticky feeling would usually bother him, but he’s too enthralled by the little noises that you make with each movement.
Your hand chases after his, following where he cups at your breast, pinches at your nipple, and he notes the hitch in your breath when his large palm settles loosely at the base of your throat. He’ll have to file that one away for another day.
You eventually seem to grow frustrated with his teasing touches because you drag his hand back south and into your underwear. He spreads his fingers around where the two of you are joined. He can feel your arousal coat his cock and your pussy stretch around him, sucking him in at every stroke.
He brings his fingers up to finally give your neglected clit the attention it’s been craving. You can feel how it’s throbbing with desire. You don’t bother trying to suppress the moan that comes out in nearly a scream when Namjoon presses against your bundle of nerves with skillful pressure and maddening circles.
It’s still slow. Everything is infuriatingly slow but you can’t find your voice through the groans and gasps to ask for more, so you let him set his torturous pace and drown in the electricity coursing through your body.
You take up the mantle that he’d been forced to leave behind. You feel too good to ask to change positions but you mourn the lack of his other hand which is forced under him, unable to wreck the same havoc on your body as its twin. Your right hand travels to your torso, attempting to mimic his earlier teasing while your left holds onto his wrist between your legs to keep yourself grounded.
You melt into his touch, head lolling into the pillow. Namjoon takes advantage of your neck opening up. He finally gets to use his right arm to push his upper body enough to dip his head down where your shoulder meets your neck to attach his lips to your skin. The added feeling of his teeth biting down, paired with a hard suck and lick of his tongue sends you reeling. You push back harder, urging him to thrust in rougher, as deep as the position allows.
“So big, Joonie. Can feel you so deep.” You’re pushing his buttons and it works. You’re riling him up and he lets it happen. You sacrifice the feeling of his fingers on your clit to bring them up just above your pubic bone and push down hard making the head of his dick hit against the front of your walls. You know he can feel it push against his hand every time he hits home.
You know when he registered what’s happening because he’s pistoning into you with renewed vigor, each thrust stronger than the one before. The new pressure from his hand makes everything feel euphoric.
“Shit, Y/N. So fucking tight around me. You feel so good, sweetheart.” The praise falls from his lips without thought and the endearment slips through with ease but there’s no time to focus on it. You’re clenching around him, being brought to the edge.
Your hand replaces where his had been, fingers wild and frantic on your clit, pushing you towards your orgasm. It doesn’t take long to hit and your body goes rigid in his arms. Your muscles scream as they twitch and the wave radiates out from your core and washes over you to the tips of your limbs.
The shaking in your body subsides but the throes of pleasure still buzz under your skin from where Namjoon hasn’t slowed. He continues to push and pull his way into your body, keeping the tension alive.
“You sound so fucking hot when you cum. Feel so perfect around my cock.” No words come in reply to his, only mindless moans answer the praise. You want to tell him how good he feels inside you too, how you still need him so desperately.
“More!” You manage to gulp through the overwhelming feeling surrounding you. “Want to feel you deeper.”
His hips stutter in response, your words hit him in the pit of his stomach. He wants to give you more, whatever you want but he can’t go any further from this angle.
“Gonna have to move us around for that, okay?” His voice is muffled from where his mouth is still dug into the crook of your neck, breath heavy near your ear.
You’re nodding without giving it much thought. Whatever he wants, he can do anything he wants. You’d agree to anything if it meant getting more of the addictive feeling coursing through your veins.
His cock slips out of you and you barely have the time to whine at the loss that a yelp escapes you instead as you’re hauled up and around to land firmly on his lap, underwear being ripped away in the switch, Namjoon now spread beneath you. Your hands fly forward to balance yourself, knees planted on either side of his hips.
“Holy hell, I was kidding earlier with the tits comment but…” You let your hands finish the implication as they grab at the flesh of his chest, nails digging into his skin. “Can you flex for a second?”
His muscles tense under your touch and you can’t help the groan that slips out in response. His chest is rock hard now and you feel your body rise with the strength imbued in it. You let your hands drift downwards, nails dragging behind. You wonder if the marks will still be there tomorrow for you to see the damage you're leaving in the light of day.
You can feel each bump on his abdomen where the muscles bulge out and dip back in. You’re surprised to feel the smooth velvet tip of his cock hit your hand so quickly. You’re barely halfway down his abs and the realization of how big Namjoon actually is sinks in.
The previous position wouldn’t have had him remotely close to fully sheathed inside you. The anticipation of really feeling his entire length has you grinding down and sliding along him, trapping him between his stomach and your sopping folds.
He bucks up to meet the pressure, hands holding firm on your waist, following the pace you’ve set. He lets you roll on him, his sensitive head catching on your clit and every loop which elicits moans from both of you.
He’s sure he could cum from this alone, but he’s aching to feel you sink down on him entirely. There’s a desperate plea on the tip of his tongue, an encouragement for you to lead him back inside but he keeps quiet. He wants you to make the decision and go at the pace you need. Despite the shift in situation, Namjoon still feels the vulnerability you’re under.
His hand drifts up, letting fire spread along your skin. The electricity in the air isn’t only from the storm anymore. He’s gentle as he cups your breast, content when he can feel your chest arching forward to chase after the pressure of his touch. Your nipple pebbles despite the hot and humid air.
“Perfect,” he murmurs under his breath. He’s sure it’s low enough to stay a private confession but the low moans mixed with your thighs tightening against his hips reveal otherwise.
The praise urges you on, reigniting your movements. Namjoon almost fears you’re moving away, off from your seat on top of him. His hands are quick to reach back for yours; a silent imploration to stay but they’re unnecessary. The pressure on his chest where you anchor yourself grounds him. There’s a shake where your balance falters so you can reach beneath you and grab at his cock, holding it straight towards your core.
The darkness hadn’t bothered Namjoon until this moment. He’ll rue this day for his entire life for stealing the vision of your expression as you slowly sink down on his entire length for the first time. The whimpers that escape, as you take each inch further, are only teases compared to the satisfied groan that comes once you’re fully settled back in his lap. The entire situation is torture. The heat of the stifling summer night is nothing compared to the scorching embrace of your walls around him. There’s aftershocks of your muscles spazzing around him that pair with more moans while you acclimate to the feeling of him inside you.
Namjoon’s mouth is dry and his brain is empty. There’s a strong instinct to move, a twitch in his arms to use his strength to lift you up enough to have you slam back down but he resists.
He can hear your breathing even out, big gulps of air diminishing to a more normal rhythm. You’re fidgeting, torso lowering to come parallel to his until your breath hits his throat. He doesn’t even realize your hand had snaked away until it lands in his hair and you pull on the strands to allow your lips to stroke at the cartilage of his ear, a warm tickle accompanying your words.
“You’re so big, Joonie. Feel so full.” He knows it’s the sign he was waiting for when you end the compliment with a strong squeeze that he can feel through his entire body. All the restraint he had exhibited snaps.
