So, TLC has various wedding based shows, and if I remember correctly they have a Say Yes to the Dress for Bridesmaids.
Bitty has always wanted to go to the Atlanta store, so when it comes time for him and Jack to get married, he begs Lardo, Cait, and one of his cousins he is close to to go there.
Since he is Eric Bittle, famous YouTuber, and he’s marrying Jack Zimmermann, hockey legend, it’s not hard for him to get onto the show.
Bitty has his wedding theme and all, but he knows each girl is so unique and wants them to have their own dresses, although he wants each to have some silver on it.
On the episode, they have the epic love story, some clips from Bitty’s channel and interviews with Jack. They also show Bitty trying on several different tuxes.
(I have strong feelings that the wedding will be soooo grand, but the guest list won’t be like super long cause Bitty does just want it to be people they love and care about and not like his third aunt twice removed)
(but also this does mean like all of the Falconers, people who have been traded, random hockey legends, a lot of smh team members from their combined time there, some of the volleyball team, some YouTubers Bitty is friends with, and they do have lots of relatives who love them so it’s not *small*)
There’s great banter and chatting between the girls and also the people who work there. Everyone loves Bitty and the girls all find amazing dresses that fit them well.
Bitty talks about the episode on his YouTube channel, the episode does have a small clip of their wedding included, and the episode also kinda advertises Bitty’s YouTube channel, where everyone can see more of the wedding, so both gain views from each other.
It’s just really good and Jack and Bitty just look so in love when they see each other.
(I image a place with three aisles or two and they each walk down at the same time ok)
Get a load of that jacket! It’s so cool. I got it at that sale I got some other vintage bits at, but I haven’t worn it with An Actual Outfit until now. It looks super Elizabethan, even more so when I have the front buttoned up. I feel like a stagehand at the Globe or something!
Also every time I wear a dress over jeans, my inner middle-schooler rejoices.
[Image description: one full-body photo of a young woman (me) with pink hair in a very short bob. The front part of one side of my hair has been braided back from my face. I am leaning on a metallic pink cane that I’m holding in my left hand. I’m wearing a slightly sheer, orange-with-a-hint-of-brown dress that hits at about mid-thigh. Over it, I have on a brown vest–a little of the dress is showing at the neck. Under the dress, I’m wearing dark wash skinny jeans, which are cuffed at the bottom. I have on patterned red socks and light brown hiking boots with black soles and dark red accents. I’m wearing a black, yellow, white, red, green, and blue plaid shirt tied around my waist. I have on a short, grey-brown leather jacket with sleeves that are a bit puffy at the shoulder and tight at the wrist, and a wide collar. I’m wearing red stud earrings, big dangly gold earrings, and dark red lipstick. As always, I have on my round, black glasses.]
Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team
Word Count: 2.3K
Summary: Tower Christmas Party ft. all the avengers team members. Bucky gets you for Secret Santa and has trouble deciding what to give you.
A/N: This is a story about two people building a greatfriendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 50,000 words. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.
They transformed Baz’s room into a fort of blankets and pillows, at its center they were nestled three feet apart, eyes glued to the television screen.
“I know who the Winter Soldier is,” Simon mumbled before stuffing a handful of buttery popcorn into his mouth. “It’s kind of obvious that it's–”
Baz cut him off with a carefully aimed pillow that smacked Simon square in the face and effectively shut him up.
“Crowley, not all of us have the gift of divination.” Baz raised another pillow threateningly when Simon’s mouth opened again (but he promptly shut it at the dangerous glint in Baz’s eyes).
“You’re as big of a nerd as I am,” Simon grumbled, picking up the pillow Baz had hit him with and tucking it behind his head. “Can we watch Thor next?”
They didn’t watch Thor.
Baz had crept down into the kitchen to make tea, and nearly ten minutes later, he returned with two steaming mugs.
“Here,” he yawned, handing Simon a drink. “We didn’t have any scones.”
“Then why am I here?” Simon took a sip of tea and winced.
“For my charming good looks, obviously.” Baz rolled his eyes.
Simon was dressed in red flannel pants and a tee shirt (both belonging to Baz). They hung loosely off of Simon’s thin frame, exposing the jut of his hipbones as he clambered back into his tangled nest of blankets on the floor.
