#[ he does have shorter hair in a few of his aus ]

[despairforme]

Nnoitra have you ever considered cutting your hair short? Or is it something that just hasn’t occurred to you?

❝ Oh yeah, I think 'bout that A LOT. Ya'll know how fuckin' annoyin' it is 'ta have hair this long? It's a fuckin' pain. ❞ Indeed, he often thought about just chopping it all the fuck off. Shaving his head. He'd probably look even worse than he already did but - at least then he'd be rid of all this annoying hair. Whenever it was windy, it would whip him in his one good eyeball. It clogged the drain in the shower. It got in his mouth when he slept. It was in the way at work, so he had to put it up in a bun. In summer, it was hot as hell when it stuck to the back of his neck. Those were just SOME of the annoying aspects of having long hair.

Still - he chose it. There were a few reasons for that. The number one was probably that his hair had been long for so many years. It was sort of a comfort thing, like with his bracelets. He figured he'd feel strange as hell if he suddenly chopped all his hair off. Another reason was that one of the best feelings he knew, was washing his hair. Hair-play in general was his favorite thing, and even though he didn't have a partner anymore who could perform that for him - he could get some of the same feeling when he showered. Another reason? He liked the fact that his hair made his neck look less skinny. Nnoitra had a thin neck ( fitting to the rest of his skinny body ), and that made him look vulnerable. He didn't like that. His thick hair hid that ( it was also the reason for his hairstyle ). He also liked how his bangs fell over his eyepatch, covering it a little to make it look less obvious... Even though it was so big that everyone could see it. He didn't know whether or not his hair made him look less ugly. That was not really a concern of his. His looks had never been a priority. He HAD been told that he had very nice hair, so that was something. And yet another reason for not cutting it? He didn't want to go to a hair-dresser. He could probably cut it himself, but then he'd look like an idiot for sure, since he had no idea how to cut hair. Having some random ass stranger cut his hair? Having scissors that close to his throat? No fucking thanks. So he'd just keep it long. Whatever.

[smileysuh]

nerd

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, use of dragon knotted dildo toy, use of vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, dirty talk, slight power play/humiliation, clit sucking, overstimulation, pussy stretching, reader rides the toy then Wonwoo uses the toy to make her cum again, talking reader through it, mutual masturbation, Wonwoo strokes himself off to the reader using her toys, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) puppy

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, gamer!Wonwoo, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know this is on the shorter side, it’s pwp, but I’ve been reading shorter things lately, and I’ve been insanely busy, so I figured a short and sweet fic couldn’t hurt after last month's near 20k meanie fic :)

You wake up to an empty bed, your hand stretching uselessly toward your boyfriend’s side of the mattress, to no avail. With a slight groan and a huff of sleepy annoyance, you wrap yourself tighter in your white duvet, searching for the energy to sit up.

A clicking sound has your brows furrowing, and you wrap your body tight in the blanket as you open your eyes to look around.

Wonwoo’s sitting at his gaming station in the corner of the room, large earphones snug around his head. For a guy who’s a bit of a night owl, you’re shocked he’s awake and playing video games right now, but as you stare at the screen, you realize what’s going on.

With the new Fallout TV show, Wonwoo’s been wanting to do another playthrough of Fallout 4. He’s been talking about it on Twitch streams for the better part of a week. Leave it to your boyfriend to get the energy to restart a video game at nine am on a Saturday morning.

As much as you love Wonwoo and what he does for work - being a streamer is his dream afterall - you kind of wish he was still in bed with you. He’d been up late gaming last night, and was too tired afterward to take care of your growing needs. You’re at the part of your cycle where you’ve been very horny lately, and you’d been crossing your fingers for morning sex, but by the way Wonwoo is locked in on his screen, you can guess that might not be in the cards.

You watch him a few moments longer, realizing that he’s not actively streaming. It looks like he’s just doing general character creation, but with a boyfriend as meticulous as Wonwoo, you know that could take a while.

Quietly slipping from bed, you wrap yourself in a kimono style robe that Wonwoo had got for you on a recent trip to Japan. You head to the bathroom, intent on completing your morning skin care routine, taking your time and brushing your teeth. 

When you head back to your shared room with Wonwoo fifteen minutes later, your boyfriend looks like he hasn’t even moved a muscle aside from his twitching thumbs on the controller.

Approaching Wonwoo, you lean over the back of his chair, loosely guiding your fingers across his shoulders and down to his bare chest. 

Wonwoo immediately takes his headphones off, turning to press a kiss to your cheek while you linger behind him.

“Good morning,” you breathe.

“Morning, baby,” he says, voice deep and crackly with exhaustion.

“Watcha doing?”

“Just making my Fallout character,” he responds smoothly, turning to look back at the screen. “I’m glad you’re awake actually.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why is that?”

“I’m almost done, and when I move onto my wife character, I want to model her after you. As good as my memory is, it’s probably better to have you here with me when I do it.”

God, he’s such a nerd.

You love him, your whole heart warming in your chest at the notion of him creating a wife character based off of you.

“Are you sure you want to put the time into that?” you ask. “We both know what happens to the wife within the first fifteen minutes of the game.”

Wonwoo only shrugs. “I woke up to your pretty face and I guess I was inspired.”

“Hey, puppy?” The pet name immediately draws his attention, and he turns to look at you, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take a break for a bit?”

Wonwoo’s eyes scan you up and down, and then he sets his controller to the side, reaching for you instead. You allow him to lace his fingers with yours, drawing you in front of him. He positions you between his spread thighs, using his free digits to tug on the belt of your kimono robe. You don’t even need to verbalize what you need, Wonwoo knows you too well, and within seconds, your robe is opening to expose your naked body.

“I guess I didn’t really have the energy to take care of you last night,” Wonwoo admits, leaning forward to press his lips to the spot above your navel.

