#every single time one of u writes something so soft and heartfelt | 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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cinebration · 3 years

Text

Cuts & Bruises, Wounds & Abuses (Captain Syverson x Reader) [Part 15]

You visit the water station.

Tagged: @scuzmunkie, @thethirstyarchive, @maan24, @igotkatiepowers, @sugarpenchant, @lamthetwickster, @omgkatinka, @helloitsmeamie203, @simply-heaven, @l-u-n-a-m, @fckdeusername, @woterezwhet, @olkathechaoticfox, @bethabear12, @bloodyinspiredfuck, @flor-la-ganga95, @nothingright, @tapismyforte, @thebonzifonzibrothers, @peakymidwinter, @fanfictionaddiction99, @thereisa8ella, @kmuir1, @bichibibi, @love-yourself-first-tfw, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @lou-la-lou, @kat002nd, @babypink224221, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @sofiebstar, @wheretheriversrunintothesea, @thatchickwiththecamera, @louiiissa, @october505, @turkish276, @heartfelt-pen, @mstgsmy, @kazzilla, @alyxkbrl, @suhke3, @summersong69, @untraveled-road, @wiccanmetallicrose, @crispysublimecupcake, @evangeline73aster, @eldarwen333, @calwitch, @contentobsessor, @noseyrosey1597, @the-problem-of-leisure, @itsjusttaralove, @wellfucksorrymum

Warnings: none

Gif Source: demivampirew

Taut silence filled the drive to the water station. The closer you drew to the structure, the more apprehensive you became. You caught yourself staring through the windows, looking for threats. Were there land mines on the road? Did another RPG lie in wait to take out the armored vehicle?

By the time you reached the station, a cold sweat broke out over your skin. Your left arm fired a steady barrage of pain the harder you tried to ignore it, as though the anxiety, the very idea of being attacked again, had reignited your flesh.

You wanted to claw at it.

As the Humvee turned down the road leading to the station, the lone building looming ahead, you glanced up to see Syverson’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

Staring straight at you.

You tried to smile, but the attempt fell short.

The vehicle lurched to a halt.

Stifling sudden panic, you waited for Syverson to open your door before climbing out of your seat. Grabbing your camera bag, you slung it over one shoulder and picked up the tripod you had brought. Instead of pen and paper, you had a handheld tape recorder. As long as you didn’t need to change the tape, you’d be able to handle all the interviews with the men at the station just fine.

Several soldiers busied themselves around the destroyed pipes, trying to clear out the rubble. In the adjacent building, one soldier stood lookout at the door while another paced atop the roof.

You felt a hand brush yours and tug gently on the tripod. Jumping in surprise, you nearly knocked the captain with the tripod.

“What’re you doing?”

His mouth tightened. “Helping.”

“I can do it.”

“It looks heavy.”

“It is heavy.” The tripod was made of aluminum. Although only five-and-a-half pounds, lugging it around for an extended period of time definitely wore you down—even more so now that you carried it with one hand.

“Then let me help.”

You shook your head. “I’ve. Got. It.”

Syverson’s gaze flitted to your injured arm before fixing on your face, his expression hardening. Turning away from you, he walked up the mild slope to the damaged area.

Feeling stung, you trudged after him. The loose soil shifted beneath your feet as you made your way to the building. With the camera bag pulling you one way and the tripod another, you felt winded by the time you reached Syverson.

He introduced you to the soldier leading the construction operation. Setting the tripod against the nearest wall, you pulled out your tape recorder, turned it on, and began asking the questions you had memorized that morning.

Syverson’s gaze bored into you for the next two hours as you interviewed the men and toured the site. You felt it burning through your neck. Trying to ignore it, you threw yourself into the work.

As the sun reached its zenith, you finished the last interview and scanned the landscape. You turned to Syverson.

“Is it…safe to go over there?” You pointed to a small rise overlooking the station.

Syverson glanced at the area and nodded. Picking up your tripod again, you trekked after him.

By the time you reached the top, fatigue had settled into your muscles. The voice of reason whispered in the back of your mind, attributing it to the trauma of your injury.

You shoved it back and scouted the hill for the best shot of the station.

“How long have you been doing this?”

You jumped, heart stuttering against your ribs. Glancing at Syverson, you answered, “Doing what?”

“Taking photos. Writing stuff.”

Balancing the tripod between your legs, you tried to unscrew the first section to extend it. “Forever, I guess. I learned photography from my dad and writing from my mom.” You wrestled with the tripod, managed to get the knob to turn a fraction. “This tripod was my dad’s, actually. He doesn’t do photography anymore. Not professionally.”

You frowned. Why were you telling him all this? Better yet, why was he asking?

The knob refused to turn further. Clenching the tripod tighter between your legs, you tried to muscle it. It refused to budge.

Without thinking, you grabbed the tripod with your left hand.

Pain exploded up your arm. Crying out, you dropped the tripod and fell to your knees, cradling the arm. Tears of pain and frustration blurred your vision.

Syverson caught the tripod before it rolled down the hill. He crouched beside you, a hand on your shoulder. “Breathe.”

Air whistled out between your clenched teeth.

“Breathe.”

Forcing yourself to inhale deeply, you held the breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly. The pain began to dissipate.

The frustration didn’t. The tears kept pushing out from behind your eyes, rolling hot and fast down your cheeks.

“The pain will go away.”

“It isn’t that,” you frowned. “It’s this…I can’t use it! I’m useless!”

Syverson’s warm hand rubbed across the nape of your neck. “Hawkins said you can use it. It’s just a flesh wound—”

“I can’t even look at it! Every time I do, I can’t…” The sobs stuttered out of you. “I just think of Deakins and how selfish I am that I hate my arm when he died. I should feel lucky, not like this.”

Syverson’s hand kept you from slumping over and curling into a ball. You fought to stem the flood of tears.

“There’s not a single soldier out there without some sort of survivor’s guilt.” His voice rumbled low in your ear. “We all feel it. You are lucky, but it’s okay to…feel differently.”

Choking back a sob, you forced yourself to look at him. Pain etched his face in stark relief, his eyes soft with concern. His thumb continued rubbing against your skin.

“I know,” you muttered, the tears abating. “I just…I can’t move past it.”

“You have to. This is your calling. You can’t leave it.”

His words struck home. Nodding heavily, you traced patterns in the dirt with your good hand. You felt so tired, worn out by the burden you had carried.

You sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun beat down mercilessly on your head, but you didn’t feel it. All you felt was Syverson’s calming touch.

“What now?” he finally asked.

Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you mumbled, “See what Mahmoud brings back from the sheikh and then go home.”

“My interview?”

You arched your eyebrows at him. “For someone who didn’t want me around, you sure want me to interview you.”

“You’re…less annoying than I thought.”

You burst into laughter. A smile crept across Syverson’s face.

“And here I thought you just wanted to get it over with so I would leave sooner.”

The smile slipped. His hand dropped away from you.

Feeling its loss, you added, “You have the right to refuse the interview.”

“No. I want to do it.” The words tumbled out too fast.

“Okay.” Your attention drifted out toward the station. “I still need photos.”

Syverson hefted up the tripod and began extending the collapsible legs. “Tell me where.”

Something stirred in you as you looked up at him, his face set with determination. Struggling with it, you pointed in front of you and directed him where the tripod needed to be.

Where had the hostile captain from the first day gone?

#Captain Syverson x Reader #Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Sand Castle (2017)#Netflix Sand Castle

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

Text

dog park date

a bonus chapter to this mini series

i couldnt help but to write this out after mentioning their first date in the second chapter. i couldnt even find the motivation to write the third chapter until i finished this one. so here it is lol.

Sunday morning.

She's spent a ridiculous time in front of her bedroom mirror, frustrated by her lack of clothing and the anxiety she's begun to feel. It's true, she's not done this in a long time. Once, she had sworn off dating and men in general. After Joffrey, though, who could blame her? Joffrey had been of a caliber all his own- arrogance and violence all wrapped up in one single man. And yet... His smile was charming, his golden hair like that of a hero from a story book. Sansa had fallen hard for him and in the beginning, things had felt perfect, almost too perfect.

Looking back, there had been signs- of course there had, but she was blinded by the brightness of being in love for the first time. She recalled the first time they argued, about a night she spent with Margaery, far later than the time she had thought to be home. The fight ended when Joffrey smashed her phone in a fit of rage. Sansa had fled their shared flat that night, opting to spend a night at home instead, though she never told her parents the truth of her stay. She wishes she'd never gone back to that flat, back to him, but she had... And it was the worst mistake of her life.

Knock, knock.

Sansa turns towards the door, pulled from the past and the tangle of her thoughts to face her younger sister who stands there, dark hair pulled back in a tight top knot, Nymeria hovering in the doorway behind her. "You're gonna be late," she says as she steps further into the room, avoiding the discarded clothes that litter the floor. Clearly, her usually well dressed and fashionable sister was struggling. Sansa makes a face at her and turns back to the mirror, once again surveying the reflection it shows. "You look fine," Arya goes on as she sinks onto the bed, though she must shove over a few shirts to find a spot to sit. Nymeria lays down beneath her feet, though her eyes do not close as she too blinks up at Sansa. "It's just a walk in the park."

"I seem to remember someone who worried about what they wore on their first date with Gendry...." Sansa shoots her sister a smirk in the mirror, triumphant when the young girl blushes despite herself. Arya is not easy to poke fun at- except when it came to Gendry. "You really think this is alright?" She turns back to face her little sister, arms outstretched to give her a better look. It takes a moment but then Arya nods, giving her a quick thumbs up. Sansa sighs but gives a single nod of her own, knowing at this point she didn't have time to change again anyways. This was it. "Don't forget, Jory will pick you up at noon to go see mum," Arya nods, following after Sansa as she heads out of her bedroom.

Arya had come to live with the month before. Her little sister had always been a bit on the wild side, like their aunt Lyanna, their father said, but ever since their mother's illness had resurfaced... Arya was having trouble dealing. And so Sansa had decided it was best for everyone if Arya came to stay with her awhile. It seemed to be helping... at least, Sansa hoped it was. "I'll see you tonight, alright?" Sansa smiles down at her little sister and raises her hand in a wave as she clips Lady's leash into place. "Later!"

Out into the sunshine of the late morning, Sansa allows Lady full control of her leash, keeping surprisingly slack grasp for a dog like Lady. But her sweet Lady was gentle, soft, quite unlike the way she looked and quite like the name she's been given. The wolf dog was often assumed to be prone to violence- wild animals, people on the street would say, but Lady was far from it. Truthfully, all of the pack had turned out quite docile, though Grey Wind had always snapped his jaws when irritated, though fitting for Robb's companion. She could still remember how Robb would snap in an instant, laying to waste any bully, grown or child, with his sharp wit and intelligence.

Her thoughts turn from her brother instead to Jon, who has caught her gaze just up ahead of her. He's knelt down on the corner, just outside the gate that leads into the local dog park, grinning as he pats his great, white dog on his head. For a moment, all of the breath leaves her body; here in the sunshine, she catches a glimpse of him she's yet to have. Jon wears a white t-shirt, basic but it suits him, and it reveals to her what she's been wondering all this time- just how muscular was he? Turns out, its the perfect amount. His dark curls are tightly secured in a knot at the back of his head, something she's very attracted to, and his dark jeans look well worn, as if they're his favorite pair. "Sansa, hey." He notices her almost too quickly, rising up from where he knelt as she approaches. Before she can respond, Ghost is surging forward and Lady is greeting him just as excitedly, as if they were long lost friends. "Well, they like each other, huh?" Jon jokes and Sansa laughs, the sound sending waves of pleasure down his spine.

In truth, he's not sure how he managed to stand up and speak to her. She's a stunning vision in her light colored denim, skin tight down to the ankle, her top a slightly oversized graphic tee that's been ripped down into a sharp, deep neckline, tantalizing him in the worst (and best) of ways. Her red hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail on top of her head and the length of it still amazes him. "No gun today, huh?" She asks, her voice bringing him out of his stupor.

"No," he laughs, shaking his head as they fall into step along the pathway. It's prime time for the dog park and so there comes laughter and voices from all around them, the barking of different dogs floating along the breeze. "Even I get a day or two off a week." In truth, he gets three, but that's because of the long hours. "How about you? What kind of work do you do to score weekends off?"