It all happens at once. He reaches for a fistful of your hair to keep you still as he clumsily seeks for your lips with his own. The kiss is aggressive and too full of teeth clanking together at first. It eventually melts into something more salacious. Your lips are hot and slippery but Namjoon is aiming for more.
You’re too distracted to notice that his stance has changed. He jostles you as he plants his feet into your mattress to give him the best angle to properly pound into you. The first hard thrust is paired with a well timed bite of your lip which has you opening your mouth with a shout of pleasure. He takes advantage of the position to delve his tongue into a battle with yours, turning the dirty kiss into an even wetter mess.
Neither of you can hear the storm over the slaps of skin, low groans, and high whines from inside the room. “You hear how wet this pussy is for me? Sound so fucking pretty, bet it looks even better. We’ll have to do this again, right? So I can see you leaking over my cock properly.”
If you’re answering him it’s unintelligible in the mumbles melted into the moans that continue to spill out of you. He’s taking it as an agreement from the tightening of your core around him.
His legs eventually lower behind you, pushing you to straighten back up and work to keep up the faltering rhythm. The heat and late hour seeps into your bones but the exhaustion that lies at the edge of your consciousness is no match for the fire in your veins that feeds the lust inside you. Your hands reach behind you and grab onto meaty thighs. God, you’ll need to talk about those in the morning because you don’t have the energy to trigger another round tonight. Your head falls, back arching towards the sky. It gives Namjoon the opportunity to roam your body, soft strokes and harsh grasps.
“Come on, Joonie. What good are those big biceps for if you can’t fuck me harder?” The taunt works like magic to reinvigorate him. Large hands come back to your waist, palms digging hard into your body above your hip bones. His thumbs aim towards your core, pushing into the softness above your pelvis. It’s not as obvious as the first position on your side but he can definitely feel the shift under your skin where the pressure of his thrusting cock pushes against his fingers.
“Shit, Y/N, never felt pussy this good. My perfect girl. Are you close? Can you cum for me, baby?”
“Y-yeah, so close- fuck. You feel so good.” It wasn’t a lie, you’ve teetered on the edge for a while but you just needed a little extra push. Namjoon’s hold on you is strong enough to allow you to sneak a hand to where the two of you are joined. There’s only a flash of pleasure before your fingers are slapped away.
“Nuh uh, my job. If you want to be touched a certain way just ask for it. You’re a big girl, use your words.”
If he kept talking to you like that maybe you wouldn’t need the extra help after all but that’s an experiment for another day. “Please, Joonie, want to cum. Touch me.”
He dares to slow the pace, still upkeep the long hard strokes that hit deep inside you. “Is that the best you can do? You’re about to cum all over my cock and I’m still just Joonie? You’re not being very clear, you know. I’ve got my hands on you, I’m already touching. Be more precise. What do you want, princess?”
He’ll be the death of you, you can already tell you’ve set yourself up. Your words are coming out in choked sobs, your climax on the brink. “Please!” you exclaim, “Namjoon, please play with my clit and make me cum all over your big cock.”
He didn’t expect you to take the bait so strongly, but you asked so politely, who would he be to deny your request.
“Good girl. I’ll give you anything you ask for if you do it like that. Look all innocent but you’re just a desperate little thing, aren’t you?” His words are paired with increased speed. He pistons into you with such force that you swear you’re floating above him. The world falls away when his thumb finally comes to rub tantalizing circles around your nub, the movement a little clumsy form how wet it is between your thighs.
It doesn’t take much to reach elation. White light explodes behind your eyes making you believe the power may have returned for a second. There’s electricity living in your nerves that travel down your limbs. There’s a rawness in your throat you assume was birthed from the scream that still echoes around the room.
You catch your breath on a pile of loose limbs draped over your new roommate’s huge frame. Your muscles are spasming from the outside in. You can tell that Namjoon definitely feel it from how tense his muscles feel under your fingers. You purposefully constrict around him and the answering grunt confirms your suspicions.
It takes a second to gather enough strength to sit back up while keeping him snuggly inside you. You wish you could look into his eyes as you roll your hips over him. You know it’s not as stimulating as the hard thrusts from earlier but the sweet sounds you hear from under you seem to have him perfectly content.
“Fuck, you never stop surprising me but you really need to get off because I can’t last anymore.” There’s a tension in his tone, one that you’d hear from someone holding onto a loosening grip that could result in falling to their doom.
You let the nail from your index dig into his skin and leave a burning sensation behind as your scratch down the valley of his pecs, from his clavicle to his abdominals. “Good. Then my plan is working. Your turn to cum for me.”
“Oh, I will. The second you get off me, it’s torture to keep it in, so please-” It’s his turn to beg but you’re not as ready to give in to his demand this time around. You only double your efforts, rolling hips and tight squeezes.
“Go on, then. You wanted me to ask for what I want? Cum. I’m safe and I want you to cum inside me, Namjoon.”
There’s black magic in the way you say his name, it’s hypnotizing. Or maybe it’s the imaginary visual of what you’d look like splayed out with his cum seeping out of you that does it.
He brings his fingers back to your sensitive clit and the pressure is almost too much. You nearly beg him to give you a break but he interrupts you before you can start. “One more time, with me. If you want me to fill up that sweet pussy, you’ll have to milk it out of me.”
You can’t tell whether it’s the pressure on your clit or the dirty words from his mouth, but the wave of pleasure comes back with a mighty force and crashes through you again. You can feel your core tightening around him in spasms which triggers his own release. You can feel his cock spurting inside you, an extra layer of warmth seeping into you. You can’t hold yourself anymore and flop onto Namjoon, both of your breaths heavy and labored.
His hand strokes comfort onto your back. You don’t even mind how sweaty you both are, sticking to each other. “We should get cleaned up,” he suggests.
You dig your face into the crook of his neck in protest. “No. Tomorrow. Don’t want to move. You still feel good, don’t want you to pull out.” You purposefully twitch to make your point. His cock may be softening but it’s still firmly plugging you up. You both know you’ll regret it in the morning but you couldn’t care right now.
The exhaustion you both feel settles into contentment as sleep pulls you in. You both fall asleep without even noticing that the storm has also fallen into slumber.
Okay, so maybe Namjoon was a little dramatic about being abandoned because it’s only a week later when Yoongi is back in his old apartment from a weekend brunch date with his friends.
You and Jin are bonding in the kitchen. Yoongi can hear his boyfriend’s windshield wiper laugh mixed with your giggles that he’s always compared to a hyena. He expected the atmosphere to be a little awkward when he came in, both of the new roommates a little shy and fond of individual activities.
But when he let himself in earlier he found both his friends sharing the couch in the living room, each with a book in hand,which wasn’t surprising, but your feet perched on Namjoon’s lap, that was a little surprising.