You let go of his hand in favour of threading your fingers through his curls, his hair teasing your sensitive skin as he presses kisses up toward your rib cage. He cups the back of your thighs, tugging you closer.

Wonwoo reaches your breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at the underside of your boob, eyes gazing up at you.

“How about a compromise?” he suggests, breath hot on your sensitive skin.

“A compromise?” Your words come out shaky as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

He hums against the sensitive bud, one hand lifting to massage your ass. Then, he pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with a grin. “I just wanna finish your character first.”

You let out a deep sigh, shaking your head at Wonwoo. You step away from him, but he grabs at your hand. “Kiss,” he instructs, and you begrudgingly lean down to press a chaste peck to his lips. His fingers thread through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep your mouth on his for a few moments longer, then he releases you. 

“Should only take five or ten minutes,” he tells you. “And I need you here to model.” 

“One second,” you groan, heading to your closet.

If he doesn’t want to fuck you right away, if he wants to prioritize his video game, that’s just fine. You can start without him.

You find a good sized toy, one of the dragon style ones that Wonwoo had been obsessed with a few months ago. He loves watching the coulourful, ribbed cock with a wide ‘knot’ base work you open for him, and fuck it, today feels like a good day for you to enjoy it too.

You also grab a trusty black vibrator and a bottle of lube for good measure before going back to your boyfriend.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything as you sink to the ground, he simply pushes his chair back, giving you some space to settle under the table his computer is on. You can feel his gaze on you when you open the bottle of lube, squirting some onto the toy before suctioning it to the floor.

“Five or ten minutes, right?” you ask, easing over the head of the toy and facing your boyfriend.

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, looking down to watch the way you sink the head of the toy into your pussy. “Think you can get all the way down to the knot with that time frame?”

“Probably,” you groan, closing your eyes to enjoy the way the tip feels inside of you. “But… puppy, you haven’t fucked me in so long, I’m pretty tight.”

“You’ll work yourself open,” Wonwoo assures you, his attention turning back to his screen, although you can see his cock beginning to strain against the grey fabric of his sweatpants.

The tip of the toy is tapered compared to the base, with all sorts of ridges that stimulate your inner walls as you test yourself up and down. The lube makes it easy to slide an inch or two inside your aching core, and as much as you’d like to try to sink down fully, you want to go slowly with this, seeing as you have five to ten minutes.

You grab your vibrator, turning it up to a medium setting and placing it on your clit. 

Your head is bowed, thighs already quivering as the sensation of the vibrator surges through you. A moan slips past your lips, your pace quickening on the toy, another inch sinking into you with your motions.

“That’s my good baby,” Wonwoo coos, reaching down to cup your cheek.

When you look up at him, you find his gaze still fixed to his computer screen, and it makes you angry.

You bite your lower lip, bouncing faster, harder- pressing the vibrator firmly to your clit in hopes that the pleasurable sensations will distract you from your growing annoyance.

“Wonwoo-” you groan.

“Puppy,” he corrects you.

“Please-”

“Please what?” your boyfriend counters.

“Fuck me?”

Wonwoo looks down at you finally, that shit eating smirk returning to his lips. “One cock inside of you isn’t enough right now, baby?”

“No, want your cock,” you insist.

“Okay, just remember, you asked for it, and I told you five or ten minutes.” Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hips and pulling his pants down, his hard length slapping up against his lower abdomen.

You’d meant you wanted his cock in your pussy, but you suppose you hadn’t specified what you wanted him to fuck-

Sucking Wonwoo off while he creates a video game character hadn’t been on todays bingo card, but you know how your boyfriend gets when he’s gaming, and you fear this might be the only way to have a piece of him while he’s focused.

Licking your lips, you pull him closer, the wheels of his chair dragging against the ground. With the hand not on the vibrator, you grab the base of his cock, adjusting so you can wrap your mouth around the tip.

Wonwoo releases a pleased groan, and you can feel your pussy clench around the toy.

Your eyes close, your focus going to the sensations ringing through your body. You take more of the dragon cock, slowly moving up and down on it in tandem with your mouth on Wonwoo. The vibrations on your clit are still making your legs shake, and as you get lost in the feeling of blowing your lover, you think you might cum pretty quick this way.

“That’s it, baby,” Wonwoo coos. “My good girl, being so patient.”

Fuck him for praising your patience. He knows lines like that make you eager to please him in this way, eager for more whispered words of affirmation even while he’s neglecting your aching pussy, fully content with you using a toy while he prioritizes his game-

“Look up at me for a moment, gorgeous,” he commands, and you do as you’re told. He meets your gaze, his skin flushed from your mouth suctioning on his cock. “Just need to get your eyes right for your character,” he explains, threading his fingers through your hair and aiding you up and down on his throbbing length. “Such pretty eyes. You look so good staring up at me with your mouth stuffed full, baby.”

Fuck. Your toes curl at his words.

If his skin wasn’t betraying the effect you’re having on him, you’d never be able to tell by the steady baritone of his morning voice. He’s not shuddering, not breathing deeply- it makes you want to suck on him even harder. You want to earn Wonwoo’s sounds of pleasure- sounds that can be so rare from a man who uses his voice for a living.

“Hows that cock feel inside of you?” he asks, gaze shifting up to his screen again. “Getting you nice and stretched for me, huh?”

You groan around his length, sucking roughly on his sensitive tip.

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath, and your body tingles with your success of earning a strangled sound from him.

“I’m almost done,” he assures you. “But I want to watch you take the knot first, be a good girl and sink down on the toy for me.”

You pull off of his cock with a popping sound, wiping a hand across your saliva wet lips. “What does it matter to you? You can’t even see me taking this.”

“True, but I know the sounds you make when you stuff yourself full with that toy. Wanna hear your pretty sounds baby.”