She blushes, surprising him, and she licks her rosy lips as if she's thinking about what to say. "Well, I'm a student, mostly," she admits with a quick smile, loosening her grip on Lady's leash so the dog can catch up with Ghost, who runs ahead. "I had a job but..." She can't admit that she had to quit her job because of Joffrey so she says the first thing that comes to her mind. "It was interfering with my studies, so I'm just taking a break until the end of the semester." Now, that wasn't entirely a lie, anyways.

"You must go to U of W, huh?" He asks to which she nods. "What are you studying?"

"I want to be a music teacher," she grins, thinking already of the small children she's guided through a spring concert during her time as a student teacher this last semester. "For little kids." She thinks a lot about taking an extra course or two, to add music therapy to her degree, but with her mother being ill, she's barely had the time for her regular classes, let alone a few additional ones.

Jon thinks back to those two nights at the bar, the sound of her voice always an echo in his mind... "Any kid that has you for a teacher would be pretty lucky," he admits without hesitation, bringing another rush of color to her cheeks. They turn onto another path, this one leading to a fenced off chunk of land that the dogs can run leash free. When Lady and Ghost are rushing excitedly out into the open, the other dogs in the distance barking as they approach, the two of them find a seat on one of the benches that sit against the fence. "I meant to ask... Your mom, how is she?"

Sansa blinks, genuinely surprised by the question he's just asked. She sits up a little straighter, their shoulder brushing as she shifts. "She's doing great, actually, I think hopefully she'll get to go home in a few weeks." The most recent prognosis had been a good one and Sansa can only hope that it's a matter of time before she's considered "well" again. "My father will be glad to have her home and my brothers, too." She smiles, thinking of the little boys she's left behind in the North, at home.

"That's great!" Jon says, truly meaning it, recalling the heartfelt wish of her last song. "Where does your family live? You're not from down here," like him, her voice carries the distinct Northern accent, though from differing areas. "Northern, am I right?" He thinks she must be from the Vale, that red hair of hers certainly reminded him of the Tully's in Riverrun. "Where are you from?"

She blushes again and looks away, momentarily distracted by the sound of Lady's bark. "Well, I told you my name was Sansa Stark, didn't I?" She shoots him a somewhat sheepish glance, blue eyes shining in the morning sunlight. That's right... Jon realizes, recalling that night when she had told him her name, though it hadn't registered with him what that might have meant. "My father is Eddard Stark."

"You're the daughter of the Warden of the North?" Jon exclaims, unable to contain his shock at what she's just told him. So he was right about that Tully red hair, considering who her mother was. Though united under a single king, the kingdom of Westeros was divided into nations, governed by someone chose by the king himself, to rule in his name, as of course he could not be in every nation at once. The governor of each kingdom was like a king all his own.

She cringes, unable to help it, though she smiles all the same. "Yeah, he is," she confirms with a quick nod. It's not that she's ashamed of who she is or who her family is, but being attached to the Stark name, to the name of a family who's head runs an entire kingdom... It can be daunting. The expectations were higher, she was raised differently than the other young women she attends University with. With that comes privilege and coming to school here has opened her eyes to the many blessings she's been given in life. But.. Even so... She had always wanted more than what her parents had wanted for her. Coming to university had been her only way of rebelling against them, choosing to study music and pursue a career of her own outside of running the North.

"That's incredible," Jon kicks himself mentally for not realizing this sooner. "So your family lives up North still?" He's somewhat surprised that Eddard Stark had allowed his daughter to stray so far from home. It was rumored that the Stark's were untrusting of those outside their bubble of the North, of Winterfell. Though, Eddard Stark's oldest friend was their King, Robert Baratheon, so Jon supposes he felt he could trust his daughter would be safe in the South.

"My father lives North still, with my brothers, and my mother.. Well the best hospitals are here in the South, so..." She trails off, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "I moved here for school because I wanted something of my own. Being part of my family..." Another pause, a strained sort of smile toying with her rosy lips. "I've been what they wanted my entire life. I wanted something that was only mine, not something they gave me or something that they wanted me to want. But... When I left, that's when Robb... That's when Robb was killed. And not long after that was my mother's first diagnosis." It was also when she had first met Joffrey. Sometimes, irrational as it is, she can't help but to wonder if she was the cause of her family's pain and Joffrey had been her punishment. She had moved to King's Landing despite her parents wishes and Robb had come along to "protect her" as he'd put it, deciding to enroll in the University alongside her. Before anyone knew it, he was dead and their mother was ill. "I'm sorry," she's blushing again, "that was a lot to dump on you." Again, she's struck by how easy it is to talk to him.

For a moment, Jon is silent. "I kind of understand what you mean," he admits after a moment more. "I grew up mostly on my own," he shakes his head when she looks up surprised, mouth opening to apologize. "But I never felt like I had something of my own. I didn't have a family, so I didn't have much. I guess that's why I joined the Special Forces." Back then, he had hoped to find family among comrades, to find something worth fighting for. Worth living for. "I came South to find what I've always felt like I was missing." He's never told anyone these things, but looking into her clear blue eyes, Jon knows he could probably tell her anything.

Sitting there in the sunshine, staring into his eyes, Sansa knows something is about to change. She can feel it in the air, hear it in the whisper of the wind. She opens her mouth to speak, but she can't find the words to say. In truth, it almost feels better without words. It's as if they understand each other, despite the silence of the moment. No moment has ever felt like this before, super charged with electricity that flows through her veins. She wonders if he can feel it too.

He can.

It takes everything in him not to reach for her, to touch her hand, to feel what her skin feels like against his own. They fall back into easy conversation after a few more moments of static silence and Jon finds he quite enjoys the easy going sound of her laughter. He wills himself to be wittier, if only to bring another smile to her face.

Later, when the morning has faded into early afternoon, they stand at the bottom of the stone steps that lead up to her home. "I had a lot of fun," she says, bobbing on her feet, ponytail swinging with her every movement. "And it looks like they had too much fun," she giggles, gesturing down at the dogs that have laid themselves down on the sidewalk at their owners feet, tired out from a long morning of running and playing.

Jon chuckles as he tugs on Ghost's leash, urging the dog back up onto his paws. "Maybe next time we'll have to leave the slowpokes behind, I guess they can't keep up." Sansa feels her heart skip a beat. Next time? He wants there to be a next time? "I'll call you, okay?" He goes on and she pulls herself from her mind, nodding quick. "See you, Sansa."

"Bye, Jon." She feels almost... Empty... Yes, that's it, empty, when he walks away from her. Perhaps he feels it too, for on the corner he pauses, turning back around to look for her. She still yet stands there on the sidewalk and so she raises her hand in a silent gesture of goodbye. Jon returns her wave and then disappears around the corner, leaving her with no other choice but to head inside.

When she steps inside, she finds Arya laying on the floor in the den, Nymeria beside her. "Hey." Her younger sister calls out, raising herself up onto an elbow so she can turn to face Sansa as she sinks down onto the couch. "Mum says hi," she rolls over and sits up to pat Lady who has dropped down onto the floor beside Nymeria. "So..?"

"So what?"

Arya rolls her eyes, leaning in to give Sansa's calf a gentle punch. "Sooo, is there going to be another date?"

A smile toys with Sansa's lips before she gives a single nod. "I think so. I hope so."

[ x x x ]

It's as she's dumping the dishes from dinner into the sink that Sansa hears her phone beeping with an oncoming call.

Wiping her hands off on a dish towel, she waves a smirking Arya away and can't stop her heart from skipping a beat at the sight of the name on the screen. "Hey," she says when she answers, sounding way more easy going than she feels. In truth, she's fearful that her heart might beat right out of her chest there in the kitchen.

"Hi," Jon's tenor vocals are smooth through the phone. She can almost imagine him on the other end, leaning against his kitchen counter, Ghost at his feet. "I know there's some rule about waiting to call, but I..." He trails off and surely he must be shaking his head to clear his mind. "I couldn't wait."

"I'm glad you didn't," she's barely breathing as she sinks into her usual chair at the table.

On his end, Jon is smiling, her admission giving him the confidence to continue on. "I want to see you again. Soon." He can't keep her out of his mind, out of his heart. Somehow, already, she's found a place within him. "Tell me when."

A beat of silence and then comes a response.

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow evening."

Jon inwardly rejoices and he nods, though she cannot see him. "Tomorrow. Seven thirty? I'll pick you up." When she says yes, Jon feels true joy rush through him. They talk for a few moments longer before hanging up, though almost at once Jon feels that almost familiar feeling of longing. How can someone he knows so little have such a magnetic pull upon him?

That night as he crawls into bed, Jon hears his phone buzz on the side table.

Reaching for it, he smiles when he opens the message, pleasantly surprised to see a photo before any words. She must be laying in her bed, the only source of light from that of her phone as she snaps the photo; Lady is laying across her chest, clearly passed out after her long day. He glances down at Ghost asleep on the floor beside his bed and smiles. Good night, is all it says, but it's enough... It's more than enough.

Just before she dozes off, Sansa hears her phone beep. Good night, sleep well, I'll see you tomorrow, is all he's written, but it moves her unlike anything else ever could. Such a simple message, but somehow, coming from him, it means something new. Something wonderful. It is the start of something new and exciting.

The start of something special.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #modern au #i wrote this #my writing #this has literally been in my drafts for weeks #ITS FINALLY FINISHED #its over 3k words but its DONE.

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yourhero404 · 5 years

Text

Katsuki’s Birthday (4/20/19)

A/N: TECHNICALLY I’M ONLY LIKE, TWO HOURS LATE TO THE PARTY (it’s uh almost 1am as I post this) BUT EVERY DAY IS A GOOD DAY TO LOVE AND APPRECIATE BAKUGO KATSUKI

Idk why I made this shit sad and I also dunno why I can’t hold onto a plot line but I’ve been exhausted and I just couldn’t let myself NOT do anything for his birthday so here, have this anyway

Villain!Reader and ProHero!Bakugo? You betcha. Hell yes. It’s honestly one of my favourite ideas and I really hope I can write more some time ;u;

Why was today so fucking busy?

Bakugo was never one to fuss about a birthday, especially his own, but the amount of work he’s got on his plate today was massive compared to the usual and he was beyond ready to just go home. A villain here, a theft there—aren't there other heroes working? Ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that no one seemed to remember that his birthday had been today; He was happy because it meant there was no large, over the top party waiting for him, but some part of him actually felt... lonely.

He stood amongst the wreckage of a, luckily, abandoned warehouse, sweeping the building one last time to make sure he and the police arrested everyone involved in the bust. Very faintly, a creak came from broken boards of the exposed second floor above his head, causing his attention to snap to the silhouette leaning against the wall.

“Oh, Explode-a-boy,” the voice drawled from the clearer image of (Y/n), “Lookin’ a little worn out there.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, “Either come down here and get the ass kicking that’s coming to you or get lost. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”

“Woah,” they took liberty of their sarcastic cat’s meow and hopped down to the space in front of him, “Those pants got your panties in a bunch today?”

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

His lips turned up to a snarl, a few medium explosions coming from his palm to serve as a warning for the villain in front of him to back off. They gave him a smile and threw their hands up as a sign of surrender before gesturing for him to relax.

The curve of their lips was unsettling—something about it pissed him off; It wasn’t smug or dark, but... genuine. That’s what pissed him off—how genuine this villain always was amongst their attitude, it was... human. They fought every time they came together, but it never seemed to end in a win or a loss, just a smile from them as they left—it felt like the damn training sessions he’d gone through in school. This villain was an odd one, and they left and even more odd feeling in his chest with each interaction.

“Okay okay, I can see you’re having a rough kinda day,” they offered their apology with a bow that held a large flourish, lightly making their way backwards towards their exit, “I just wanted to tell you about a little surprise I have for you-”

“What surprise?” He cut them off, his entire form dripping with irritation, “If you’re looking for a fight-”

“God, shut up for five seconds, big head.” They curled their lip to a snarl that rivaled his own, “Since you’re beyond rude, I won’t tell you now.”

“Tell me.”

“Not happening!” They turned quickly and made their way far out of his reach, throwing one last smile over their shoulder, “You’ll just have to wait for it!”

“Great,” he murmured to himself, “Just what I needed. More fucking work to do today.”

The rest of his day was just as hectic, the stress he held in his shoulders over the idea that some large-scale attack by (Y/n) could happen at any moment did nothing to help his mood, either. Not one ‘happy birthday’ text, not one second glance his way—everything was bland and mundane. Is this truly what it was like to be an adult? It was a shitty sort of life to lead, especially since he’d been dreaming of this heroic sort of world since he could remember. The only thing he looked forward to now was the shower that was calling his name, but he couldn’t have that either, it seemed.