He had let that slide easily enough. His suspicion returns simply from how much smiling Namjoon has been doing. Smiles wouldn’t be odd for most but Yoongi has heard that man’s music lately and he’s the definition of a Sad Boi™.
The pieces fall into place when you bring in the plates and there’s lingering. From your fingers on Namjoon’s when you exchange the dish to his eyes on your ass when you turn away. Yoongi stares Namjoon down, deadpan. His friend’s eyes widen in panic once he realizes he’s been caught. Yoongi’s always been able to read him like a book.
“You motherfucker,” Yoongi spats at him just as you reenter the room.
“Now now, Yoongles. Do we need to call Dr. Lee to go through your mommy issues again? We’ve already established I’m not your mother.” You take a seat on Namjoon’s lap as if to make a point. “Besides, there’s only one person that gets to call me mommy now.” The look you and Namjoon share might be the final drop that makes him go dig for his old psych’s number that night.
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Stuffing
The Thanksgiving holiday was always your favorite. Much like the turkey they often ate, people made for great stuffing candidates. For one, they often ate large meals that night, and the fittest among them used the morning after to exercise away coma-inducing meal from the night before. These aspects made for the perfect conditions to make a body far more pliable than normal. “Stuffing a turkey” was not something you did often, nor something you took lightly. Conditions needed to be perfect, mass to account for, compatibility, the works. Of course, this year seemed to be a good year for an upgrade. And you knew just who.
Ryan was a menace at the local gym, often taking pictures of new members just trying to improve their lifestyle to playback later and ridicule with his buddies. He had of course been confronted about it, but so far everything had been unsubstantiated, so the most he’d gotten were the near constant disapproving looks from the other regulars. In other words, his reign of terror remained unpunished. To add to the injustice, the man seemed to thrive off the hate anyway and it didn’t help that his cousin owned the place.
- - -
“What the fuck!?” He screamed at the sight of you in his bathroom as he had just stripped out of his dank gym clothes. From the smell permeating the air, and the weary look in his eye, you could tell he had just come home from a workout. Delicious.
“Your cousin Vinnie let me in, he said to come for a good time.” You stated plainly.
Ryan dropped his duffel to the floor, running towards you until you were pinned up to the wall near his bed by his meaty arms. You couldn’t help but lick your lips in the strength brimming from his sweat-slick biceps.
“I ain’t gay, fa-“
You plant a kiss into his mouth to shut him up, leaving a little piece of yourself burrowing into him.
He caught himself smiling inexplicably. He looked at the trail of saliva from his mouth to your perverse smile and nearly gagged as he backed up to his bed. Raw disgust turned red, as you could only see a boiling, fuming anger beneath his icy blues.
You were unfazed.
“Oh Ryan… of course we are”. You hummed as you began to exert what small control you had in that piece inside him to prevent him from running away. It wasn’t much, and you mostly relied on the shock to keep him in position, but it had been enough.
He looked at you, watching in horror as you liquefied your hands into a slick mass of flesh. You smile in turn.
“I can’t wait stuff you like a turkey… but what’s a turkey without some gravy?”
He began to protest, before quickly closing his eyes in a moan of displeasure, as a small tendril of your flesh began flowing into his piss slit.
You watched as more and more of your pulsating meaty tendrils, slick with your sweat, inched into the thick dick of the man that would become your turkey. Caught halfway between pleasure and revulsion, Ryan gripped his sheets to get his bearings.
“B-bro!” He whined.
“Don’t worry Ry, pretty soon you’ll be thanking me”. You playfully chime back.
It was uniquely violating for the man, feeling writhing flesh burrow into an orifice that normally only let stuff out. He yelped as you hooked your tendril into his body, abruptly stopping your advance. Now came the fun part.
Ryan willed himself still, dick still bound to you and not wanting to disturb his momentary peace. Nervous eyes follow your widening smile as the next set of your fleshy tendrils now ran down the outside of the athlete’s cock.
“Oh f-fufufuuuck” he blurted out in a drawn moan. Like a perverse sleeve, your slimy tendrils encapsulate over his dick, and you made sure to dial up the pleasure by having them vibrate rhythmically.
You catch glimpses of horror in between unbelievable pleasure. Then, another emotion. Shame.
“Oh.. don’t look so guilty Ry, this feels good doesn’t it? What’s so wrong about that?” You tease. You knew his brain was working overtime so trying to fish out a response from the pleasure drunk jock was useless. You continue as if he had protested. “You feel good. To me- over me. I make you feel good, you make me feel good. Ryan, I think we’re a match made in heaven.”
You can tell the titillation reached it’s peak when Ryan’s beautiful blue eyes rolled to the back of his head in a unwanted pleasure while he half-screamed. He slammed his head back and forth onto his pillow, as if each pump was lick an electrical shock. At last, tearful eyes roll back into focus, starting at you before looking away in shame as you felt Ryan’s batter rocket out, pushing the tendril you had inside him out .
Ryan collapsed into his bed, heaving from the experience. You saw him force his satisfied smile down, ashamed by the whole experience. You stroke the side of his face, not caring that a bit of his own juices were basting his cheek.
“Oh Ryan… you’re gonna feel so good once you’re nice and stuff- can you imagine it? Experiencing that kind of pleasure every day?”
As much of a jerk as the guy was, you couldn’t help but love the taste of his seed. It tasted-no, felt potent. Like his concentrated essence had been distilled into his milky white. The slight saltiness, the raw musk. You almost lost yourself in the testosterone oozing from every drop.
You went to work quickly, as Ryan was still reeling from the experience. You began mashing and grinding his seed, the post-workout sweat now coating some of you, your own sweat, and the bit of saliva from earlier into a dangerous concoction. You loved the feeling. Integrating some of Ryan into you like added flavor. It wasn’t the first time you’ve stuffed a turkey, but Ryan was definitely on a league of his own. This was the first time you could finally get into someone like him, and even just the act of meshing the bit of his flavor into yourself was its own pleasure. You took a quick whiff. Heaven.
Ryan finally began to speak again, only managing to let out a “Bro-FUCK” as you completely destabilized into a meaty mass and shot up his other orifice. Ry thrashed as he gripped his ass in pain, slamming against his headboard multiple times as he tried in vain to fight, to leave… to do anything beyond succumbing to you. He hyperventilated as most of your mass was already inside, trying to fight the intense bloating sensation and the persistent need to gag you out. His legs curled and uncurled, kicking into his sheets as he huffed and grunted. You reasoned you may have miscalculated your current size, as from within you could tell, he was too full to even make any words. He cried as his body swallowed nearly every inch of you, passing out when the last bit of you sloshed in and his ass-cheeks puckered shut, sealing you inside. Deep in his flesh, you began to bore into any space that would let you, poking and prodding every inch of Ryan and spreading from his innards to the rest of him like a root.