How is he so good at dirty talk while still staring at his computer screen?

“Nerd,” you whisper under your breath.

“Hmm?” He looks down at you with a grin, and you know he heard what you said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re gonna get it in two minutes,” he warns.

“Lucky me,” you say sarcastically, riding the toy faster, pushing yourself closer and closer to the wide base.

Wonwoo’s left hand finds his cock, and he begins to stroke himself while you focus on your own pleasure, rubbing the vibrator back and forth along your aching clit.

A whimper escapes you when you sink all the way down to the knot of the toy, hovering over the widest section.

“That’s the sound,” Wonwoo muses. “Come on, sink down on it.”

“I’m too tight,” you tell him, moving up and down, unable to go any further onto the knotted base.

“When you take it, I’ll take you,” Wonwoo promises, stroking his cock faster.

Looking up at him, you find your boyfriend staring at you now. He’s set the controller aside, and you have his full attention.

“Can’t you just fuck me right now?” you plead, motions stopping.

“I’m just a gamer nerd, remember, baby? Isn’t it my job to watch an angel like you make herself cum on some stupid toy before I get a taste?”

Fuck. 

He makes it sound like he’s the victim here, although clearly you’re the one aching for him.

“Puppy,” you groan, looking down and focusing on taking the knot. “I’m not wet enough-”

“Then cum. Use your vibe and make yourself cum, should make it easier.”

“But I want you,” you whine.

He laughs. “Brat.”

“Nerd,” you fire back. 

Wonwoo’s grin only widens. “Be a good girl, make yourself cum, take the dragon knot-”

“Anything else?” you huff, rubbing the vibrator hard on your clit.

“Yeah, one more thing.” Wonwoo sits back smugly in his chair, spreading his thighs even wider. “Suck my balls.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sucking his dick is one thing, but sucking his balls? Generally with past boyfriends, you’ve stuck to their cocks- but Wonwoo has a very specific way of challenging you to do things like this. 

He knows you can’t refuse. He carries all the cards. If you want his dick inside of you, you’re going to have to do this for him. It’s not like you hate sucking balls, it’s not like you’ve ever voiced it to him that this is a boundary for you, it’s just… regularly, you’d rather… well, you’d rather not. 

But you suppose this is what you get for calling him a nerd. 

With a sigh, you lean forward, licking at the space just below the fingers wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Don’t be shy,” he tells you. 

You decide to focus mainly on your own pleasure while you take one of his balls into your mouth. He’s doing this to degrade you, to get back at you for being impatient- but at the same time, from the contented groan that leaves his lips, you know Wonwoo’s sensitive in this area. 

His sounds do make things easier for you, and you close your eyes, rubbing your clit hard with the vibrator.

“That’s it,” he coos. “I love it when you’re a good girl for me.”

You whimper at his words, your core throbbing desperately.

“Better be fast and cum though, I’m not sure I can handle much of this, you’re just so good with your mouth.”

And now he’s threatening to not even fuck you? He’ll stroke himself to the finish line if you don’t cum first?

This man will be the death of you.

“Come on, baby, I know you want to cum,” he encourages you. “Be a good girl and just do it, cum from that vibrator and the dragon cock inside your tight fucking pussy.”

His words are the last straw and you pull off his balls to let out a deep groan. You bury your face against his thigh, pussy fluttering as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls contract around what you can take of the toy, and you feel a rush of wetness coat the silicon, helping you bob up and down even faster-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo breathes, rubbing his cock even faster. “Just a little more and I’ll fuck you.”

You whimper like a whore in heat, biting gently against Wonwoo’s thigh as you push yourself to sink further onto the toy, your inner walls screaming at you due to the stretch.

“Good girl,” your boyfriend praises you, petting you with a warm hand that makes your entire body ache.

You turn the vibrator off, nearly overstimulated. Tossing it to the side you focus on the dildo, feeling your pussy stretch to accommodate part of the knot.

“Almost there,” Wonwoo says, and by the way he’s stroking his cock, you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or himself.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg. “I can’t-”

“You’re the one who wanted to be filled today, just take a little more and I’ll fill you,” he says, his motions faltering on his length. 

You grab at his thighs, squeezing and using him for leverage to rock up and down on the toy. Your eyes clench shut as you bob up and down, your wetness coating the silicon until-

You let out a gasp as you sink fully onto the toy, pausing while your thighs quiver. Another mini orgasm rushes through you at the feeling of being stretched this way, the knot stuck in your sensitive hole-

“That’s it,” Wonwoo says, moving into action immediately. He pushes away from you, standing up. Hands that are surprisingly gentle reach down and pull you to your feet, making you cry out from the way the toy is still lodged inside of you. “Fuck, you are tight,” he notes from the way the dragon cock didn’t immediately shoot out of you from the change in position. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, already delirious. 

Wonwoo helps you onto the bed, sinking to his knees at the foot of the mattress. He spreads your thighs, and you look down to see his pupils blow with lust while he stares at the large toy still embedded in your pussy.

He licks his lips. “Fuck, I always love it when you take this fucking knot.”

You whisper his name, moaning loudly when he grabs the base of the toy and gently thrusts it in and out of you. 

Then, he shifts, and his tongue finds your clit. “One more?” he practically pleads. “Then another when I’m inside of you?”

It’s been days since he’s made you cum, and it feels like today, he’s going to make up for that. You can bet that by tonight, you’ll have lost track of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and you honestly don’t mind.

“Please,” you whisper, reaching down to thread your fingers in his sleep tossled curls.

Wonwoo wraps his lips around your clit, gently rocking the toy inside of you. He doesn’t pull it all the way out, just shifts the knot along your sensitive walls, stretched to the limit and already throbbing.