All it took was a small crack of his front door to allow the smell of food to hit his face. Food? There shouldn’t be any smell of food; Now on high alert, he threw the door open quickly and held his hand ready for any sort of attack—only to be met with an empty room.

On the counter in his small kitchen sat a plate—a warm plate, actually, there was an abundance of steam coming off of the spicy curry that sat on it. Someone had to of just left it there moments ago, but who? The small, handwritten note beside it gave him his answer—and for some reason, it didn’t cause him any worry like it should have.

‘Nice place, Explodokill. You really should clean your fridge up, though—you really do live like a single dude. I told you I had a surprise for you, didn’t I? Figured you were too tired to do it yourself, so I made you something.’

He eyed the food sitting on the counter before a small arrow on the bottom of the note caught his eye, and he turned it over to find the continuing message.

‘NO, I didn’t poison the food. Killing you like that would be too easy, I want you to go out in some big, extravagant fight. Basically, it’s safe. Check the fridge when you’re done.’

Too tired to really argue with that logic, Bakugo cautiously took a bite, not really knowing why, but mostly trusting the food. It smelt divine—extra spicy and had some sort of twist to it, one he couldn’t put his finger on but knew he hadn’t had homecooked dinner that good in a while. Ignoring any sort of logic to be wary of their intentions, he checked the fridge as they had suggested and found a small, home-baked cake waiting for him as well. It was lopsided, frosted hastily, and held a coloured message with an equally lopsided smiley face-- ‘Congrats, you’re old’. He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—it shook his entire body until tears formed in his eyes; Just who was this person? What sort of evil villain breaks into a hero's home to cook them dinner and bake them a cake? What villain would go out of their way to do something so nice to their enemy? Bakugo always knew they were never a typical villain—maybe that’s why he somehow ended up fond of them, not that he’d admit it to anyone.

He ate his cake- it tasted good despite its appearance- in a deafening silence, only now truly realizing how lonely he had felt today. Dragging it along, he made the cake made for one last as long as possible to keep him busy, once it was gone, he’d fall further into the realization he was alone. With heavy sighs out of the way, he silently promised himself he’d wash the used dishes later and pushed past his bedroom door to find a small box sitting on his open window sill.

Knowing who it was from immediately, he unwrapped it- not too rough just in case they had some sort of joke to pull, but not too soft either- to find something shiny inside. On a metal chain sat a thin silver grenade-shaped pendant that resembled the gauntlets he wore with his costume, the iconic ‘X’ from his shirt engraved across it. He couldn’t stop the smallest smile from gracing his lips, only for it to drop in shock as he felt some sort of engraving on the back of it.

‘#1 Hero- King Explosion Murder’

Bakugo swallowed hard, irritated at how easily something like this had brought tears to his eyes. He was getting emotional over a necklace he received as a gift from a villain—a villain! Yet, they had listened to him each and every time they had spoken during their fights, paid attention to each little detail of their interactions, and took the time to get him something so heartfelt. It was stupid, he knew, to develop feelings for a villain, especially one considered to be your nemesis, but how could he stop himself from falling now that they had done all of this, when no one else had even bothered to remember? Maybe they weren’t a villain by choice but by necessity—they certainly were kind at heart, and it made his own feel as though it were going to jump out of his chest at the thought of them. He had a lot to think about, all of which held (Y/n) as the main topic.

Light footsteps hopped down from his window sill, very cautiously making their way in front of him. They stopped at a careful distance, ensuring an easy getaway should he decide to attack, but he hadn’t even looked up at them. He sat at the edge of his bed, allowing them to walk just a few steps forward to make up the distance, sitting in silence for a few more moments as he clutched his newest prized possession.

They made a move to say something, but were caught off guard at the grip he held on their wrist—before they could react, he pulled them close and wrapped his arms around their waist tightly, hiding his face against their abdomen. A few moments of realization were all it took before they gave him a gentle reaction, lightly combing his tangled hair with their fingers and laying their other hand on the back of his neck in reassurance. Normally, they would take the opportunity to tug on his nerves, piss him off, make him break—but they only smiled sadly to themselves as they barely caught the sniffling and hiccups that came from the blonde wrapped around them. Falling for a hero was the stupidest thing they could have ever done, but seeing just how soft the explosive man could be in times like this made every interaction they’ve had worth it.

(Y/n) consoled him as well as grieved for their own feelings, knowing just how vastly different their worlds were, and silently accepting they’d be destined for a road of destruction, but for the moment, just this one moment, maybe the two of them could be happy. They felt his arms pull them closer as they spoke softly, making the moment between them as personal as it could be—no hero, no villain, just human.

“Happy Birthday, Katsuki.”

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #its loving :clap: and appreciating :clap: bakugo hour :clap:#bnha drabbles #mha drabbles #boku no hero academia drabbles #my hero academia drabbles #bakugo birthday #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader

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missnctyukhei · 6 years

Text

NCT U Reaction: Their GF seeing their dick for the first time

request: I was going to request if you could write Ten in the NCT U reaction to their GF seeing their dick?

warning: smut / sexual themes

a/n: I know this topic is similar to my previous reaction and the request was only for Ten but my head is full of ideas of different scenarios. And I know I could write this all also for NCT 127 but I love the U-Unit so much because of Jungwoo and Lucas. :D I hope you like it still and this time I have also Ten and Kun in this. YAY!!! :D

Taeyong

Your eyes were closed and you enjoy the wind that slides through your hair. With your hand you reach out of the car to play with the drafts. You wanted to capture that moment and you wanted never ever back into your boring life. You open your eyes slowly and see the landscape quickly pass you by.

A hand grabs your thigh and your eyes turn to the driver's side. Taeyong gaze was focused on the street. One hand was on the wheel, while the other continued to walk up your thigh. You enjoy every single one of his touches. The summer days were so intense with Taeyong and you wish that this feeling would never go away. The last few weeks have been marked by passionate kisses and touches. Even with the thought of him, it begins to tingle everywhere in you.

"We're here!"

The car came to a stop, Taeyong parked on a cliff. Your gaze turned to the right and you are looking at the endless expanse of the sea. It was amazing, just beautiful. Slowly you get out of the car and sit on the bonnet.

"It's perfect."

Your gaze was still focused on the view and you realize that Taeyong had positioned himself in front of you, when his two hands were placed on your thighs.

"Just like you."

He just breathed these words and it was not long before you found yourself in an infinite kiss. Taeyong pushes you further down until you lie with your back completely on the bonnet. He pushed your skirt up and your panties down. There was no better place and no better time to have sex for the first time in your relationship. Everything was just perfect. Everything was perfect with Taeyong.

While you were still in a heartfelt kiss, he opens his jeans and pulled them down with everything. You notice how his head positioned itself in your entrance. You sit up and look down. He was hard and ready to penetrate you at any time. You get wet only by the sight of his dick and you took him to push it into you.

Kun

"Is Kun not here?"

You ask in surprise when Jungwoo opened the door for you. You are back earlier from your vacation and have decided to surprise your boyfriend.

"I think he's in his room."

Jungwoo smiled and stepped aside to allow you to enter the dorm. You thanked him and gently knock on Kun's door. But there was no reaction. You enter the room carefully, which was darkened. Only a single source of light came from an angle in the room, but you didn’t know what was going on. With slow steps you went to the light and you saw how your boyfriend sit at the laptop with his headphones. His hand moved up and down in the same rhythm, his eyes fixed on a video.

"Oh my god!"

You scream in fright because you realize what Kun was looking at. He watched a porn while he jerk himself off. Kun closed fast and startled the laptop and threw off his headphones.

"Y/N!"

He threw irritated everything aside and pulled quickly his cushion over his stiff member.

"I thought you would not be back until tomorrow."

You throw your bag beside and sit down in Kun's bed. You give him a loving kiss and reach for the upholstery.

"Maybe I should finish what you started?"

Kun's hands came off the pad and you slowly push it aside. His dick was hard, his testicles swollen. The vein on his penis glows blue and stands out.

"Relax."

You push Kun gently into the bed sheets and put your hands around his cock.

Doyoung

"I didn’t thought that La Boheme was such a good opera. It was a really nice evening."

Your hands clasped your clutch and with wide eyes you look up to Doyoung. He looked so tall and powerful in his dinner jacket, that your knees became super soft.

"I'm glad you liked it so much."

His voice was so gentle that it was almost a whisper. He bent down with his upper body to you more and more. With one hand he grabed your hip and pulled you closer to you. You breathe deeply and close your eyes until you feel Doyoung's lips and yours. You give yourself to him with your whole soul and body until you two separate from each other. His forehead was still on yours and your breathing was heavy.

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?"

Doyoung straightened up again and looks at you with a big smile.

"I would love to come in."

At first everything went so slowly. You pull out your key of your bag, unlock the door and suddenly you're lying almost naked in bed with Doyoung. His tongue is no longer buried in your mouth, but plays with your most sensitive point in your middle.

"Oh god ... oh my god ... it feels so good!"

Your fingers buried themselves firmly in the bed sheets. Doyoung slowly raised his head and sat up between your legs.

"Are you ready for me?"

Doyoung looks at you expectantly as you sit up and wait until he finally pulled down his pants. He tries to open the condom pack as you slowly pull his pants down. His cock was perfect, big and thick. You could not wait to have him inside you.

Ten

"I think that's enough for today."

Ten turns off the music and dabs the sweat off his forehead. You have been training with him for weeks on a new choreography and you have fallen in love with him as well.

"Are we going to eat something now?"

He turns to you and smiles. You nod and pack your things together. You two go to the dressing room and your ways separate, as they is separated by gender. You take off your workout clothes and take a shower. It was already late and nobody was there anymore.

You turn on the shower and let the lukewarm water trickle over your body. You close your eyes and in your head takes a movie place as Ten touches you and kisses you all over your body. You realize that not only your skin get wet. Immediately you turn off the water, dry off and quickly put on your fresh clothes. You didn’t want to go out to eat anymore, you just wanted your boyfriend in your bed.

You pack your things and go out of the dressing room. You wait a few more minutes, but Ten just didn’t show up. But then you hear his voice singing "Baby don’t stop". You open carefully the door of the dressing room. Ten removes his clothes from the closet, his lips moved to his song, his towel was placed over his shoulder. He was completely naked and your eyes were staring straight at his body. You never saw him so pure and natural. And as he leaned forward on the bench, his upper body was not the only thing that fall forward. His best piece came to the light now and it took all your attention. You watch your boyfriend for a while and watch his dick resonate with his body. But before he pulls up his shorts, you harrumph. Ten automatically conceals his midsection, but when he saw you, he relaxed again.

"What are you doing?"

He laughed broadly and his shoulders relaxed.

"Maybe we should skip the food."

You close the door behind you and go to Ten. He dropped the towel that covered his dick and received you with a kiss.

Jaehyun

The Surya Namaskara had become a daily routine of yours. Although you attend a yoga class twice a week, you try to do a few more exercises in the morning to become more flexible.

Jaehyun and you have been dating for a while, but it was the first time he had spent the night with you. But much has not happened yet. After Jaehyun came to see you after his training, you cooked something for him, but he was so exhausted that he fell asleep in front of the TV.

You woke up before Jeahyun and he looked so peaceful as he slept deeply next to you. You try to get quietly out of bed and put on your yoga pants and a sports bra. You roll out your yoga mat in front of the bed and start with your exercises. After a few Surya Namaskaras you stay a few more breaths in the downward dog until you return to the position of the child. But suddenly you hear a soft sigh that almost sounded like a moan. You straighten up and look surprised backwards. Jaehyun sat upright in bed with a big grin, his hands buried under the covers, but they moved.

"What are you doing?"

You turn around with a laugh and try to guess what happened under the blanket.

"You look so good in your yoga pants and in the downward dog."

He leans his head back, but his gaze was still fixed on you. You straighten up slowly and climb over the bed to Jaehyun.

"Do you want to tell me what you are doing under the blanket?"

Your eyes dropped to his midsection and he pulled slowly his hands out. You pushed the blanket aside and you were suprised as his erected member jumped towards to you. Your hands stroked softly his shaft while you look closely at his dick.

"Did you jerk off when I was doing yoga?"

Your eyes and hands were still fixed on his dick. He stroked your hips with his hands and watched your body closely.

"I just warmed up for you."

Winwin

Sicheng and you decided to spend a quiet evening. Your boyfriend decides to play a bit of Overwatch while you put your head on his lap and go through your feed on Instagram. But after time you got bored and you wanted to do something else.