The hard part was over. Ryan awoke, sore and groggy. Instinctively, he got up from his bed before he froze. That simple action made you moan on the spot, as the parts of you in between his muscle fibers were squeezed, and began squirming, squeezing some of Ryan in turn. Like a sponge, you felt those parts soak him up and vice versa. Ryan must have felt it as well, as he began to walk to the mirror carefully, taking care to move as little as possible. It must have felt violating, hearing your voice emanate from deep within his body, and feeling his limbs grow sluggish, as you felt Ryan moan back “please… please get out of me…”
Like a muscle within a muscle, you flexed, moving Ryan’s limbs against his will and positioning him to the mirror. His lips quivered as he began to smile, and his mouth opened while you spoke out from deep within him. “No can do Ry-“ You force his meaty arms to pat his bloated stomach- a move that forced another involuntary gag out of Ryan. The quick movement brought you pleasure, extracting and absorbing and blurring the lines between your two bodies. His head shook as his tearful eyes stared back, mouth opening again for your next message. “I bet you can feel how permanent this is”.
Ryan’s clumsy hands shook as they brought themselves up to his chest, rotating in circular motions as you took pleasure in spreading his gym-sweat all over his pecs. His eyes focused as he tried to wrangle control back of his bod,y neurons firing as he willed himself into a punch to his cheek. The pain sent you both reeling, and you decided to slip tendrils deeper, pulling on more of Ryan’s muscle fibers.
You also brought the parts of your flesh into his brain, slipping and twisting your folds into his. This particular action brought Ry’s hands involuntarily clutching the sides of his head in pain as he felt you penetrate into his own psyche, and wrap yourself in it. In an instant, all sings of struggle stopped and Ryan’s hands slung down to his side. Ocean blue eyes, shimmering with tears of the previous struggle blinked back, and a deranged smile painted his face. Like the eye of a vast hurricane, there was an eerie stillness to your perfected control. You stretch Ryan’s psyche over your face like a mask.
“Ry… bro… I told ya- no can do” Ryan felt his body state playfully. In speech, mannerisms, Ryan watched in horror as you perfectly mimicked him, save for the shadow of your satisfaction reflected his face. He felt himself stick his tongue out in tease, hands gently caressing each pec before smiling in a demented pleasure. His fingers circled each nipple, causing them to grow hard. In true defilement, Ryan felt his very mind betray him, as your thoughts wore his like a suit. “Ryan, bro… we’re one.” It was sickening feeling his own mind reflect your pleasure. Ryan felt his fingers pinch his hard nipples, laughing in euphoria.
Even from just breathing through him, you could tell this body was in top shape. You towered over the room like a giant, feeling power brimming over ever piece of his musclebound flesh. Ryan’s face pulls uncharacteristically into your smile, eyes fluttering up in pleasure as his meaty bicep is pulled up next to his nose. You stick your nose to his damp pits, reeking from his past workout. In your head, your hear him scream as you use Ryan’s nose to inhale his own scent. He continued wailing when he felt his own brain think out your words, and his own lips and vice gently grunt. “You smell so fucking good bro”.
And then, Ryan felt the unexpected. You remove your face from his psyche, pulling your some of tendrils back into the core of his body and Ryan felt some semblance of control of his body return. Like a true athlete, he immediately took advantage of the opening, firing his neurons, and using sheer musculature to wrestled you for control. You manage to retain only his mouth, opening it wide again to speak from inside him.“ I like it when you fight”. He hears you speak to him and his face shivers as you manage out a wink before he resumes control.
Ryan panted, collapsing again in exhaustion as you slept peacefully inside him, protected by his very flesh. At some point, you’ll have him take all his muscle and mind and wring you out like a sponge, squeezing and squeezing you into himself until you became every aspect of Ryan. And at some point, you might “Ryan” might find and stuff a new turkey. But, this new body was virile, and making him wrestle with his own stuffing for control was its own exquisite pleasure. For now, this stuffed turkey was perfect just the way he was.
- - -
====
Just a quick post-Thanksgiving bite.
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Satoru Gojo is into Some Weird Roleplay (Christmas Smut)
art cr: glowx_21 on x
hey idk what this is LMAOO. i thought of this randomly bc gojo reminds me of a certain christmas character so i just ran with it! he's one of my three husbands who i love so much so i wanted to write about him. i'm so feral for him it's not even funny. anyways, i hope you enjoy and don't take it too seriously, unless you want to idc! mdni.
domestic gojo, husband gojo, dad gojo
female reader, no description of her features but i’m black so
warnings: piv sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, satoru won't shut up, dom gojo
i'm on ao3, pls support me there too!
wc: 1500+
“Satoru,” You surprised yourself in the way you were able to let out a single word with his unrelenting thrusts. “Baby. P-please slow down.”
The man who was currently plummeting into you from behind let out a click of his tongue, ignoring your request and instead opted with a loud and hard smack to your ass, his pace somehow getting faster and harder. His hips were ruthless against the fat of your ass, creating clapping noises throughout the large bedroom.
“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He let out breathlessly, his tone as playful as ever, waiting for you to address him the right way.
You wanted to reach back and knock some sense into him, tell him to slow his thrusts before he knocked the wind out of you and woke up the children. His deep and powerful thrusts prohibited you from saying much though, with his fat cock reaching your g-spot so effortlessly that you were seeing stars.
If you could roll your eyes right now you would, but your body seemed to forget how to function, only capable of following the orders of your ridiculous but gorgeous husband behind you. “Saint Nick…please.” It would’ve sounded ridiculous to you if you weren’t being plummeted to Neptune with each touch of your gummy spot deep within you, but you were being fucked so stupid that you would call him God if he asked. “You don’t wanna wake up the little elves do you?” You played along as you continued panting, fingers grasping the silk sheets tightly, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure.
You thought he was ignoring you again, with his long fingers digging deeper into your hips before he slowed his pace, deciding on an unhurried, rough one, sliding in and out of those warm, wet walls of yours with a long and drawn out “fuuuuuck,” leaving his mouth. “The elves are fast asleep, baby. Don’t worry about them, just take Santa’s dick, mmkay’?” His voice was jolly as ever, just like Santa Claus himself, and you would’ve laughed if his cock wasn’t basically touching your brain at this point. You could only let out small whimpers as he arched your back further, reaching only a place he could.
Why you agreed on letting your dear husband roleplay as Santa was beyond you, but Satoru had a way with words. All he had to do was promise to make you feel good, make you cum all night long, pretty please baby, in that convincing, deep voice of his, a pout on his features, those bright blue eyes begging, so how could you say no?