Baz nearly choked on his tea.
“You just passed go.”
“I know what I did, Baz.”
“Then collect your damn money! It’s only two hundred, Snow. Don’t think I’ve not noticed that you–PUT THAT BACK.”
“It’s a game.”
“It’s a war.”
“I’m bloody tired.”
“Hi bloody tired, I’m Simon.”
“Go to hell.”
The room was pitch black, save for a lantern Baz had dug out of the closet he had placed between him and Simon. His eyes swept over Simon’s face, down the length of his body before fixing on the gentle swoop of his jaw.
Simon, on the other hand, was staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression.
Baz drew his eyelids shut and leaned back on the floor, mimicking Simon’s position. “Are we going to sleep?”
“No,” Simon replied flatly.
“Did I do something to upset you?” Baz propped himself up onto his elbow. Simon’s prior nonchalance and vigor had melted away.
“No.” Simon slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and raked a hand through his golden curls. “I’m just confused.”
Baz’s eyebrows scrunched together. “About?”
Baz pressed his lips into a firm line. You’re the one that’s being confusing, Snow, he thought wearily. “The hell did I do?”
Simon shook his head lightly. Baz was his best friend, he couldn’t tell him how he deliberately left his pajamas at home just so he could wear some of Baz’s. Simon couldn’t look him in the eye and tell Baz that he kept him up all night with fantasies of lazy kisses and lovely whispers. “Nothing. It’s just–” He sucked in a lungful of air and forced himself to meet Baz’s gaze. “I think I like you.”
Baz shoved down the giddy shock rising from the pit of his stomach and forced his face into a neutral expression. How long have I wanted to hear that? “Of course you like me, you dolt, why else would you be at my house?” He knew what Simon meant, but he wanted to hear the word leave his mouth.
“No.” Even in the dim lantern light, Baz could see the red rising to Simon’s cheeks. “I think I have a crush on you, Baz.” He soldiered on, still holding Baz’s eyes. “At first I didn’t realize what it meant, because I’ve never felt this way about a boy and…Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because, you idiot, I’m happy this isn’t one sided.”
“You mean–” Simon stumbled.
“Yes I mean.”
Neither of them could wipe the grins off their faces.
“Simon, I think I’m going to fall asleep.”
“You can’t. Do you want me to turn the lights on?”
The lantern’s batteries had died, and no one made a move to fix the lack of lighting, so they filled the darkness with conversation of mundane things. School work, movies, relationships.
“Don’t.” Baz rubbed at his eyes. “Did you and Agatha ever kiss?”
“We only dated for a month until she realized relationships weren’t her thing.” Simon sighed, he honestly didn’t care. Relationships with Agatha Wellbelove hadn’t been his thing. “Never got that far.” Simon yawned. “I didn’t mind.”
“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” Baz’s heart hammered against his rib cage. Just a few hours ago, a kiss from Simon Snow (although definitely not the last thing on his mind) seemed like a selfish desire, but Simon had a crush on him and was only an arm’s length away. It was a possibility, something that could be tangible. “Simon.”
“They say the best way to stay awake is kissing someone.”
“Wow. You didn’t even try to be smooth with that one.”
“I guess you don’t want to see if it’s true.”
“I never said I didn’t want to.”
And then they were feeling for each other in the dark until their fingers brushed. Baz’s lips landed on what he was pretty sure was Simon’s nose.
He snorted. “We’re bad at this.” Baz’s fingers ran up Simon’s arm until finding the curve of his neck and traveling along his jaw before resting on his lips. “Now sit still and let me kiss you,” he murmured, slowly drawing his fingers away from Simon’s mouth and replacing them with his lips.
Baz felt like someone had lit a match in his stomach and burned him away from the inside out. He was kissing Simon Snow. Their jaws moved in unison, bumping and scraping and pushing. It was like clockwork.
They kissed until they couldn’t tell which way was up.
They fell asleep on the floor, Simon’s face buried in the crook of Baz’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around each other’s waists, tangled in blankets.
That was the cold hard truth, you just couldn’t write anything in paper to save your life, English or Korean, it didn’t matter. Which is how you ended being tutored by nerd supreme, Kim Namjoon, first class dweeb and destructor of everyday objects. You had met Namjoon in school, sixth grade to be exact, and the only difference between high school Namjoon and grade school Namjoon was that his baby chubs have now transformed into long and awkward limbs. He was sporting the ugliest bowl cut to be known in mankind, his glasses were okay you guessed.