"Can we do something together?"

You look up while Sicheng has his eyes fixed on the screen.

"I'll play only one round."

His reaction didn’t really change and his fingers were still firmly on the controller. You sigh and look back at your smartphone, but it felt like you had already seen everything on the internet. You turn on your stomach and put your chin on the thigh of your boyfriend. Your sight was focused on his middle and you wonder how well his dick would look under the pants. You could not stop staring and you realize that you are getting slowly hornier. Sicheng was still in the game but you start to massage his best piece.

"What are you doing Y/N?"

He let out a nervous laugh and for the first time that day his look escaped the screen.

"I want to see what is behind this packaging finally."

You kneel down in front of him and play with his waistband.

"You can’t wait another 10 minutes?"

He tries to devote his full attention to the game again.

"No!"

You stick out the tongue and pull his pants down further. A soft groan escaped Sicheng's mouth.

"Y/N ... I ... I only want ...."

He could not talk anymore, because you already had his best part in your hand. You didn’t think that his delicate body was followed by such a magnificent dick. You lick with your tongue over his glans before you take him completely in the mouth. Sicheng groaned loudly and set the controller aside.

"I think you won the game."

Jungwoo

Jungwoo was innocent and you enjoy that you also have such an innocent relationship. He will take you out eating ice cream, you take with him long walks and spend the evening cooking dishes from around the world. It was a wonderful time and you were incredibly in love with Jungwoo.

One night you two lay in bed and enjoy the togetherness. You and Jungwoo tell stories about your life. You could talk to each other all night. But in that moment, you feel even more attracted to him and had the desire to come even closer to him.

"Jungwoo?"

Your voice suddenly became higher. You were not sure if the topic was appropriate. He looks at you wide-eyed and waits for your next sentence.

"I want to get closer to you. What do you think about us going a step further?"

Jungwoo was almost paralysed and in that moment you became more insecure.

"Yes, we can do it."

His voice was also higher than usual, but very softly. Your faces approached slowly and Jungwoo stroked his palms over your arms. You put your hands under his shirt and lay your palms also on his chest. Your kisses were so innocent in the beginning, but in time your tongues moved faster and you catch up the desire that you have missed so far. With the increasing movement your clothes fell also off and finally you two were still in underwear there. Jungwoo bends over you and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Do you really want to do that?"

You run your hand over his cheek and nod. Then you release your bra and pull down your panties. Jungwoo watches you closely and you could see excitement in his eyes. After lying naked in front of him, he pulled down his underpants. You are watching his movements exact and somehow it turned you on that he took his dick in his hand and pushed himself slowly into you.

Lucas

Lucas and you have been dating for three weeks now. It was summer and you spent a lot of time together. But now the school has started again and it is difficult for you to see your boyfriend every second.

You wait impatient in front of the Frozen-Yoghurt-Shop. You could not wait to see Lucas again. It seemed like forever since the last time you kissed him, even though it was only hours ago.

"The school uniform looks so hot on you."

Suddenly Lucas stood in front of you and came slowly towards. His face came closer to yours and his lips came so close to your ear that they were almost touching.

"Were you a good girl too?"

You just nod, because you lost your words completely. He gave you a kiss that you have been waiting for so long. Then he took your hand and pulled you away.

"Where are you going?"

You follow the steps behind your boyfriend. Lucas does not say any word and brings you on to a side entrance. He leads you into a room that acts as a warehouse.

"What are we doing here?"

You continue to ask in the hope that Lucas will give you an answer soon. But your boyfriend does not say anything and pushes you to the cartons. His lips touch your neck and his long fingers were everywhere on your body.

"Are we allowed to stay here?"

You look nervously to the door and hope that nobody from the warehouse staff would come in. Lucas ignored your questions and massaged your breasts.

"Show me that you are a good girl and give me a head."

His words reached you while his face was still buried in your neck.

"What if someone comes in?"

You were insecure and your eyes kept turning to the door. Lucas has straightened up and looks deep into your eyes

"No one is coming in. We hide behind the boxes."

He take your hand and pulled you further into the room to find an angle that was hard to see.

"Get on your knees!"

As you follow his orders, he pulls down his pants. And as soon as you got to your knees, his best part jumped towards to you. You had to swallow, you've never been so close to a dick. But Lucas one was pink and beautiful, it was fascinating.

"Take him in the mouth."

As you follow his words, a groan escaped him and he closed his eyes.

Mark

"Is that good?"

His fingers stroke over your pink pointed thong. You moan and drop your head backwards. He pushed the fabric aside and rubbed his palm over your clit.

"You are so wet. Just for me."

Mark whispers in your ear and rubs his fingers up and down. Your eyes are closed and your mouth is wide open. You enjoy every single touch and you feel that your orgasm got closer and closer. Then Mark took a finger and pushed him slowly inside you.

"Mark ... oh my god ..."

Your eyes are opening again and your fingers are cramping into his biceps. His fingers became faster and his eyes watched every single reaction in your face until you reached your climax.

"You're so beautiful when you come."

He stroked your cheek and sealed his gesture with a kiss.

"It was amazing. I wish I could return the favor."

You sit up slowly and stroke your strand of hair out of your face.

"Well you could do the same to me."

He smiled and pointed to the bulge in his sweatpants. You nod and bend over him. You wander with small kisses along his body and pull with one hit his sweatpants up to the thighs. His dick lies down on his stomach and Mark is watching exactly what you are doing. You sit on his thigh and stare at his magnificent piece. He was slightly curved, but you didn’t mind.

"It's enough if you rub your hand on it up and down a bit."

Mark was getting impatient, but when you saw his dick for the first time, you don’t want to do it anymore by hand.

"And what if I ride you?"

You stand up and take his cock so far in your hand that you can introduce him at any time. Mark moans and his eyeballs turn backwards.

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hoe-imaginess · 6 years

Note

Hey!! Love your writing and I'm so excited for all the one piece that's about to show up! To start off, would you mind doing romantic hc's for ya favs? I know there's so many so to cut down how about the top three?

beautiful thank u I love this

Law

•Law isn’t inherently romantic, but he definitely has his moments. He’s a pretty emotional guy when it comes down to it, so he’s bound to let some of that emotion out, and it takes the form of romance when he wants to let his partner know how he feels

•It’s mostly in private he’ll get ‘romantic’. That basically means intimate. He’s kinda touchy? Holding his s/o’s hand, brushing their hair, stroking an arm or a thigh (trying to make it as non-sexual as possible but he’s got that cute smirk on his face which just ends up making it sexual so yeah good job Law). Even if it’s just a small physical connection, it’s nice. It relaxes him

•But those smirks and smiles!!! Law has such a relaxed, loving smile, only meant for his s/o. It’s so cute???

•Law also shows affection and romance through his leniency? Like, he’ll do things for his s/o that he wouldn’t do for other people

•You’ve been craving some sort of food that they don’t currently have on board? Law will have Penguin or Shachi go ashore to a market and find it. Law will surprise you by having it made for your dinner, though he doesn’t let on to the fact it was meant to be a surprise. His deeds go unnoticed, and he likes it better that way. He gets a little shy when he’s praised for romantic gestures

•He likes joining his s/o out on the deck of the his submarine on nice nights when the rest of the crew is asleep. There they get to just relax, look at the water, the stars, talk about deep things, make jokes, etc. Law likes those heartfelt moments

•Comfortable alcohol nights with his s/o. Not heavy drinking, just sipping on some beer or something and relaxing together

•Being a doctor and all, he feels it’s his responsibility to make sure his s/o is always in good health which means they’re getting some intense chiropractic treatment if Law feels it’s necessary. So yeah they’re getting lots of massages. He knows it’s relaxing for his s/o, and it feels good, so he’s willing to put those amazing hands to good use and let them get treated every once in a while (he tries to keep it innocent). They make small talk, but Law mostly wants them to stay silent and just relax into his hands, let him do all the work

Ace

•Ace’s idea of being romantic includes literally being his s/o’s slave. Will do anything for them. Whatever, whenever, wherever. Literally anything. It’s pretty great? But also a cry for help lmao. He does it in a ‘please I will do anything for you just let me love you’ way. This man has a lot of love to give please have mercy on him

•He takes his s/o out on little trips to the nearest island pretty often. Just the two of them on his lil boat, relaxing out near the shore. Sometimes they’ll even travel far to new islands when Ace isn’t constrained by Whitebeard duties

•He gets romantic during playful moments? And vice versa. He’s just a playful guy, and romance makes him all giddy sometimes. Ace and his s/o lie in bed together all cuddled up, making fun of each other, making fun of other people (Marco and Thatch mostly), TICKLE FIGHTS, just a bunch of laughing and giggling, all that cute stuff

•Probably gets his s/o’s initials tattooed on him somewhere at one point. He can’t help it. He knows he’ll probably get yelled at and teased by his crew, but he doesn’t care. He wants his s/o’s name on him? Like hell yeah?? I’m yours?? That’s romantic to him

•Ace is also very romantic when he’s drunk off his ass. You can’t pry him off of you. He just keeps telling you how great you are and that he loves you and that you’re amazing. He’ll probably throw up on you or fall asleep on you but it be like that sometimes

•Lots of cuddles and napping together, especially after Ace hasn’t seen his s/o for a long time. He has a difficult time keeping his hands off of them when he’s missed them so much

•He’s always bragging about his s/o and hyping them up, especially when it comes to something they’re proud of, like a hobby of theirs. Even if it’s just bragging about how smart they are, how creative they are, even just how good-looking they are omg

•Ok but Ace taking his s/o back to Foosha Village and getting to show off his new boo to everyone. Busting into Makino’s bar like “MAKINO LOOK WHAT I GOT”. He’s gotta show his s/o off in every corner of the ocean I guess

Sanji

•He always jumps at the chance to be a romantic dork for his s/o. He doesn’t care how goofy or sappy he looks. As long as his s/o is happy, that’s all that matters

•He has a soft spot for slow dancing okay. He knows it’s old fashioned but he knows how to slow dance really well and jumps at the chance to teach his s/o

•Sanji prepares soothing bubble baths for his s/o almost every night, with sweet-smelling oils and soaps, candles lit everywhere. And a bottle of wine waiting. He’s so extra. He won’t insist on joining them but if they ask… who is he to say no??

•Obviously when it comes to cooking, he will only serve his s/o the best food. Sometimes even better than what Nami and Robin get. Sorry ladies. But Sanji literally spends HOURS thinking of recipes to serve his boo. He legit has a full-course meal plan for his s/o every single day

•His s/o always gets breakfast in bed by the way. ALWAYS. Sanji gets up at the crack of dawn just to make it

•Would also love to teach his s/o how to cook one day?? He knows that’s his job but cooking lessons could be fun

•If he’s away from his s/o for a while, he calls them up (on their matching Den Den Mushi ok) and acts so afflicted, like their absence is just unbearable. Whining and fake crying, the works. Everyone on the Sunny gets a headache

•He has pictures of his s/o all over his kitchen. Literally, all over. If his s/o has a bounty, the bounty posters are up too. The Straw Hats walk into the kitchen and feel like they just entered a shrine for Sanji’s s/o. And if they complain about it, Sanji gets all defensive. He claims seeing his s/o everywhere keeps him motivated

•He of course has the worst but sweetest nicknames for his s/o. Sweety, darling, baby, honey, etc. So cheesy, but he can’t help it

#sanji #vinsmoke sanji #op imagines #one piece imagines #one piece #ace #Portgas D. Ace #law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law

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gotakuofficial-blog · 5 years

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Kyo - Impressionist Vignettes: OFFICIAL REVIEW

Written by Kisai The Spooniest Bard

[Foreword]:

To begin, Mike Faris AKA Kyo (FKA Demon Eyes Kyo) is an artist I respect immensely. He is also a dear friend and someone I consider a kindred soul. I take every verse he writes, sings and/or raps as a chance to understand more of his worldview and thought process. That said, I'm extremely honoured (so much so I just spelled honored with a FARKING letter U) to have been chosen as one of the trusted to review this, his debut album. I am Darris Marcell Kisai Parker, and this is Impressionist Vignettes by Kyo.