You should have made some more conditions, one being to say no to the bells he had attached to the bed frame, with them ringing with each jerk of his hips, creating an impossibly loud jingle. He said it would get the two of you in the “Christmas spirit,” with the bed decorated in lights and ringing balls, sounding like a real sleigh everytime the bed hit the wall in full force.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Satoru pulling himself out of you, leaving you empty and missing him already, causing a whine to leave your lips as he flipped you over as if you weighed nothing, before settling in between your legs again. You were faced with the beautiful man you were so grateful to call yours, his cerulean orbs were darkened somehow as they stared into yours, looking dazed and drunk off your pussy, his pupils slightly dilated. His pretty white follicles were tucked into a red santa hat, the puffy ball tossed on the side, sweat trickling from his temples from wrecking your insides. He had that adorable, innocent smile on his face, as if he wasn’t guilty of talking you into this comical predicament in the first place.
“Will Mrs. Claus let me put the beard on again?” He let out, a pout forming on his pink lips, glossy from sweat and saliva.
“No, don’t ask again!” You almost yelled, your face scrunched in annoyance and he let out a booming laugh at your immediate response.
Satoru did have a cheap, plastic beard that matched his white hair perfectly, but you made him take it off for a couple reasons. One being it looked terrible. As beautiful as the man above you was as he was staring down at you, shallow breaths coming from his perfectly shaped, rock hard abdomen, and his rosy cheeks, the beard made him look…creepy. Two being it was damn itchy. He had been going down on you when he had it on, but it was impossible for you to focus on his holy tongue work and perfect movements of his fingers, curving into you, hitting that spot that had you crying out his name for the night (fucking Saint Nick.) Once it began scratching your legs painfully, you’d forced him to take it off, which he did with a whine, throwing the damp, shitty excuse for a beard across the bedroom floor, before making you cum from his tongue alone, more than once.
Your husband’s wide grin was replaced with something immodest as he gripped your thighs, pulling you forward, and slipped inside torturously slow, earning a gasp from the both of you. His head was thrown back and his lip was caught in his teeth, causing your pussy to throb from both the feeling of warmth and fullness again, and Satoru’s effortless way of making you feel hot inside just by simple facial expressions, subsequently making a groan escape his lips before sinking into you completely, touching your gummy spot immediately with the angle he entered.
He kept your legs apart as he thrust into you forcefully and fast-paced again, with you giving no complaints this time about the commotion the jingling bed frame was causing. You didn’t care, for he was taking you to heaven in this position, goosebumps erupting from your skin and seeing black dots in your vision with each time he reached a new depth inside you. Your cunt was competing with the loud noises of those stupid fucking bells as it made sloshing noises throughout the room, and when you looked down, you could see your juices dripping onto his pretty, pale, absolutely perfect cock.
As if he could read your mind, he spoke for you. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. My god.” His head was no longer tilted back, but also looking down as your tight, slippery cunt sucked in his dick, a feral look on his features, absolutely enamored by the sight. His pace never let up, his hips moving at the speed of light almost as he used one hand to press on your lower stomach, making it feel better than you thought possible. “You feel me in there? You feel Santa’s cock abusing this perfect little cunt?” His goofy grin returned and you couldn’t do anything but let out a loud moan of approval, face twisted up, still entertaining his mess because this just felt too fucking good.
His hand moved from your tummy to focus on your clit, fingers rubbing small, soft circles, completely catching you off guard. Your legs began to tremble from the insane pleasure you were feeling, hands clenching the sheets so hard again you were surprised they didn’t come off the corners of the bed.
“Can I make you a mommy again? Put another little helper in this belly?” That feral look was in his eyes again, tone as light as ever, as he slowed down, choosing a rough ram motion, causing your tits to jiggle at the change of pace, making Satoru groan at the sight, mouth halfway open. You didn’t know if it was the mind fog you felt from him fucking you brainless, but you nodded vigorously as tears fell down your cheeks, that white hot feeling in your veins approaching, mind so numb you would probably agree to having ten more of his white-haired, blue-eyed children. The two of your already had four, three you’d birthed and one you adopted, but you didn’t care right now, you felt like he had seriously taken you to the North Pole with the way his cock was basically fucking your guts.
His infamous smile returned before leaning down to place his lips on yours, barely kissing you, just sticking his minty tongue in your mouth and panting, speaking incoherent sentences along the lines of you being a “good girl,” and “taking his load so well.” You couldn’t comprehend a thing anyway, as your body began convulsing, washing over with relief as your orgasm was drawn out of you, long and bone shattering, with your back arching off the bed with a squeal that was hard to keep inside your body.
Satoru wasn’t too far behind you, with his eyes closed tightly, as his hips began twitching, the first time all night they didn’t have a consistent rhythm and he groaned out loudly, spurting long, hot ropes of his cum inside you.
His eyes opened soon after, those beautiful blue orbs staring at you adoringly with his signature wide grin on his face, in which you returned, panting heavily, so thankful for this beautiful, insane, goofy husband of yours. He grabbed the comforter and placed it over the two of you, kissing your lips softly, his breath heavy as the two of you exchanged small “i love you’s” back and forth.
“Mommy?” A small voice came from the corner of the room and your heart dropped, recognizing it as your three year old daughter’s, afraid of what she might’ve seen. Satoru hid under the covers, his hat coming off in the process and you had a full view of her now, with her candy cane nightgown and teddy bear in her arms, her lip quivering with tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, ready to get up and comfort your youngest, afraid something happened as it was past midnight on Christmas Eve. God, did the bells wake her up?
She stomped out the room before you could get up, wailing and yelling for her older brother. “Megumi! Mommy was kissing Santa!” Her cries could be heard throughout the entire house and you knew everyone would be awake by now.
Satoru’s loud laugh could also be heard throughout the entire house, its jollyness rivaling Saint Nick himself.
my masterlist!
#gojo satoru#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo x female reader#gojo x black reader#gojo x black y/n#jjk x black reader#jjk x female reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru x reader
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 16
The bats had a plan. They knew Deathstroke had some wierd fixation on Nightwing and were going to use that to reel him in.
So Nightwing and the batfam staged a fight so big that when Batman disowned him it seemed legit and Nightwing disappeared not long after.
The bats were worried but they knew Dick could handle himself and that Deathstroke was an enemy he was familiar with so they just needed to trust him. That trust fell apart when they found out Deathstroke never encountered Nightwing as intended and the plan was never activated in the first place.
No one knew where Dick was. No one knew who had him, and someone had to have him or else he would have turned up by now or sent them a coded message, something!
But nope. All of his friends and family were left to worry about him and wonder...
---
Dick loved his little brother. He was funny and loved to make jokes and puns with him. He still had a lot to learn about gymnastics though. Dick wasn't sure why he loved it so much, it just felt like it was part of him somehow. Danny always got a look on his face Dick himself couldn't identify when he talked about it.
Maybe it was one of his missing memories? Danny had told him all about Dicks accident. Appearently thier parents, sister, and godfather had all died in it, leaving Dick Fenton with custody of Danny as the oldest sibling.
Something about those last two words seemed to tickle something in his brain...but it was soothed just by glancing at Danny across the diner table. Looking at Danny always made the wierd sensation disappear, like dark clouds being blown away to reveal the sun. Wasnt it wierd that his eyes always sought out Danny when the feeling starts?