It was your last year in high school and for your final in language you had to write a perfect essay if you ever hoped to graduate. Of course, perfect student, top of the class, indisputable valedictorian Kim Namjoon had already turned his in and received a high, if not perfect, score. Leaving him with enough free time to tutor someone for the assignment. For a month he would come to your house or you to his to work on your writing every and all weekend, and after a lot of tears and migraines, you wrote a good essay. Somewhere along the way you felt a shift in Namjoon’s behavior towards you. He had become more shy and tongue tied, his clumsiness had evolved, and he would ramble on and on sometimes. You didn’t thought about it too much, but maybe that was your first mistake in the chain of events that were about to go down.
Rumors started spreading around school, twisting the new gossip into many different stories, yet all had the same message: Namjoon had a major crush on you, and he was planning on confessing soon. You were mortified to say the least, he was a good kid but you wouldn’t date him in your lifetime, he was just not it for you. So you did the logical thing to do, and avoided him as much as you could till graduation. Rumors may be rumors but you weren’t taking chances to get your reputation ruined, nope not on your watch. But the nightmare continued for a while longer. You had found a rose on your desk one morning, two weeks later a love poem signed “secret admirer” had found its way inside your locker, on your birthday a small teddy bear with chocolates had found its way to your house, and worst of all when you asked around about the identity of your so called “secret admirer”, you would be answered with “why don’t you ask joonie?” and you begged graduation to just come already.
One day it had been too much to bear. A week before freedom, you found a note with very familiar handwriting saying “please meet me at the park by your house tonight at 8, I want to tell you something important”, and you were too fed up with everything to even find it sweet. So you changed into the first thing you saw and walked towards the stupid little park at 8 pm sharp just to find the boy of your nightmares already there, hand in his pockets and dressed up, clearly making an effort to look good that night, but you were not having any of it. It bothered you how his face lit up once he saw you, and how he smiled warmly at you from underneath the light post he was leaning on to look like fucking prince charming or something. You stopped in front of him, cutting him off before he even spoke “listen, I know okay? I know you were the one with the roses and the poems and stuff and its sweet but I just don’t like you like that Namjoon-sshi. I’ve never have and I’m sorry if it looked like I was interested, believe me I am not. So please just stop with all this, okay? Just. Stop. And leave me alone. Goodnight.” and then you walked away, relief had flooded into you after you had made yourself clear. Where you a little harsh? Maybe, but he needed to back off one way or another.
That whole week you didn’t see Namjoon in class. The only time you ever did was when he delivered his valedictorian speech, and then never again.
At least not in high school.
College was a bittersweet miracle, whoever said a Major in Fine Arts wasn’t that hard needed to die slowly and painfully. Your newfound freedom, however, was a blessing in your life.However, it still hold true to having gossip and rumors flying around much like high school. The newest being of one of the top 15 getting a job where two of the Top 15 were already working, a small café that only got busy because hot guys were working the machines and also taking your orders. Now the Top 15 where the 15 hottest and best good looking guys in the campus, it was a secret that only the female alumni knew about, it was ridiculous but so very appreciated. It was a matter of days before your roommate Nari was begging for you to accompany her to the café, she wanted to attempt and get the number of a specific guy working there, and because you can’t say no to Nari you go even though you didn’t really cared. And you’re glad she did because holy shit you were literally looking at heaven. The barista was drop dead gorgeous, his bottom lip fuller than his top one, making a perfect heart, he was tall and his shoulders were broad, and he had such a sweet smile that can make anyone swoon and chestnut hair with an opening in the middle. The first waiter was shorter than the barista, but what he lacked in height he made up in charms and looks. His hair was a platinum color and was styled in a simple sweep to the left but it just made him more handsome, his ears were pierced and a cross earring hanged from his left earlobe, and let’s not forget the great view from behind, god bless tight red dress pants. And then there was the man of the hour, with purple hair styled to the side which seemed to go perfectly with his tanned skin and his pouty lips that when he smiled showed his dimples, and his godly muscles that were visible under his black button up shirt whenever he flexed, his height and appearance perfect fit for a model and jesus was he wearing rings? Needless to say, you would go anytime you had an excuse just to see your purple haired beauty.