[Track 1ne] - Yasiin (prod. by kaptain planet): So from the start we get a gritty, dark boom bap jawn produced by the impeccable kaptain planet. It's always lit when planet links up with Kyo because Kyo starts to slip into his particular brand of what he calls "sophisticated ignorance", a glorious combination of swagger, hyperbole, and good old-fashioned dark humor. In this instance, however, Kyo's lyrics are more sober, less grandiose. He chooses to lampshade how basic and one-note some artists tend to be in their portrayals. He even pays homage to one of his fellow CPC member's songs (Views by Savior Monroe). And most of all, Kyo just makes it plain how serious he is in this outing. This one is less about stellar bars and schemes and more about the human experience as interpreted by Mike Faris. I'm here for it. Quotable: "Ain't my fault if the truth hurtin' ya feelin's. You ain't puttin' work with writtens murkin' the rhythm. You just jerkin' the listeners like jamaican chicken."

[Track 2wo] - Highland (prod. by Lé Real): An autobiographical stroll over a jazzy lofi road paved by a Castle In The Sky faithful, the uber-talented Lé Real. Here, Kyo talks about his old stomping ground, a place in Michigan called Highland. He highlights the rough yet sensitive nature of the milieu, the roaming opinions of passive observers looking in from the outside, the desperate grab for tough guy points by those who probably can't get into the Salty Spittoon otherwise, the ones who live in nicer areas, who don't really HAVE TO be in such an area. Kyo warns these folks about greenness of grass, and tells them in no plain terms to get a life of their own. This is the stuff I was looking for. And he delivered. Quotable: "A double-wide was like a luxury home! Havin' both parents there the rarest of luxuries tho and I know; I'm one of the lucky ones when it comes to that, Most of my homies wasn't tho, that's just the facts..."

[Track 3hree] - Flowers From The Old Vic Stage (prod. by Medical Nindo, guitars by Kyo): Kyo sings, by the way! I feel like typically when artists try to be multi-layered it's an attempt to appeal to a public all too swayed by gimmicky shallow bullshit. But in Kyo's case, he really carries all the musicianship and artistry necessary to sustain the various mantles he's borne over the years. That said, on the singer/songwriter tip, Kyo is something to witness. But if you've followed his work at all, you've probably heard this on display on his previous work, "The Imposter's Muse". His poet's soul is on display here in track three, a somber, romantic ballad produced by the smooth/savage master himself, Medical Ninjutsu aka Medical Nindo. Some of y'all might know him as Diggz Da Prophecy. Kyo accompanies our resident "Hood Nerd Sage" on the guitar, providing weepy, melancholy-yet nostalgic licks that carry the heady tone of his musings. A song from the perspective of a tragic lover of a former star of the stage and screen, a person with whom our hero was enraptured, with whom he was close, a flame that perhaps burned too bright and sputtered into dying embers. "I wonder..." The words pass his lips several times over, each time a different thread carried on their doleful, mournful wind. Quotable: I'm not giving you one. Listen to the song.

[Track 4our] - Summer '09 (prod. by River Sanzu): So, ironically, Summer '09 is a time of major importance to me because it was a time when I was ambivalent towards life. I was holding down a job I truly loved, but not seeing much of the money I was getting paid due to familial obligations, I was dating one of my current best friends, a relationship I look back on fondly even now. But it seemed like everything in the world conspired to keep us apart and as such I felt like I was failing her. I was writing some of the best bars of my life, but I had no way to record and couldn't afford to hit anyone's studio. I was dependent on music to keep me going and every month I had an issue with my mp3 player. I was finally seeing some measure of freedom, but at the same time I was constantly being appraised by family members as an adult acting like a child. As if they alone held the yardstick by which adulthood is measured and everyone's lived experiences were supposed to be uniform with the same milestones at the same times as if life worked that way. And to top it off, my father's genes were kicking in and I started to lose hair, just when I was getting ready to pimp my afro to the max! (RIP afro dreams). I just felt like I was languishing in some sort of middleground hell where everything was awesome but terrible at the same time. I constantly questioned whether I even wanted to be alive. Looking back, I always tell myself it wasn't that bad. It was just growing pains and every adult has them. But you couldn't tell me shit in the moment. I'd've said "Life is iffy af for me right now." On another side of the country, here is Kyo, driving drunk on his way to kick it with his friends. The same ambilavence towards the idea of continuing life present in his thoughts and actions. Instead leaving it to the "Most High" to determine his fate, he arrives unscathed at the function, has a rowdy old time with his buddies, the sort of things youths get into when together. "Freestyling and clowning", card games, even more drinking, some squabbles-nothing that really matters between friends however, and just being in the moment, then Kyo drives (possibly even more drunk) back home. Again he tosses the dice and leaves it up to higher powers to determine if he will make it home. And there you have it, a square out of the quilted tapestry that is Kyo's life. River Sanzu aka Lit Yagami AKA Ish1da creates a city pop-infused backdrop that perfectly encompasses the nostalgic feel of Kyo's ride through memory lane. One of my favorite songs on the album honestly. Also I'm really mad I didn't produce this because it's amazing. Not quite as mad as Ethos made me that one time but I may still turn into a dog for 3 seconds... GRRRRRRR (DAWG MODE) Quotable: "They say seeing is believing, these demons I'm seeing in my rearview mirror keep chasing, I stay weaving through lanes and I'm.... still thuggin' it, drunk in public and unequpped to handle the mental stresses I struggle with but it's just... One mo' night in Summer '09!"

[Track 5ive] - You Go To My Head (prod. by RealVenom): Kyo’s strongest quality as an artist is his ability to depict the various aspects of his point of view without sacrificing impact. In “You Go To My Head”, he croons, raps and waxes poetic to the subject of his affection. It’s tender, but in a truly relatable fashion. I consider myself strongly in the romantic camp, so endeavors like these speak to me. I blame my soft heart. The warm lofi provided by RealVenom just makes you feel like you’re by a warm fireplace, keeping warm inside from the harsh winter. A glass of wine, a bag of marshmallows for roasting and some good-looking company and you’ve got a night. Kudos to both Kyo and Venom for making such a dope jam. Quotable: “And if you got me seein’ double... That’s twice as many chances to say I love you...”

[Track 6ix] - Moving To Detroit (prod. by Camp Phire Connection, guitars by Kyo): Here is a fully acoustic affair. Just Kyo, his trusty guitar, and us, the listener. In “Moving To Detroit”, he intimates the lonely predicament of a single man deciding to move to what is considered the saddest city in the country according to a study. He mulls over dating the local women hoping for a shot at love, relates his hopes that any local toughs don’t harass or assault him, and mentions his prior OWI (An incident he explained in detail to me in a conversation we had.) and the consequences thereof. “Moving to Detroit” is a somber, reflective look at both himself and his environment, and rather than feeling like a fly on the wall, we are put right there in the passenger seat as he takes us along for this ride. It’s an eye-opener, for sure. Quotable: “It’s not as bad as everyone says in the city, but every time I head home I feel such relief when I hit the freeway. If I move down there and my friends come visit me, they’ll also get to know how good that feels. I guess you’re welcome...” [Track 7even] - Vignettes feat. Savior Monroe (prod. by Camp Phire Connection): The only vocal guest feature on this album comes from fellow Camp Phire Connection artist and founder Savior Monroe. “Vignettes” is gorgeously produced, a shoegaze-y blues waltz number by Kyo and Savior. Both artists give amazingly heartfelt accounts of grace. of friendship and of humanity. The feeling is just abstract enough, just specific enough. Truly these are just vignettes. But that’s all we needed. Quotable: “But for now I can still paint you with an impressionist’s view. I might not remember the facts, but I still remember the truth.” [Track 8ight] - French Lessons (prod. by Camp Phire Connection, guitars by Kyo): Kyo’s trusty guitar returns once more, fair accompaniment for a sultry number about SEX. Yep. Sex. Who among us doesn’t simply long for the next chance to be intimate with a special someone. There’s something magical about when two souls connect, REALLY CONNECT, for those precious moments. Even sometimes when it’s empty, it’s still grand. Here, Kyo says it all. Quotable: “Sex is empty, sex is death, so baby please kill me then hold me in your arms until I resurrect. Sex is endless, sex is French, le petit mort, the little death, and rebirth and first breath and back again.” Track 9ine] - Snow (prod. by Lé Real): Snow, to put it plain an simply, is hard. Hard as pavement. Once more, we’re right there in the room with Kyo as he relates some tales from his life. I don’t even wanna talk too much about this one. It’s something that just needs to be heard. It’s too real for me to adequately put into words. Quotable: None, just peep the song. [Track 10en] - Philip Seymour Hoffman (prod. by Kisai The Spooniest Bard): Iono who the hell this Kisai The Spooniest bard dude thinks he is, but we gonna fight because this beat is fire. He could have at least let me rap on this. Not that I’m salty because Kyo did his thing. But seriously this is a great closer. Something about that japanese jazz sample makes such a great backdrop for Kyo to compare himself to Vincent Van Gogh and Philip Seymour Hoffman (RIP to two of the greats). As artists our art is what we use to combat the negative feelings that dwell in our mortal minds. Not everyone can win this fight, but Kyo is dead set on winning. If I hadn’t heard this song before judging, I’d have told you that the beat used doesn’t fit the theme of the album, but I’d have been wrong. Kyo made it work like only he could and the result is a track that both producer and artist could be proud of. Quotable: “In a world of visigoths and vandals I’m Vincent Van Gogh, battle depression with insufficient ammo.” [Afterword]: Impressionist Vignettes is a ride, friends. Tonally, It starts low and ends high, moodwise it’s as human as we are. And from an artistic standpoint, it’s probably Kyo’s strongest work to date. I recommend you give it a spin. I learned something and so might you. One final note. Big ups to Savior Monroe on the engineering end. This album sounds great beginning to end. Kisai out. Ja ne~ Peep Impressionist Vignettes here!: https://campphireconnection.bandcamp.com/album/impressionist-vignettes

#gotakuofficial #GOTAKU #GO-TA-KU #music #music review #music link #album review #camp phire connection #kyo #savior monroe #medical nindo #le real #river sanzu #kisai the spooniest bard #realvenom #kaptain planet #january 12 2019

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themousai · 4 years

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Top 10 Albums of the Decade: Nic Martin

Nightmare Avenged Sevenfold

[2010]

This is a fitting album to start with; I will probably always pin my decision to pursue music as a career on Avenged Sevenfold. 14-year-old me was absolutely crushed by the tragic death of drummer Jimmy Sullivan in 2009, but truly believed in the band’s decision to carry on, full speed ahead, and manifest Sullivan’s vision that he never got to complete; being 2010’s Nightmare.

While I personally never cared for the title track/lead single, it was cathartic and honest tracks like Victim and Tonight The World Dies that really showed me a new and important layer to the band I was already so inspired by. We still had the A7X that has gone on to, frankly, dominate the world stage - the relentless Danger Line and prog-epic-closer Save Me were reminders that these California boys were on to something huge, and they knew it.

Teenage Dream Katy Perry

[2010]

Admittedly: I came to listen to Katy Perry because I had a mad celeb-crush on her in this era. This album is a surprisingly diverse collection of legitimately well written pop songs, front-to-back. Obviously it has the singles we’re all numb to these days (I’m pretty sure California Gurls and Firework were enforced listening for every Jayjay’s across the country), but I found myself using songs like Circle The Drain and Hummingbird Heartbeat as an excuse to enjoy the undeniable pleasure of great pop melodies.

I guess I just feel like this was one of those “cut-above” mega-pop albums, alongside T-Swift’s 1989 and Bieber’s Purpose, I guess I just never saw either of them shooting whipped cream from their chest.

There Is A Hell, Believe Me I’ve Seen It. There Is A Heaven, Let’s Keep It A Secret Bring Me The Horizon

[2010]

I rarely hear people cite this as their favourite Bring Me album; never disregarded, but never the top of many lists; yet you Tumblr-Millennials out there would be lying if you said you never reblogged a grainy photo of a bedroom strewn with fairy-lights and band posters with lyrics from It Never Ends or Blessed With A Curse edited over it. I have no issue in saying that the quality of Oli Sykes’ voice was at a low point for this release, but I will always defend the telling depth and emotion that’s explored in the lyrics and structure of each song.

A dark and pummelling metalcore offering in a general sense, it’s Bring Me’s signature unapologetic approach to the point of difference they’re always pursuing – especially on tracks like Blacklist, the transition between the second half of Fuck into Don’t Go, and the catastrophic closer The Fox and the Wolf – that ensured I would keep tabs on this band’s evolution throughout the decade.