“Fuck, that’s so good, puppy,” you groan, throwing your head back, eyes clenching shut. You begin to rock your hips, feeling impossibly full- his mouth suctions lewdly around your sensitive bud and your entire body quakes, thighs shaking on either side of his head. “Shit-”

Wonwoo grins against your pussy, an invitation for you to cum on the toy-

Fuck, you need him so badly, and your need spurs your body on, your muscles clenching as you teeter on the edge of an orgasm.

His teeth graze your clit and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, your legs attempting to close around Wonwoo while your pussy throbs desperately around the toy. The sounds escaping you now are practically inhumane, your entire body overtaken by white hot pleasure that courses through you like an electric wave.

Wonwoo pulls the toy from your core and you jolt from the loss, eyes opening to stare down at your boyfriend-

He releases your clit from your mouth, standing quickly. “Fuck, you look so good cumming on that stupid toy,” Wonwoo groans, grabbing the base of his cock and lining his tip up with your still aching pussy. “Gonna fill you now, like I promised.”

He sheaths himself inside of you and you let out a loud moan of releif. “Puppy,” you whimper, making grabby hands at him.

Wonwoo wastes no time, shifting his knees onto the bed, getting on top of you so he can press his lips to yours. Your tongues begin to clash immediately, and the kiss feels almost feverish as you tangle your fingers in his curls.

He’s such a good kisser, but you can hardly focus on his lips with the way his hips are already moving, thrusting so the tip of his cock hits your cervix with each motion-

“Fuck, fuck-” you whimper, feeling tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

Wonwoo’s mouth finds your throat, his mouth narrowing in on your sweet spot, sucking roughly.

“Puppy-” you cry, tangling your legs tighter around his hips.

“I know, I’m close too,” he pants. “Watching you take that fucking knot just does something to me-”

Your core throbs at his words- you’d guessed he’d been close while jacking off, but hearing him say it this directly makes you even hornier. Your pussy is a sloppy mess, so wet that each thrust has it practically squelching.

 “Please, puppy, please-” you pant, nuzzling against his cheek and licking at his sensitive ear. “Want your cum, want it so bad.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo groans. “Rub your clit, need you squeezing me when I cum.” 

You shove a hand between your bodies, nearly crying from the sensitivity of your overworked bud- but you’re not about to give up now. You’re not a weakling, and if Wonwoo wants one more orgasm out of you, you’ll give him one.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, rubbing even harder, your core clenching tight around Wonwoo’s cock while he pants loudly in your ear.

“Need you to cum,” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips. “Come on, baby, cum for me.”

You shut your eyes tight, focusing on all the pleasure surging through you, and when Wonwoo bites gently into your throat, your high hits you straight on.

You gasp loudly, back arching off of the bed, pushing your tits toward Wonwoo’s chest. He releases his own sound of pleasure, and you can feel his cock throbbing while your walls clench around him, painting your insides as you both cum hard. 

You listen to his moans, loving the way he grabs you tightly as he cums, his thrusts faltering, motions shallow, as if he wants to be as deep as possible when he fills you up.

Your lips find his throat, pressing kisses there that make him shiver as you ride out your orgasms, and soon, your muscles are relaxing, the tightness making way for a slacked, exhausted feeling that overwhelms you.

Wonwoo stills on top of you, panting loudly by your ear.

“I think…” he swallows thickly. “I think we should go back to sleep now.”

You laugh, petting his curls. “What about your precious video game?”

“Fuck the video game,” he counters. “Right now, I’m going to clean you up, go back to sleep with you curled on my chest, then we can wake up in a few hours, do it again, get takeout-”

“You have the whole day planned out, don’t you, nerd?”

Wonwoo only laughs. “Don’t test me, baby.”

“Never.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! As much as I love longer fics, I'm such an avid reader of pwp for the anime's I watch, so I wanted to do something shorter and easier for those who like a bite sized fic instead of a full course meal :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “That’s it,” Wonwoo coos. He simply can’t help his dominant tendencies. How is it that you’re supposed to be the one in control, but it still feels like he’s got you wrapped around his finger... And his cock.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, handcuff bondage, reader tries to dom Wonwoo, edging, oral, blow job, pussy eating, 69, choking, dirty talk, pet names, reader is slightly in control, Wonwoo breaks the handcuffs, slight crying/dacryphilia, power dynamic, power switch, teasing, creampie, slight fallout roleplay, masturbation, deep throating, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby (his) puppy, sir 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

“Hey, puppy?” you call, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching your boyfriend close up his stream for the night.

“Yes, baby?”

The nerd doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing, but you suppose that’s no new behaviour. With a huff, you disconnect from the door frame, sauntering over to Wonwoo, your skin tight outfit squeezing you with each step.

Leaning over his back, you allow your hands to dance across his chest, Wonwoo looks down, and that’s when you get his attention.

His body goes rigid, and he slowly turns to look at you, taking in the full body Fallout Vault dweller costume you’re wearing.

“Baby…” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, “what are you doing?”

“Playing into your addiction,” you say smoothly. “What, you don’t like it?”

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[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 2

Masterpost

Jason blinks and he is not where he used to be. He can already tell he’s shorter and skinnier, and he’s staring at physics homework so he’s probably younger too. It takes him a moment to run all the scenarios. He knows what is most likely, he knows that soulmates body swap at sixteen and... Well, he’s not sure if he was dead or not for his sixteenth birthday, but he had been living on the assumption that he had missed it, whenever it was. 

Now he thinks that he’s the older one in this relationship. If his soulmate just turned sixteen, he’s still a minor. Society gets a little more lax about these things when it comes to actual soulmate relationships, but Jason- despite the age difference only being around two years- is not lax about it at all. So if this is what he thinks it is, he is going to have to have a talk with his soulmate about being just friends for a while. 

