push and pull function to metal

mmnphf… suffer with me pls!

• Lena sinks to her knees, nails raking up Kara’s bare thighs, as her fingers slide up under her bright red skirt.
• Supergirl, lashes fluttering, head dropping back, as Lena’s lips follow her fingers, starting with gentle kisses to the inside of Kara’s knee, just above the tops of her red boots, and slowly working her way up Kara’s inner thigh.
• Kara, holding on so tight, Lena’s desk breaks under her grip. (Not sure what it’s made out of, but I imagine it’s something hard and expensive).


• Back in Kara’s apartment after some fancy function/gala.
•Lena turning, casting a glance back over her shoulder, The Lip Bite, asking Kara to unzip her.
• Kara taking her time, pushing the straps aside, kissing the tops of Lena’s shoulders. Fingers take that tiny metal tab, pulling so slowly the sound of every metal tooth can be heard as they’re released. Nails rake gently down Lena’s smooth back, pushing the material away, exposing fair-skinned flesh, hands sliding around the front of Lena’s body, pulling them together. Lena pushing her hips back against Kara. Kara pressing her hips forward against Lena. Lena letting her head fall back on Kara’s shoulder. Neck kisses. Jaw-line kisses. Ear nibbling. The whispering of naughty things that’ll be done to each other…

A one-day exhibition

Originally posted by jungkooksarms

Warnings: The deal is being Seokjin’s model to draw, but what if he has other plans for you? Will you accept them? And yes those plans aren’t the normal lovey dovey sex.

To me, Seokjin is the childhood best friend that grows up to be my boyfriend if we were in a movie. Every moment in the life we’ve shared can be found in a typical romantic drama. Throughout our school years, I was the only girl sitting on the back seat of his rusty bike. We run the street together, kicking balls from pavement to pavement. I don’t need permission to enter his house and neither does he. We don’t even need to text each other since our windows are directly opposite. The kids in school thought we were a couple. They would find Seokjin ruffing my hair when we walked to class or me crossing my arm into his at lunch time. As time passed, I become more conscious about it. Coincidence can’t happen more than twice, so I consider it to be fate.

The thought of having Seokjin as a boyfriend has never been a bother to me. Guys adore him and girls fall for him quicker than autumn leaves. I did have troubles once in a blue moon if one of his fans were overly obsessive. My nervous system started to get used to threats and hate letters hidden inside my locker. But before my tears could fill my eyes, he was always there, crumpling that piece of paper into his hand and switching the subject. He knew it was his problem, so never did my hands get dirty because of it. Things remain the same as we began out university years but zero progress was made in our relationship. I feel myself become more aware of him. My mind processes more thoughts when he touches me or when we’re alone together. Still, it could have been a rush of hormones or delusion all this time.

“Yo!” I shouted with my hand waving in the air, but it seems like Seokjin’s mind is elsewhere. I approach him, noticing a melancholy frown on his beautiful face. “What’s wrong?”

“Y/N?” He startles. His right eye twitches for a second. “Let’s sit down first.”

He takes me to this empty café, with wind charms and chalkboards with inspirational quotes written on them. And Seokjin being Seokjin, orders strawberry milkshake. I watch his pink lips as he takes a long shot of the beverage. Then the wrinkles on his forehead disappear and he smiles. I’ve seen that smile so many times before, yet I only feel flustered now.

“So what was all the sulkiness about?” I lean forward, placing my chin on my fist so I can see the side of his face.

He sucks the straw until his breath runs out and releases a sigh. “We’re working with a nude model today.”

The idea doesn’t shock me at all. Seokjin is majored in Visual Arts which makes drawing body parts critical, even the most embarrassing ones. He must have been shy about it. But the fact that we’re sitting here right now tells me transferring the image of a naked woman onto plain paper isn’t something impossible for him.

“Do you feel embarrassed because you have to see her body?” I question.

“Not really.” He stir the beverage with his straw. “It feels strange since I don’t even know her.”

His sentence follows by a silence between human, so the wind charms sing instead. Seokjin looks even more alluring when he blushes. The way he shines under the prism of this autumn light like a delicate piece of glass defines another standard of beauty. I find myself mesmerized by the strangest things, including his terrible set of eye bags and the deep creases at the ends of his mouth.

“No alternatives?” I raise my eyebrow, feeling like this is the question he’s been waiting for.

“Of course there are.” He looks down on the table. “I can write a 5000-word essay on art history which I have the highest possibility to fail…


“Or… I can pick my own model – someone I’m comfortable with.” At this time, Seokjin eyes are no longer staring at the table. In exchange, they reflects my image. He is anticipating a specific answer to his silent request. Even though words are not said because of certain unwritten rules of human communication, we still understand each other under the disguise of a blunt conversation.

“Have you found someone yet?” I avoid his eyes.

“No. I’m not comfortable with that many girls.” He murmurs.

“Really?” I want to hear this favour coming out of his mouth, not his eyes. So my mouth decides to remain shut.

“I know this is weird.” Seokjin scratches his head, looking down on his Air Jordan. “But can you be my model?” The words sound like they’re so bitter on his lips that his whole expression changes just trying to say them. For a moment, I admire him so much for taking the courage to ask for this favour, knowing how hard it is to request your friend to go nude in front of you for three to four hours.

“Sure.” As soon as I finish my sentence, he looks up. His eyes open wide, making him look intellectual. “I’ll be at your house tomorrow at 8.”