And then the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you. In an effort to make the students more bonded with each other, the language and fine arts teachers decided to do an assignment together. You were to create a piece whether a portrait or landscape, hell even contemporary, and your literature partner had to either give you a written piece to gain inspiration from or for them to write their interpretation of your artwork. In an effort to save time, since you only had a month to work with, the teachers had randomly assigned partners, the announcement on who got who taped outside their doors. And you felt ready to die when you saw who you got “you’ve got to be shitting me…”
There, in bold mocking black letters, was the name of the one person you didn’t want to see as your designated partner. Not only were you in the same college as someone from your damned high school, but that someone was perfect student, fashion disaster, god of destruction- “Kim Namjoon?”
As if summoned, he had appeared behind you, his deep voice scaring you half to death. You wished you could’ve die of a heart attack right there and then, because when you turn around guess who you fucking see? Yep, that’s right. Your purple eye candy, and by the look on his face he was trying to figure out where he’d seen you before. The air was suddenly disappearing from your lungs.
“______-sshi?” fuck he looked hot when he was confused.
“Hey… What a surprise seeing you here” You averted your eyes from his, hoping that your blush was not noticeable. He looked you over before replying with indifferent in his voice, “I could say the same thing. What are you here for?” “Fine Arts, I assume you’re doing Literature?” he nodded on response, the three years you haven’t seen each other he had somehow turned into the man of your wet dreams, he’d grown taller which made his once lanky form now perfect, his bowl cut replaced with a shorter and well styled purple hair, his dressing style aesthetically pleasing and his glasses- Well his glasses were still okay, but they looked even better on him now. He leaned forward, looking over you to find his name on the list and you could almost smell his cologne. He hummed to himself once he found what he was looking for, letting out a small sigh. “I see, I guess you want to change partners then? If we hurry we might catch up with Mr. Yuu and-” “-No no its fine! I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother them with this anyways. Its just a silly project, besides we already know each other so it’ll be easier to do this don’t you think?” you rambled, hoping not to sound desperate. He nodded again, “Well, I don’t know about your teacher but this is a big assignment for me. So how about we go somewhere to discuss how to do this?” he smiled. You gave him one of your own, “Sounds great, lead the way please.”
You were fucked.
After your chance encounter, you both walked to a nearby bench where you discussed how you would do the assignment, deciding that you would interpret his poem with a painting, then exchanging numbers and going your separate ways to start on your work, making small conversations here and there to relief some of the awkwardness surrounding the both of you. Namjoon had managed to come up with an amazing poem in two weeks leaving you with a week and a half to actually come up with something, but it just wasn’t turning out how you wanted it to. Every piece you started you hated, and you kept redoing and redoing until you were ready to jump the nearest cliff, curse Kim Namjoon and his sexy brain and intellect of the philosophers of ancient Greece, and curse him for doing a poem so involved in romance as well as eroticism without being explicit. Reading it the first time had gotten you a little worked up if you were being honest with yourself, and you wanted that feeling to be conveyed in your art without being explicit, much like his writing. But nothing seemed to work, and you were ready to stab yourself with your dull pencil. You were currently inside one of the art studios, having separated it after hours for the rest of the day since you were determined to not leave until you had something you found decent. Paint covered your skin and your clothes, which consisted of an old peach colored sweater that hid your very comfy black bralette, a pair of washed out shorts and some sandals you discarded somewhere on the floor. You preferred not having shoes when painting, that March Chagall guy was onto something when he said he preferred painting in his underwear. You also decided on wearing a choker because why not? You might need it later to choke yourself to death because art sucks and it looked cute with what you had on. But none of that mattered because you had exactly 5 days, 10 hours, 16 minutes and 5 seconds and counting to come up with something before the deadline, and your canvas was still blank. You laid on the cold floor, picking out your phone from your back pocket and sending your project partner a text.
////// You: I have nothing.
You: what I said I got nothing
KN: I got that but I mean how come you have nothing?????
KN: time is almost up
KN: can’t you just throw paint and call it a day?????
You: and look like I half assed it? no way
You: I’d rather die than having my name engraved on some shitty copy of a monnet made by a blind tortoise
KN: ok fine. what if i go and help you interpret it????