Which should be fine, it’s not like they know each other at all yet. Getting to know each other should take a while anyways. Though, he could start that now.

He looked to the right and saw the door to the bedroom on the same wall as the desk he was sitting at, and the door to the closet on the next wall. The bed is against the wall behind the desk, sitting in between two windows. There’s a nightstand with a lamp on it next to the bed and a chest of drawers against the wall to his left that has a mirror hanging over it. There are space posters on the walls all around the room.

Jason gets up and walks over to the mirror. The boy in the mirror is short and skinny, just like he thought. He has blue eyes and black hair that flops over his face. Jason takes a second to wonder if the kid had plans for his birthday, realizing probably not. It’s tradition nowadays to spend your sixteenth birthday with just your family in case the switch is made. 

So, Jason's soulmate is what appears to be a normal, messy teenager. Posters, clothes on the floor, homework to do. Jason goes over to double check the homework, to see if he can find any that’s finished. There, his math assignment is already done, and it seems his soulmate’s name is Danny Fenton. He takes a closer look at all the school supplies and in his backpack and doesn’t find anything with the school name on it. 

Taking another look around the room, Jason doesn’t see a phone, and it wasn’t in the backpack. Jason tries not to feel weird as he pats around his soulmate’s pockets. He finds a phone, thinks for a second, then types in his own number and calls.

It rings for a second. Someone picks up, but all Jason can hear is shouting until he hears his own voice.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” 

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason heaves a long sigh. Danny chuckles.

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?”

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Jason laughs, he does not know how Danny made his voice sound like that, breathy and higher than his voice has been in years.

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

“I think so?” There’s a bit of a commotion. “Stop it, buzz off!”Is said away from the phone. “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny makes an I don’t know sort of hum. “Look, I do need to warn you… about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?”

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.”

“Kid, what?” Jason rubs his hand down his face.

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Jason feels like he can relate. There are a lot of things a soulmate should know that Jason doesn’t know if he’s ever going to tell Danny but if he did he would want it to be in-person. “Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” Again, Jason does not understand how Danny makes his voice sound so peppy. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and Jason hears a beep, before “You’re on speaker!” is called out.

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick sounds way too excited.

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

The room through the phone quiets down quickly except for Danny’s laughter.

“Oh, wow, same.”

“Danny! You know how we feel about the death jokes.” Jason hears as the door behind him opens. Talking starts up on the other end of the line, but he ignores it for the moment as a tall redhead walks in the room. She stops in front of him and raises her eyebrow.

“You must be Jazz.” Jason says. This gets a hush on the other end of the line. “I’m Jason.”

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[kitchen-spoon]

90’s au where Eddie is a porn star who hires Steve to be his child’s nanny to watch them while he works or has to fly away for a few days for work.

Eddie is popular because of his dark aesthetic, people are really into all the black clothes, the rings, crazy long hair, tattoos and piercings. He is also popular because he works with women and men and is know for it.

Steve and Robin had just moved to New York for Robin’s college and because Steve goes wherever she goes. They apply for jobs and are desperate so they even go to the library and reply to ads on Craigs list. That is when Steve sees a posting for someone looking for a nanny for their 2 year old daughter. It was basically a 9-5 almost everyday with extra pay for overnight weekend stays too. It seemed to good to be true but Steve applied anyway, what could the harm be?

That ad is how Steve met Eddie, the sexiest most confident man he’d ever met. He was so smooth and flirty and open about his job away from the small ears of his daughter who just knew daddy was a model. He’d toy with Steve, batting his big brown eyes, biting his lip and smirking at him during the small moments where their schedules would cross over and they’d see each other.

Eddie couldn’t help himself, he got bolder with time moving to leaning into Steve’s space to catch a whiff of his Cologne, fleeting touches just so he could feel the firmness of Steve’s muscles under his fingertips. Steve was exactly Eddie’s type, shorter than him and built with the sass and attitude of someone twice his size. He was a tan hairy Italian dream, and Eddie would do anything to taste that cross Steve wore around his neck. He couldn’t help but imagine the brunette oiled up, laying in the sun in the tinest little speedo, his perfect brown hair glowing.

The tension grows between them with each passing month, not helped by how much Eddie’s daughter loves Steve and how much it melts Eddie’s heart to see how gentle and sweet Steve is with her. It all comes to a head one night 5 months after Steve is hired. Steve does his usual stalling so he can stick around and flirt with Eddie before he leaves, relishing in the touches Eddie will give him. He gives in that night and agrees to stay for a glass of wine. They sit on Eddie’s couch, closer than anything that could pass as casual. Their knees were touching and Steve was leaned right in Eddie’s space, arm resting against the back of the couch as he looked up through his lashes while Eddie spoke. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice his wineglass slowly tipping over in his hand until it spilled all over his and Eddie’s laps.

They cleaned up in the kitchen, Steve blushing as Eddie called him sweetheart and hoisted him up on to the counter like he weighed nothing. Eddie dabbed at Steve’s pants, slowly moving up until he was pressing directly over the growing bulge in Steve’s pants. And then Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved Eddie’s hands away and slid his own into Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward so he could finally know what that tongue piercing felt like. Eddie didn’t let Steve have control for long, and they ended the night with Steve bent over the marble counter tops Eddie’s fingers shoved in his mouth to shut him up.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (6/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

An open bar and Joel in a tailored black outfit mean trouble at your father's garden party. Enough reason to do something you haven't done before.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.4K A/N: I finished writing the final chapter last night and y'all, I'm giddy as fuck. Big BIG thanks to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor for your support and reading Part 6 and 7 early to make sure this hits juuust right!