Anyway, the accident didn't take his life, but it did take Dicks memories. He didn't remember much of his life before Danny dragged him out of the rubble but he knew he loved his mom, dad and little siblings.
Everything was fine in thier little household of two. Now he just needed to snoop around thier house for a bit to help him remember things
To find the truth
-------
Aka Danny, lonely and desperate after his family and friends died in an accident. He accidentally traveled to another dimension while wandering the zone in an attempt to get away for a while and witnessed what some random wierdo in a fursuit said to his...son? Apprentice? After seeing the fight Danny has a mental break and kidnaps Nightwing thinking no one would go looking for him.
Danny erases Dicks memories along with the citizens of Amity Park and brainwashed everyone to live out his fantasy of a safe home and loving family.
Too bad Dicks detective training is so deeply ingrained and that he has countless friends who won't stop looking until they find him
#halloween prompts#dpxdc#traumatized danny#brainwashed Nightwing#nightwing#dick grayson#dick fenton#danny phantom#danny fenton#fanfiction prompts#prompts#the trap was sprug but by an unexpected person
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warning: wow. This one's lengthy, kinda dark! Johnny "Soap" Mactavish, implied older Soap, also implied age difference, he's in his forties while you're in your twenties, Soap being a pervert, Soap being the pettiest person on the whole planet, noncon/dubcon
Hmrmrmrmrm. Jus' thninkin bout' Pervert Johnny who you turn down at the bar. Rejecting the drink he's offered you, saying that you're not really looking for anything like that since your focusing on your studies at the moment.
Pervert Johnny who's just as stubborn as you are. He shouldn't have been shooting his shot in the first place, he's already got weird stares from the other patrons all cause his drunk ass was obviously hitting on someone that's probably young enough to be his kid.
Pervert Johnny who angrily beats his dick to the the thought of you after. He got rejected, that much was obvious. But s' not going to stop him. His pace is fast, and cruel all cause he thought he could get a cutie to spill into by the end of the night. Cums his brains out, and almost passes out. Wakes up the next mornin', and almost immediately does he have a plan on how to get back at you for bruising his ego.
Pervert Jonny who you thought you'll never hear from again, till all of a sudden theirs a cute guy your mom's been talking your ear off about. Saying about how, he's such a ladies man, the charming soldier that's aged like fine wine. You've always just laughed at it, happy that your ma's finally starting to get over your asshole of a dad who broke her heart. But you did find it oddly suspicious that they've already had plans about marriage, so soon, you thought. Too soon if you ask me.
Speaking of their wedding. You missed it. Total bummer. But it wasn't your fault when the date of it inconveniently clashed with your exam week. Everyone, not just you, were nose deep in books, spending the day away in the library. You apologized to your mom, and her boyfriend via letter. The guy must be extra shy or something because he refused to video call like you suggested to your mom. Anyways, the exam passes by like a breeze, and so does the wedding. You didn't really see both of them after. Your mom calling you and saying that they're already in their honeymoon. You don't worry too much, considering just how much the week's already taken out of you, so let's just say that this was a much needed rest.
Besides. You'll finally get to meet your mom's boyfriend, well, husband now, you guess. And what's the worst thing that could happen, right?
...
Never in your life did you expect to see him, again. Pervert Johnny, who turns into Pervert Step Dad Johnny. You just got back from your classes and there he is, rough hands on your mom's ass, and they have the audacity to act surprised. She excuses herself from him, giggling wildly like a school girl while she takes your face in her palms kissing it, and talking about how much she's missed you. While you can't help but look away from the man that's standing in your kitchen. But unlike you, he stares. And you don't miss the way he licks his lips at the helpless expression you have on.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny that likes to walk around shirtless. Always just in his gray sweatpants. You think he's doing it on purpose too, never wearing boxers so you could see the imprint of his cock. Doesn't even bother hiding the erections he get from you, always teasing, and saying "Eyes up here, lad/lass.." when you weren't even staring.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny who you hate with a passion. This has got to be the prettiest attempt at revenge you've ever seen, but you don't have it in your heart to tell your mom about her new husbands real intentions.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny who near pounces on you the moment your mom leaves for a business trip. Your bending over when all of a sudden he's behind you. Frothing his dick on your ass, and you don't even have the chance to scream or run away cause he's got one of his rough palms over your mouth. He pulls you close to his chest, and he pants like he's in heat, whispering the filthiest words to your ear.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny who magically convinced you to try his dick at least once. And that's how it starts :(.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny who gets you addicted to his dick. Knowing you'll come around in no time. He's always knew you'd be the prettiest whore. And he takes advantage of the fact that your mom, well, his wife, is out of the house. You learn so quickly too. Morning head from you's got to be his favorite part of starting the day.
Pervert Step Dad Johnny who dresses you up in the prettiest lingerie money can buy. Corsets, and laces. Stockings, and bows. You have a collection of all of them right now. Be careful though, tease him enough and your getting your cute little panties pulled to the side. His throbbing dick rearranging your guts, and you see it poke through your tummy. The perv definitely rubs at the bulge, talking about how happy he is, because his baby's giving him a baby too.
a/n: I don't know what possessed me to write this. I just wanted some older soap content, kinda, this is just my second post for the day so m' sorry if it's not enough to feed you guys 😞 but there's a project that's been needing some finalizing and because of that this might not be my finest work. But I'm hoping that your having a better day than I am, my loves! Remember to always take care of yourself!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x reader smut#cod imagine#soap x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#x gn reader#x female reader#x male reader
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I am not dead and I have a DPxDC idea to share with you all!
So Ghost King!Danny died died-for reasons I have yet to come up with-and gets reincarnated as one of the BatFamily members. Revolutionary idea I know. But, there’s a catch. It’s not Dick, Jason, Tim, any of the Robins actually, but Danny get’s reincarnated as Cassandra Cain-Wayne. Why did I come up with this you may ask? Because I like Cass. That’s it that is the main reason.
Anyways, Cass doesn’t know or have any awareness of her previous life before being revived by the Lazarus Pit by Lady Shiva. Not even any muscle memories. Which is a good thing since Danny’s muscle memories in fights is a bit like punch kick punch some kind of power punch punch. So a bit after Cass is out of the Pit, the next time she tries to fight crime she is not as good as she used to be, as she’s trying to use her fighting techniques and skills but her brain is telling her to button mash her way through it.
After that Cass tries to train her way back into being a better fighter, with everyone thinking that being killed and immediately being revived the Pit probably just messed with her system in some way.
Cass starts to see some ghosts, mainly animals and shades but Cass mostly brushes it off, and she decides that she can probably use this newfound skill to her advantage when at a crime scene. Cass gets psychically stronger as well, more agile, and she starts to pull pack her punches even more than before so she doesn’t injure anyone too much.