You: I would really appreciate that ;-; ///////
You send him the direction to the small studio you were in, rolling on your side and looking at the wall. Okay concentrate, if you just sketch whatever you might get somewhere, yeah okay sounds like a plan. Standing up from the tiled floor, you make your way to the table you were using a few seconds ago and started sketching while letting your mind wander around. It didn’t take long before you started thinking of Namjoon, how much he had changed since you last saw him three years ago, ad how unfair it was that no one told you about this witchcraft beforehand. You wouldn’t admit it openly but the way he looked in the café, with his sleeves rolled up and beads of sweat from the steam on his forehead, it just did something for you. It had you wondering, how would Namjoon look when he was turned on? Your hand stopped and your face flushed, did you really just thought that? What kind of pervert were you becoming? But you couldn’t help it, you kept going with that train of thought, no use fighting it now that it was present, he’s probably a total vanilla sort of guy. Not timid but definitely would always ask before doing something, would he be a tease? Nah, he doesn’t look like someone that’s patient when they get worked up. He’s most definitely an ass kinda guy, and he prob-
“______-sshi? You there?” His voice pulled you back from your wandering mind, your cheeks flushed with the faintest of pinks from embarrassment, even though he didn’t hear anything because you said it all in your head, “Yeah I’m here, let me open the door for you hold on.” the five minutes it took you to walk over, open the door and letting him in did not prepare you for what you saw. There he was, satan himself, with black dress pants, a white button up, and a blazer that was made out of some sort of shiny material. A black belt keeping his too tight pants up, the top button undone and giving you the perfect view of his collarbones, his hair styled to the side like always, a hand on his pocket and the other with what you guessed was his laptop bag. To make matters worse his fucking glasses looked good on him and you never wanted to punch someone on the face so much for being so sinful with so little effort. You prayed to whatever god was up there to give you strength while you closed the door behind him. Namjoon proceeded to sit on the table you had been a few minutes ago, taking out his computer and starting to get to work and letting you sit next to him. He wasted no time in trying to figure out how to help you, trying to interpret his piece but either you were too dumb or he was too smart because you understood jack shit of anything he said, and it felt like high school all over again when you both were arguing over the first sentence of your essay. Namjoon leans back on the chair, letting out an exasperated groan, you were quick to try and compromise “Alright how about this, tell me what you were thinking of when you wrote this. Maybe that can help me-” You moved towards the canvas, brushes, paint and palette ready to go “-to get the visual of your poem. Just say anything, a shape, feeling, color, whatever.” He raise an eyebrow in confusion at your idea. “Don’t artist usually need visuals to inspire them?” You chuckled looking back at him, “Probably, but I prefer listening. It gives me a better picture and helps the imagination go wild.” You turned back around “So just start talking.”
He kept quiet for a few seconds, probably figuring out if he should say what he was really thinking about when he first wrote it. You could feel his hesitation,“Alright, but don’t make it awkward please?” You gave him a thumbs up, a sign to let him know he was on the clear. “I was thinking of the foreplay before sex.” Fucking hell Kim Namjoon, you can’t just drop that without any warnings. You forced yourself to not seem faced, picked up a random brush and started coloring in the cloth, he kept talking. “You know that feeling of wanting? Of absolute need for the other person you feel before even kissing them? I was thinking about that. Looking at someone at completely wanting to devour them, letting your eyes wander around their body and thinking of everything you would like to do to that person.” You gripped your brush tighter, it was like he read your thoughts and was laying them out in the open for you to reflect. Moving your legs closer together, you gulped “And what would you do to that person?” you asked him, one to keep him talking, two because a part of you really wanted to know for artistic purposes of course. Namjoon fixed his eyes on you, he could tell there was something off about you the moment he got inside the room, what he was trying to figure out is why, so he kept watching your every move for any answers. “Why do you ask?”