< part 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist

There are too many people in your backyard. Mingling, chatting, networking, kissing ass - all accompanied by canapés that are too fancy, beer that is so painfully hip and micro-brewed that you don’t even want to try it, and outfits intended to seem semi-casual yet also upstage everybody. You hate these gatherings. It’s far from the first time you’ve had to endure them because of your father’s work, though. Even your grandmother liked reminding you when you were little that your grandfather also hosted affairs like this. “It’s important to build connections.”

You don’t care. All you give a damn about tonight - or maybe these days, if you are honest with yourself - was Joel, dressed like a fucking vision. Well fitting black pants, that you suspect are tailored, an ever better fitting black dress shirt which is absolutely tailored, and matching black boots. His hair, usually curly and messy, now looks so sharp that you wonder if he got a haircut this morning; it’s a little shorter, definitely neater, and brushed back a little.

But what your eyes keep going back to the most are the few buttons on his shirt that are undone, showing off his tanned skin and a smattering of freckles you had barely noticed before. It makes you want to trace every single one with your tongue and find out if he would whine when you'd suck a hickey on his neck.

He’s at the bar, waiting for his drink, so you slide in right next to him and bump against his arm. “Hey. Don’t tell me you’re drinking those craft beers?”

“Jesus. No, of course not.” 

The expression on his face is one of instant disgust, and you can’t help but laugh at the candid response. “Wow, didn’t think there’d be someone else who’d hate them as much as I do.”

Joel grumbles something, then gives the bartender a nod as he takes a glass of whiskey from him. When the guy turns to you to take your order, you point at Joel’s glass. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

The guy gives you a doubtful look. “Can I see some ID?”

“Yes, you can. It’s called ‘I’m the daughter of the guy who is paying your salary tonight’ and I’m twenty two. Thanks for making that drink now.” You stare at him, daring him to push back against you - you are NOT in the mood for this tonight, especially not in front of Joel. After a few moments, the bartender sighs and shrugs as he turns around, reaching for a glass and some ice. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, so you turn towards him to give him a similar look. “What? Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m being a brat.”

“Nah.” Joel shakes his head as he sips from his whiskey. “You’d just get off on that. That’s not brattiness - you’re actually being rude,” he says, then wanders off to go talk to someone nearby.

You stare at him with an open mouth, anger starting to creep into you. How the fuck does he dare to just say something like that to you? It hurts, and most of all it gives you a pang of concern that maybe you’ve ruined your chances with him - between this and the way he responded at the pool a few days ago.

“Oh honey, forget about it.” The bartender gives you a look that’s bordering on pity and disdain, his inflection drastically different all of a sudden as he pushes a glass towards you. “That man ain’t into you. Wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. Why don’t you go find somebody of your own age to play with, hmmm?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”, you snap at him as you grab the glass and stalk off, his words feeling like claws that have sunk into your skin and won’t let go of you. The burn of the liquor doesn’t help you in the way you’d hoped for, and you find yourself craving something stronger, sweeter. Anything that’ll help you take the edge off.

Anything, in this case, turns out to be 6’3”, blond, looks like a jock and is named… Brady? Brody? Brad. Ben. Blake. Something like that, you can’t remember, but it’s unimportant after having chatted with him for all of ten minutes. What matters is that he’s not a bad kisser, smells fine - not woodsy like Joel unfortunately - and his hands are large as well as eager, pressing you with your back against the solid wood of the pergola. 

If it wouldn’t ruin the mood for him, you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of making out with Blaine - Brandon? Brayden? No. Bruno. Bruce. Barry. Maybe it was Chad after all - right against the pergola that Joel had built over the past couple of days. 

You’d been watching Joel from your bay window, his muscles straining in the sun, while he grunted the way you had memorized from his Instagram videos. And for all of those three days, you’d had several orgasms as you’d watched him. Some of them were thanks to your fingers, others due to toys - varying from the small bullet vibe to the thrusting rabbit vibrator you used for longer sessions. But in the end, all of this had been going on for too long. The flirting, the way you’d feel him look at you regularly, the build up of tension; it had you feral by now, and you just wanted Joel.

You are gonna get him. Soon. Even if it means needing to make him jealous.

“Should we- should we go inside?” Jock guy pauses his kisses, leaning his forehead against yours as he runs his hands down your body, and you can feel him press hot and heavy against your thigh. Fuck, he is hung. “We’ll have some more privacy, and…”

“No, this is fine,” you say quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd of people across the yard. Most of them are unaware of your makeout session, and your glance slides right past them, but suddenly you detect Joel not too far away from where you are. He is staring right at you, gripping his whiskey glass in your hand, and when the guy next to him says something, he only shakes his head, not breaking his glance with you.

“Are you…”

“I said this is fine,” you said sharply to the guy with his hands on your hips. A frown plays over his face, and in a gesture of good will you let your hand brush over the crotch of his pants, tracing the outline of his dick. “Nobody is watching.”

He groans, his lips finding yours again as he pushes himself against your hand. You kiss him back eagerly this time, your arms around him as you turn him just the slightest bit so you can keep your view of Joel. He’s talking to the guy next to him now, a back and forth conversation, but every now and then his eyes slide back to you, and then there’s a nod he gives you that makes you shiver.

Baxter, or Bart, Bobby, or whatever the hell his name is, slips his hand under your skirt, and you moan when his fingertips trace your lacy underwear. You hear how he sucks in air for a second, then his chest almost puffs up in pride at how wet he finds you. Silly guy. He thinks it’s because of him, that his not-too-bad kisses have riled you up so much. Has no damn clue how Joel’s eyes are back on you again.

“Touch me,” you breathe at him, and then hold your breath when he does so. Thick fingers - though not as thick as Joel’s - slipping under the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side while your eyes remain locked on Joel. You’re trying to merge the touches with your fantasies and the visual of Joel right in front of you, conjuring up his voice. You think of the way he’d tease you with slow, playful strokes over your pussy, each time a little more focused on your clit, making you delirious with need before he’d even consider sliding a finger into your soaked cunt.