Periphery II: This Time It’s Personal Periphery

[2012]

I have a tattoo dedicated to this album and how much this band + album changed my perception of music, especially heavy metal. With that considered, I struggle to find a way to describe this album in way that isn’t simply “If you like metal, go and listen to this album” because there is bound to be something within this gem that will scratch an itch you didn’t know you had.

No one else sounded quite like this, and no one really has since. Whatever, djent. This album absolutely rips. Spencer Sotelo’s vocals are inhuman (not pitch-corrected on this album, noteworthy), and it contains multiple personal-favourite guitar solos ever, ever (Luck As A Constant and Mile Zero). Listen to the whole damn thing, but check out Muramasa, Facepalm Mute, Scarlet, or Ragnarok if you need convincing.

Parallax II: Future Sequence Between The Buried And Me

[2012]

“Goodbye To Everything”. One hell of an alluring motif, no? There is a LOT to unpack on this album, and if you struggle to resonate with musical journeys that take you across the galaxy and back 10+ minutes at a time, then it’ll take a while to sink your teeth into Future Sequence to the depth that it deserves to be appreciated at. The technicality and intricacy of the music accurately reflects the complexity of the lyrical narrative, only made even less-accessible by Tommy Giles Rogers’ ambiguous, cryptically simple/broad verses.

As necessary as the shorter breather tracks/interludes are, the highlights on this release are the lengthier pieces that all take you on a true journey, taking its time to set each scene and its mood. Lay Your Ghosts To Rest and Telos are integral tracks that really take you to a new dimension and show you every nook and cranny of it; and the final 18 minutes of Silent Flight Parliament & Goodbye To Everything (Reprise) has got to be the single most epic metal album closer this decade; a claim I’m open to having challenged.

Make no mistake, this is literally a 72 minute melting pot of progressive rock and technical death metal, with hearty sides of wack synths and lush orchestration, atmosphere that shifts from grand to crushing, and cheeky passages that skim from surf-rock to noodly jazz.

Altered State TesseracT

[2013]

My uncle introduced me to TesseracT’s first album One in 2012, which immediately cemented the band as one of my favourites. But 2013’s Altered State is one of those “perfectly aligned” albums for me: it was exactly what I needed to hear right when it was announced and released. It’s the only album to feature vocalist Ashe O’Hara (who now sings for Voices In The Fuselage) and is widely considered their crown jewel – although I firmly stand by the sentiment that TesseracT are incapable of writing a song that isn’t stunningly incredible.

The album is 10 tracks split into four “suites”: Of Matter, Of Mind, Of Reality, and Of Energy; so it was a daunting thought to try and absorb the entire thing in that way during my first listen. This is one of those albums that you know how incredible it is, but it’s not until you find yourself going back to it again and again over the years that you get to truly appreciate how perfectly executed the entire 50 minutes really is. The effortlessly impossible, extended rhythmic passages in Eclipse and Singularity; the sound of a heart exploding in Resist; the GOD DAMN SAXOPHONE in Calabi-Yau and Embers, it’s ALL there to make one of the most remarkable progressive metal albums ever; and they did it without a single scream or sub-drop.

To Pimp A Butterfly Kendrick Lamar

[2015]

I have no shame in announcing that hip-hop is a genre I forced myself to like. My brother had a soft spot for it growing up, and a lot of people in my school liked it; so, while I was familiar, I hadn’t found the album ‘for me’. good kid, m.A.A.d City showed me who Kendrick Lamar was and that – like pretty much every other teenager in 2012 – I quite liked his songs. The Blacker The Berry will never not-give me the same goosebumps I got upon first hearing it. I remember seeing the announcement that To Pimp A Butterfly had just been released hours earlier on iTunes, it was probably the first album I ever purchased online that wasn’t anything close to rock or metal, and – once again – I have no shame in admitting that the artwork was a big reason for why I was so immediately drawn to wanting to hear it.

Man, as I sit here listening to the intro to u at 12:30am, driving the entire album into one of its many, many dark and completely out-the-gate corners, I’m reminded that this album was so damn ahead of its time. Kendrick is unpacking SO much. He sits you down and pours you a drink as Wesley’s Theory lulls you in with its sexy groove and upbeat formalities, and he continues to tell you EXACTLY what the fuck is up, and he does it with pure, unapologetic class. The music on this album is just… it literally leaves me speechless nearly 5 years on: there are moments where it feels like the speakers couldn’t possibly handle another layer of jazzy instrumentation or lush, effect-laden basslines. But it’s when you take that, then add Kendrick’s stories, and that’s why this album transcends beyond most other hip-hop/rap releases; listen to How Much A Dollar Cost? or Mortal Man and tell me that he doesn’t have SO much to say that the already-limitless musical landscape can barely contain him.

131 Emarosa

[2016]

Something I had to keep remembering as I considered my list and wrote about each album is that we were asked to talk about albums that were important to us and our lives on a personal level. So, although Emarosa have multiple FANTASTIC albums, 131 was an album that found me and reached out to pull me out of a dark place in my life. Bradley Walden had already proved that he was a beautiful vocalist with a gorgeous voice on 2014’s Versus, but 131 feels so honest and more real in comparison.

This album doesn’t try to be anything more or less than what it is: a collection of meaning rock songs about life and the more personal, intricate emotions and tribulations that most people endure. Songs like Sure and Cloud 9 draw you in with their ear-worm choruses, but they keep you around with the heartfelt stories being told, all of a sudden you’re lying on your kitchen floor with tears streaming down your face wailing to the climax of Never while you think about your bb. This album helped me understand and forgive myself, I hope it can help you too.

Clairvoyant The Contortionist

[2017]

“Wow, Nic put Clairvoyant in his ‘Albums of the Decade’ list? What a genuine surprise…”

Anyone who knows me is probably sick of just how frequently and in-depth I talk about this album. The Contortionist were that band that all my favourite bands loved but I never got around to checking out. That was until my friend Declan showed me Return To Earth, which would easily make my top singles of the decade, too. It’s a perfect representation of the entire album: melancholic, intense, epic, and worth being patient with as it pulls you in with its devastating themes of addiction and loss. Vocalist Michael Lessard has said the album’s lyrics were written as the darker extension of 2014’s critically acclaimed Language; the general story revolves around his close friend’s untimely overdose due to his struggles after losing his mother, with Clairvoyant taking a more subdued, less metaphorical look at the despair his friend endured.

While this album does have its hookier and more upbeat moments - found in Reimagined and the title track – it’s the way these sections are woven into a much bigger picture that really turns every track into one 54 minute journey that you’d be remiss to not repeat a few times on a road trip or during a rainy day in. A personal highlight for me is the closing track Monochrome (Pensive), particularly after having listened to the entire album from the beginning first. As one of the most heart-crushing and honest moments lyrically, the song is ultimately an indescribable piece of art: catastrophically grand, breath-takingly emotional, this album is one of my most highly recommended ever.

Sundowning Sleep Token

2019

My most treasured musical discovery this year; I heard a 7-second-long snippet of Sleep Token’s 2017 single Calcutta on another artist’s Instagram story and was shocked: were you even allowed to pair a voice as lush as Vessel’s with a musical landscape that ultimately builds into a down-tuned breakdown? I was hooked, I needed more than the minimal offerings (heh) that were available – though EVERY song leading up to Sundowning is absolutely stunning in their own rights.

All of a sudden, The Night Does Not Belong To God appears on YouTube as I check my phone early one Thursday morning: fantastic, a new single. Two weeks later, to the day: The Offering makes itself known and has since dominated the band’s ‘popular songs’ on all streaming platforms. Another exact fortnight later, Levitate is an unexpected, yet welcome change of pace as a tender piano ballad topped with Sleep Token’s signature grand-finale-breakdown that can only be described as a wrecking ball levelling everything that was so intricately crafted in the 3-4 minutes prior. A pattern was emerging, and I was HERE for it. Sundowning revealed itself as 12 tracks, each carefully composed but linked together with an emotional lyrical thread, as well as aligned graphics/videos and even merch released with each track. As a working musician, this marketing approach completely blew me away, but when the music being pushed is this boundless, this forward-thinking, this calculated yet so naturally flowing, it gives me hope for the future of heavy music.

Every song is worth giving equal time and attention to, the band knows this and that’s why they released it that way. There are no two songs that sound like each other, but there certainly are various, vivid shades to Sleep. From the brutally thick ending to Higher or Gods, to the cheekily obscure, trap-versed banger Dark Signs, to the gorgeously progressive epics Say That You Will and Blood Sport; this album is one that anyone who considers themselves a fan of music needs to check out. This is what the future of music sounds like.

Listen to our decade wrapped over on Spotify!

Written by Nic Martin / Devilskin + Seas Of Conflict

[more decade round ups here]

#nic martin #seas of conflict #top 10s of 2010s #bring me the horizon #katy perry #periphery #tesseract #kendrick lamar #sleep token #the contortionist #emarosa #between the buried and me #avenged sevenfold

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verritytorres · 7 years

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CALRON WEDDING HCS

(cause i’m an emotional bitch at 1am apparently)

• moon @frogpepsi: HAVOC THE RING BEARER

• they don’t know who of either of them should have tamara as their maid of honor until one day after lunch with jasper, call comes home and says “so i guess you can have tamara” and aaron looks at him and knows and smiles and says “and yet you say he annoys you as much as he did in school” “shut up he’s still a thorn in my ass”

• aaron having a freak out before the wedding cause “oh my god tamara i just!!! i love him so much and i don’t want this to ruin anything!!!! we are starting a family and tamara, i don’t know families and i might fuck this up but i really don’t want to—“ and tamara covers his mouth, looks him in the eye and says “after this party’s over? everything will be largely the same. you’ll still wake up to him, you’ll still have to deal with his bullshit, you’ll still have dinner with me, and you’ll still be in love. i don’t know if you noticed, aaron, but we were already a family years ago.” and aaron just, nods with a new light in his eyes. “you know i love you, right?” “so you’ve said. now go get married, dumbass.”

• meanwhile elsewhere, jasper and call…

◦ “i’m not gonna cry at the altar, that’s lame” “ten bucks says you will, fucko” “oh yeah? ten bucks says you cry too, asshat”

◦ they both cry and hand each other $10

• but tbh everyone cries. call, aaron, tamara, jasper, alastair, fucking rufus cries

• ALSO THEIR VOWS WOULD BE. SO TEARJERKING

◦ call’s would be “the first time i saw you, i thought “wow. what a jock asshole” which is a pretty big word for a twelve year old but. yeah” cue audience laughter, but call only hears aaron’s light chuckle, only sees the little crinkles by his eyes and the freckles dotting his nose “and then…you were nice to me. you were nice to me, the short, slow, pissy kid, when i did nothing to deserve it. god, aaron, you were—you’re the best person i’ve ever met. and i couldn’t let you get away.” call starts tearing up “i couldn’t let the world go on without you in it. you’re the sun to me, aaron, and i know i complain about the sun a lot—sneaky bastard won’t let me sleep in—but in the end it’s the only thing i can count on to never stop showing up. you’re the most stable thing i’ve got, aaron, and i can’t fucking wait to officially have that for the rest of my life.”

▪ “god,” aaron chokes, wiping at his eyes. “did you write that down? was that all you?”

▪ “jasper helped with the metaphors, so that’s why they’re a bit extra. but yeah.” call smiles, but it’s a bit shaky. he is crying, after all. “memorized it, too.”

▪ “god. i love you so much.”

▪ “ditto.”

◦ aaron comes next. “okay, i didn’t plan to do dramatic, but i’ve gotta upstage that little speech somehow. i…i grew up without a home, you know that. i never had a fixed place to run back to. i was always moving around. then i got into the magisterium and i thought, “maybe here i’ll find some place to stay”. and i did. i found you and tamara. and about half an hour ago, i was having a bit of a freak out—not cause i don’t want to marry you cause believe me i really do—but because i was afraid that i couldn’t give you the family you deserved. and tamara reminded me of something: we made a family years ago.” he hears a soft gasp behind him and he doesn’t have to turn to know that tamara is breaking out the waterworks. "and after i—came back—i was so scared i was gonna lose it, that i’d go batshit with this chaos magic in me, but you reassured me. you told me you’d never leave my side over and over until i believed it, and that’s when i realized for the first time in my life i had something to come back to. i had a home, call, and that’s you.”

▪ by now, call's covered his face with the hand that wasn’t holding aaron’s. “you sappy fucker.”

• after the officiant declares them husband and husband, they kiss, and it’s wet and gross and they’re both smiling too much for it to be a real kiss, but they both think it’s the best one yet. tamara starts cheering loudly, and jasper joins in, and eventually the room is filled with applause and joy, joy, joy.