You stiffened, “B-because, it helps me think of what to uh- paint about. So just keep talking, please” Your voice a whispers towards the end, he hummed in amusement, resuming his train of thought “It depends on the day, but usually it’s mostly submission.” Of course, you should have known he’s totally a- “There’s something about having a partner completely submissive that’s just really hot. At my complete mercy, ready let me have my way with them.” DOM?! HOLD ON THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION- “Just, seeing them kneeling down in front of you, ready for anything. Begging, pleading, and just completely drunk on the idea of what I can do for them.” Every word was torture for you, everything he said you wanted to do and you wouldn’t mind. Picking another color, you quickly distracted yourself from your thoughts. From where he was sitting he could tell you were getting bothered by his words, and he wanted to see how far he could go before breaking you. A smirk playing on his lips “You okay -sshi? You look a little uncomfortable.” You jumped slightly at his sudden change in tone, letting out a fake laugh to try and play off how horny he was getting you from those images, the sexual tension in the air rising every time he spoke his dirty thoughts aloud. “I-I’m totally okay! Why are you asking are you uncomfortable? Because we can stop if you want to I’m fine with that” You chuckle, trying to sound convincing and not at all like you’re slowly going mad from his words.
And then it dawned on him,____ ____, the girl who broke his heart three years ago, not even letting him say what he had rehearsed for hours in the mirror, was very attracted to him. Not only did she find him attractive, but she was getting completely turned on by his words. His ego and his confidence rose to a completely different level then, ready to get satisfaction from embarrassing you to the grave right there in that small art room. His smirk widened, “Alright” he lowered his voice purposely “Then I’ll keep going. You know what else can also be a major turn on? Name calling, some people like it when you refer to them with a specific name, like ‘princess’ or ‘kitten’.”
“Do you have something like that?”
If you weren’t soaked before you were now, the room was way too hot and his words were way too filthy this early in the day. You fanned yourself, trying to calm down and hopefully stopping yourself from looking like a damned tomato. “Is the room too warm?” hoW CAN HE SWITCH BACK AND FORTH LIKE THAT HE WAS GOING TO KILL YOU. You nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle “Just a little though, I’ll be okay once the AC starts again.”
“The AC hasn’t stopped yet.”
“Oh.” curse this damned day, curse the stupid AC, curse his stupid mouth that can probably get you worked up in very different ways.
“Yeah, it’s probably that sweater you have on. Why not take it off? It might cool you down.” He was winning and he knew it, if he kept going he would get you to run out completely mortified in the next three minu-
You put the paint brush down, and reached for the hem of your sweater. Slowly but surely, you pulled it up and over your head, your skin caressed by the cool breeze the fan was giving. It was like unwrapping a present during Christmas, except he didn’t have to do it himself. He watched you drop the item on the floor, not looking back even once. He had to catch his breath, not expecting this turn of events at all. And now he was the one embarrassed, your exposed skin and the real effect his words had on you hitting him like a ton of bricks. You were totally turned on, and he was getting there too, but he was a man with enough pride to last him a lifetime, so he kept going. Not caring if the tent forming in his pants was becoming obvious now.
You may be wondering, what in the living hell are you thinking? The answer is, you’re not. It sounded like a good idea at the moment, but what honestly compelled you to go through with it was his voice. You were loosing your grip on your rationality every time he answered all the questions you had of him in your brain, cursed be Kim Namjoon.
You nodded, not wanting to let a single noise escape your lips.
“Let’s continue then.” You felt his gaze devour your figure “You know, since we’re talking about clothes, why not discuss that? Clothes can be quite a turn on for me if I’m being honest. A girl in heels it’s a great view for me, specially if they have thigh highs on as well. Black lingerie is very much appreciated too, even better if it’s see through” You went rigid after his last words. Bralettes were not lingerie, but your was very much black and also not so much covering your breasts. The black straps creating a triangular shape for your boobs, but the mesh that covered your now hard nipples ended halfway to the strap that was close to the valley of your breasts. A lace pattern decorating the end of the material that Namjoon was dying to see from where he was sitting. So he quietly got up from his seat and walked behind you, and you could feel his presence and it was too much for the both of you to keep your cool and not give in right there and then to what the moment had build up to. He leaned closer to your ear, “Most of all, jewelry has a certain kind of effect. For example,-” his lips ghosted over your neck, his hands deep in his pockets to stop himself from touching you “-that choker you’re wearing. It looks so good wrapped around your neck.”
“Your hands would look nicer though.”
