#based off a comment made in this fic about Dick loving the rain as a child | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still.

You were you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

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

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

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

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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tcookies777 · 3 years

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Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - The Angel from Hell

About 14 years ago….

Summer in Sound country was utter shit.

Fire country had its droughts for sure during this season, and more often than not the trees would catch fire just from the mere glare of the sun on a dried leaf. But at least the trees also offered plenty of protection from the heat so long as the Firewatch was making sure those trees weren’t burning first.

Sound country, on the other hand, had nothing but empty golden plains that seemed to stretch on for eternity. If it didn’t look like a sort of heaven, Kakashi would’ve thought he was in hell what with the sun burning through his clothes and the scorched patches of earth peppered throughout the fields—a telltale sign of the bombs that had rained down on the area not too long ago.

A summer thunderstorm last week had given them a brief reprieve from the intense heat wave, but it had still left them uncomfortably soaked in their own clothes. A week later, the sun was back with a fiery vengeance, and they were back to soaking through their tactical gear in their own stink and sweat again, but this time with the muck of the marshlands clinging to their boots.

It had taken almost the whole day to sludge through the marshes and find shelter at a farmhouse that seemed to have been completely abandoned days ago. They’d cleared the house and finished in disappointment upon finding that all of the livestock were either gone or already getting feasted on by the maggots. Most of the food in the pantry had also long been raided save for a single jar of strawberry jam and a cracked egg left to spoil on a shelf. It wasn’t that everyone was starving—although they were certainly hungry after a day out trudging through a war zone—but a jar of sweet strawberry jelly was practically bliss compared to their MRE rations. Even Kakashi himself was getting wearier and wearier over every pound of rice he had to eat with the bland curry packed in his ration meal.

So the moment Anzu had spotted the bright red jar, there had immediately been a scuffle over who got to eat it. Being the fifth in command (and with the first four already dead), Kakashi had asserted the order that each person would get their fair share of strawberry jelly: one scoop and only after they’d finished their MREs for tonight. Everyone except Obito had glanced warily at each other, reluctant to follow the command of a 17-year-old boy despite him outranking them all. But, not wanting to throw a tantrum over strawberry fucking jelly of all things, they’d each grunted in answer.

And now that last bit of the jelly was getting scraped out of its jar by Obito after Kakashi had passed his share over to him. Sweets weren’t his thing anyway even if he would kill for something homemade rather than a meal full of preservatives.

The leftover spicy powder clung to the base of Kakashi’s back teeth no matter how many times he swigged down some water from his canteen. It was like chewing on sediment, and judging by the faces of everyone else, he was willing to bet none of them were intent on eating curry anytime soon after the end of this tour. He didn’t blame them.

“Piece of shit!” Tsutomu suddenly snarled, unsheathing his kukri to swipe at the fly that had been assaulting his face for the last half hour. The fat insect buzzed around him before disappearing into the man’s beard that was still coated with the blood from when a Sound soldier had tried to bash his face in back at the marshes. With a growl, Tsutomu swatted at his beard, prompting two flies to crawl out and give him double the work.

Sitting closest to him, Yori ducked when his blade nearly chopped her ear off. “Watch it!” she barked at him, flicking her chocolate brown braid aside to pick up some of the cards she’d dropped. She was the only woman among the twelve of them here, and she was also the only one besides Kakashi who had the guts to speak up against Tsutomu whenever his bitching got too loud or too obnoxious. Usually both.

The rest of the unit was in the middle of a very intense game of Spoons, using a beat up pair of playing cards someone had the smarts to bring. Considering it was his first tour though, Kakashi initially could not fathom who would want to play a card game in the middle of a war zone, and especially deep in the trenches of enemy territory. But he’d soon discovered that a card game was the best way to pass the time when there wasn’t much else to do but scout, kill, and sit on their asses to do it all over again. As it was now, they were on their thirty-fourth round of Spoons, and he just needed an Ace of Hearts to complete the set in his hand.

Passing another card to Obito, Kakashi wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow. Tucked beneath his shirt, the hot metal of his dog tags rubbed uncomfortably against his slick chest. Summer nights in Sound country were almost as bad as during the day. The good thing about it was that the humidity dropped, leaving the air so dry that his tongue felt like paper every time he opened his mouth. The bad thing was that, with the place so arid, they couldn’t risk lighting a fire lest they burn down their only shelter for the night (or attract the wrong kind of attention). So they’d turned on their flashlights, thankful that the equipment had somehow survived the trip through the marshes but not so happy that they couldn’t even light a cigarette.

Even without a fire, the summer heat had become far more unbearable than the mosquitoes that assaulted them every hour of the day. By midnight, everyone had resorted to stripping their tops off and leaving only their tactical vests on, filling the small space with their stinky sweat. It went against protocol, but nobody—not even Obito—listened to him when he offhandedly commented that they were sooner to die from a mosquito bite than a bullet wound if they dawdled around half-naked like that. Even Yori had given up, leaving Kakashi as the only one fully clothed in his combat fatigues.

“Bet you we could cook an egg on the ground with this heat,” Obito rasped out, pressing the cool, flat edge of his kukri against his cheek. Not the smartest move unless he wanted to risk stabbing his eye out, but he was far too desperate to care at this point. “Fuck, man, what I wouldn’t give for a sunnyside egg.”

“There’s one on the pantry shelf downstairs if the flies haven’t got to it yet,” Kakashi replied dismissively, passing a Queen of Hearts card to him and then picking up—ah-ha!

Holding his fourth and final Ace, Kakashi surreptitiously slid a hand out to grab one of the eight bullets that sat on the stool they were all sitting around. It took twenty seconds for anyone to notice that there were now only seven bullets remaining, and then chaos ensued as the rest of the unit members wrestled for the last bullets.

Once the dust had cleared and the knocked-over flashlights were propped back up, they each opened their hands to show who had a bullet and who didn’t. Tsutomu didn’t, and he did not look pleased about it.

“All right, who won it this time?” Midori sighed even as everyone looked expectantly to Kakashi who’d already flipped his deck around to show them his complete set of Aces.

“Fuck this!” Tsutomu threw his cards down and jabbed his kukri in Kakashi’s direction. “He’s always winning!”

“And you’re always too slow,” Yori said with a roll of her eyes. “You don’t hear me bitchin’ about it.”

“Maybe because I would’ve made you shut the fuck up!”

Before the two could begin snapping at each other's throats again, Midori was already nudging his glasses up as he said aloud, “He’s a Hatake. They don’t call him the prodigal White Fang for nothing, so of course he'd win. He's one of those freakin' geniuses who excel at everything.”

One of the Aces in Kakashi’s hand folded slightly under his grip, but he said nothing as Obito glanced his way.

“Sounds like a freak to me,” someone mumbled.

With Anzu collecting all the playing cards to reshuffle, everyone had time to listen in on the conversation now.

“Ah, yeah, your old man was one of the hotshots in the military, right?” Genki sneered at him. His face looked like a weasel’s what with his long, sharp nose, narrow jaw, and beady eyes that twinkled as if he was constantly thinking of an insulting joke for anyone who caught his attention. But he was also the kind of weasel that shrunk back when a predator stared him down, and he did just that when Kakashi calmly turned his sights onto him. “B-Bet he has plenty of medals to show for it.”

Kakashi quickly looked away in disinterest. Fuck if he cared about his father’s medals. They were probably collecting dust and cobwebs somewhere in the back of a closet.

“Heard his Pops always carried a lil’ sword around in battle,” Tsutomu nodded to the hilt jutting out from behind Kakashi’s lower back. “Just like that one.”

“Who the fuck brings a sword to a gunfight?” Genki sniggered but just as soon stopped when he saw nobody else was laughing.

“It’s a tantō, you nitwit,” Obito said, slamming down the empty jar of jam with more force than necessary. Genki jolted in his seat from the harsh sound. “And it’s really no different from the standard-issued kukris we all carry.”

Tsutomu frowned at the knife in his hand that was almost double the length of Kakashi’s shortsword. He met Kakashi’s gaze over the curved blade, tawny eyes squinting at him for a second as if they were having a dick-measuring contest. Pleased with the extra inches he had over the younger man, Tsutomu lowered the knife to give Kakashi a smug grin. His shit-eating grin instantly flipped into a scowl, however, when the two flies from earlier suddenly appeared to attack his lips.

His breath must be that rancid, Kakashi thought with faint bemusement. While he could stand the pompous ass and his snide remarks, he couldn’t stand to watch Yori have to consistently dodge Tsutomu’s knife as he returned to stabbing at the flies with a vengeance.

Kakashi nodded towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “Tsutomu, Genki, switch off with Haya and Jun. It’s your turn to be on lookout.”

They clicked their tongues in unison but obeyed without question, grabbing their flashlights to head upstairs and keep watch for the next hour. As soon as they left the cramped room, the stink seemed to follow after them (although that wasn’t much of a surprise). Haya and Jun came in, propping their sniper rifles against a cabinet that held nothing but smashed plates within. As they searched for a decent seat where they could put their feet up and relax as well as they could in a warzone, Kakashi pulled out a map from his pack and spread it out on the floor. With the beckon of his hand, he urged everyone to pay attention.

“Amegakure is fifty miles from here,” he explained, tapping a finger on the northeast quadrant of the map. “The package is reported to be held within an underground bunker disguised on the topside as a water tower. At 0600, we’ll be leaving to cut through the Dead Marshes to reach Ame by 1800.”

“Why is it called the Dead Marshes again?” Anzu asked before slapping a fly off his sweaty face.

“Because a hundred of our men died there just last month. Cut down in an ambush after the enemy got ahold of our intel. Everyone’s been calling it the Dead Marshes since then.”

“So why the fuck are we going there?” Yori demanded. “I'm betting those corpses are still floating around for all the fishies to nibble on.”

“Then that just means we have even more cover,” Kakashi said.

Jun snorted and leaned over to snatch the map off the ground. Like most of the other survivors here, Jun liked to question Kakashi’s leadership at every chance. In fact, he was the kind of guy whom teachers would rip their hair out over had he chosen to stay in high school rather than head straight into the military academy. Running a hand through his greasy blonde hair, he snorted at the map before tossing it back to Kakashi. “There’s a river that we can follow for a few miles. It’ll lead us straight to Amegakure much faster than the marshes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because it's too tiresome to explain to a numbskull like you. “Because I said so.”

“A fucking kid said so.”

“At least I have a high school diploma.”

“And a Bachelor's and a Master’s,” Midori coughed out. When Jun glared at him, he took off his glasses and pretended to get busy cleaning them.

With a sneer, Jun pointed his flashlight directly into Kakashi's face. “I don’t care if you're a Hatake. I don't care if you're some genius with a dozen degrees. And I definitely don’t give a flying fuck if our superiors kiss your ass and call you the White Flash—”

‘Fang’, Kakashi almost corrected him, but even he found the nickname distasteful.

“—I'm not going to put my life in the hands of some kid who cares more about the mission than his own comrades,” Jun spat out.

“Look,” Obito sat forward, prying the map from Kakashi’s grip and smoothing it back down on the floor. “The obvious choice is the river, right?”

Jun nodded and then stepped on the foot of Haya who’d been too busy staring at Yori’s cleavage. “Y-Yeah, duh!” Haya nodded vigorously until the heel digging onto his toes relented.

Obito spread open his palms in gesture. “Then you would think they’d have an ambush set up for us there too since it’s the ‘obvious choice’. The river will be guarded, but Sound won’t expect more Fire soldiers to try the marshes after the first group failed.”

“Ah, so reverse psychology?” Yori still didn’t look so convinced, but she was already eyeing the marshes on the map again with renewed interest. She frowned and then looked to Kakashi. “You said you want to use the dead bodies for cover?”

“The marshes are our best bet if we want to get to the package on time. And without getting butchered,” Kakashi added firmly. “We’re the only ones left of our unit, so we need to play it safe but right. But I also wouldn’t expect Sound to turn a blind eye, so we need to move with stealth.”

Yori rolled her eyes. “Tsutomu is the opposite of stealth, but I guess we could always use his bitch ass for cover if needed. I just fucking hate the marshes,” she said with a sigh, sagging in her rickety chair, still exhausted from slugging through the marshes all day. “But Hatake’s idea makes more sense.”

“The fuck it does not!” Jun snapped at her. “I say we take the river—”

“And I say we’re taking the marshes,” Kakashi said, his voice low but harsh enough to make the fresh graduate stiffen. When Jun fell silent, Kakashi swept his gaze around all the others sitting and staring at him. He took turns challenging each and every one of them silently for a moment, daring them to question his orders anymore. “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you don’t like swimming with the fishes and corpses. I don’t care if any of you live or die. I care about completing the mission—and that is securing the package. That is our duty as a soldier and if you disagree then you are free to take off your vests and dog tags, put down your guns, and walk out that door and all the way back home.”

Everyone shut up at that, and for the first time in six months, Kakashi was finally afforded the peace of silence without someone bitching about the insects, the commercial taste of their rations, or a stone that had found its way inside their boot. Satisfied with the room’s consensus, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, unsheathing his tantō to wipe off today’s coat of blood and mud that stained the edges.

It was Yori who broke the begrudging silence first when she suddenly withdrew her pistol from its holster. “You keep staring at my tits, Haya, and I'll blow you a new eye. Right in the center of your fucking forehead.”

“Chill, darlin'!” Haya raised his hands placatingly. “I was just checking out your tags.” As if to prove his point, he leaned closer to her, training his eyes on the cleavage that could be seen just above the collar of her vest. Still under the pretense of reading her tags, he hummed and stroked his chin. “Impressive.”

Yori cocked her gun in warning.

“Hey, I got a place where you can blow me,” Jun snickered at her, prompting Haya to do the same.

“That’s it—”

“Enough,” Kakashi leaned across to grab Yori’s hand that was reaching for the kukri at her hip. Something then slipped out of his front pocket, fluttering down until it landed atop of the map to reveal little Rin shyly hugging onto a scrawny boy with silver hair and a dead gaze.

Jun swooped down in the blink of an eye, snatching up the photo with his blood-stained fingers. He whistled low, angling the photo for Haya to see. “Damn, Hatake! You like your girls really young, huh? But I didn't take you as a guy who likes four-year-old pussy! Or is she three?”

Over the men’s cackles, Kakashi resisted the urge to skewer the Private 1st Class with the tip of his tantō. Especially not when he had just finished wiping the blade clean of today’s muck. “The only pussy here is the one in front of me,” he replied coolly.

Midori choked on the water he’d been sipping from his canteen, letting it splash all over the glasses he’d just finished cleaning.

While Jun was still sputtering from the retort, Obito stole the photo away from him. He peeked at it for just a split second before handing the picture back to Kakashi who immediately tucked it back into the safety of his pocket. He wiped his sword down one last time and then sheathed it loudly enough for both Jun and Haya to flinch.