• (if u think im not moving on to the reception u r sadly mis-fuckin-staken)

• tamara was in charge of most of the reception. she chose the venue—the gardens at the gables, with its open space, fragrant flowers, and magic everywhere. she hired metal mages for the music, water mages for the furniture (“ice furniture that doesn’t melt, how fucking cool is that—“), fire mages for performances, earth mages for the fresh food, and air mages to make little images of call and aaron throughout the years float around the space. call keeps saying it’s a bit much, but tamara knows he loves it.

• the cake—painstakingly chosen by call, since aaron couldn’t give less of a shit as long as it tasted good—is a red velvet/vanilla monstrosity covered with fondant in a strange, pastel color mix. when aaron asked why it was that color, call just muttered, “it’s the closest color to your soul.” aaron grinned until his cheeks ached.

• tamara could have clinked the glass and quieted everyone down the normal way, but no. she used air magic to make everyone hear her say, “eyes up front.” and waited until everyone did so until she stood up, champagne glass in hand for dramatic effect. she summoned up every inch of charisma in her, and began. “you all know me and these boys have been friends since we were twelve, or—as aaron well put it in his sob-speech—family. i’d give my life for either of them, just as they’d die for each other. now, i could say a bunch of other cheesy stuff and go on about the power of love and my role as a spectator in their evergrowing romantic shitfest but i’m working to make this an unforgettable night, and what’s more unforgettable than a good ole embarrassing-yet-heartwarming engagement story.” she hears call groan behind her, which sharpens her smile even more. “they’ve been dating forever, right? since we were wee little sixteen year-olds. one late night at the collegium, while i was calmly—in a loose sense of the word—studying flame theory, call bursts into my room looking like there were five chaos elementals on his ass. i put my book down, thinking the third mage war was about to begin—we just barely avoided it last time—and ask him what’s wrong and he just says, “i think aaron is going to propose to me.” i ask him what’s wrong with that, cause i already knew they were bound to tie the knot eventually, and he just looks at me. and he silently takes out a velvet box from his pocket. and i think oh you pair of suckers.” that earned her a chuckle from the crowd. that means she’s doing good, right? “so after i treat call to some calming ice cream and send him off to jasper’s, i call aaron. apparently, he does indeed have a ring bought and ready for call. obviously, i told jasper and we sat back with popcorn to watch this all unfold. in the end, at a cute little cliche restaurant, candles and all, something happened—they still won’t tell me what—that made them both whip out the rings at the same time. or, at least, aaron did. call accidentally threw the thing and gave his new fiance a black eye. anyway, moral of the story? these crazy kids are way too in love. i thought they reached rock bottom years ago, that you couldn’t love someone more than going through all that effort, giving up a piece of your soul to bringing them back from the dead. but i can tell all of you that call and aaron keep proving me wrong. to these suckers and their happiness.”

• also, call denied jasper the speech. he gave it to havoc instead.

◦ “havoc, speak.”

◦ (LOTS OF HOWLING AND BARKING)

◦ “fucking beautiful, man,” call says, tears in his eyes and clapping.

• call’s been smiling slyly for a while now. aaron noticed, and frankly, he’s pretty confused. not the smiling part, obviously— they just got married oh god this is his life this is really his — but the sly part. call only ever has that smile on when he’s got a trick up his sleeve. he’s also been sharing weird glances with tamara since they arrived at the gables and it’s driving aaron a little nuts. he tried asking, but only got a “what i can’t smile on my wedding day?”, and after he gave his husband— his husband —a Look, he got a much better “just hold on, babe. all will be made clear.” so aaron stops thinking about it.

• anyway, it’s time for the first dance.

• and when aaron turns to call in the middle of the dance floor, he expects to see a loving, heartfelt look for a loving, heartfelt moment.

• instead, call is seconds away from pissing himself laughing.

• “call—“

• “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” tamara’s voice booms over the garden, and that’s when aaron knows his best friends were up to some fuckshit once again.

• “LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE LOVELY FUCKIN COUPLE WHO PUT A RING ON IT.”

• and beyonce’s “single ladies” deafens the crowd.

• call and aaron make it through the dance laughing and smiling and leaning on each other every second of it. and that’s a good enough description for the rest of the night.

#IM EMOTIONAL!!!!!!!#calron #callum hunt #Aaron Stewart #magisterium #this is. so long. i was literally belting all this out last night to the only other americans in the gbgc since europe was still zzz #fuckin worth it tho i made everyone cry

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mytearsricoshay · 7 years

Note

Hi! I've been following you for a while and didn't realize you were such a passionate Taylor Swift fan until the release of the new song. Sorry if this is weird, but could I ask why you like her so much? I loved her when I was younger and enjoy a lot of her more recent songs, but I'm probably not what you'd call a swifty. I'm just curious, sorry if it's a weird question! Really love your blog by the way!

Hey there! That’s not a weird question at all, I know my overload of Taylor Swift feels probably came out of nowhere so it might come as a shock to some of my followers just how big of a fan I actually am but….what can I say. That shit’s been building up for three years, fam.

Anyways I’m not really sure how to answer this??? Like I love her with all my heart but I’ve never really had to think about why I do so I’m gonna try and break it down, I guess??

Musically, she’s one of the most talented songwriters in the business. I don’t agree with people who say she can’t sing - obviously - but there are a lot more powerful voices out there that can easily outshine her. In terms of her lyrics though, she’s unparalleled. And I know it’s easy to pull up lyrics from Shake it Off or Bad Blood or the chorus of Look What You Made Me Do to try and discredit her, but those are singles. They’re made to be earworms whose entire purpose is to garner attention and stick in peoples heads - and they do their job well. But they don’t even come close to the type of lyrics she’s capable of producing.

But if you’ve ever listened to her music beyond singles made for radio play you’ll find a lyrical genius who - cliche as it sounds - has a talent for making listeners feel what she feels. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stood up and screamed the lyrics to All too Well or Last Kiss or The Last Time with real tears in my eyes despite never having gone through any sort of breakup myself. I can barely listen to Dear John without feeling blinding anger that she was emotionally abused and taken advantage of like that at such a young age. Maybe I’m just an overly empathetic person but I can feel her pain through her lyrics and it just…speaks to me. And it’s not just her ballads either. Even a song like Look What You Made Me Do has lyrics that make me feel for her (I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me no bby I trust u w/my life pls don’t say that).

Beyond that, her songs that aren’t lyrical masterpieces are still good and catchy and fun and there’s not a song by her that I don’t thoroughly enjoy listening to. Her music makes me happy and that’s all there really is to it. Even back when I hated her I still loved her music haha.

Taylor as a person….there’s just so many reasons to love her. Yes, she’s a Queen who dominates the industry and destroys the charts and the sales and all that good shit. But that’s not why I love her. For starters, I’ve never been a fan of a celebrity who cares about their fans as much as she does. She invites fans to her house to get an exclusive listening of her new album. She unfollows everyone including her own brother and erases all of her social media right down to her MySpace but doesn’t unfollow her fans on tumblr.

She’s extremely generous, and critics can say it’s just an act and she’s fake or whatever all they like. I don’t believe that, but even if I did, she’s donating to charities and giving money to a fellow woman struggling with legal fees and writing a heartfelt song to a little boy who died of cancer and at that point who honestly cares why it’s being done? She’s doing good things and all anyone ever focuses on is the why.

She’s kind and genuine (as told by…pretty much everyone who actually knows her) but for all her softness she’s also learned to stand up for herself (or “play the victim” as assholes like to put it). As she’s put it she got harder over the years and now she’s done letting people step all over her and I just think that’s a really important message to send to the young girls in her audience who are generally taught that anger is unladylike??? That you can still be good and kind but not put up with people who try to bring you down. You can get angry. Asshole sues her after sexually assaulting her? Get rekt fucker. Haters twist her image and take everything she says and does as fodder to demonize her? Prepare to get dragged asshats. She’s the walking embodiment of “Do no harm but take no shit.”

She’s also extremely smart and clever. She’s a force to be reckoned with based on her brilliant mind alone.And that’s something that I don’t think even her haters would try denying. Whether you think she’s a Cersei or a Sansa you just know that she’s incredibly shrewd and quick-witted.

Do I wish she were a better feminist? Of course I do. That’s something I wish for pretty much every celebrity I stan, but she’s learning. She’s specifically stated that she doesn’t like talking politics and that’s her right. I wish that weren’t the case as a queer latina fan but I’m not going to drag her through the mud for something she might believe, especially not when her tweets about the women’s march in January and Charleston point to that definitely not being the case. That doesn’t mean I don’t hope that someday soon she becomes more outspoken about issues outside of “just” sexism y’know? As someone who deeply and wholeheartedly believes in intersectional feminism I don’t think that hope will ever truly go away.

I’m getting off topic though. I’m hoping this massive essay answered your question as to why I love my lord and savior Taylor Alison Swift. If you made it through the whole thing then God bless you, if you didn’t here’s a TL;DR for you: Her music makes me feel things and she’s a genuinely good person. The End

#taylor swift #reputation #look what you made me do #ask #anon #i'm sorry anon u didn't ask for this shit #i just have a lot of taylor swift feels okay #im sorry #but thank u!!!#Anonymous

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greysfanpage388 · 7 years

Text

‘ What were you both doing, Auntie Amy?’

This is based on a prompt sent by @cizavilation to @omeliafics

Thank you @jia911 for helping to proofread this fic- you’re the best! <3

Prompt : With the girls from the Omelia group chat we were talking about the 12x21 scene where Maggie and Meredith caught Owen and Amelia at the couch naked, and given that we also know that Zola took a glimpse of them lying naked together there… the prompt is: Can someone write something related with Zola asking Amelia what they were doing there? xD

Amelia Shepherd had just returned home from a tiring day at work after having back to back consults and surgeries. As she entered her sister- in-law Meredith Grey’s house, all she could think about was a warm shower and her comfortable bed. And Owen Hunt.

She smiled to herself as she recalled the events from two nights ago.

After Owen’s heartfelt confession to her in his office about his sister Megan and how he felt responsible for her disappearance, she felt a deeper connection to him. The fact that he decided to open up to her and tell her his innermost feelings and regrets meant a lot to her. It signified that he was ready to move on to the next phase of their relationship, which involved trust and mutual understanding. After she hugged him from behind and comforted him- he relished in her comforting touch and they remained in that position for a few long minutes before he finally stood up and turned around to hug her back. The warm hug eventually escalated into a kiss. The kiss then got heated until they had to pull away from each other before someone entered the room and caught them in their intimate moment. Still in a bliss from the kiss, Amelia had casually invited Owen to grab some dinner together as she was starving. They went to a cozy Italian restaurant within walking distance of the hospital and chatted throughout dinner. Owen spoke fondly of his sister Megan, telling Amelia about wonderful childhood memories he shared with her, how she fell in love with Riggs and how his heart broke for her when she cried in his arms after discovering that Riggs cheated on her. He told Amelia that he could never forgive himself for suggesting that she get on the plane. His sister’s disappearance had affected him more than he would have liked to admit and every single day he wished for her to return safely to him.

Amelia had listened sympathetically to Owen’s story- holding his hands as a gesture of support, not interrupting him even once, which was rather uncharacteristic of her. After their scumptious dessert of icecream with chocolate pudding- Owen had invited Amelia to spend the night in his trailer. As tempting at it was for her, Amelia declined as she needed a long hot bath and a fresh pair of clothes to sleep in. Seeing Owen’s disappointed look- Amelia had the brilliant idea of inviting Owen to sleep over with her at Meredith’s house, stating the reason that both Meredith and Maggie were on call and the children and nanny were probably asleep upstairs.

They barely made it to the front door of the house, when they started kissing passionately again. By the time they entered the house, they could only make it as far as the living room before the sparks ignited between them and they were lost in each other’s bodies. After that, they had collapsed beside each other in postcoital bliss and gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes before dozing off in each other’s warm embrace.

They were both not prepared for the following morning when Meredith, Maggie and the Shepherd kids found them both lying naked on the living room floor. They both felt like deers caught in the headlights. How embarrassing it was for them!

After Meredith and Maggie left with the kids, Owen had hastily put on his clothes and rushed out of the door, muttering that he was running late for work. He seemed to avoid her the entire day at work. It made Amelia anxious as she thought he decided to call their relationship quits. However, when she decided to walk over to Owen’s trailer after some encouragement from Meredith- she was pleasantly surprised to discover that he genuinely wanted to pursue a stable relationship with her. It was a blissful night in the trailer, as they had sex the entire night, without any interruptions.