But reality seems more than unwilling to blend with your fantasies. While initially the guy seemed to smell fine, you’re now noticing the overwhelming amount of generic fuck boy cologne he’s wearing, the scent unsettling and clearly something Joel would never even wear. He doesn’t smell like a hard day’s work on Joel does and his hands are too smooth, too well taken care of. No roughness from manual labor whatsoever, no finesse to tease you, and definitely not much muscle memory on how to properly get a woman going. 

Instead he’s just clumsy, perhaps because all the blood has rushed to his cock that’s pressing insistently against you. Substitute-Joel’s fingers slide over your folds only one disappointing time, clearly not even attempting to find your clit. He fumbles around as his own breathing grows heavy, then suddenly tries to push two fingers inside of you - without any further prep or even checking if that’s okay with you. 

It abruptly ruins the horny spell you’d been under several minutes ago, and you swear as you grab his hand to stop him, your pussy strongly objecting to his fingers trying to invade you. 

“Hey! Fucking hell,” you hiss, pulling his hand out of your underwear before he can go any further. “You always fingerbang girls without properly prepping them?”

“What? You’re practically dripping on me,” he hisses back as he looks confused. But you’re not about to end up in a discussion about how being wet doesn’t mean he can just shove his fingers inside of you - let alone without any warning.

“Never mind,” you say as you push him away from you, then straighten your clothes as you move away from the pergola. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? I’ve gotta go say hi to someone.”

“Bitch,” he mutters at you, adjusting his tie and the collar of his shirt. On most days you would’ve gladly torn him a new asshole for that, but you’re just not in the mood to further engage with him. So you start to head into Joel’s direction, but then see that he seems to have moved elsewhere, leaving you to look around in confusion.

You look up when you hear a group of men laugh, and see your father shake some hands as he offers his audience a few more words. Joel is there too, you realize, still with a drink in his hand. Your father gives him a friendly pat on his arm, which is returned with Joel’s signature nod, as he then heads over to some other people who look more than eager to greet him. It makes your skin crawl to see him acting like some kind of politician, eager to make a good impression on everyone, and you quickly turn away from him to look back at Joel - who is now looking straight at you again, without saying anything.

It’s not until you’re back at the bar for another whiskey - you’ve lost track of how many you’ve had - that he shows up next to you, giving you a gentle nudge like you had done to him earlier. “D’you eat anything recently?”, he asks, absentmindedly playing with a coaster on the bar. You can smell the smokey alcohol on his breath, see that the buttons on his shirt are just a little more opened than they were a little while ago, and it just makes you ache for him.

“Shut up, Joel,” you mutter, but he doesn’t follow your suggestion - instead he picks up the whiskey that the bartender slides over to you and takes a sip of it.

“A water for her, please?”, he asks, then covers the liquor glass with his hand when you try to reach for it. “No. You’re done.”

You’re starting to seethe at this point. “Who the fuck you think you are telling me how much I can drink?,” you snap at him. His eyes are infuriatingly calm, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips makes it clear he’s a lot more amused than you are.

“Easy, darling. Just looking out for you, okay?” He pushes the glass of ice water on the counter over to you, but you have half a mind to throw it at him.

“Why are you bothering me?”

His eyebrows raise at the word ‘bothering’, but he doesn’t quite respond to it. “Just have some water and food,” he says softly. “You’ll feel like shit if you don’t.” 

“You’re drunk too.”

Joel rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, well… have to get through this all somehow, don’t I? Been drinking water too, though.” He gives you a look as he takes another sip of whiskey, sighing.

“I don’t get why you’re here.” Your head is spinning a little, but at this point you’re not sure if it’s the booze or proximity to Joel that’s getting to you. The memory of that jock guy’s cologne is far from your mind by now, replaced now by that smell that you crave - the cologne you would recognize anywhere, layered with Joel’s own scent. And it’s driving you mad. “Nobody is making you, unlike they’re doing with me.” 

A smile plays over Joel’s face and he shrugs. “Your mom asked me.”

You can’t help but laugh. “My— what? And that’s why you’re voluntarily subjecting yourself to all of this?” You gesture around the yard, the groups of stuffy people, pretentious bite sized food and music that makes you desperately want to connect your phone to the speaker system. “I’ve been to so many of these. It’s awful, every single time.”

You’re waiting for him to tell you it’s not that bad, or even that you should suck it up. But instead he simply doesn’t respond, and only gives you a raised eyebrow as he has some more whiskey. When he puts the glass down on the bar, you impulsively swipe it and drain it before he can interfere, waiting for an actual retort this time. 

A frown slides onto his face and you grin almost triumphantly at the reaction, pushing the empty glass back towards him, only ice cubes remaining in it now. “I think you like dramatic,” you then blurt out, and see how he blushes slightly, the red flush creeping up from his chest to his neck.

“That what you think?” His eyes flick over you, and you nod, poking him in the chest with your finger. 

“Yeah. You’re… practical. Proper. Maybe kinda boring. You got your routine.” You really should stop talking with all that liquor in your system, but you refuse to admit he was right about you needing to sober up. “Maybe getting close to a midlife crisis? Working your job and then all the reno on your house. Don’t see you chill a whole lot.” 

You run your finger a little down his chest, then place your full hand against his shirt as you lean over to his ear. “I think you want some fun,” you whisper in his ear, barely audible due to the music playing at the party. “Somebody who shakes things up. Brings a little drama and excitement.”

Joel’s eyes are slightly unfocused from the whiskey, just like yours probably are, and you can tell that his guard is down in ways that you haven’t experienced before. “Old, huh? Boring, old, and close to a midlife crisis,” he says after a moment, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head. “But you would shake things up? Why would you bother with an old man?”