A grim silence fell over the group as everyone else seemed to recall all the beloved people they themselves carried in their pockets. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, and lovers. They were all waiting for their soldiers to return home—even if it meant in body bags or as dog tags.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Obito quietly asked as Anzu started to deal cards for the others to play a round of Thirteen with.

It was a sincere question, but it was still a personal one that had Kakashi scrubbing a hand over his jaw. His hand came away tinged with the thin film of blood that had yet to finish congealing on his mask. He could smell the sharp notes of copper with every intake of breath, so he made a mental note to retreat to the bathroom later and wash off the grime. It was pointless, he knew that. By tomorrow noon, his mask would be dyed in splotches of red again, but tonight he wanted to sleep without inhaling the stench of a dead man.

Sensing Obito still waiting for an answer, Kakashi wiped his hand on his trousers and then sighed.

“She's a girl. And she's my friend….” And he had kissed Rin before, but that was more out of curiosity than desire. Besides, he didn't count it as an actual kiss since he'd just been seven years old at the time. “She's… special to me,” was all Kakashi gave in answer. “What about you? You got anyone back home?”

This time, it was Obito’s turn to shift in discomfort. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I was... disowned by my family. I was always the black sheep, but one day, I fucked up and...” He paused to scratch his cheek for a moment. “And it cost my twin brother’s life. I mean, he’s not dead,” he added quickly. “But he got fucked up pretty badly from the accident to the point that... he’s like a shadow of himself. So I got kicked out of the family after that, got put in a group home, then joined the academy as soon as I could. I haven’t talked to my family or my twin brother ever since, so if I die... guess that’s it for me.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the end for you. I mean, you’re free to haunt me if you’d like.”

Obito's mouth quirked into a grin. “You don’t mind me pulling all that poltergeist shit on you?”

Kakashi snorted. “With your butterfingers, you’d be dropping shit rather than throwing it.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Obito shoved at his shoulder with a laugh.

His laughter was cut short, however, when the heavy tread of boots stampeding down the staircase followed by the most unholy screeching interrupted everyone. Genki and Tsutomu appeared at the threshold, faces flushed with angry scratched lines marking their cheeks as if a cat had gotten the jump on them. But it wasn’t a cat that was making that screeching noise; it was a girl. Slung between them with her wrists bound in ripped sheets, she thrashed around wildly in search of an opportunity to—not escape but to bite at the men holding her captive.

White teeth flashed between long tresses of ebony hair as she tried to snap her jaws at Tsutomu’s thick neck. The man responded with a harsh slap that sent her face whipping towards Genki who was forced to reel back to avoid her bites.

“Lookie what I caught!” Tsutomu announced, grinning proudly as he grabbed the girl by the base of her head and yanked it back. She winced but made no sound that she was in pain. Even though her whole face was streaked with filth, it was obvious that she couldn’t be any older than fifteen years old. Only two years younger than Kakashi himself, but already looking as if she’d lived through an entire war. “Caught this lil’ bitch skulking around in one of the bedrooms. Probably was finding a spot to hide in so that she could slit our throats while we slept.”

There was no way she could’ve taken on twelve armed soldiers even with the element of surprise, but Kakashi didn’t doubt that she would’ve tried it anyway.

“I would’ve shat on your corpses too afterward!” she sneered at Tsutomu, earning a second slap to the cheek and making Genki flinch when specks of blood from her mouth landed all over his face.

“How the hell did we miss her?” Jun asked, stopping Tsutomu from slapping the girl again. “I thought we cleared this house from top to bottom.”

Apparently, you guys were sloppy about it, Kakashi was half-tempted to say. Instead, he stood up and yanked the girl out of Genki and Tsutomu's clutches by her bound hands. She struggled against him but just as soon froze when she felt the sharp tip of his tantō dig into the small of her back. Don’t move, Kakashi told her with a mere prod of his sword.

“Hey! Finders keepers,” Tsutomu growled, displeased that his catch was being taken away from him. His grubby hands reached for the girl, but Kakashi pulled her away from him and towards the staircase.

“We’re guests of this house,” Kakashi said aloud despite knowing that there wasn’t much of this house or its occupants left anymore. “This girl will be locked up in the master bedroom where no one is to touch her. Is that understood?”

Tsutomu took a heavy step forward to protest but stopped when the young Hatake turned his steely gaze onto him.

“Is that understood?” Kakashi spoke low, the lethal edge in his voice cutting through the tension like the blade in his hand. When Tsutomu bowed his head in answer, Kakashi glanced over at Obito who was looking at him strangely. “Relay to Tsutomu and Genki the plan for tomorrow.”

With a sharp nudge of the sword against the girl’s back, Kakashi prompted her to continue up the stairs. She remained silent on the way to the bedroom, but she didn’t stop trying to squirm out of the sheets roped tightly around her wrists. Kakashi took the moment to observe her calloused hands, deducing that she was a surviving member of this household. Probably the daughter of the farmer who’d lived here.

He didn’t ask where her parents were or why she was still here. Even though there hadn’t been any bloodstains found while clearing the house, he guessed that the rest of the girl’s family was already dead in a ditch somewhere.

“If you’re going to kill me then just do it already,” she finally said the moment she stumbled into the bedroom.

Kakashi closed the door first, watching her flinch at the sound of the latch clicking in place. “Turn around.”

She hesitated for a moment before obeying with a slow, reluctant pivot. Under the sharp beam of his flashlight, Kakashi could see the tear tracks that left a clean streak through the cake of dirt and dried blood on her cheeks. He raised his sword and she bunched her shoulders up despite the defiant tilt of her chin. The tantō flashed under the moonlight for a split second as he swung it down upon the girl.

She squeezed her eyes shut but then opened them when she found herself still alive... and with her hands free now.

Kakashi jut his chin towards the bed. Its sheets were still made as if nobody had ever slept in them at all. “Lay down there.”

She stiffened at this order, her body locking up more notably than the last time she’d hesitated. She took one step forward, and Kakashi caught the way her whole frame seemed to tremble before she hurriedly crossed the room and laid down on the bed, stiff as a board. The springs of the mattress creaked harshly, and her eyes widened as if the sound was a threat itself.

Grabbing a chair by the vanity mirror, Kakashi dragged it to the side of the bed before plopping down. His sudden close proximity to her had her sitting up rigidly, slim hands squeezing into fists on her lap. He would've preferred for her to remain lying down, but it seemed she was more comfortable sitting up, so he let her.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he took the moment to study the girl. She had a split lip, a small cut above her brow, the red mark of a building bruise on her cheek (no doubt courtesy of Tsutomu and Genki), and dark bags of exhaustion weighed heavy beneath her eyes—eyes so black that they seemed to pierce right into Kakashi’s soul the longer he held her sharp gaze.

He looked away to reach for something in his pocket, pausing only when he sensed the girl stiffen again. Slowly, he withdrew the white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. “Wipe your face.”

She scowled at the implication but snatched the cloth from him. Glimpsing the little sunflower design Rin had sewn into the corner of the cloth, the girl stared at it first before remembering to wipe the dirt off her face.

“My name is Hatake Kakashi,” he said as she cleaned herself. “What’s yours?”

When she refused to answer, he reached into another pocket, slowly again like last time. He watched as her wary eyes flicked down from his to the orange thing in his hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, peeling the fruit for her. “It’s a mandarin orange.”

A rare delicacy among their rations, but he was never one for sweets anyway.

The girl watched him peel the skin of the orange off like a hawk would with its prey. As soon as he offered her a slice, she seized the small piece from his fingers and stuffed it into her mouth. Her lashes fluttered slightly as she took that first bite of tangy sweetness.

“Good?”

She froze at the question as if she was a thief who’d been caught stealing the mandarin he’d offered her. Without warning, she spat the mashed bits of orange to his face, her frown deepening when she saw Kakashi didn’t even flinch from the attack.

“You’re a bastard!” she said as he casually brushed off the pieces of orange clinging to his mask. In an effort to add insult to the non-existent injury, she flung the now dirty handkerchief back at him. Kakashi merely plucked it off his chest, folded it two times into a small square, and then tucked it into one of his pockets before placing the rest of the orange in front of her.

He stood up and she shrunk back from him after clutching the orange to her chest.

“We’ll be gone in the morning,” Kakashi said as he scanned the room for any dangerous objects she might try to use in retaliation. “You can rest easy tonight. I’ll make sure no one touches you.”

Although he was kind of late for that.

“But if you try anything, we will have to use force.”

The warning was vague, but it left her shivering and glaring at him with enough spite to make any man give pause. He gave her one final look of caution before leaving the room to make his way to the bathroom. The farmhouse was old, and every floorboard creaked under his boots, but he preferred it that way. It kept him on edge—kept him alert for any signs of danger that may be lurking around the corner.

Even upon entering the bathroom, he swept aside the shower curtain just to make sure no other stray kid was waiting in the tub to ambush him with a butterknife or whatever these civilians resorted to.

Seeing the coast was clear, he stripped off his tactical vest and then the black sleeveless shirt underneath. The water ran lukewarm as he turned the knob of the faucet, and he splashed a handful down his chest for a brief respite from the blistering heat. Taking his shirt, he detached his mask and held it beneath the stream. Black, brown, and red tainted the pool of water along with loose sediment of dried mud. He grabbed the soap bar from the corner and scrubbed his mask inside and out, letting the bubbles froth.

After rinsing his mask, he wrung out the excess water before hanging the cloth on the edge of the sink to let it finish dripping.

A shout could be heard from downstairs—either Tsutomu or Jun since those two loved to butt heads with everyone—but Kakashi didn’t care so long as heads weren’t rolling. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he shrugged on his shirt and vest but paused upon hearing a sharp creak just outside his door.

Creak...

There it was again, but further this time.

Kakashi heaved a sigh and then yanked his mask back on, unsurprised to find it already dry. Tugging the door open, he stepped out of the hallway and was met with the hulking figure of Tsutomu. His burly back was hunched over as if the guy was in the middle of sneaking... towards the girl’s room.

The rest of this side story chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

#the anatomy of love #kakasaku

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

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Favourite Fics of 2019

So...I thought that I’d give you all a list of my favourite fanfic’s that I read in 2019! I’ll include the description that was given by the author and then give a brief commentary of my own! Please make sure to not only read the fic, but give it a like and reblog! Give it some of your own comments and too, and follow/tell the author!!

Authors - I’ve got some authors repeated so you might have more than one fic here!

Readers - ...there’s a lot of fics here lol

Welcome To The Underworld by @spookitokki

; Demon/Radio Show Host!Jungkook x Human!Reader

; Synopsis: In a dark little second-hand shop downtown, stuffed in an alleyway you only stumbled into because you were lost, you found a charming antique radio. When you turned it on, it began to play what would become your favorite radio show, “Welcome to the Underworld”

; My Thoughts: I rec’d this fic very recently but I still remember it well. Demon Jungkook is weirdly caring for her despite her being human and him being demon from the Underworld. The reader...well she has no sense of self-preservation honestly haha. I enjoyed everything about this; the smut, the world building, the characterisation and so much more!

Matters Of The Heart by @hobidreams

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: it seems not even the passage of half a decade can diminish the hold of Mr. Jung’s charms on your heart. but the rumors that welcome you home speak of his imminent marriage to an heiress, one who bests you in every infuriating, ‘ladylike’ fashion. just how, then, are you meant to interpret the undeniable sparks of desire in his eyes?

; My Thoughts: I maintain that I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH. I think it’s probably like...in my top list of fics all year. It’s just...amazing. The writing feels authentic to the era and the reader is a delightful rebel that we all love from Victorian eras after all. And of course...Mr Jung is just a ridiculously attractive man that I would like very much. Rain is apparently making a follow up drabble AND I AM EXCITED!

An Abundance of Scrunchies by @jhspetitegf

; Single Dad!Hoseok x Kindergarten Teacher!Reader

; Synopsis: ❝hoseok is a hot single dad and you’re the new kindergarten teacher that likes to piss him off❞

; My Thoughts: This series of drabbles has completely stolen my heart. Dae is adorable and the reader is delightful in how she loves her kids. And then there’s Hoseok, the grumpy businessman who’s incredibly rich yet adorably dotes on his daughter and doesn’t get mad at her. It’s just...fluffy and angsty softness. I love it so much, and the smut was...oof. I can’t wait to read more!

Polaris by @junghelioseok

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: somehow, someway, he always returns to you.

; My Thoughts: I MAINTAIN THAT I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AHHH. It’s so unique and beautifully written, such a delight to read and I enjoy it every time I do. The mixing of the ages throughout the years and how Hoseok evidently has knowledge of their future together but doesn’t tell her. It’s so sweet and yet so organic how they come together. It could be weird and creepy given the difference in ages continuously but it’s not. He’s always a gentleman and it’s just...it’s just wonderful honestly.

Faded Love by @jamaisjoons

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you.

; My Thoughts: Okay but like, I still feel the pain and sadness when I read this fic the first time :( the reader’s confusion and pain at being abandoned so thoughtlessly despite her efforts is so hard to read. I still hate Jimin for doing it, and I’m glad that he stopped and realised that he was making a mistake. But poor reader will never be able to fully trust him again and always be worried to some degree :(

Lost And Found 01: Tick Tock by @fortunexkookie

; Peter Pan!Hoseok x Captain Hook!Reader

; Synopsis: The only hope you had at ending your exile and earning your life back came in the form of an infuriating and uncatchable man: Hoseok. He seemed to love the endless game of cat-and-mouse you two played - so much, in fact, that you were unsure if you were the cat or the mouse. What he failed to realize was that there was a third player, and this one wasn’t after him. The Crocodile hunted you with an intensity that rivaled the way you chased Hoseok, but with one difference: the games he played were deadly.

; My Thoughts: Okay so like...a lot of my favourite fics ever this year have been Hoseok based. You’re not surprised, I know you’re not. But this fic is just...I cannot WAIT for the second and third parts of it. The world is so richly realised and the characters have such phenomenal characterisation and development in just this one chapter. It’s so...involving to read, you just get lost in it. It’s truly a beautiful work of art that I can’t wait to see how everything goes!

Jungle Park by @jimlingss

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah…once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

; My Thoughts: I looooooved reading this fic. Jimlingsss is basically why I made Flower a once a week thing, because when I was reading Jungle Park, I was always SO EXCITED for Monday’s because it meant I got to read a new Jungle Park! It’s such a slow burn romance but it’s so delightful and rewarding watching this cold and moody lawyer warm up to his bright and bubbly HR person. And then you learn the backstory between them and...I just loved it all!

Magic and Mysteries by @jimlingss

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Everything’s okay….EVERYTHING’S OKAY, YOU’RE FINE. Look, you just have one tiny problem. It’s an itty-bitty issue. Not that big of a deal. So what if you don’t have a familiar and you’re about to take on the ENTIRE family business. Oh, you have a name to uphold? Everyone’s depending on you? Great. That’s just fantastic. But it’s fine. You’ll get your familiar and you’ll run the best damn potion shop the world has ever seen. Everything will be fine, right?