Then someone notices a single, shiny, white hair sticking up from Cass’s roots. But that wasn’t the weird part. It looks like a curved lightning bolt in a way, looking unnatural. Batman finds this a bit odd, and decides it’s best to be safe rather than sorry and brings Cass to all the magic users he can summon to the Watchtower.
Other heroes who wanted to see what was going on were also there, but it’s ultimately Deadman, who managed to tag along to the meeting, who recognized what’s going on. The moment the Batfam entered and Deadman made direct eye contact with Cass, he frantically shouted, “T-THE GHOST KING??? THAT’S who the GHOST KING decided to reincarnated as????”
Needless to say that everyone who heard him was freaking out. That included Cass. All the magic users are like, “Deadman, are you sure?” or “This is bad, what do we do, oh fuck” And Deadman just nods, saying “I mean, I’ve heard from other ghosts that the Ghost King had returned in mortal form, so I kinda just assumed it’s her. She’s definitely ghost some powerful ghost molecules in her tho” Everyone calms down a bit after that, but Cass having some “ghost molecules” in her is concerning.
So now the main quest is figuring out who exactly this Ghost King was, which is the easiest part, and figuring out what happened to him, much harder. All while Cass has an internal and external crisis that she can’t communicate effectively about with bonus powers to worry about. And probably some old ghosts from DP going after her to claim the ghostly throne. Because whether or not they know for 100% sure that she’s the reincarnation of the Ghost King, she’s the most likely candidate.
#danny phantom#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#reincarnated au#in the drafts no more!#jan 5th 2023#I was brought back from the dead that day and then immediately died#also I don’t really like how I wrote this but the IDEA is what I love so I’m sharing it
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Bruce is the restraining bolt
Let's say that Bruce "dies" again. Tim, of course, figures it's another temporary thing and bonus he doesn't need to risk another organ to prove it this time. That being said, Bruce isn't around to stop them now. Dick doesn't feel the need to be the dad this time since Bruce will be back. He's the big brother, the babysitter at best. Jason has never felt the need to step up into a parental role for any of his sibs before and he's not going to stop now. Cass won't kill, that is her line, beyond that, she's not anyone's parent either. Tim is one bad day away from being a supervillain, he seriously needs a vacation but at the same time he needs something that will keep him busy or he will get paranoid (thanks B for the trauma) and so he's not going to stop anyone, Duke doesn't have the experience to know when or if he should stop any of his sibs, steph and barbara are staying out of it as while they are family they consider themselves cousins at best no matter what B says, and no one is going to let Damian boss them around.
That being established, B is gone, Alfred is fretting but not inclined to stop anyone anyway, the kids decide that while the bat is away...
When Bruce returns, Alfred is just returning from a spa trip his beloved grandchildren insisted that he go on since he deserved a nice break and they even investigated to make sure the spa wasn't a scam or front! While Alfred was gone and Bruce was "dead", all Black Mask's warehouses had been mysteriously destroyed with large explosions that Bruce had previously forbidden because he was worried about collateral damage since some of those warehouses were sandwiched by other storage facilities and places where people squatted. (Steph and Jason, both very affronted because they are professionals B! And yes, there were also glitter bombs involved, it made the fire extra pretty with the different colors).
Furthermore, Lex Luthor is no longer the majority shareholder of his own company anymore, that would be Tim now, and all of Lex's employees are rejoicing since they're all getting a pay raise that brings them from the legal bare minimum to not just a living wage but twice that plus benefits even for those who aren't full timers (which is basically everyone, lex never wanted to get benefits for anyone). Lex is also being investigated for embezzling, money laundering, domestic and international terrorism, and the trafficking of minors (kon). Lex chose a very bad time to make Kon sad and Tim took that personally.
Bruce also discovered that Tim's childhood home, aka the drake's old place next door for the given value of next door, has been demolished and that whole area is now a botanical garden and registered wildlife sanctuary. (Damian with assistance and permission from Tim since technically the land was in Tim's name, Damian persuaded Poison Ivy to help while also monitoring to ensure she didn't slip in anything detrimental and also breaking up the exotic animal smuggling ring that B had been trying to keep from him to prevent this very thing. Tim, in the meantime, just happened to have a number of people on hand more than happy to work in a botanical garden/wildlife sanctuary and no, none of those people were ever formerly ninja who answered to Ra's before realizing that Red Robin was a far better employer, why would you ever think they were?)
And of course, the Joker is dead. None of his kids are fessing up to this. If pressed, they will cry, even Jason, and say that they thought Joker killed their dad and they wished it had been them because they missed him so much! (It was Dick and Barbara, Babs faked the paperwork for Dick to go in as an orderly, Dick, in disguise, gave the Joker altered medication via injection and made sure to get some air bubbles in for good measure, official COD was a totally natural brain aneurysm, so sad, no autopsy needed, burn the body)
Duke was a bit of a wild card and ended up hanging out with Selina, picking up a few extra skills, and using those skills to break into various mansions and apartments of the filthy rich to steal back stolen art and artifacts and return them to museums in their country of origin so they can be enjoyed by everyone (he watched indiana jones recently and the "it belongs in a museum" popped into his head a lot, he did wear a particular hat while he was committing his heists) It was nice potential step mother and step son bonding time
And finally, Cass causes Ra's Al Ghul to lose a particular appendage, one that the lazarus pit hasn't been able to grow back for him thanks to a little consultation with Constantine beforehand. She then went to hang out at Themyscira and got some very pretty bracelets.
Bruce is thinking very hard about just turning around. He takes a nap instead and then he lectures his beloved nutcases about personal safety, the law, respecting what is essentially dibs on certain super villains, and all the other boring stuff he's tried to impose on them over the years.
#bruce wayne#batfamily#batman#tim drake#jason todd#dick grayson#damian wayne#signal#stephanie brown#duke thomas#alfred pennyworth#crack fic idea#cassandra cain#cassandra wayne
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Pervert price who steals clothes and sniffs them as he jacks off. Or listens through your door as you get off, listening to your groans and moans as be palms himself. Him getting hard at any little praise. Price who takes pictures of you without you knowing. He definitely stares at you while you shower in the group showers. Price is a perv and we all know it, but that's alright because I love him ❤️. I'm gonna rot your brain with price headcanons trust. I'm coming back w/a sugar baby Price headcanon fr.
Content tags: pervert / creepy price proceed with caution !!dubious consent!!!
Thinking about Pervert! Price taking interest in the much younger recruit and it eats at him because he feels like a creepy old man because of it. He tries to stay away he really does but it’s not his fault that his window looks out to the training field where he can see you do practice rounds at the shooting range, the way you’ll skillful assemble and disassemble the weapon, the way the uniform seems to cling to your body, and the way your deep voice will utter words of frustration when you miss your target.
Of course Price can’t help himself but stand at the window sill, lower half just obscured from view where he’s slowly and gently pumping his dick as he continues to watch you practice.