He cursed under his breath not expecting you to react that way, you leaned back towards him and rested your head on his shoulder. His greedy hands finally touching your skin, you closed your eyes while you felt him caress your legs, moving up towards where you wanted him the most at that moment until one gripped your hips and moved you closer to him while the other wrapped around your throat. “Like this?”
“Yes” you almost moaned, feeling his manhood poke at your back. With his hand still on your neck, he coaxes you to stand up. “______, if you want me to stop you better say it now. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to later on.” his warning sounding more like a promise to your ears, and you wanting nothing more than to let him bend you over the table and pleasure you anyway he saw fit. Feeling a little balls-y, you moved your hand towards his crotch, gripping his hardened cock in your hands and earning a hiss from his lips. “Who said I wanted you to?” and then he was gone. He bent you over the table in one swift motion with his hands gripping your waist and holding it in place, paint splattering everywhere and no doubt getting on you, but you couldn’t care less. Specially when he had started to grind his hips against yours, giving you a taste of the mess you had gotten yourself into, each movement getting you more and more worked up until you were panting. He chuckled, “You like that baby? You like having my cock rubbing against your pussy? Look at how much of a mess you are, and I haven’t even touched you properly.” You gripped at the table, nodding in response to him. Dissatisfied with your response, he stopped moving much to your dismay, instead gripping a fistful of your hair and pulling you towards him again. “Use your voice baby, I won’t know what you want unless you tell me.”
Your voice trembled “P-Please touch me.”
You take the hand that’s still on your waist, moving it between your legs “Here, please, just do anything. I need you to touch me.” You sounded desperate and you knew it, but you couldn’t help it. Not with the way he has you right now, and not while his hands finally start to rub against your core, your moans growing with every motion. He go of you to spin you around and press his lips against yours, you took off his glasses so not to annoy you but apparently he looked even better without them, and you loved it. You loved how he starts to undress you, you loved how he kissed down your jawline and stopped at your neck, you loved how he wasted no time marking you with hickeys in places you knew were gonna be hard to hide, but you specially loved how he pulled back to stare at his creation his dilated pupils drinking in your figure, making him curse loudly. It probably also due to you going back to grope him from over his now too restrictive pants that he needed to take off right now. Namjoon pulls back completely, confusing you entirely until you see him sit back on the chair he’d been watching you from and motioned for you to follow, except-
“Nu uh, I want to see you crawl.”
He could have asked you to run around church naked and you would still do it, so you had no hesitation to get down on all fours and crawl all the way until you were between his legs. He cradled your face and leaned in to kiss you again, this time softer than the last, while also unbuckling his belt and pushing down his black dress pants, letting his cock finally free from its clothed prison. You gave him one last peck before getting down to business, licking the pre-cum off his tip and dragging your tongue down his shaft. A hiss pulled out of his lips at your gentle motions, but he needed more, “Don’t tease me baby, I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.” And who were you to deny total Dom, filthy mouthed, wet dream, Kim Namjoon of his pleasure? So you do just that, and take him in slowly in your mouth. Savoring every second until you can feel your nose touch his pelvis, and staying there for as long as you can until you had to pull back and get air inside your lungs again, which was short lived since he immediately pushed you back down on him. You gripped his thighs, needing to hold on to something to so not to fall down completely on the floor, and with a fistful of your hair, he let you bob your head up and down, picking the pace up every time, his curses and groans giving you motivation while he got rid of his shirt and blazer.
Then you were pulled back again, a lewd 'pop’ resonating through the walls while saliva ran down your mouth and to your neck. Not even his old high school fantasies of you compared to the sight you were providing right now, you were ruined but not enough for his liking, and he needed to fix that soon. Moving you back with a soft yank of your hair (that you couldn’t deny you liked) he guided you to the floor, turning you around and making you get on all fours for him, and getting your clothes off your body. Gripping himself, he teased your entrance with his tip, and you moved your hips back to make him go in already, but he had other plans for you, “Tell me how much you want it, I wanna hear you loud and clear baby.” He demanded, and even if you were desperate for him, you were still a little shy about being more vocal. He smacked your ass roughly when you stayed quiet for too long, and you yelped, “C'mon baby, I can spank you the whole day if I have to until you say what I want to hear.” he whispered in your ear while massaging the reddening cheek, he most definitely left a hand print on your ass. You gulped, unsure to whether to keep quiet and getting another one or saying your dirtiest thoughts aloud, his other hand landing on your unmarked cheek when you took too long to think about it, he tried a gentler tactic and pushed two fingers easily inside of you. You were practically dripping for him, and the cold metal of his rings against your heat was driving you wild every time he pumped his digits in and out of you painfully slow. “Fuck, Namjoon-” a loud moan"-Just fuck me please. Ruin me, with your cock, don’t stop until I can’t take it anymore.“ A whimper “Have your way with me, please” he pulled his fingers out of you, the emptiness to cruel. You looked back at him, confused and a little pissed off that he had stopped.