; My Thoughts: Again, another Jimlingsss story but honestly, they’re always golden. I particularly remember this fic because I read it when I was in Korea. It’s so delightful and fun, reminding me a lot of Kiki’s Delivery Service. Jimin is a little rascal but I love that he teases her because he genuinely cares. It’s all just a truly wonderful fic and story put together in one delightful package.

Love, Guaranteed by @gukyi

; Taehyung x Reader

; Synopsis: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

; My Thoughts: I do quite enjoy reading Hogwarts fics, and I particularly enjoying reading Hogwarts fics with BTS as students as long as there’s no smut in it. Gukyi’s Hogwarts series was such a delight to read and I remember reading this fic with a smile on my face. Wanting to scream at reader because POOR TAEHYUNG OBVIOUSLY LOVES YOU. Poor guy trying so hard despite everything :(

Lovers’ Fuck Rule by @prolixitae

; Jungkook x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: jungkook is still new to your established relationship with hoseok, which means he needs a little help feeling competent sometimes. especially when it comes to sex. alternatively, the span of a poly relationship over inaccurate amounts of fucking.

; My Thoughts: Okay look, I don’t do shipping or anything but Junghope is one of the best friendships/combinations there is. And this fic encapsulates why. Jungkook is so nervous with her whereas Hoseok is just...so unbelievably calm and dominant about it all. He knows exactly what gets his girl off and it’s sweet how amused he is by Jungkook. You can feel the slight insecurity almost off Jungkook because Hoseok has been with her for years but you can also feel the genuine love the reader has for him, along with the friendship Hoseok obviously has too. I really enjoyed it all!

Get Wet by @prolixitae

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: sitting in on your boyfriend’s dance practice is probably your biggest kink. it’s also the reason you asked to be so shamelessly fucked in the locker rooms of his dance studio, in spite of the pending consequences. note: this is not an idol-verse fic

; My Thoughts: You know I love Hoseok, and this smut was just...oh my god wow. Bizarrely, I explicitly remember reading it while in the cinema waiting for a film to start haha. TNS Hoseok is amazing though and I really love him. In this fic he’s even more amazing though and I just...god I want him so badly. Urgh, 10/10

Eating For Two by @park-moomin

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: He’ll have a Large

; My Thoughts: ARGH GOD I REMEMBER READING THIS. URGH, what is it about Hoseok that makes the idea of oral sex with him just so...amazing? Actually just any sex. Any at all. I love the idea of him being so...eager and desperate to go down on his girl, particularly when she’s pregnant so that she can still get some pleasure and fun out of it. Also, him cumming in his pants is just...the cherry on top haha

The Devil In His Details by @park-moomin

; Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it's a 5'8" pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you're the form you want him to come in.

; My Thoughts: Lawd, I remember this being one of the hottest smut’s I’ve read in a while and I still stand by that statement. It does make me laugh that this was supposed to be a 1k drabble cos...girl...this length reminds me of me haha. Still, I think Jimin got the blowjob of his life...probably every man’s life here. Well done Jimin, go back for more.

Hot Rod by @kinktae

; Greaser!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

; My Thoughts: The whole Rewind series that Rose has been doing but you all know I’m a Hoseok hoe and HOOOOO BOOOOOY GREASER HOSEOK IS SOMETHING ELSE. Everything about this fic was just...wonderful and it felt delightfully 1950s. The lingo and outfits, the cars and everything. It was hot and Hoseok deserves everything. I still kinda hope there’ll be a drabble or something in the future but either way, read this as it’s soooo good!

The Boyfriend Concept by @kpopfanfictrash

; Pornstar!Jimin x Reader

; Synopsis: Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

; My Thoughts: Shanna always writes some of the best fics on tumblr and this is definitely one of them. You’d think with it being a ‘win a date with a pornstar fic’ that he’d be a little weird or something about it (there’s nothing wrong with pornstars but you can imagine it’d be odd) but Jimin is just...so sweet and kind and polite! He’s just...the perfect boyfriend honestly. It just so happens he does porn too...I honestly loved this so much!

Beneath The Boughs by @gimmesumsuga

; Dryad!Namjoon x Reader

; Synopsis: For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.

; My Thoughts: I still maintain that this fic is just basically Steph gushing about her love for Namjoon all over the page. It’s just...so sweet and soft. Namjoon makes the perfect dryad and I can easily imagine him being one. He’s such a delightful character who you just want to protect and teach about the world because he has that kind of delightful innoncence. I loved it so much!

Sweeter Than Sweet by @gimmesumsuga

; OT7 X Reader

; Synopsis: You never would have expected someone like Park Jimin to notice you. As handsome and beguiling as he is deadly, you’re enthralled from the very moment you meet. Addicted to his kiss and his bite, Jimin opens up your eyes to a whole new world of love, lust and seduction.

; My Thoughts: This is like...the OG OT7 fic. The one that EVERYONE should read. It’s so close to finishing and I’m kind of mind boggled that it’s going to finish. It’s just...perfection. Jimin is delightful and Yoongi is sweet, it’s just so perfect, I love it all. Namjoon is still a dick, sorry Steph. I also maintain that I’m secretly marrying Hoseok. Everyone go read it and strap yourselves in for a long ride!

Bump In The Night by @fortunexkookie

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’d spent countless nights terrified of the beast that lurked in the shadows, but as it would turn out, the monster haunting your home wasn’t a monster all. He was just a boy, and the only crime he’d ever committed was daring to love a girl from a different world.

; My Thoughts: Arrrrghhhhonaeouthnoetahnouenth this fic is just....perfect. I love it SO MUCH. Hoseok is a genuine monster in this, not just someone who thinks he is. He looks like a monster. But he’s a monster who gets a best friend in the reader and who slowly falls in love with her. I SWEAR MY HEART DIED WHEN THE THING HAPPENED :( Poor Hoseok, my sweet boy. But then...the end! And I was like ‘waaah’ I mean, I don’t know how she’s gonna live there but...I have hope for this odd couple because their love survived a lot <333

One Thing Right by @hobios

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: “i’ve been wrong about a million times, but i’ve got one thing right.”

or, desperate to get your ailing mother into the best care possible, you ask your childhood friend turned enemy to marry you for his health insurance benefits. the only problem is it’s illegal. and he’s the sheriff. and you swore to hate him since the day he broke your best friend’s heart.

; My Thoughts: Ahh...this is such a well written fic and I enjoy it so much. Jungkook has such good characterisation in it and you can feel that the readers heart is in the right place! I really like it and it reads so well, like it actually reads like a legitimate novel tbh!

Wall To Wall by @winetae

; Pornstar!Hoseok x Pornstar!Reader

; Synopsis: Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

; My Thoughts: Okay look...this fic is just great. I’m eagerly anticipating the second part because the first was just written so well. It’s so unique in that the readers already has a boyfriend, Jimin, who is not only okay with her being a pornstar but is the one who films her! But then you’ve got Hoseok, the new guy on the block who’s ridiculously good. The sex is just...it feels so realistic and like it’s two people in a relationship having sex and not just being filmed on camera. God I want them together lol

Club Zombie by @floralseokjin

; Seokjin x Reader

; Synopsis: In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

; My Thoughts: Look...I still can’t believe I read a fic with zombie sex and that I actively WANTED to read a fic with zombie sex lol. But disregarding that, it’s still phenomenally written and the world is built up so well! I loved reading this and it didn’t feel as long as it’s word count. The characters were interesting with little tidbits being thrown out there that made you a little more interested in their history.

Defining Heaven by @akinnie75

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: “If I try to fly, will I make it to heaven, or will I fall straight down? But what exactly is heaven?” It’s a question that’s been in Hoseok’s mind a lot after cutting ties with his parents and ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Dreaming is his fear, but you tell him that it’s not as scary as he thinks it is. Even in the depths of his own despair, you reach your hand out, but will he take it?

; My Thoughts: At this point, I think I just love anything by this author. But this fic was so...real and beautiful. The connection between two people who want more from life and deserve from life, who are both stuck. Hoseok’s story is heart breaking and getting to see him slowly come to life and learn to care for himself again was beautiful, while seeing the reader getting to care for herself by caring for him was just beautiful as well.

Florescence by @jincherie

; Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x Hybrid!Seokjin

; Synopsis: Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

; My Thoughts: I love this story so much :333 it’s such an interesting twist on hybrid’s in that there are ones who get discarded because they’re ‘defective’. It’s horrible to think about and I just want to love both of them. Jin is so...sweet and he tries so hard, being the one to put himself out there with the reader because Taehyung is just a sweet and shy bub. Seeing them come to life slowly is so rewarding!

Moon Magic by @jincherie

; Merman!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: You’ve never paid much mind to the moon, but you quickly learn that even though you’ve never really thought of the her, she has always watched over you. What better to heal an grieving heart, than the luminous, rippling magic of the moon? And maybe a merman, or two. You know, for good measure.

; My Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH AND I KNOW THAT YOU WROTE FOR ME AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I STILL LOVE IT. Hoseok is such a sweetheart and it’s adorable that you can see he’s falling in love much faster than she’s falling in love with him :333 the world is so realised, even though it’s just an island and everything is just...so perfect!

We Float by @lamourche

; Massage Therapist!Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Might as well get this over with. You sigh and raise your hand to knock, steeling yourself for patchouli and shell necklaces. The door opens. A face peers out at you. There’s no beard, no long shaggy hair. For a moment, you wish he did walk around shirtless. He’s handsome. He’s taller than you, with brown hair that almost falls into his eyes and undercut on the sides. Warm brown eyes and a cute nose. It’s fucking cute his nose. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and white crocs. Well, that’s better. He’s still handsome and his kind eyes make you want to confess some prior sin, but it’s easy to scowl at a guy in white crocs.

; My Thoughts: This is still such a wonderful and beautiful fic. Hoseok’s agoraphobia is dealt with tactfully and he’s not magically cured by the end, but it’s so lovely to see that he’s willing to try and combat it a little more because he loves her. And she loves him, accepting him as he is and not pushing for more than he’s willing to give!

Tip 143 by @minflix

; Hoseok x Reader

; Synopsis: Even though he is everything you find attractive in a man, your friend and co-worker Jung Hoseok is just exactly that - a friend and co-worker. For some reason, you have never found yourself attracted to him even though all the girls and guys around you go absolutely crazy for him.But that all changes for you one night while scrolling through Heart2Heart, a sex live cam website…

; My Thoughts: AHHHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHHH. THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSEOK FICS ON THIS WHOLE SITE. It’s so wonderfully written and I adore reading it, even re-reading it. Hoseok is so funny and just...so light hearted. He’s not hugely bothered about anything and the way he goes along wtih the reader and even helps her to film her videos, even going so far as to...well going for her ;). And yet they both just think that they’re friends when nope, you’re idiots because you LOVE EACH OTHER. I genuinely love it so much, always a favourite and will remain close to my heart <333

See Both Sides Like Chanel by @minflix

; Namjoon x Reader x Hoseok

; Synopsis: You, Namjoon, and Hoseok are inseparable. Three best friends that grew up together since you were all in diapers.But lately, Namjoon has been drifting away…

So on his birthday, you and Hoseok remind him just how inseparable the three of you really are.

; My Thoughts: This couple...is perfect. I love them so much, they’re so well suited to each other. Rich brats who despite being rich and snobby, all genuinely love each other so much. Poor Namjoon when he felt like he’d been left out. <333 it’s okay Joonie, they both love you. I read this while I was in Korea and it just...made an impact. I want them all to live happily ever after with each other x-x

Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr

; Jungkook x Reader

; Synopsis: At the end of your life, you are given one day to live again with the man you loved. A lifetime’s love story told in a single day.

; My Thoughts: THIS IS THE SADDEST YET SWEETEST FIC EVER. Oh my god, it’s just...it’s so unbelievably bittersweet. Their love for each other and how she KNOWS that she’s dying and she’ll never see him again. How much she throws herself into the day with him and how much he clearly loves her. She knows they have their whole life set out for them and it’s just...wonderful...honestly.

Off The Deep End by @boymeetsweevil

; Merman!Yoongi x Reader

; Synopsis: Your new mermaid friend, Yoongi, helps you navigate the treacherous waters of love, sex, and National Geographic.

; My Thoughts: Ngl, the main thing I remember from this? It’s beautifully written and also fish dick lmao. But seriously, it’s a great fic to read and watching Yoongi get to experience the human world is a delight. It’s very unique in how it’s written and the biology and culture of merfolk. A definite recommendation for everyone!

#fic recs #fic recommendations #readyplayerhobi's fic recs #2019 fic recs

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creacherkeeper · 4 years

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I've loved both of your spop fics so much holy shit. That's the good character angst. For a potential prompt: I'd like to see how Catra might feel about Scorpia now having the power of the black garnet. I just always think that red lightning looks awfully familiar...

absolutely god tier prompt, anon. legit screamed when i read it :*

(she ra s5 spoilers)

read on ao3

Catra kept her claws out and dug into her palms the whole time she crept through the wreckage of the Fright Zone with Scorpia at her side. She didn’t know why Adora and Perfuma had insisted the two of them teamed up to dredge the old base for—what, exactly? Tech, supplies—stars forbid, people? Catra thought it was better to raze the place to the ground and let Scorpia start her kingdom on fresh soil.

But she also thought that wasn’t the real reason they were here. Adora needed closure. Scorpia needed closure. And, according to Perfuma, she and Scorpia really needed to talk some things out.

That was true. They needed to. Did she want to? Absolutely not. Was she going to? Maybe. Eventually. Not here, now. She wasn’t … (ready? stable? brave?)

She’d apologized, briefly, in the warm glow of the aftermath. She knew, despite the forgiveness, that it wasn’t enough. There was so much left between them. Catra knew those words weren’t enough to make up for all she’d done.

“Well, gosh,” Scorpia was saying. Catra’s ears swiveled as she forced herself out of her own thoughts. “I don’t really remember what my kingdom was like before the Horde came in. I was raised in the Horde, you know? I don’t know how to rule a kingdom, much less build one from scratch.”

Catra hummed.

They continued to wander, absently picking through the rubble.

“All the other princesses have, like, their own thing, you know? I’m not really sure what my thing is.”

“An annoying overabundance of sincerity,” Catra grumbled.

Oh. That was mean, right? She was trying to do better, but being on this ‘mission’ with the other woman had a ball of anxiety humming sharply in her chest, desperate to crawl out as scathing remarks and sarcasm.

Yeah. That was mean. She needed to do better, at least for Scorpia’s sake.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but Scorpia cut her off.

“Hmm. I think that’s more Perfuma’s thing.” She blushed at the mention of the flower princess, seemingly no hard feelings about Catra’s comment. “Not that I find it annoying.”

The blush did something weird to Catra’s stomach. Which was—like, bad, right? It wasn’t- Okay she- She was maybe a little jealous. Which was totally bad and stupid. She’d had her chance with Scorpia, and she’d made a royal mess of that. It wasn’t fair at all that Scorpia being happy with someone else would make her feel like this. Plus, she was happy with Adora. Happier than she’d ever been. Adora was her soulmate, if such a thing existed.