Amelia was so glad that they both had finally agreed to go stable in their relationship and there were no more uncertainties about the status of their relationship.

_______________________________________________________________

Currently, Amelia smiled to herself as she received a text from Owen. How timely considering she was thinking about him.

‘ Hey- where r u now? I’m just about to sign off from work. So my place or your place tonight? Xoxo Owen’ it read.

She was about to reply to the text when the front door barged open and in entered a flustered looking Meredith with her 3 kids in tow.

‘ Amelia- I’m sorry but could you watch over my kids for the night? I’m not on call but they needed another extra general surgeon in the hospital tonight due to the patient load. And Maggie is on call. The nanny is ill with a bad flu…’Meredith rambled in her usual manner, bouncing Ellis on her hip.

Even though she and Meredith had a complicated relationship and weren’t always on good terms- Amelia had a soft spot for her nieces and nephew. They were Derek’s kids after all and were the only reminder she had left of the brother she never got the chance to say goodbye to.

‘ It’s ok Meredith.’ Amelia interrupted politely. ‘I can look after them I promise. This isn’t the first time I’m babysitting them remember? They’re my nieces and nephew after all.’she said sincerely.

‘ Well, ok then, thank you so much.’ Meredith said hurriedly. ‘ The kids have had a late afternoon snack so they’re still full. But there is some frozen pizza and pasta in the fridge for dinner later. And I’ve prepared Ellis’s milk bottle and food already- you just need to warm it up.’

‘ Ok- ok…just go and save some lives’ said Amelia gesturing towards the door with her hands.‘ Seriously, we’ll be fine.’

‘ Right Zola?’ she crouched to eye level with her niece to look at the little girl in the eye.

‘ Yes auntie Amy.’ Zola replied, flashing her aunt an adorable smile.

Meredith handed Ellis over to Amelia, who bounced the baby on her hip.

‘ Bye Zozo, bye Bailey, bye Ellie! Love you! Be good for auntie Amelia ok?’ said Meredith, giving each of her children a kiss on the cheek before running out of the door.

‘ Ok mommy.’Zola replied grinning. She adored her auntie Amy and loved to spend time with her. Auntie Amy would take her and her siblings to the park for a walk, treat them to icecream and let them buy their favorite toys. Besides, she knew how to make delicious waffles for breakfast.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as the door closed behind Meredith, Zola tugged on Amelia’s arm.

‘ Auntie Amy, I’m hungry, I want some icecream.’ the girl looked up at her with those pleading eyes she couldn’t say no to.

Bailey stood beside his sister with pleading eyes. ‘ Want ice cream.’he added.

Meanwhile, baby Ellis fussed in her arms.

Amelia sighed internally. She knew that if she gave the kids ice cream at this hour, they would become hyper from all the sugar intake and this would ensure a sleepness night for her.

‘‘ No Zozo.’ she answered firmly but gently. ‘ No icecream for now- it’s too late in the day for that. How about I make you all some dinner instead?’

‘ But I want icecream.’ Zola pouted.

‘ Want ice cream.’ Bailey parroted his sister.

They knew that when they pleaded with auntie Amy like that, she would cave in to their demands. Which was why they loved auntie Amy. Their mom would never let them eat ice cream at this hour of the day, and they seldom get to spend quality time with her.

Sure enough, auntie Amy gave in to their demands.

‘ Well fine - I believe there’s icecream in the fridge. I’ll scoop some out for you.’Amelia relented. ‘ But just one scoop, ok? And then I’m going to prepare dinner and you’re gonna eat your dinner, you hear me?’she said as she walked into the kitchen with Ellis on her hips and Zola and Bailey trailing behind her.

‘ Yay! Ok auntie Amy.’ the little girl exclaimed as she did a happy twirl, her pigtails flying. She gave Bailey a high five, and little boy returned it enthusiastically.

Amelia smiled at Zola as she placed Ellis on the baby chair in the kitchen. The baby cooed happily and clapped her hands upon seeing her siblings’ excitement.

A few minutes later, Zola and Bailey were both happily picking at their vanilla icecream, and Amelia was warming up Ellis’ bottle and baby food.

She then remembered that she had to inform Owen that there was a last minute change of plans.

Maybe she could invite him to come over to Meredith’s and help her take care of the children.

She smiled dreamily as she texted him, inviting him to come over to Meredith’s.

‘ Who is it?’ Zola’s voice brought her back to reality.

‘ Who is what?!’ Amelia looked up from her phone, puzzled.

‘ The person you’re texting, auntie Amy.’ Zola replied as if the answer was obvious.

‘ Oh- it’s some one from work.’ Amelia replied hastily. ‘What do you want for dinner, Zozo?’she asked, hoping to divert the conversation to another topic.

Just then, her phone notified her that there was a new message from Owen.

‘ Ok babe- will be there in a bit. Xoxo’

Zola’s face suddenly lit up the way it always did when she made a new discovery or had an epiphany.

‘ Is it uncle Owen?!’ she asked excitedly, as her brother, sitting beside her, looked up questioningly at their aunt.

‘ Huh? What makes you think it’s uncle Owen?! ’Amelia asked, a little harsher than she intended.

‘ Because…..I saw you both together on the sitting room floor that day.’ Zola pointed out.

Before a dumbstruck Amelia could reply, she added,‘ Only people who love each other do that. Like my daddy and mommy used to lie together on the couch or on their bed when daddy was still around.’ her voice trailed off at the mention of her father and a sad look overtook her face.

‘ Oh Zola’ Amelia looked at her niece sympathetically. ‘ I miss your daddy too, you know. He was my only brother.’

‘ Daddy.’ Bailey echoed, a sad expression on his face.

‘ Daddy and mommy loved each other very much.’said Zola. ‘ Do you and uncle Owen love each other very much too?’

Amelia hesitated for a moment before replying with a smile on her face. ‘ Yes we do.’

‘Auntie Amy?’ asked Zola, her face now smudged with the icecream.

‘ Yes dear?’ Amelia replied as she wiped the icecream off Zola and Bailey’s faces.

‘ What were you and uncle Owen doing on the living room floor that day?’ Zola asked innocently, looking earnestly at her aunt for answers.

Again, Amelia struggled to find a suitable reply for her niece. Sometimes she felt that Zola was too smart for her age.

‘ Well….we were, just lying down there talking.’Amelia answered, hoping that her answer would be good enough to satisfy her ever curious niece.

Zola seemed satisfied with the answer, and it was quiet in the kitchen as Zola and Bailey continued enjoying their icecreams.

Ellis’s food had been warmed up and Amelia placed the bowl next to her niece, intending to feed the baby before preparing dinner for her, Zola and Bailey.

‘ Auntie Amy.’ Zola called for the hundreth time.

‘ Yes Zozo?’ Amelia asked, ever so patient with her niece.

‘ Were you and uncle Owen having S-E-X? Because you both love each other.’

‘ What?! Where did you learn that word from?!’ Amelia asked, aghast. ‘Kids nowadays,’she thought.’ Learning these words at such a young age.’

‘ From my mommy.’ Zola shrugged. ‘ One time I heard her saying the word to auntie Maggie. Then she remembered that I was in the room. When I asked her what the word meant, she said that it was when two adults love each other so much.’

Amelia made a mental note to have a heart to heart talk with Meredith later about how her eldest daughter was picking up things fast and to watch her words around her.

‘ Well, yes- it’s true that two people who love each other so much have S-E-X.’Amelia said, going along with Meredith’s answer.

Zola was about to open her mouth to ask her poor aunt another question when the doorbell rang.

‘ Saved by the bell.’’Amelia thought to herself in relief.

She opened the door and smiled, her dimples showing, as she saw Owen standing at the other side of the door.

‘I’m so glad that you’re here.’she whispered to him as they shared a quick kiss.

‘Oh really?’ Owen teased, winking at her. He was wearing his favorite plaid shirt, and Amelia thought he always looked damn handsome in that outfit.

‘ Zola was asking me about sex. Damn Meredith and her inability to filter in front of her children. I don’t know how to answer her.’she muttered. ‘ She was asking me whether we were having sex that day on the living room floor. Can you imagine that? A 6 year old asking about sex?’

‘ Well children nowadays pick up things really fast.’ Owen chuckled. ‘ I don’t know whether it’s due to the formula they’re taking.’

‘ Maybe.’Amelia agreed as she led him towards the kitchen. ‘ I was about to fed Ellis while answering Zola’s umpteenth question. And I haven’t even started preparing dinner yet. You came at the right time.’

‘ You mean I came to save you.’ Owen pointed out. ‘ Admit it.’

‘ Alright yes, you’re my savior, my knight in shining armor.’ Amelia admitted, rolling her eyes at him playfully.

‘ Uncle Owen!’ Zola exclaimed excitedly as she ran towards him, almost toppling her chair over in the process.

‘ Uncle Owen!’ Bailey trailed behind his sister.

Meanwhile, Ellis cooed happily from her baby chair.

‘ Oh - hello there kiddos! How are you all doing?’ Owen asked as he lifted Zola up and twirled her around as she giggled happily.

As he gently placed her down, Bailey lifted up his arms to him.

‘ My turn.’ he demanded.

Owen lifted the little boy up and twirled him around as he laughed heartily.

Watching from the corner of the kitchen, Amelia found herself imagining for a moment Owen twirling their children around as laughter filled the house. She shook the thought off her mind. They had only just decided to go steady, it was too soon to be thinking about this. But deep in her heart, she knew that this was what she wanted, a family with the right person.

‘ Hey little one- I see you’re about to have your dinner?’ Owen asked in a voice he reserved only for babies as he approached Ellis’ chair and kissed the little girl on the top of her head.

The baby cooed in reply.

‘ I tell you what- you can feed Ellis- while I start preparing dinner.’ Owen suggested to Amelia.

‘ I like that idea.’ she winked at him. ‘ I was about to prepare some pasta. There aren’t many choices left in the fridge.’

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later- Owen and Amelia stood in Ellis’s nursery, watching the baby sleep peacefully in her crib.

All three Shepherd children have been fed, showered and put to bed. Zola miraculously forgot all about her question as uncle Owen kept her and her siblings entertained for the whole night.

‘ Thank you so much for coming over and helping out with them.’ Amelia whispered, looking up at Owen as their eyes met. ‘ I couldn’t have done it without you. Sometimes I wonder how Meredith does it. But then again, she has help from Maggie and I.’she smirked.

‘ It’s no problem at all- you know how much I adore your nieces and nephew.’ Owen answered, smiling at her.

‘ You saw the look on their faces when the pizza arrived?’ Amelia chuckled. ‘They were so overjoyed. And when you sat down in the living room to play legos with Zola and Bailey, they seemed the happiest I’ve seen them in a long time. You’re so good with kids.’

‘ Well, I do love kids. I would love to have my own someday.’ Owen said, staring at the baby. ‘ Look- she’s so adorable, don’t you think?’

‘ Yes, I may be biased but she is.’ Amelia agreed, smiling as she looked at her niece.

‘ Well- I would love to have my own someday.’ Owen repeated. ‘ With you.’ he added in a whisper. He could already picture both of them standing in their own daughter’s nursery in the future, staring at her peacefully sleeping.

Amelia felt a tingling sensation going down her spine as she blushed. The truth was, she would love children of her own too. And she couldn’t imagine having kids with anyone else. But she had to get over her fear of having another anencephalic baby- something which Owen was still in the dark about.

‘ Same here.’ she whispered back.

Owen pulled her close for a hug, and she leaned her head against his chest, seeking comfort in feeling his heart beat.

They both remained silent- lost in their thoughts about the future. The future was uncertain, but they both felt that they were ready to embark on the unknown together. Little did they know then that a few years later- they would both be staring at their own eldest daughter, Charlotte as she lay sleeping peacefully in her crib. They also wouldn’t have guessed at that moment that in the subsequent years- they would be doing the same thing to Charlotte’s siblings- Noah and Olivia. They couldn’t have predicted the wonderful future which lay ahead of them.

Comments, reviews, reblogs and messages are very much appreciated. I would love to know what you guys think! :)

p.s I couldn’t come up with a more original title for this, sorry :P

#omelia #omeliafics #omelia fanfiction #omelia fanfics #ailing's fics #greys anatomy #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #zola shepherd #bailey shepherd #ellis shepherd

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