This is the first time I’ve walked into Seokjin’s room without wearing a bra since I started using it. His room smells like laundry detergent, like those fabric softeners that are advertised on TV. Canvas scatter everywhere, varying in different sizes and are mostly painted. He has a poster of colour schemes taping on the wall beside his bed and tubes of all the shades of colour in the world stacked neatly on the shelves. One might say his room looks messy, others might say it’s aesthetic and artistic.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Near by the window I notice a wooden high chair, with a round seat that sends out a retro vibe. Placing opposite it is a large painting easel and all his pencils set and ready. I take a deep breath. His attention crimsons my cheeks as I slowly pull the hoodies up and over my head. The cold becomes more obvious through my bare skin. Seokjin just stands there, looking at me without blinking his eyes like a statue.

“Stop looking at me like that.” My arms go over my torso to cover my harden nipples.

“Sorry.” He looks away, undoubtedly feeling shameful for being uncontrolled.

I continue stripping the last pieces of my clothes, which is my sweatpants and panties. I quickly roll them up together and throw the off to the side along with my hoodies. He takes a peek on me with one eye and swallow the nausea in his throat. I make my way to the chair and sit on it, crossing my legs over each other while wondering how long will it take for me to grow accustomed to this.

“What should I do?” I ask.

“Just choose a pose that you find most comfortable and show the side of your body.” Pursuing his simple direction, I rotate my body to the side and bend my legs up so that I can hug my knees. At my best attempt, I try not to show much of my womanhood, not when I’m still uncomfortable.

“That should work. Stay right there.” Seokjin approaches me with a rope and a piece of red cloth. He ties the rope around my two wrists, forming a knot that ties them together. The red cloth is put over my eyes and tied at the back of my head. This calms my nerve by taking away the ability to see him drawing my naked body, but at the same time it’s always scary to not be able to acknowledge what’s around you when you’re fragile.

For the next hour, all I can hear is scribbles of lead and charcoal on paper. They are thin and delicate but sometimes they move rapidly, making me curious of his progress. Then I feel his hand, brushing on my cheek to push my hair back and it stays there. He thumbs my cheek and hold my face in his hand. My heart starts to drop again, into a hole without a bottom. But he keeps stroking me, petting my face like a little kitten until his sudden stop that brings me to the reality that I as well, am brushing me cheek on his hand.

“What are you doing, princess?” The way Seokjin calls me “princess” makes me feel weaker than I already am. I sense an urge to submit to him, so that he will caress me and keep calling me like this whenever my clothes are not on my body.

He slides one hand into my core. “So you have been wet all along.” The sentence ends with a spank on my ass. The burn contradicts with the coldness of the chair, irritating my skin. I curl myself inward more, without noticing it I hear myself apologizing.

“How can I draw you if you’re soaking?” Another spank and gradually my mind accept the fact that I was wrong for wetting myself and that it’s my fault. So I apologize like a good girl, not once but over and over again.

“Stand up.” I obey immediately to his command. Seokjin pushes me down onto his bed. The sound of metal being dropped on the floor and zipper being pulled down sends goosebumps throughout my body. I feel the tip of his dick tickles my entrance. My heart stop functioning, so is my whole body system. He aims it in front of my entrance and pauses before he slams my cock into me. My body jerks upward and a small yelp slips out of my lips. Holding my thighs, he thrusts in, ignoring the limit that my core can take on.

“Please…” I cry with the little energy I have left. But he grips tighter on my ass and the amount of strength he can use to grind into me is over my imagination.

“Don’t talk when I don’t allow you too.” I’ve never seen him being so angry at me. As much as it scares me, I find it attractive of how dominant he can be. My body undergo the tornado of orgasm that sweeps away all of my conscious thoughts. It tenses my body, stretching my body out so hard that just a bit more and I’m shattered. After the hurricane, I release, spilling everything on his bed sheet as my thighs shiver and my toes curl up.

Seokjin pulls himself out of me. He picks me up in like a bride, holding me in his arms as he rubs gently on his own fingerprints on my ass. I was placed on the same chair that I recognize by its texture. My energy is completely drained for me to strike a professional pose. So I just lie there, head tilting to the side and arms hanging loose to the sides. My legs are spread and exposed to the breezy wind. Once again, I hear scribbles on paper.

For all of you lovely anons who requested for our Seokjin, thank you! I dedicated this amazing prompt idea just for him so I hope you guys like it.

goodytissues  asked:

re: Future!Fic A PART DEUX IS DEFINITELY NEEDED that would be great and beautiful 😘

Good to hear! Because… I wrote a part two. 😉 Here it is! (check out part 1 here!)


Oliver stepped out of the cab on the busy Gotham street.  He had a small bag with him, virtually everything he owned in the world.  Connor had helped him purchase a plane ticket and given him some money to survive until he returned home. The boy had hopes Oliver would be bringing Felicity back with him, but Oliver wasn’t so sure. He’d always been just a little nervous of his wife’s wrath, even before she became his wife.  Her loud voice was scary, but her silence was even scarier.  No one could freeze him out like she could, and no freeze out would ever hurt as much as hers did.

The cab pulled away and Oliver looked up at the tall apartment building before him. She was on the 26th floor, one of the penthouses. She was a success while he’d fallen into ruin. Oliver wasn’t the least bit surprised. She was always capable, where he had a hard time functioning without her.

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