Still.

The horrible, selfish little creature inside her was chanting mine mine mine mine and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

She looked away, ears twisting.

Scorpia’s boots clunked on the floor as they walked. Catra thought she should probably say something affirming about, she didn’t know, Scorpia or the future of her kingdom or her relationship with Perfuma. But her throat was tight with shame. There was so much she should say. She didn’t know where to start.

Were they still friends?

Catra didn’t know if they were even still friends.

(she wanted them to be. desperately, she did)

“Scorpia—”

The other woman looked at her, expectant.

Her claws dug in.

Her eyes dropped.

“Maybe we should head back.”

(she was such a fucking coward)

“Yeah,” Scorpia said, obvious disappointment tinting her voice. “Yeah, I don’t think there’s much left here.”

Catra sighed as they turned to walk back towards the entrance, where they said they’d meet back after their missions were done. The metallic, somewhat rotten smell of the Fright Zone was getting to her. She’d gotten used to the clean and perfumey smell of Bright Moon. The stale smell of their ship. The Fright Zone’s stench was just bringing up memories.

So focused on walking through the rubble, lost in her thoughts, she didn’t register the creak and the crack until it was too late.

“Watch out!”

Her tail puffed as she startled, only just taking in the piece of ceiling that had started to fall towards her as Scorpia’s shout reached her ears.

And then the flash. Red, scattered, jumping lightning. The sound of the electricity crackling through the air.

Her wide eyes froze on the red electric as it connected with the rubble and exploded it into dust. She covered her head as it rained down on her hair and shoulders.

Her body shook. Her heart pounded, loud and terrified, behind her ribs.

Her face was shocked still into a wide, wet-eyed stare.

Her legs trembled. She couldn’t breathe.

“Whoa, that was a close one! You okay?”

Hot, molten anger flooded her. She didn’t mean for it to. She didn’t want it. But it stopped the tears from flooding her eyes and let her breathe again.

“Watch where you’re aiming! You almost hit me!”

(she almost hit me she almost hit me again she almost shocked me she)

“Sorry!” Scorpia yelped. “It just- It was going to fall on you, and—”

“I could’ve dodged it! You didn’t have to shoot lightning at me!”

Scorpia stared at her as Catra’s form trembled, hands curled to fists and teeth bared in a snarl.

“I’m sorry,” Scorpia said, quiet.

Catra knew she was being ridiculous. But the part of her that wanted to calm down, that wanted to apologize for her outburst and explain herself, was being smothered under the waves of panicked fear that kept her anger flowing.

She hated that she kept talking. She hated it, truly.

“I bet you want to hit me, don’t you? You got a taste for it when you were under his influence—oh, yeah, if you don’t remember, you zapped me real good then, sent me flying about a thousand yards—and you’re still angry at me for everything. You’re still angry and you want to hit me. You missed the others, but you shocked me. Well? Say it!”

She was expecting Scorpia to be hurt, which is what the twisted little anger monster in her chest wanted. If Scorpia was hurt, then Catra wasn’t; she had the upper hand. It was all very logical and rational, you see, not fueled at all by the terrified child inside her. The terrified little child who’d never gotten to yell at Shadow Weaver and all that the Black Garnet’s power had done to her then.

But Scorpia didn’t look hurt. She looked … well, sad, a little. But more than that—calculating. Like she was trying to figure something out.

Her expression smoothed.

Slowly, she sat on the dusty metal floor, pincers raised by her head.

“What are you doing?” Catra asked, chest heaving. Her eyes darted between the raised pincers. “Y-Yell at me, fight back, do something!”

Scorpia was silent.

And in the silence, in the face of the calm, Catra unraveled.

“Stop,” she croaked, her anger snuffing and tears finally leaking from her eyes. Her ears flattened against her head. She sunk to the floor. “You’re not supposed to … You’re not supposed to do that.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Scorpia asked, quiet.

“I don’t know.” She pulled her knees to her chest, tail curling around herself. “Be mad at me.”

“Shock you?”

Catra’s shoulders trembled.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to remind you of—”

Catra’s face disappeared behind her knees.

She could hear Scorpia’s even, measured breaths.

“I wouldn’t do that to someone I care about. And I’m sorry it happened when I wasn��t in control.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What?”

“That you care about me.”

There was a pause.

“It’s true, though.”

Catra wheezed a hiss, digging her claws into her legs. “It shouldn’t be. Not after … Not after everything I did to you.”

“… Maybe,” Scorpia said after a moment. “You did some pretty bad shit.”

A self-deprecating laugh squeezed from her chest.

“But I don’t think I’m ever going to stop caring about you, wildcat.”

The laugh turned a little more desperate, something like a sob. It took a minute for the fight to leave her chest, for her to curl fully onto her knees and, for a moment, sit in the shame. She finally raised her head, wiping tears off her cheeks as she attempted to plaster some sort of smile on her face.

“I’m glad you have Perfuma now,” she said, genuine despite her racing heart and tear-clogged throat. “I was never good enough for you.”

A twitch of a smile pulled at Scorpia’s lips, but even that looked sad. “You never gave yourself the chance to be.”

They stared at each other for a moment, tears streaming down Catra’s face. Slowly, Scorpia’s pincers fell to resettle in her lap.

Catra looked down.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. That was … That was really shitty. I just wasn’t expecting it, and I got scared.”

“Thank you,” Scorpia said. “For my part, I didn’t think how that would look to you.”

Catra wiped at her cheek with the heel of her hand.

“How do you … do that?”

Scorpia’s brows drew as Catra glanced back up at her. “Do what?”

“Just be … I don’t know. So good about stuff. So nice. It’s so hard for me.”

“Practice, mostly.”

Now Catra’s eyebrows were drawing. “What do you mean?”

Scorpia shrugged, turning her gaze to look around the crumpling hallway. “I grew up in the Horde, too. Do you think it came easy to me? You think I got nice by accident?”

“I don’t know.” Catra unfurled a little, resting her chin on her knee. “I kind of assumed you’ve always been like this.”

Scorpia snorted, and Catra was surprised by the noise.

“Nah. Frankly, I used to be a bit of a dick.”

“That … really surprises me.”

“It surprises most people, for some reason.” She looked down to her lap, gently pinching the fabric of her pants. “A lot of people seem to mistake kindness for innocence, naivety. Being kind takes work, you know. It’s a skill, like anything else. You have to practice. You’ll get there in time, wildcat.”

Catra’s ears flicked and flattened.

“I’m not sure I will,” she muttered, glancing away. “Not like you. What, uh … What made you change?”

She sighed, shrugging a little. “I didn’t consider leaving the Horde for a long time. Not until …”

Not until me, Catra thought.

“But at some point I realized that, well … the Horde kind of sucked. But it was my home. My family. My—unfortunate—heritage. I’m loyal; it can be a character flaw. I didn’t want to leave. But I realized that while the Horde sucked, I didn’t have to. When I’d get all … snippy, if you’ll pardon it … it, well, hurt people. My pain was feeding into this whole system, this loop of unhappy people, who were hurt and upset, and just took it out on each other, passed it to the next person. It’s a circle. Self-fulfilling something or other.”

She paused, waiting until Catra caught her eye.

“At some point,” she said, “you have to be strong enough to stop it.”

Catra shrunk, looking away. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are, wildcat. I know you are.” She paused. Nerves skittered across Catra’s chest. “But you have a lot to learn. It’s hard to come to grips with, but kindness is hard. It takes strength and discipline. It takes vulnerability, which is scary. But choosing to be kind is one of the bravest things you can do. The day I chose to be different changed my life. And there’s been a lot of rocky moments, but I’m better for it, and I’m never looking back.”

“Scorpia …” Catra gripped her knees, taking a breath before she looked up at her. Scorpia looked back, patient. Catra swallowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you needed me to be. I’m sorry I … that I was a part of the loop.”

Scorpia’s expression softened. “I appreciate that, wildcat.”

“I want to change,” she told her. “Both for the people around me, so I’m- so I’m not just a part of the circle, but also …” She sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. Living like this is going to kill me.”

“I think it’s been killing you for a while.” Catra’s eyes darted up, and Scorpia smiled at her, soft. “But it’s really brave of you to admit that.”

Catra felt her face flush. “Scorpia, I—” Her grip tightened. “I love you. And- And I’m sorry it wasn’t in the way you wanted, but- but I do, and I just had to say it. So. There.”

Scorpia’s smile went a little dopey, warm and pleased. “You too,” she said. “And it’s okay.”

Catra nodded quickly, looking away. Her face was still flushed; she was sure she was beet red. But her tail was curling and flicking slowly, unable to contain the pleased motion.

“I have a lot to make up for,” she mumbled. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, wildcat. I’ll be here.”

She nodded again. “Should we- The others are probably meeting back up now.”

They rose, and as they walked, Scorpia let her arm rest over Catra’s shoulders. Against the larger woman, Catra felt warm and safe.

That little, possessive part of her told her to rub against the larger woman’s chest, to mark herself all over and say mine mine mine mine … But that wasn’t true. Scorpia wasn’t hers, and that was okay. She wasn’t Perfuma’s, either. Scorpia only belonged to herself, and that was part of what Catra admired so dearly.

She stamped down the urge and merely walked, her own arm around Scorpia’s waist. Her tail flicked behind them.

Scorpia wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t weak or naive. Her kindness was her strength, and the fact that she shared some of that with Catra, that she loved her, despite everything …

Barely audible, the rumble of her purr.

She squeezed closer.

#still taking prompts!!#she ra #she ra spoilers #spop #spop spoilers #catra #scorpia #she ra fic #spop fic #Anonymous

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ichiruuu · 4 years

Text

TITLE OF STORY: Do You Fear The Devil CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter One AUTHOR: https://ichiruuu.tumblr.com/post/190849488349/title-of-story-do-you-fear-the-devil-chapter WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Romance FIC SUMMARY: He is forbidden. Her heritage was stolen.Its been two years since the earth was attacked by the Chitauri. Victoria Bishop lives in New York and works for Tony Stark also known to the rest of the world as the Invincible Iron Man When Loki returns for the Tesseract, she finds herself somehow drawn to him and his bad side. Loki is the type her dad warned her about. Loki is the type of man you want to hide and lock up your daughters from. As Tony Stark once said, "We create our own demons."But what about falling for one? RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: mentions of rape and violence. FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Hello! This is my first Loki fic. Please give some feedback! Thank you :)

Something was off that Monday morning.

I could not place my finger on it as I made my way through downtown Philadelphia. It was raining so it had been deemed pretty stupid to worry about the day being off. The mood however…

I had forgotten why the mood was sour today. I was on the first train out of my beloved city to an unknown place. The letter had instructed me to move out and was shoved down somewhere at the bottom of my suitcase. That was a week ago. It had been about three months prior to my departure when it arrived. I was sitting in my office with my mother who loves to chide me when it came to my personal endeavors. There hadn’t been too many clients that day so I could pace myself with my work. My father, a well known doctor in Philadelphia, had been contacted by Anthony Stark. Mr. Stark was a man of many secrets but everyone knew that he was technically a superhero. His company had been associated with SHIELD, which we only knew about through the television and newspapers. The organization itself had based their beliefs on catching intergalactic criminals and stopping the world from coming to end. But after some fights with SHIELD’s director, Mr. Stark had started his own program to stop aliens (the spacial kind) from invading the planet. Stark Industries had hired my father to study how other species survive and live on our planet. One of them happened to be Thor’s younger adopted brother.

The job description required a young and vibrant person to assist Tony Stark with physical and psychological studies involving said younger brother. I had never personally met Thor’s brother but based on Mr. Stark’s description of him, he was a dick. Someone that you wouldn’t want to mess with.

When I arrived at my apartment that same day, I was not surprised in the slightest at how big it was. Bigger than my room in my parent’s house. After all, my father had hounded Mr. Stark about me having the best accommodations money could offer. Being spoiled at age twenty- two made me feel like such a child. Once the movers arrived at my new home, they unloaded all of my furniture. There weren’t many things that I owned, but the comfort of having them with me had eased my apprehensiveness of moving to a completely different place. You’d think I’d be used to a big city but Philly had nothing on New York.

My new place had two bedrooms, a single bathroom with a high powered shower and a kitchenette with a small dining room. Picking the biggest room was pretty easy. It was closer to the street with a huge window which I was thankful for. A daily dose of Vitamin D was good for everyone.

A loud ring coming from under the couch cushions startled me. Realizing it was my phone, I laughed out loud for being scared of something so silly. The caller ID informed me it was Mr. Stark. Gulping audibly, I cleared my throat before answering.

“Hello?” My voice cracked.

“Ah, Ms. Bishop. I see you’re nice and settled into your new apartment. Is everything to your liking?” I wasn’t sure but I had the distinct feeling there was sarcasm behind that question. My teeth grit involuntarily.

“Everything is perfect, Mr. Stark. Thank you by the way,” Mumbling, I said my goodbyes to him and we hung up. So much for trying to impress the new boss. Glaring at my clock, I shoved the phone under the couch cushions again. Like my mother said: Que sera sera.

****************************************************************************

The sun was the only thing shielding myself from my own homicidal thoughts.

I was drowning in my sweat and I wasn't even half down the block. I loved living in a big city but I missed Philly. Especially with all the pollution constantly clogging up my lungs and a car waiting at every corner to maim me. I was happy to go to work today. Today marked the anniversary of working one year with Mr. Stark. It was an honor and a privilege. It was also a degrading job that paid fairly well, the irony of it. I was a certified physician assistant to my father. But part of my job also entailed doing daily blood draws on the one and only god of chaos and destruction, Loki Odinson. Loki was Thor’s brother who also happened to be an Avenger. And in case you didn't know, Tony Stark was the Iron Man. I had started working with Mr. Stark because his most trusted physician had been too much of a chicken to go head to head with a god. A snort came out of my nose. Yeah, right. There was the small detail of Mr. Stark’s wife, Pepper Potts, having a pair of twin boys so Mr. Stark’s blood pressure was known to skyrocket.

Noise polluted the quiet vastness of my mind and distracted me away from my thoughts. I walked towards the upper part of Manhattan. A loud honking noise made me stop short and I turned sharply. A taxi had just stopped in front of me and kept honking. I kept walking and ignored the driver. It was usually what happened in these parts. That was one of the reasons I hated living here. It only made me miss my tiny bedroom in the outskirts of Philadelphia.