At first you don’t notice, too focused on your task but when you do, you salute him with a soft smile on your face before you turn your back to him again and the fact that you’re oblivious to what he’s doing, along with the common courtesy you always seem to show him has him cumming all over his fist.
Pervert! Price who’ll be kind enough to offer himself to do your laundry, claiming it’s not a big deal since he’s doing his own load already, only to scavenge through the pile of clothes looking for the pair of boxers with a suspicious stain on them, pressing his nose against them as he furiously pumps his dick and before he tips over the edge he makes sure to finish on the very same piece of clothing, in the very same spot that you did
Pervert!Price who discovers you have a little boyfriend, who can’t help but lay in bed fantasizing about creeping into your room, after your boyfriend’s left, tasting the taste of his cock on your lips, or using his tongue to clean up the ropes of cum he had spilled on your body. He’d literally grovel at your feet for any crumbs you’re willing to give him
Pervert! Price who’s oh so willing to help you shower, claiming it’s important to clean throughly only for his hand to slip between your legs and gently pump your length.
You’d freeze in place, hitched breath escaping your lips as you ask him what he’s doing.
“Just getting you cleaned up properly, don’t worry about it, boy” he’d say as he thumbs at the tip and he doesn’t stop til you’re cumming all over the shower wall.
Pervert! Price who finds himself jerking off, when the two of you are in charge of patrol, separated but still connected through the walkie talkie channel and he knows it’s wrong but he can’t help but unbuckle his belt, knows he shouldn’t be doing this but pulls down his pants anyway, and gently pumps his cock as your voice trickles through the device, only responding with short words when you ask him a question, or going silent for way too long, where you only hear heavy breaths on the line, you always get a bit suspicious about what he’s doing but you never really figure it out and he always manages to make himself cum, having to find whatever is available to clean himself up
#also the pieces I’m writing now are just spitballs so they’re not perfect I just like thinking about price mwah#alec answers#john price#call of duty#john price x reader#john price x male reader#captain john price#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#dom male character#sub male reader
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kinktober 2023 - the album
௹ sᴏɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ - ᴅᴜᴍʙɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ AND sex pollen
௹ ғᴛ- ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, sᴇx ᴘᴏʟʟᴇɴ, degregation
i was gonna do soilja boy but do people like the boys still?
"You are nothing more than a dumb whore, I swear." Jason pushed out a struggled moan as he thrusts deep down your throat. Even though I did sit there, hands tied behind my back and taking Jasons cock on the floor you I wondered with my brain three seconds away from becoming useless, where this had come from.
Sex pollen was what his new attitude had come from. After a run with Ivy's sex pollen, Bruce had mistakenly allowed Jason to come home to you because he was showing no signs of symptoms and he urged the man to let him go home. Though a late bloomer, the pollen was still there and took Jason by storm which led to the current events.
The brunette man let out a long moan as he shook with his pending orgasm on the rise. "Fuck your mouth is amazing." He sped up his assault on your throat while holding my head tighter as if I was going to go anywhere, to begin with. His dick twitched as he came down my throat with loud moans. His grip on my head loosened as he shut his eyes in pure bliss, allowing himself to feel the bliss of his orgasm that probably felt 10x better because of the sex pollen he was currently on.
When the last spurts of cum finally sprayed all over my mouth he let me go and stumbled to the other side of the room. Shakily lifting myself up, I look at the man as he hunched over our shared apartment bed, making all types of noises. For a second, I thought about the best way to approach him before creaping up behind him.
"Jay? Are you alright?" You spoke with a waivered tone to your voice. It wasnt fear, no, it was worry because Jason sounded like he was truly in pain. And when he turned to face you, cheeks red and dick hard, he looked as if he was in pain. How could he be like that after he just came down your throat? His cock hard as if he didnt cum at all? "Jay? What the hell?!"
I'd be muttering those same words when Jay grabbed mefrom where I was , steps behind him and slammed my body on the bed pretty damn harshly. "I'm sorry- I have to be inside of you, Y/n." He said, pretty damn warn out and in a rather scared tone as if he didnt know what was coming. That did set red flags in my head but the way he was whimpering and treated me made the red mix into green really quick. Slowly moving my hands up his chest in an attempt to be sexy, I nodded at him.
Jason had all the confirmation he needed even though he didn't really need confirmation in the beginning. He just came home and placed me on my knees before ramming into my mouth at the start of the night anyway. However, once he got the confirmation he decided to use me as he pleased, starting with flipping me over on my hands and knees and allowing me to put all my weight down on his face to eat me out. I was lucky that his hands had somehow found their way in an unbreakable grip on my hips or I might have tried to lift myself up from the pleasure I was receiving. It made me think, when was the last time Jason had sat to properly eat me out? To damn long, obviously, as I was shaking and convulsing from the movements he had made with his tongue. He moved and twisted his tongue like my pussy was the last meal he'd ever have, I moaned loudly. My hands rushed to find somewhere that I could hold me as my orgasm snuck up on me and crashed. Jasons assault got worse as my orgasm subsided, his grip getting tighter and his tounge going faster, leaving me extremely overstimulated.
Jason didn't stop until he felt my hands banging on his head, using every attempt to move that I could. By the time he was finished, my mind was starting to feel pretty cloudy again. "Jay- I need a break." I attempted to mutter out but I'm sure it came out as a moan and a whine mixed in with some broken English.
However, even If it didn't come out in broken English and moans, there was no way that Jason was stopping now. In a flash, he flipped me over to lie on my back. I could see him, slowly moving his hands up my body until he got to my pussy which was dripping from his tongue and my arousal. It only got wetter as he started to position his cock to line up with my entrance. He roughly pushed in and started his thrusts at a brutal pace, not giving my pussy any time to adjust to his size. Not that I needed it anyway, my mind went hazy before either of us could finish. All I could hear was Jaon let out curses of " You dumb baby bitch." And "I'm just going to turn you fucking stupid before I completely went (temporarily) brain-useless. I did feel the many orgasms gave me throughout the night before he even finished himself. And even when he did, he wasnt completely out of commisison yet, he took a minute (if that) before moving me in whatever positions he wanted and changing my guts.
In the morning, I awoke to an aching pain in my ass and a weak feeling in my legs. It felt like I was hit by a bus but I wasn't. I was hit by the after-effects of the sex-pollinated man who lay next to me, finally asleep.
IM TRYING TO GET BETTER AT WRITING SMUT- WAIT!
#fanfic#xreader#minimoxha#black!reader#jason todd#batfam headcanons#batfam x reader#batfam#batfamily#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x reader#red hood#red hood smut#jason todd smut#red hood x y/n#sex pollen#kinktober#kinktober 2023#kinktober day three#minimoxhakinktober#minimoxhakinktoberdaythree#minimoxhakinktober2023#x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x you#x y/n
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