His face was completely different from before, unlike the cool and calmed expression he’d been wearing this whole time, was replaced by one of pure surprise as he painfully gripped himself so to calm down, then he locked eyes with you “Shit- Damn baby,-” he placed his hands gently on your hips aligning himself with your entrance, “-you have such a filthy mouth on you, I almost came just from that.” He started pushing himself inside your walls, mercilessly slow, turning you into a moaning mess from how deliciously he stretched you, “Fuck, you feel so nice around my cock. Do you like that? You like how good my dick feels inside you? Do you like how fucking desperate I got you without even moving baby?” a chorus of 'yes’ seemed to be the only thing coming out of your lips, you could feel him filling you up entirely, and then more and you couldn’t wait for him to just destroy you “Namjoon please-” you begged him, and he didn’t need you to repeat yourself again. His thrusts were powerful, every time he pulled back he went back in with more force, the grip on your hips tightening until the pain dulled into pleasure. The top part of your body fell down in exhaustion, the new angle providing even more ecstasy for the both of you, taking you to your arousal faster and faster, his sinful words becoming filthier and slurred as he reached his, his satoori more present than ever. He reached down to grip your neck, and with an extra rough thrust, you came hard, screaming his name clear and loud for the unfortunate person who walked by the room to hear. He let you go, pulling out and and releasing his seed all over your back, catching you and himself as you both collapsed on the paint covered floor. Both of you equally spent from your little improv session, the only thing noises left being both of your gasps as you tried to catch your breath, your bodies covered in sweat and cum (and markings but that was just you, courtesy of Kim Namjoon).
After a few minutes, realization dawned on both of you. You just had sex, together, in the art room, with each other, instead of working on your project. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the feeling in the room, Namjoon broke the silence first “So, how’s that for inspiration?” you couldn’t help but laugh, the guy gave you the best fuck of your life and he’s choosing now to act shy? “You know, maybe I need another explanation from you.” it was his turn to chuckle now, “Well you’re always welcome to call me for anything.”
You both received the highest scores in your assignment, and you also kept calling each other for anything.
A/N: I`M BACK BITCHES! I know I have been off the face of the Earth but I`ve been with Peter Quill trying out some new moves…
Anon Request: DUDE, LIKE SERIOUSLY YOUR BLOG IS AMAZING!! I have a request so I hope that you’ll take interest in writing about the reader being saved from the Guardians of the Galaxy but she doesn’t have any clothes because they’re all messed up and she can’t fit in Gamora’s because she’s curvy in all the right places so she has to wear Peter’s clothes and the reader is all flustered and everyone is kind of appreciating how she looks and you can make up the rest.
A/N: Awww thanks babe! I am so happy to be back and for this to be my first request. I hope you enjoy it and I`m sorry I have been a ghost writer.
Warning: Swearing of the usual kind
“Yo Rocket!” Peter yelled at the snarling raccoon.
“Quill, can`t you see I`m busy here?” he shouted while shooting a massive green motherfucker.
“Can you not see that this is fucking ridiculous?” Quill shouted back as he dodged a hit.
The Guardians were fighting another group of bad guys to save the galaxy, this time they were actually winning without the aid of a miracle.
“We need to get out of here before this planet blows up” Gamora ordered, backing up to the Milano.
“Roger that” Peter agreed.
“I am Groot” came out and Rocket picked the baby off his shoulder.
“Where?” Rocket asked.
A tiny branch pointed to some wreckage from the battle.
“Holy shit” Rocket exclaimed when he pulled away a burnt out door.
“Please don`t” you chocked out from the ground, inhaling smoke as you spoke.
“I ain`t gonna hurt you lady, get up and come with me” he held his paw out.