I was out of breath by the time I was inside the Stark Tower. Missy, the secretary, met my eyes when I entered the grandiose building. She gave me a rather nasty look. I gave her a nasty look of my own. When I turned away, I could almost feel her piercing gaze on my back. I tried walking towards the elevator as gracefully possible, but for me, I felt like I was a gazelle with its legs broken. Holding my head up high, I stopped in front of the elevator. Just as I was about to press the last button, it pinged and opened. Mr. Stark stepped out in his mighty Avenger glory. I was taken aback at his sudden entrance. He was about the same height as my father (a whole five feet and nine inches on the dot) with dark brown hair that was neatly styled and a tidy beard. He had a rueful smile on his face and I stared at him more for several seconds. He wore a pair of dark wash denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I wasn’t the type to stare at one’s boss, but Mr. Stark had a good figure considering his age and all. He had gotten married recently, and still acted like the playboy that he solemnly had been for years. Around me, he acted like an older brother or protector. It was because he was twenty-five years my senior. It felt comforting having him there, since I rarely saw my father at the lab. He still stayed in Philadelphia and traveled for meetings once a week.

“Ah, Miss Bishop. So glad you made it. What, did you stop and get your hair done before work?” he teased. I laughed.

“No, Mr. Stark. I had just set my alarm a little late. I knew that I didn’t have to start work until eight.” I glanced down at my Rolex, making sure I was right. Yup. Fifteen minutes until my shift. I shifted and let out a sigh of relief. Mr. Stark looked me up and down. He tsk tsked at me.

“Geez, Miss Bishop. You’re what, twenty-four now? You dress like my grandmother!” He shook his head but kept smiling. My lips thinned into a tight line, I examined what I was wearing. I thought I looked decent enough. I was wearing dark washed jeans and a violet blouse paired with knee high boots. Perhaps wearing knee high boots in the middle of March wasn't such a good idea after all. Business casual. Or more casual than business as he had once put it. At least I hadn't walked into work with Hawaiian shorts and a Mickey Mouse shirt like he did one time. We don't talk about that Christmas party incident anymore.

“Okay, fine. I do admit I don’t typically dress my age. And I’m twenty-three!”

“Okay okay, kid. What’s on the agenda for today?” He stopped smiling and had a grim look on his face in a split second.

I gave him a blank stare. There was a strange look on his face. Crap. That was also part of my job. He glanced at me almost as if he was gonna say something but held his tongue.

“Is it an Avenger thing?” I recovered quickly. “Or is it a code nine one one?” Code 911 usually stood for escaping superbeings. I could only pray that it wasn’t Loki this time.

He nodded and turned on his heels. A highly dangerous god was on the loose. Missy stepped out from behind her post and wordlessly gave Mr. Stark a silver briefcase. It was lightweight and inconspicuous, perfect for New York. Having a briefcase was the norm here. In reality, it was his Iron Man armor. He pressed a button to open the case. Stepping into it, the armor conformed to his body and he flew out of the balcony window in the lobby. Papers flew everywhere and Missy huffed. My laughter echoed inside the elevator.

My job was fairly simple at Stark Industries. Do a routine blood draw, stay out of the way, and do not ask the guard to leave while doing physical tests. Sometimes I was a carrier pigeon for Mr. Stark. He’d send me over to the Shield headquarters (each time the location was different) and hand over vital information to Director Nicholas Fury. Sometimes it entailed me going on trips out of the country which was a nice perk of being here.

There was only one person I could tolerate in the entire tower and that was Dr. Bruce Banner. We were both smart and we knew about the body so we felt comfortable talking about biological warfare and whatnot. On my first paid vacation we had spent a weekend in Calcutta where he tried to meditate and control the other guy. He had invited Natasha Romanoff. I usually stayed clear of her way. She was intimidating sometimes but her sharp wit often made me laugh. Her combat skills came in handy when my usual guard had to tend to some other assignments per Mr. Stark, so she filled in for him. The protocol was that I had to have someone with me at all times. The trust in Loki was so little. There was also Clint Barton. I rarely saw him since he had a private life outside of the Avengers job. He was married and had two kids so he tried to avoid the action as much as he could. There was a rumor going around that Clint had been possessed by some kind of unearthly power due to Loki’s influence on alien technology. Clint’s PTSD had sky-rocketed the minute he spied Loki again in the tower.

And of course, there was Steve Rogers. He and I never saw eye to eye on anything. There had been a brief time where I had actually wondered if the man in red, white, and blue had developed a crush on me. It turned out it was just his fucked up views on female doctors. Shocker.

The elevator was lagging today so I wondered if Mr. Stark had tweaked its hardware, again. I pushed the button for the very top again just to make sure I had pushed it in the first place. There was one person I forced myself not to think of. On my first day, I had fallen head over heels for Thor. Now that I thought about it, it seemed pretty stupid. Having a crush on him was inconvenient for sure but I was thankful that he had politely declined my advances. All in all, unrequited love hurt like a bitch.

Now, I was better after the whole crush thing. I had a few friends, I worked for a bunch of superheroes and my salary was the bomb lest the degrading part of it. Sometimes I went on dates but it was rare since I was so busy. I barely had time for myself! When the elevator opened, I walked out with my satchel over my shoulder. The air was warm up here compared to the cool elevator ventilation. The sun was shining just as brightly as it had been outside and the birds were chirping. The windows in the corridor reflected a rainbow. I straightened my clothes before I walked into Mr. Stark’s office to pick up Loki’s medical chart. Excitement was bubbling inside of me as I thought about testing his lipids and cholesterol. Loki’s metabolism should have been the envy of every athlete in the world. It was quite impressive how much food he consumed and how fast he burned away all the calories.

I shuffled forward while people passed by me in the hallway. Several of them waved or just nodded. Somehow I still felt out of place. Being the youngest worker here certainly didn’t make it easier on me. I was different from people my age. My degree stuck out like a sore thumb. There was always that feeling of not being good enough. Mr. Stark always soothed my worries about being useful. All the data I gathered for him on the daily had helped treat several people he knew that had suffered from a strange disease after the battle of New York four years ago.

I guess the only good thing about me was being able to stand my ground. I could easily stick up for myself in any situation. Fighting back a smile, I made my typical beeline for the fresh coffee and donuts Mr. Stark supplied for his workers. After grabbing a napkin to wipe the sugary goodness off of my fingers, I bit into my vanilla donut. I poured coffee with just a splash of cinnamon coffee creamer. A true queen’s breakfast. I walked down the hall while I munched on my goodies. It should be an easy day. I didn’t even have to start my labs until the afternoon after some interrogation and a meeting. Mr. Stark hadn’t been too specific about Loki, but I was sure it was a joke when he said Loki escaped. As far as anyone knew, Loki was locked in his room on the fiftieth floor like Rapunzel. Just as I was opening the door to Mr. Stark’s office I stopped right in my tracks. There was someone in his chair. My coffee hit the floor, sloshing the hot liquid all over my boots. It smelled like pine cleaner and...alcohol? My eyes widened when the chair turned.

There he was in all of his Asgardian glory.

I had seen Loki many times. I had seen him in regular human clothes. But I had never seen him in his armor. His cold piercing eyes stared right into mine. His eyes, oh his eyes, were a baby blue color that mesmerized me often. Right now they were dark like endless pools of black murky waters. His black hair was slicked back in his usual style with a few strands tucked behind his ear. The expression he had on his face was wild, animalistic. He didn’t smile. He never did.

Fear shot through me like icy liquid causing me to shiver violently. My legs were numb while pure adrenaline coursed through my veins. It was fight or flight at this point. I had no guard here. Basically, I was fucked. He stood up fluidly with such grace that it made me twinge with jealousy. Even like this, he was still somehow perfect. But something was not right. He staggered slowly. Then it hit me. Loki was drunk.

Perhaps he would kill me in his drunken state. He’d be merciful and do it quickly. His temper was downright scary. I had discovered that on the first day of his blood draws.

“What are you doing here, Loki?” I asked cautiously. He tilted his head and walked closer to me. I could smell the alcohol and it made me gag. I coughed at how strong and potent it was. It was most likely Asgardian ale. Earth alcohol had no effect on Loki or his brother.

“How in the fuck did you escape your room?” There was silence. A look of confusion crossed his delicate features. He didn’t even understand my question. It took all of my willpower not to burst into laughter. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak to him again and get his attention.

“What am I doing here?” He slurred. He sounded coherent enough. Perhaps the alcohol was being sweated out of his system. It surprised me how strangely calm and collected he sounded at the moment. My thoughts began to wander as I studied Loki’s face. He was really attractive. There was something about his face that didn’t match Thor’s. Loki’s complexion was pale and his milky skin was flawless. Paired with pink thin lips and childlike expressions, overall he was angelic. He towered over every other resident in the Tower. During his first exam, I measured his height. He was an impressive six foot three and a half.

“Where is the tesseract?” His slurring was even more pronounced as he swayed back and forth, eyeing me with a hungry stare. He was heaving instead of taking normal breaths. There was sweat on his forehead. A sickly look graced his perfect face. Even as he scrutinized me, I could feel the power radiating off of him. He truly was a god. A regal and powerful god. He could snap me in half if his heart desired. My bitchy persona was back on as I shook my head. So what if he was inebriated? I could still take him like that.

“The what?” I asked stupidly, cocking my head to the side. I had a pretty vague idea of what he was asking about. “I said what are you-” Before I could finish my sentence, Loki did a very not Loki thing. In three quick strides, he stood in front of me, his frame completely engulfing me. He looked like he had fallen from above, like a malevolent god. The faint smell of pine and snow was coming off of him. His eyes were narrowed. I forgot how to breathe for a second and I swear my heart stopped for a few beats. Swallowing air burned my throat from how terrified I was. The odd feeling of having him so close to me was eerie. He had a thing about being touched without permission and personal space.

“I want the tesseract!” The windows shook from his thunderous voice. “Tell me where I can acquire it!” Loki hissed at me. I was so scared at this point that I began to giggle. This was usually a side effect of pure fear. His swaying did nothing for him. My lips pursed when he leaned down closer to me. A finger lifted a curl from my face and he tucked it behind my ear. A whole second went by before Loki seized my forearm. I yelped in pain, his steely grip squeezing me tightly. My teeth gritted to prevent myself from crying. Several veins in his neck were popping out in anger. Yet, I did not care what he wanted. He was hurting me. Even my teeth began to chatter from the anger I felt at the treatment I was receiving from him. God or not, he shouldn’t treat a person with such disrespect.

“I don’t where your stupid tesseract is, Loki,” I spat out. “And even if I did know, I would never tell someone like you. You are the scum of the universe, Loki Odinson.” And with that, I yanked my arm out of his grip, walked to the window and pulled out my phone to call Mr. Stark. A growl came behind me as Loki charged at me with an incredibly vile expression on his face. He bared his teeth, his eyes absolutely livid. It was the last thing I saw before he grabbed my arms and threw me against the glass windows. I greeted darkness peacefully.

#Loki Laufeyson #Thor Odinson #Lok x OC #Loki fiction #rated 18 #smut #loki (marvel)#Loki series

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gerrystamour · 4 years

Text

well push me honey to the up and right

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Additional tags and fic below the cut.

Juno rarely took control in the bedroom, which was perfectly fine for Peter; he was more than happy to take that care of everything.

But when Juno did get it in his pretty little head to take the lead…

Strong hands pulled at Peter's clothes, opening his fly and pushing his fitted slacks down. He had just gotten back from a job, one of the rare ones he did without Juno. The captain had given him leave to get changed and freshen up before the family meeting, but a certain ex-private eye had other plans for him.

Peter shouted into the needy, hot mouth on his when Juno's rough fingers pressed between his thighs to rub his dick and play with the piercing in the hood. Sobbing at the dedicated attention, Peter rutted against Juno's hand, desperate for more friction and whined when Juno pulled away.

The disappointment was short-lived, with Juno returning to slide his fingers further back into his cunt. Peter clung to Juno, his legs quaking as he shuddered, his head falling back against the door Juno had crowded him against earlier.

Now they still stood there, still fully dressed for the most part and rutting against each other needily. Juno’s mouth descended on his throat, biting and sucking until Peter cried out, his hips pressed against Peter’s thigh for some friction on his cock. He could feel the hard bulge of Juno’s arousal, felt the heat of it through the layers of his underwear and skirt and the desire to have it in his mouth made Peter almost dizzy with want.

A plaintive sound fell from his mouth as he tipped his head down, and Juno immediately captured it in a desperate kiss. With his head spinning and his legs shaking, Peter almost begged to move to the bed.

But moving meant stopping, and with the way Juno was rubbing his g-spot with such intense focus, nothing short of the Carte Blanche crashing would be a good enough reason to stop. Peter knew he wouldn’t fall, though; his faith in his lady to take care of him was absolute. Juno's free arm was firm around his waist, and he was all but held up by the three fingers fucking him. He knew his lady was strong enough to hold him, knew that his legs could buckle entirely, and Juno would have him.

So he relaxed into the embrace as much as he could with Juno’s fingers in his cunt so deeply, and his tongue was pressing into his mouth so hungrily. The space between Peter’s legs felt so wet and hot, the sound of Juno's perfect, thick fingers sliding in and out of him obscene. Peter whimpered into his lover’s mouth, sucking in a sharp, shaking breath as his gut tensed. He was about to come, and they had barely just gotten started, and he didn’t want it to end.

“J-Juno,” he warned breathlessly against Juno’s lips, the shuddery sound of his voice foreign to his ears.

Juno immediately backed off, stilling his fingers inside Peter to let him collect himself and catch his breath.

“Are you going to fuck me, love?” Peter panted when Juno pulled away again, leaving his cunt dripping and empty, throbbing hotly with need.

“Wasn't my plan, but I can be persuaded,” Juno said cheekily, and Peter shuddered.

“You know how I love a lady with a plan,” Peter groaned, shivering at the promise of Juno giving thought to what he wanted and taking it. “I'll take a rain check, then—”

Peter was cut off, and his knees very nearly gave out when Juno pressed the internal mechanism of his cock into his cunt. He sobbed when the implants connected to the device, the sensation of Juno's palm cupping him driving him mad. Peter was grateful for the time Juno took to arrange the support straps around his hips, glad for the chance to catch his breath.

“Good, ” Juno murmured, and for a moment, Peter was confused until he remembered their brief discussion of plans. “I've been ready for you for a while now.”

“Wha—” Peter began, but a kiss smothered the rest of his question. Juno's hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it insistently as he spun Peter away from the door and clumsily guided him to the bed. The trek is slow-going, with Nureyev's slacks around his ankles and his underwear pulled right between his knees, but they managed.

Peter was beside himself when they reached the bed, falling back when the back of his knees hit the mattress. Looking up at Juno from where he laid was akin to gazing upon a deity with the way the light haloed around his head and shoulders.

“Sit up, baby,” Juno sighed, hiking up his skirt enough to hook his panties with his thumbs and pulled them down. Peter immediately did as he was asked, and Juno bent forward to kiss him.

The kiss was wet, sloppy, all tongue and teeth and moaning breaths while they both clung to each other. When Juno climbed onto his lap, perfect thighs framing his own, Peter shivered.

“Need to prepare you, love,” Peter said with a shuddering gasp when Juno slotted his cock against his and lazily stroked them together. Peter supported himself with one hand on the bed behind him, and slowly slid his free hand back to squeeze one firm asscheek.

“Do you?” Juno asked coyly, and Peter pulled back to look at his face properly.

He looked smug, smirking while he pulled a small bottle of lube out of his boot. Just how long had Juno been walking around with a bottle of lube tucked away there? It couldn't have been too long, since Juno usually kept a knife in that very spot.

Dismissing those unnecessary considerations, Peter let go of Juno's ass and reached for the bottle.

“You don't need it, ” Juno tsk’d, holding it out of reach.

“Juno, you know my rules—”

“Yeah, yeah, no prep, no hanky panky, whatever. Don't worry about it, ” Juno grumbled petulantly as he coated his palm liberally with lube and returned to stroking both of their cocks. “If you're so worried about it, how about you reach back there and feel for yourself, Nureyev.”

So Peter did and froze when he felt the plug.

“See?” Juno whimpered when Peter pressed against it before hooking his fingers around the base and pulled.

Juno moaned thickly at the stretching pressure at his hole, and Peter could tell Juno was a lot further gone than he had been letting on. As the toy almost came free, Peter let it go, palm against the flat base to keep Juno from pushing it out. He let Juno sit on his lap like that, the thickest point of the plug stretching him out, relishing the steadily rising pitch to Juno's cries.

Then Juno snapped.

One strong hand reached back to grab Peter's wrist and pulled his hand away, letting the plug slip free. Peter chuckled at the sound of the toy hitting the floor of their quarters, but the sound was cut off when Juno was suddenly sitting on his cock.

Peter was lost for a moment, feeling only Juno; hot and tight around his cock, one hand holding his shoulder with bruising strength and the other tangled in his hair. Juno's lips were on his and in the next moment, he began a rough, punishing pace, riding Peter's cock.

When Peter tried to lay back, Juno growled and tangled his other hand in his long hair. His scalp burned with the pull, and it was perfect in every single way. It was getting difficult to stay sitting with the way Juno leaned harder and harder against him with each bounce of his hips, so Peter propped himself up with his hands on the bed.

Juno sobbed at the slight change in angle and threw his head back, grinding desperately against him. Peter whimpered, overwhelmed with everything—the vision his goddess made above him, the way his eyes—one a deep brown, the other glass and solid white—rolled on every heavy drop onto his cock. The heat of Juno around him overcame Peter, the hands in his hair that pulled every time Juno lifted himself, the thick, muscular thighs that hugged and flexed around his hips.

“Oh, fuck, Nureyev,” Juno moaned against his cheek, and he began to fuck himself on Peter’s cock even harder and faster than before. On one incredibly hard bounce, Peter's head was wrenched back by the grip in his hair, and his moans began to sound more like pained hisses.

But he did not ask Juno to let up. The pain was delicious, something he rarely had the chance to indulge in with Juno's preference not to take control. Sure, Juno would pull his hair—with hair as long as his own, it was inevitable that Juno would try pulling it—but it was completely different when Juno was at the reins, the way he would use Peter’s hair as leverage, to make his movements somehow stronger.

Peter was reminded of the last time Juno took the lead, the way Juno had him on his knees and a fistful of his hair, pulling tight with every powerful thrust into him. It had been an illuminating experience for both of them, what with the mindless way Juno grabbed Peter and moved him how he wanted, and the way Peter had liked it. It had done nothing in terms of changing their bedroom activities, relegated as it was to a little box in their relationship labelled “too intense to happen too often” and kept there for special occasions.

“ Shit, baby, it feels so good,” Juno all but whined, letting out a shuddering moan a moment later. “Feel you so deep, Nureyev. Want it even deeper.”

Peter made a mental note about revisiting that comment when his dick wasn’t being ridden as if Juno’s life depended on it.

Juno’s moans gradually morphed into little punched out sobs above him, snapping Peter out of his daydreams and bringing him back to his task at hand. He couldn’t help the broken sound he made at the way Juno’s hole clenched around him, and he shuddered when Juno’s hands twisted tighter, and his hips ground down against him in rapid little movements.

Peter risked toppling over to wrap a hand around Juno's cock, pumping it firmly and as close to in-time with Juno’s movements as he could manage. Juno wailed at the added stimulation, throwing his head back and moaning loudly at every thrust.

“Will you come for me, goddess?” Peter murmured, hot and needy for his release as well, but desperate to see Juno’s first. At Juno’s frantic nod, he asked unnecessarily, “Are you close?”

“ Yes, yes, oh shit, yes,” Juno panted. “Please, Nureyev, please!”

“Oh, my love, you can come whenever you want,” Peter reassured Juno through his moans. “Remember, this is your scene.”

Juno shuddered. “Still need— want you to tell me,” he whimpered. “Please, Nureyev, please.”

“Oh, you beg so prettily, my perfect lady,” Peter sighed. “Come for me, my love.”

After that, it only took three strokes before Juno was splattering Peter's shirt with his cum, head thrown back with a cry while he fucked himself through his orgasm. Between Juno's beauty, the twisting hands in his hair, and the impossibly tight, pulsing heat around his cock, Peter followed him over the edge with a guttural noise.

It was always perfect with Juno, but there was something to be said about coming together.

They sat like that, just panting into the air between them until Juno slowly released Peter's hair as he carefully lifted off of his cock with a hiss.

“I'm glad we went with your plan, ” Peter said after a few moments, chuckling when Juno laughed.

“Yeah? Don't think it would have been as good if I fucked you?” Juno teased. “That hurts my feelings, Nureyev.”

“Mm, not at all, you would've been perfect. You always are, love, ” Peter sighed, pulling Juno in for a searching kiss before pulling away enough to whisper, “I enjoy it when you take what you want. You do it so rarely.”

“You're good at giving me what I want, I never have to take it, ” Juno murmured against his lips through another kiss.

And Peter laughed at that, knowing the next time they tumbled, Juno would be full of petulant complaints about the speed, and the force, and the timeliness. But that was just Juno Steel, and Peter loved him for it.

FIN

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #jupeter #juno steel #gerry writes #full fic

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javocjovian · 5 years

Text

Wet Dreams May Cum, Debriel Creations Challenge Monthly Challenge Fic

Title: Wet Dreams May Cum Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/42226679 February Theme: First Times My Prompt: Sleep/Sleeping Ship: Debriel (Dean/Gabriel, Dean/Gabriel/Dream-Gabriel) Rating: E!!! Tags: Somnophilia, masturbation, wet dreams, embarrassment, first time anal (Dean), hand jobs, prostate milking, wings, consensual, mild pain enjoyment, grace sex, grace bondage, induced sleep, bondage via induced sleep, soul fucking, dream control, dream sex, mind-reading, time-loop Summary: Dean has a wet dream about Gabriel, and Gabriel decides to turn it into reality. Word Count: 4209

Created for @debrielcc Beta-ed by: @felix-the-white-wolf Special shout to: @mrswhozeewhatsis

Quote:

At least Dean had learned one thing from failing to summoning Gabriel – he wasn’t magically attached to Dean as he feared. After all, the mere thought of him hadn’t caused the earth to crack and suck Dean down into Gabriel’s zebra printed, lava lamp filled sex dungeon. Whether that was good or bad, Dean didn’t know. What he did know was, it was probably safe to masturbate.

gifs made by meee

Wet Dreams May Cum

Dean’s motel room was dark. The rain streaked window flashed behind closed blinds, followed by a distant rumble. Dean was sprawled out on the bed, half naked and twisted up in the comforter. It had been three days since he and Sam started a hunt, during which time neither of them slept. The first thing Sam did when they finished was get himself his own room. Dean snored when he was sleep deprived and he was too tired to argue. His head hit the pillow and he was asleep not three seconds later, snoring loudly. But after a while, the snoring stopped. His breathing deepened and he shifted dreamily under the sheets. A brief flash of dim light illuminated the lines of his bare neck and back, rising and falling slowly as he lay belly down, his face nestled in the crook of his arm. His eyes darted under his lids.

Trapped somewhere between waking and dreaming, Dean groaned softly into his arm. The rain was so relaxing, and Dean was so very comfortable, and yet, he began to move. He rubbed his hips into the mattress below him, sighing gently. He was having a very good dream.

Dean pushed his nose into the pillows and slowly, sensually, dry humped the bed through his pajamas pants. He moaned quietly, his expression open and pure with pleasure while he slept. His lips began to move, forming one word over and over again. He absentmindedly reached out and felt for an unused pillow. He grabbed it and dragged it down to his hips. When his body pushed into it, his expression rounded in relief. That was what he needed. He dry humped the pillow while he slept, until the word finally tumbled off his lips…

“Gabriel...”

POOF

Blue orbs glowed at the foot of Dean’s bed and Dean awoke instantly.

“Whozeewhatsisthere?” He snorted. In less time than it took Gabriel to appear, Dean was sitting up with the pillow on his lap, pointing a gun at his midnight visitor.

“Woah, woah, easy tiger...”

Dean turned the light on. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess.

Gabriel pointed, mischievous face was smirking at him. “Hey there, cowboy.” He rose a brow at the pillow.

“God damnit.” Dean rubbed his face with one hand and put the gun down. “Are you crazy? I could have shot you!”

Gabriel’s smirk widened. “Yeah you could’ve.”

Dean glared at him, but a yawn betrayed him. “A...aren’t you supposed to be dead? Again?”

“Yeah… that story is so not as interesting as whatever it was you were dreaming about.” He teased.

Dean glared harder than ever. “Get out.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dean-o.”

“Why are you even here? Where you just watching me while I slept?”

“You prayed for me.”

“No, I…!” Dean’s face fell. He looked simultaneously mortified and furious.

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “You…” He stalked towards the side of the bed. “...prayed for me.”

“I have a gun.” Dean stated.

Gabriel sighed. He looked a kid who was just denied dessert. “Fine! I’ll just take these talented hands elsewhere...” He gave Dean a playful look.

“Okay, but wait… how are you…?”

POOF

“...alive.” Dean blinked.

Gabriel was gone.

Dean threw the pillow in frustration and got up, grumbling about dead archangels cockblocking his own dick. He wasn’t sleeping now. He took the coldest, angriest shower, got dressed, then went and woke Sam up.

“Come on, sleeping beauty! Let’s go! You can sleep in the car.” He pounded on the door. At least Sam’s anger would distract Dean from his own.

Sure enough, Sam was pissed at him the whole car ride home, even though he slept through most of it. When Sam woke a few miles from the bunker, Dean decided it would be best to tell him that Gabriel was alive, if only to avoid him finding out later and getting even angrier.

“He what?”

“He just… showed up. So I figured we should get out of there.”

“Yeah, but… Dean. He’s supposed to be dead!”

“I know that, Sam.”

“So then, what? He came by just to say hi? What did he want?”

Dean shrugged.

Sam clearly didn’t believe him, but they were at the bunker before he could argue it further.

Dean didn’t think about the incident, or masturbate, for nearly a week. But whenever he had a moment to himself, he found his mind drifting back to that dream. It had been a very good one. Gabriel was behind him and Dean was sprawled out on the bed, his hips raised and captured by Gabriel’s warm hands. Gabriel must have been using his grace or something, because it felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean’s every molecule was exploding with white hot pleasure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. It melted his brain and made his whole body tremble in ecstasy. The point of entry was the best. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, pulling him under waves and waves of satisfaction. Dean recalled with a rush of embarrassment how he’d lifted his own ass in need and curled his fists into the sheets, groaning Gabriel’s name...

Sam woke him from his daydream, and he nearly fell out of his seat at the Men of Letters table.

“You need sleep.” Sam said.

“Shaddup and make me some coffee, will you?”

It was like being haunted by Freddy Kruger's porn star twin.

Sam needed the library to study, so Dean offered to help. He ignored Sam’s look of skepticism and pulled some books across the table to him. Anything to take his mind off that dream. But hours later, neither Sam nor Dean could figure out a sigil they’d seen on their hunt.

“Maybe it’s Aramaic.” Sam sighed.

Dean had brought the coffee pot right to the table and was pouring himself another cup.

“Dude. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” Sam stared at him in disbelief, then looked back at a book on angels. “The closest thing I’ve found is in this book. It says this language was used by gods. We could try calling Cas.”

“He hasn’t answered his phone in days, but if you want to try then be my guest.”

Sam huffed. “Why don’t you pray for Gabriel then?”

Dean went pale. “W...why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he visited you out of nowhere and you’re still not telling me why?” He suggested coolly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He set his cup down and cleared his throat. “Gabriel, oh Gabriel, wherefore art thou, you feathered dick?”

Sam laughed.

“We need your divine wisdom. Grace us with your unending innuendos.” Dean finished dramatically.

They both looked around despite themselves, but nothing happened.

“See?” Dean swiped the pot off the table and went to make more coffee. “Your turn.”

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone.

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was disappointed nonetheless. It made him feel dirty. And not in the good way. Or was it? He finally gave up trying to help Sam and went to his room to take a nap.

“Yeah, just drink two pots of coffee and then go sleep.” Sam commented.

Dean proceeded to lay wide awake in his dark room for ten minutes, silently cursing Sam. At least he’d learned one thing from failing to summoning Gabriel – he wasn’t magically attached to Dean as he feared. After all, the mere thought of him hadn’t caused the earth to crack and suck Dean down into Gabriel’s zebra printed, lava lamp filled sex dungeon. Whether that was good or bad, Dean didn’t know. What he did know was, it was probably safe to masturbate. Thank god. No, that made him feel dirty, too.

Dean undid his pants and lay down on his bed. He had a stash of magazines, but he didn’t need them. He’d been pent up since that dream. Like hitting play on a movie, he was brought back to it: Gabriel’s hands on his hips, his breath on the back of his neck, the tantalizing caress of his feathers as he thrust endlessly into Dean’s aching, electrified body... Dean wrapped a calloused hand around his cock and stroked.

Soon his head was resting against the headboard and his lips were parted in silent pleasure as he fondled all his favorite spots. He squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head. He worked up a good amount of precum and lubed himself up with it. His breathing became audible as he pumped himself closer and closer to orgasm. He could almost feel that dream – Gabriel’s cock was spreading him wide, filling him deep, stroking him from the inside so divinely. Gabriel’s hands smoothed around Dean’s hips and began stroking his cock for him. Dean moaned. Gabriel’s fingertips were too perfect. They made Dean writhe and buck back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. Within seconds Dean was close to coming. He thrust his hips into his hand, gritting his teeth.

“Gabe… Gabriel.” He groaned.

POOF

Dean swore loudly.

Gabriel snapped the lights on and caught Dean aiming a shotgun at him with his pants around his thighs. He was flushed, breathless, and very erect.

“Oh... naughty boy.” Gabriel’s eyes twinkled.

“I prayed for you twenty minutes ago!” Dean shouted.

“Well obviously you didn’t pray right.” Gabriel bit back a smile.

Dean glared at him. He dropped a hand to the blankets and tried to cover himself with them, but the bed was made tight.

Gabriel watched happily as Dean struggled to pull his pants up over his erection with one hand.

“Dean… I’m an Archangel. I don’t care what you look like out here.” He spun his finger around at him. “Although, I must say… impressive.” He winked at him.

Dean frowned and gave up. “You… are a dick!”

“Interesting choice of words...”

“A seriously… fucked up… asshole...”

“Oh my...”

“Shut up!”

Gabriel bit back a little laugh, and it drove Dean crazy. He glared at him dangerously, his mind racing.

“Comebacks aren’t really your forte are they? Speaking of comebacks...”

“Alright you know what? Get in here or shut up.”

Gabriel’s expression fell. “What?” His brow twitched. “Seriously?”

Dean stared in resignation. “Yeah, seriously. You in or out?”

Gabriel’s face lit up deviously. “Oh I’m in. I’m so in.”

Dean swallowed.

Gabriel stalked over to Dean’s side and, before Dean could overthink it, Gabriel undressed him with a snap of his fingers and pushed him back onto the bed. Dean hit the bed with a gasp. Gabriel grinned and lowered his lips to Dean’s chest. Dean lay his head back and shut his eyes stubbornly, taking steady breaths. Until he felt Gabriel’s hand wrap around his cock. Dean groaned.

“Oh, so responsive.” Gabriel purred.

Dean grunted irritably, but the sound was sucked out of him when Gabriel bit his nipple. Dean’s breath hitched. “Just hurry up.” He said gruffly. In reality, he could’ve laid there all night with Gabriel stroking him. His hands were perfect. Gabriel squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head, making Dean curse and leak precum on his fingers. It was so good. Too good….

Gabriel watched Dean connect the dots in his head and smiled victoriously.

“You were watching me?”

“Bingo.” Gabriel smirked, then flicked his nipple with his tongue and rubbed Dean’s glans with his thumb.

Dean fell back, mouth agape. “...You pervert.”

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me.” Gabriel snapped again, disrobing himself, then hoisted Dean into the middle of the bed.

Even though Dean knew he was an Archangel, his strength in that situation surprised Dean. He made an embarrassing little noise, but Gabriel gratefully ignored it. He kept toying with his nipples and stroking him, making Dean lose it his piece by piece.

“Fuck, Gabriel…”

Gabriel smiled. “Tell me about you dream.”

Dean swallowed. “You uh… we were in bed. And you were behind me. F...” Dean couldn’t say it. Partly because it was humiliating, but partly because Gabriel was pinching his nipple and making Dean squirm. They were way more sensitive than usual. “F...fucking me.”

“Uh-huh...” He flicked him with his tongue, getting pleasure out of seeing Dean squirm.

“Fuck.”

“You said that already.”

“I am going to kill you.”

“Oh baby...” Gabriel teased. He let Dean’s cock drop and rose a glistening a hand in the air. With a third snap of his fingers, Dean was on his belly on the bed with Gabriel between his legs.

Dean gasped. “Sh...shit don’t do that!”

“Oh you love it, Dean-o.” Gabriel goaded him. “Why don’t you show me that dream of yours? Might make this easier...”

Dean wore. He was loving this, even if it was seriously fucked up. Dean felt a brief but powerful rush of sympathy for Sam regarding Ruby. This was… hot. He looked over his shoulder at him. “You can do that?”

“Duh.” Gabriel gave him a look.

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay… sure. Go for it.” Dean didn’t really know what he was agreeing to, but he realized something when Gabriel put a finger to his forehead. “Wait!”

“What?”

“Don’t possess me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked.

Dean felt himself relax a little. Gabriel was a pervert, but at least he was on their side. Right? Dean held his breath as Gabriel touched his forehead.

Immediately, Dean was back in his dream. He was belly down on that motel bed with the rain and thunder in the background, and he couldn’t move. He looked around wildly and saw Gabriel behind him. No, he was inside of him. Dean groaned and dropped his head on the mattress.

“Gabe… Gabriel!” He called out to him.

“Right here, Dean.” Gabriel breathed in his ear. Everything was the same, even Gabriel’s gigantic wings that were taking up half the room. Except Gabriel didn’t speak in his dream. This was the real Gabriel. “You just tell me if you want to stop. Got it?” He said.

Dean nodded weakly. “Holy… fuck.”

Gabriel smirked. “Bingo.”

Gabriel thrust deep, so deep that it could only happen in a dream, and Dean melted in ecstasy, moaning.

“Oh…” Gabriel purred. “So good, Dean. Atta boy.” He smiled, beginning to fuck him nice and slow. “I’m going to fuck you in here, and then I’m going to fuck you out there? Got it?”

Dean couldn’t move his head, so he gave him a silent thumbs up. Gabriel chuckled, rocking Dean’s body gently. Dean could vaguely feel himself back in the bunker with the real Gabriel. His body there was melting with pleasure, too. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers inside him, yet he was here with dream Gabriel’s cock inside him.

“Fuck, Gabe. This is… fucked up.”

“Oh, I know.” Gabriel smirked. “But you love it.”

Dean smiled breathlessly.

Gabriel wiped the smile off his face with a long, deep thrust. Dean had barely caught his breath before Gabriel was pulling back and doing it again. Dean groaned in earnest. The sound was music to Gabriel’s ears. He picked up the pace, making Dean writhe.

Dean grabbed the sheets to ground himself as Gabriel fucked his brains into outer space. His cock filled him unbelievably well, stirring all the pleasure spots Dean never knew he had. He was so thick and wet, and he glided right into Dean like he was made for this. Dean’s whole body felt electrified. Gabriel put his hands on Dean’s hips and Dean lifted his butt up for him.

“So good, Dean. I’m giving you a reward for that.” Gabriel purred.

Dean felt fingers reaching in and stroking a spot in him that made Dean feel like he was coming. Dean gasped and clenched down, but those muscles weren’t working for some reason. He couldn’t move them awake or asleep. Gabriel was milking his prostate in the bunker and fucking him here, all at the same time, and it made Dean short circuit, gasping and shaking uncontrollably.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gabriel grinned, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re soaking the bed.” He told him. He sounded absolutely thrilled. “Oh, you’re definitely my favorite. I always knew you would be. So responsive, so pent up, I’m going to unwind you all night long.” He promised.

Dean groaned shamelessly. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers move and focus elsewhere back at the bunker, giving Dean a brief reprieve from the paralyzing pleasure. He sputtered and gasped. “Fuck Gabriel! Oh my god.”

Gabriel smirked.

Dean wasn’t even mad. “You gotta… you gotta do that again.”

“You got it, kiddo.” He found Dean’s sweet spot with his cock and stroked it hard. It wasn’t as intense, but it was enough to get Dean trembling again.

“Oh...yeah… right there.” Dean gritted his teeth.

Gabriel worked his hips expertly, giving Dean all the stroking, rubbing stimulation while still fucking him deep. It felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean realized he probably was, and wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. It felt like his nerves were exploding with white hot pleasure, making his whole body throb in ecstasy. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, soaking him in wave after wave of familiar yet entirely new satisfaction. It felt like it went on for hours.

“You ever done this before, Dean-o?”

Dean shook his head hastily. “No...no way.”

“Really?” Gabriel asked, enjoying his honestly. “A stud like you? Oh, I feel so lucky...” He gave Dean a long thrust, earning a shuddering moan from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you. I’ll ruin you for every other man, angel and demon.”

“Lucky me...” He smiled breathlessly.

Dean was grateful Gabriel wasn’t treating him like a virgin. As a pleasurable and downright kinky as it was being dominated like this, he still had his pride. Gabriel seemed to sense this, and he picked up the pace, taking Dean’s mind off it. Dean cursed and pressed his nose into the pillow.

Gabriel’s cock was spreading him so wide, filling him so deep; it didn’t seem possible to feel this good. Even the way Gabriel’s skin brushed against Dean’s stretched hole at the end of each stroke felt incredible. Then Gabriel’s hands were smoothing around Dean’s hips stroking his cock. Dean cried out in pleasure, bucking back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. It was like it had all happened before, and yet was happening for the first time – like he was stuck in a time loop. Dean couldn’t count how many times Gabriel touched him just right, only to have it happen all over again. He felt completely distant from his body, and yet bound by it, experiencing each moment of pleasure to infinity.

After what felt like hours, Gabriel’s voice reeled him back. “Are you ready, babe?”

Dean nodded dumbly. He had no idea what Gabriel was talking about, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.

All at once, both Gabriels pushed in, and Dean felt his body expand with devastating pleasure.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel must have been able to read his mind. He slowed, but he didn’t stop. Dean was grateful. Every little spark of pain complimented his pleasure so divinely. He couldn’t get enough.

“Keep...keep going!” He grunted, arching up uncontrollably and twisting his fists in the sheets.

Gabriel watched his back bow as he took everything Gabriel had, and it drove Gabriel wild. “Oh, Dean-o… you are absolutely... gorgeous.” He groaned. “That’s it. Take it. Take my cock. I want to fill you to the brim.”

Finally, Dean felt both versions of himself in perfect sync – two of Gabriel’s cocks filling him so heavily that Dean could barely move. Gabriel was panting against his back and Dean felt his wings drape over him, although he wasn’t sure in which bedroom. Gabriel kissed Dean’s neck in both realities, then he started to move.

Dean and Gabriel groaned in unison. It was unbelievable. Gabriel parted his tight, wet heat twice, filling Dean was impossible pleasure, all the while fondling his cock. It was like having four hands on him – stroking, petting, and rubbing him all over. Dean rolled his hips what little he could out of instinct, making Gabriel slide in even deeper.

Dream Gabriel pulled out a little and began focusing his thrusts on Dean’s prostate, while Gabriel in the bunker fucked him steadily. Dean groaned, burying his face in both beds. Soon he was gasping and moaning desperately.

“Gabe! Gabriel!”

When Gabriel replied, his voice was raspy and deep. “I’m going to bring you back now, Dean.”

Dean looked back at him and nodded. He was completely roughed up and tousled-haired. He looked drunk. It made Gabriel’s arousal soar. He pulled Dean into a kiss, their first kiss, and in the next second Gabriel’s wings faded and they were back in the bunker.

Dean’s bodies became one. The sensations, while less intense, suddenly felt more real. He felt his own sheets under his knees and chest. He smelled the familiar, stale smell of the underground bunker, mixed with his own cologne and the smell of their bodies intertwined. But most of all, he felt Gabriel’s cock heavy and hot moving inside him, and Gabriel’s hand stroking his leaking, throbbing cock.

“Good morning sunshine.” Gabriel rasped.

Dean groaned. He nearly came right there.

Gabriel fucked him a little more carefully out here, but it didn’t matter to Dean. It felt even better than anything that could happen in his head. Gabriel played him just right, and Dean felt an orgasm building up powerfully in his balls. He had no idea how long Gabriel was in him, but it must have been hours. That was the only way he ever orgasmed like this. It ate him up from the inside so slowly that it was almost painful. But it was the best kind of pain – a tingling, mind-numbing ecstasy.

“Gabe… keep going… just like that...” He groaned into his bed.

Gabriel squeezed his hand and twisted it over his cock, pounding into Dean’s prostate then gliding in deep. He rubbed his body against Dean’s entrance with each thrust, then slid part way out to do it again. And again.

Dean gaped soundlessly as his orgasm bubbled up just below the surface. He was shaking with the effort of keeping his butt up, and Gabriel seemed to have read his mind again.

“Come on, Dean. You’ve earned it.” Gabriel taunted with every thrust. “Let yourself go. Or I’ll just keep visiting you. I’ll make you come all night long. Every night...”

Dean whined, slamming his fist on the bed, his expression screwed up. With one more stroke and thrust, Dean’s orgasm finally broke the surface. He gasped loudly and spasmed for what felt like minutes. He arched up for Gabriel to ravage him, and ravage he did.

Gabriel fucked him through his orgasm, until he’d pushed every last drop of it out of Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered. He actually whimpered. He clawed at the sheets and grit his teeth. Gabriel came with a moan and slowed to a halt at last.

Dean collapsed. He barely felt Gabriel pull out of him, but he felt oddly empty when he was gone. Dean lay panting silently on the bed, laying in his own cum. He didn’t even care. He felt Gabriel’s warmth return as he pulled Dean to him. The pressure felt amazing. It pressed all of his reverberating bliss into a ball in the very center of his body, making his very soul ring in satisfaction. He looked up groggily and mustered out one word:

“Fuck.”

Gabriel chuckled. He let Dean ride out his pleasure high for a while. He was surprisingly patient. When Dean looked back up, Gabriel had turned a light on and had magicked him and his bed clean. He was laying on Dean, idly reading his copy of Busty Asian Beauties.

“Really?” Dean grumbled.

Gabriel flashed him a smile. “Morning, sunshine.”

Dean reached out and swatted the magazine out of his hand. Gabriel chuckled and set it down, then let Dean pull him into a sloppy kiss. Gabriel kissed back instantly. He cuddled Dean to him as they lay sideways on his bed, butt-naked.

“So uh...”

“Don’t tell Sammy?”

Dean grinned sleepily. “Yeah. That. But...”

Gabriel looked at him curiously.

“I can’t… I can’t keep me eyes open.” He admitted. “So I’m going to sleep. You’re going to give me a few hours, and then...”

“And then...” Gabriel smirked dangerously.

Dean flushed a little. “Then you’re to do all that stuff you said...”

“Oh?”

“...about visiting me in my sleep and... all that.” Dean informed him. There was the slightest bit of embarrassment behind Dean’s exhausted attempt at nonchalance, and it made Gabriel’s smirk widen.

“You got it, Dean-o.”

Dean smiled in satisfaction. “You’re a freak, Gabriel.” He dropped his head onto the sheets and closed his eyes.

Gabriel chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.” He snapped them both under the blankets and turned the lights off, leaving them in darkness once more.

Goodnight!

#debrielcc #debriel #supernatural #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #my edits #my gifs #fanart #kelas parmak #somnophilia #archive of our own #gabriel x dean

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ao3feed-bakusquad · 5 years

Text

KiriKami Fic Rec List

This recommendation list was provided by @gintoukis.

Welcome to a KiriKami fanfic recommendations list by @kamidenks!

For now, I'll only be including completed, non-explicit recs with KiriKami as the ~main focus. However, I have read through majority of, if not all, KiriKami fics, so if there's one that you remember reading but can't find now, let me know and I'll most likely have read it and can link you!

The list is in alphabetical order, and I've included the ratings as well; please be warned! I've included my fics at the bottom as well.

A journey for two by soulstring (G ; 3,756 words)

“There was a Pokémon Center northeast—wait, where's northeast?” Denki paces back and forth, agitated and mumbling to himself.

Eijirou places his hand on Denki's shoulder, stopping him. “Northeast is that way,” he answers, pointing out to his right. “I can take you there if you want.”

Denki whips his head in his way. There's a tear hanging onto the corner of his left eye, and even if he doesn't seem angry, there's little gratitude in his eyes.

“Please,” he says, hugging his pokémon to his chest.

Eijirou feels as if he kicked a puppy. A pretty, albeit wimpy puppy.

For KiriKami Week 2018

and the rest is rust and stardust by youreanovelidea (G ; 8,587 words)

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does.

(or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

Apple Chuhai by clairesail (orphan_account) (T ; 3,668 words)

“What, are you too chicken?” He jokes, trying to play it off, and throwing Denki's words to Mina back at him. The color comes back to Denki's face and he sputters.

“I'm not! I'll- I'll prove it!”

And just like that, Eijirou can no longer say he's never been kissed.

Or: The squad gets together to play Truth or Dare, and Eijirou notices how soft Denki's lips look.

Aroma of you by soulstring (G ; 3,320 words)

Denki was okay with the way things were, he didn't need a gold-colored cauldron to tell him that he's been in love with his best friend.

Really, there was a reason why he always disliked Potion class.

Bright as the Sun by starofjems (T ; 7,662 words)

For years Kaminari has kept his crush on one of his best friends hidden. It was never the right time, never the right place. They were all too busy trying to make their dreams come true, too busy becoming one of the best pod racer teams in the universe. But now that their dreams are finally becoming reality, it's hard to ignore Ashido's pestering to confess to Kirishima finally. Is it too much to wish for two dreams to come true?

Care by littlepeach (dulcetlove) (Not Rated ; 1,104 words)

“Look at me like that and I don't think we'll be sleeping anytime soon,” Eijirou smirks when he feels his boyfriend shudder beneath him. Before he can so much as plant a kiss on the neck before him, though, he's jolted by a small electrocution and looks up to pout at Denki.

“Touch me and you'll get electrocuted again,” Denki threatens with a mocking pout of his own and Eijirou rolls his eyes back, letting himself flop back over the other's body with a dramatic groan of despair, burrowing his face into the crook of Denki's neck and shoulder. He doesn't comment on the fact that Denki himself has his arms around Eijirou's shoulders as he absentmindedly plays with the hair on the nape of the younger's neck.

“But my dick wants you, man-!”

Dance with me by soulstring (T ; 2,604 words)

“The customer wants to know if we have anything gluten free.”

The reactions are exactly what he expected. Eijirou sputters a laugh, and Katsuki slams the bread on the hamburger he's preparing as if it has committed a crime.

“What kind of bullshit is that?!”

“Gluten is a thing you find in—”

“I know what gluten is, dumbass!” Katsuki exclaims. “Why does the fucker think he's in a five-star restaurant?”

Katsuki gets it.

“We do have five stars on Facebook, through,” Eijirou adds.

Eijirou does not.

dealing with friends like these by vannral (T ; 3,312 words)

Someone's pounding at the door. A part of Izuku's brain points out very matter-of-factly that he should probably get up and see what's going on.

Katsuki and Izuku deal with their friends drama and pining at 7 a.m. Katsuki is grumpy, Izuku is long-suffering, Kaminari is on the brink of hyperventilation and there is peer support about confessing feelings.

don't get me wrong by juice_and_pals (G ; 4,563 words)

Don't get me wrong If I'm looking kind of dazzled I see neon lights Whenever you walk by

Kaminari's crush on Kirishima through the years.

Fearless by CloversDreams (M ; 41,004 words)

He was known as The Fearless Captain to all that heard of him according to the stories heard by his crew. Of course he thought that they were just exaggerating until he heard the stories himself while at port. He had to admit that the idea that he was perceived as such was pretty incredible. It was interesting that they'd gone with the title of fearless instead of mad from the way the tales were exaggerated. Yet, he found no desire within himself to correct them. He would sit in the tavern and smile into his ale as he listened.

The nickname had just sort of stuck and to those aboard his ship though he was known as Fearless Captain Denki, or just Captain Denki, since he preferred things to be a bit more casual. According to the tales he'd heard when in disguise, he had apparently made a pact with Poseidon himself because of the way he acted like the sea could never kill him.

That was laughable.

how lucky we are by Slumber (T ; 1,669 words)

Kaminari falls in love at least once a day.

how the sun reaches thunder by vannral (T ; 18,858 words)

The first time Denki does magic, white-hot electricity crackles from his fingertips, nipping and flaring to life, he remembers how his mother pales.

He leaves to find a witch, but somehow ends up travelling with a handsome red-haired monster slayer.

Hyper Gamer, Nothing Greater by roxashighwind (M ; 1,968 words)

Eijiro crawls onto the couch and into Denki's lap in a slow creep that takes several minutes and is so smooth that he doesn't interrupt the game that Denki is playing until he presses his face into Denki's neck.

“Eijiro?” he asks. He doesn't stop playing, directing his character around the level in search of more enemies. Recipe component farming is one of the mindless things that's simultaneously entertaining and boring as shit, and something he could practically do in his sleep. “'Sup?” - It's his day off and Denki's been playing a video game for most of it. Eijiro wants some attention.

igneous by RedHalcyon (G ; 1,837 words)

Eijirou is molten lava in the sunset that drenches the room, and Denki is drowning in it. From his place sprawled across the other boy's bed, his body is nothing short of blazing as he watches Eijirou just… be. He isn't doing anything special, nothing out of the ordinary that would draw any attention, but Denki is enraptured anyways.

ig•ne•ous (adj.) - (of rock) having solidified from lava or magma.

Illuminate my world and say ‘I Do' by soulstring (T ; 7,490 words)

“You'd better not leave hair-for-brains stood up in the altar, you fucker.”

Rather than taking offense on the accusation, Denki brightens up. “Wow, you do care! I knew it! You love Eijirou! He's gonna be so happy when I tell him you actually threatened me for him.”

“I didn't threaten you for hair-for-brains,” Bakugou says, “I threatened you because I'm your fucking wedding planner and you're tearing my job apart!”

In which Kaminari is three hours late for his own wedding and realizes that quirks and emotions are a pain in the ass

I wake up in your arms and I… by soulstring (G ; 1,291 words)

Kaminari Denki wakes up to the sound of a thousand drums going off loudly within his head. Drunk on somnolence and with the stupor of the alcohol still clouding his mind, Denki blinks once, then twice and suddenly he becomes aware.

[BNHA Cuddle Week] Day one: In bed | On the couch | Comfortable place

Kaminari is a Schemer by hajiiwa (T ; 2,856 words)

“Have you heard of, I dunno, platonic making out?”

katsuki's great cake bake-off! by taocastleprincess (T ; 7,872 words)

Kirishima isn't sure how it got to this point. He doesn't think he's ever witnessed a metaphorical dick-measuring contest over baked goods before.

He doesn't really want to start now.

Or: Bakugou Katsuki uses his evil genius to become a kick-ass baker.

Lightning Shower by soulstring (G ; 1,882 words)

Denki seems completely unaware of everything. But despite the rain flattening his hair and the slight trembling of his shoulders, he looks so happy, radiant even. His eyes are shining as he looks toward the sky, and they glisten almost unnaturally, as if electric sparks are contained there. He looks so– “Beautiful...”

Kaminari Denki Appreciation Week Day 2: Storm

Marked by CloversDreams (T ; 15,763 words)

Denki hissed softly to himself then placed his hand on his neck. There was a sharp pain right at the base of the right side where it met his shoulder. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear he felt the grooves of teeth marks. He pulled his hand away from the spot and his eyes widened when he saw blood. He immediately understood the situation for what it was and could hardly believe it. His eyes were wild as he stomped up to the red-haired werewolf and shrieked, “You marked me? That's so barbaric!”

“You're no better, buddy!” Eijiro yelled right back. Sure, the vampire had a bite mark on his neck, but he also had a line of dried blood down the side of his mouth that signaled he had fed recently. The dull ache in his neck suddenly made lots of sense and Eijiro didn't need to put his hand upon the mark to know that it was from puncture wounds.

(Or, the story of a confused werewolf and an equally confused vampire that wake up in a room together with both memory and blood loss...)

need you by my side by mugen (M ; 3,668 words)

Denki week | day 1 | future ⚡ pro

Eijirou's latest one night stand was a disaster and his friends weren't sympathetic in the least. Even worse, his long time crush on Denki still showed no signs of disappearing anytime soon.

Of Study Dates and Quidditch Games by panncottas (G ; 2,878 words)

When his usual tutor Jirou leaves for a few weeks, Denki Kaminari finds himself in the hands of Gryffindor Eijirou Kirishima. He's tall, muscular, friendly, and probably the hottest guy Denki's ever met. It's not long before the Hufflepuff is head over heels for him, but the real question is... how exactly does he confess? As it turns out, a game of Quidditch helps immensely.

Recharge by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (G ; 1,022 words)

Kaminari worries that his friends only invite him to stuff because they want their phones charged. Kirishima proves him wrong.

Remedial Lessons by sensiblysilly (T ; 6,667 words)

That was how Kirishima ended up in the unprecedented situation of having a rather large, and rather unrequited, crush on his friend - and his best friend at that.

It was unprecedented, because falling for his closest friend at his new high school hadn't been something Kirishima had planned on. It was large, because it seemed that when Kirishima did fall, he fell hard. And it was unrequited, because... well, because it was quite obvious, to anyone who cared to see, that Kaminari was as straight as they came.

Away at summer training camp, Kirishima learns a thing or two about life, love and friendship that weren't outlined on his remedial lesson curriculum.

Resting Isn't Supposed to Hurt by thephilosophah (T ; 2,621 words)

UA gives is students a week when they're supposed to refrain from using their quirks so they can rest. For the mutants, it's a little boring. For transformations it takes a moment to remember. For emitters, it's... tricky.

rêves by dollcewrites (T ; 3,584 words)

Kissing Denki is like kissing a battery.

His lips quiver at first but his mouth is warm and so alive, Eijirou breathes it in. His fingers brush over the pulse in Denki's neck and rest there, and suddenly his mouth tingles, and his hairs stand on end but he can't break away. He needs more, pulls Denki in with an arm around his waist making their bodies press flush against each other, and the electric shock he receives travels like a bolt down through his core, right through his heart like Cupid's arrow.

Rock my world by soulstring (T ; 12,516 words)

In which Kaminari has a band, wants to be popular with the girls, but ends up crushing on the newest member who can't sing anything but Enka.

For KiriKami Week 2018: Hobbies | Pining | Confession

Short Circuit by panncottas (G ; 2,182 words)

A dance at UA is coming up, leaving everyone scrambling for dates. It would be a dream come true if Kaminari could go with his longtime crush Kirishima, but Eijirou's dating Bakugou… right?

sparked-out by Taeyn (T ; 989 words)

Kirishima, who had been soft with his embrace so Kaminari could let it all out, now finds himself hugging tighter, his fingers splayed through Denki's mussed hair as the words hit home in his heart.

“That's why I feel so dumb right now,” Kaminari coughs, his hand curling to a fist in Kirishima's shirt as his voice cracks in two. “Not because I finish most training exercises acting like a goofball, but because I'm always right there on the field when it still matters, and I can't even push through for you!”

Storge by furihatachlookie (G ; 2,810 words)

Taking his seat, backpack tucked under the table away from where someone could trip, Kirishima leans forward, tapping his shoulder, “What're you listening to, Kami?” The only way Kirishima could ever get his attention with them on in the past was if he popped up in his vision or touched him.

Kaminari lifts one side of the headphones and looks over. It's amusing to see how invested can become Kaminari in his music and divested to everything else, eyes widened a fraction like he'd been caught daydreaming, which wasn't quite a far-fetched possibility, with how everyone in this class has been doing a lot of dreaming and catching up on personal time these past weeks.

(Where Kaminari is a music junkie and dedicates many of his playlists to Kirishima)

The Heart Never Forgets by Drowninginworkbutstill (T ; 2,848 words)

Kaminari slowly loses his memories the more he overuses his quirk. Luckily, Kirishima is there to remember for both of them.

The Merman's Treasure by CloversDreams (T ; 13,064 words)

Eijiro poked his head out of the water and looked all around the dimly lit cave as he carefully surveyed his surroundings just as he was trained to do. This was where he'd tracked his prey to so they had to be around here somewhere. When he finally located the mark in question, he narrowed his piercing, red eyes and then ducked down so that only his eyes were still above the water. He observed silently from his hiding place near some jagged rocks as he patiently waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. It was dark in the cave but the moonlight that shined through the large hole in the ceiling provided enough light so that he could make out a silhouette. He watched it intently as he knew that it belonged to the siren he'd been tracking.

He gripped the handle of his exceedingly sharp dagger that was carved from the finest shell gold could buy, and then pulled it free from its sheath upon his waist, careful not to create any ripples in the water by his crimson tail. All he had to do now was wait for the perfect opportunity to strike...

us (in every moment) by vannral (T ; 7,378 words)

A collection of stories for the Kirikami Week 2018.

It started by the koi pond, once upon a time. They always find each other, no matter what.

wrath / 神 by dollcewrites (M ; 2,235 words)

Denki thinks he's fucked up this time, because his body is pretty proofed and immune to his quirk, but his heart. It beats irregular, erratic. Could he have fucked with its natural pacemaking, short circuited his nerves? He feels frayed. His hands shake.

The villain is, well, barbeque. Charred up. Denki doesn't have time to think about the fact he probably just killed someone.

Because Eijirou is all limp in his arms. All wet. Warm. Red.

Hero by kamidenks (sugasets) (G ; 1,170 words)

Eijirou meets Kaminari during the entrance exam in the most electrifying way.

hummingbird wings by kamidenks (sugasets) (T ; 1,479 words)

He presses Eijirou's hand against his chest, the thrum of his heart fluttering like hummingbird wings.

“Denki,” Eijirou murmurs, awed.

“I always feel like this, with you,” Denki smiles. “Like my heart is about to take flight.”

(A collection of drabbles for Denki and Eijirou: best friends and soulmates. Ridiculously in love with each other, in every universe.)

intimacy by kamidenks (sugasets) (T ; 7,581 words)

When Kirishima and Kaminari finally start dating in their second year, their public displays of affection are as anyone expects: loud (Kirishima), sometimes crass (Kaminari), and borderline obnoxious (both). If there are quiet moments between the two, they are eclipsed by the boisterous laughter and dirty jokes.

However, their classmates are nothing if not observant.

Or: a collection of drabbles following 1-A's interactions with their favorite condiment couple—observing the small gestures, soft gazes, and careful hands.

kiss me, kiss me by kamidenks (sugasets) (T ; 1,837 words)

Denki adopts the habit of smooching his close friends platonically. Most of them think it's really cute.

Eijirou thinks it's torture.

my hands are tired of only waiting to let go by kamidenks (sugasets) (T ; 1,462 words)

Denki's deep-seated insecurities cause him to question his and Eijirou's relationship, much to Eijirou's anguish.

Paper Cranes by kamidenks (sugasets) (T ; 1,503 words)

Denki's latest love is origami. (Eijirou's is Denki.)

#AO3 Fic Recs #Kirikami #Long Post

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