“Maybe I’m into that.” You bite your lip as you hesitate for a moment. “The whole DILF thing. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching me.”

His smirk widens into an actual grin now as he laughs, looking away at some commotion or a gathering that’s happening at the party. When he looks back at you, his eyes are darker than usual, and you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Little girl. You are in over your head.” His words are measured and quiet as he seems to pick them carefully, his hand now reaching for yours that’s still resting against his chest, and he gently pulls it off his shirt. “ Y’don’t even have a clue of what you’re playing with, darling. What are you gonna do? Rock my world? At your father’s party?”

“I don’t give a shit about his party,” you say sharply, but he shakes his head, interrupting you.

“But that’s the thing. You do,” he murmurs. “Y’couldn’t be more thrilled than to do so here, just to make a scene. Like you did with that guy.”

You feel victorious hearing him confirm that he had been watching you, and together with his ‘little girl’ comment it’s enough to make you soak your panties on the spot. “Were you jealous?”, you ask him challengingly.

He chuckles again, this time getting up from the barstool, and you take in his physique, admiring the way those tailored pants fit around his thighs. “Have some more water. And food,” he tells you, and in the split second you have before he turns away, you make up your mind. Perhaps it’s more like instinct, to do what you’ve been stopping yourself from doing for a while now. 

You grope him. 

Fingers quick as you cup him through his pants, closing around his balls and a part of his dick. It takes effort to bite back a whimper at finally feeling him, thick and hot and heavy in your hand, after all those weeks that you’ve been here and tried to figure out what the right move was. You hold his eyes defiantly, lips parted as you’d like to use your words but they all seem stuck in your throat.

His surprised intake of air when you grab him is immediate, and he looks frazzled as he shakes his head, tugging your hand abruptly away from his cock. “You out of your damn mind?”, he hisses, looking more than just a little flustered. “In front of everyfuckingbody?”

“So come insi—” The words die on your tongue when you suddenly see your mom approaching from a couple of feet behind Joel, unaware of what’s happening between the two of you, but apparently in search of you as she calls your name. Joel and you immediately step away from each other, him leaning against the bar as he seems to need a moment to compose himself. You have even less time to plaster a smile on your face for your mother, so you just nod enthusiastically as she rambles at you about some person’s son you should come meet. Your heart feels like it’s hammering out of your chest as you force yourself to tell her that you’d love to meet them, bringing a smile to your mom’s face.

Just as you’re about to join her to meet this person, your mom pauses at the bar and puts her hand on Joel’s shoulder. “By the way, he said that he could use your help with moving that thing, if you have time? Think he’s inside, couldn’t find you,” she said, and Joel nods while humming something affirmatively. His eyes flit to you for a split second before he looks down at the bar again, and he seems to wait until the two of you have moved away until he goes inside.    

You’re in a mild daze as you follow your mom through the crowd, performing the role you’re expected to play, while the moment that you grabbed Joel plays on repeat in your head. The gasp that spilled from his lips, the way he didn’t say “no” - just “in front of everybody?”, which was an entirely different thing, and frankly… he wasn’t wrong.

You can wait. Just that little bit longer. It’ll be so worth it.

Joel's outfit at the party (as a dress shirt and pants instead of a jumpsuit):

series masterlist | main masterlist

Thank you for reading, commenting or reblogging - I appreciate it so very much 🙏

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates + turn on notifs to see when the finale drops later this week!

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.8

Company ° I.N.

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY Wc: 2k+

TW: aftercare, threesome, consent is behind the scenes they are really into it and it's all consensual, pussy slapping, name calling, mean jeongin, oral (m rec), throat fucking, cumshots,creampie, let me know if I missed anything

AN: thank you for following and reading this series, I hope you all liked it! Please do leave feedback <3

The moments after your activities with Seungmin were a blur in your mind. Everything mixed together and nonsensical. You only remembered the world's softer tissue wiping away at your skin, Seungmin talking to the owner of the karaoke rooms and then his car. When you came to, you were safely tucked into bed with your clothes still on. Seungmin laid at your side on top of the bed, completely ruptured by something on his phone. His right hand slowly massaged your scalp.

“Minnie?” your voice was rough and hoarse.

Seungmin whipped his head so fast that for a moment he saw double. His phone flew to the other side of the room and in a second he was crowding you.

“How are you feeling? Everything okay?” His hand had moved from your hair to your face and was now drawing circles on your warm cheek. You just hummed and nodded, your limbs were so heavy and tired.

“Did you particularly like or dislike something?” 

“I liked that we could get caught but I wanted more of your attention,” you pouted. If it had been any other moment in any other state of mind you would've been embarrassed but now you were just so content and tired that you didn't care.

“My attention was already on you, puppy, but if you want more I shall give you more,” he smiled and beamed at you. With a few stretches and pulls he got under the covers as well and promptly took you in his arms. It was weird with both of you fully clothed but you were grateful for the warmth that was seeping into you.

“Why didn't you take off my clothes?”

“You didn't give me permission, I can't take your clothes off without permission.”

Your heart warmed, he was a golden boy. Truly the perfect boyfriend anyone could have.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty, would you like to go out?” Seungmin had showed you his soft side once again and you couldn't help but be ecstatic about it.

“I was about to ask you, I was just thinking you were one of the nicest guys I've ever met.”

Seungmin hummed. His soft petal pink lips came in contact with your skin and fireworks erupted underneath it. Your head turned swiftly and you pressed a sweet and chaste kiss to his lips.

Ping. Ping.

Your phone interrupted your lovesick moment and you almost wanted to throw it away. 

“I put your phone on the nightstand, you should answer it,”  Seungmin spurred you on, his hands around you loosened.

Unknown number:

Hey noona, it's Innie, when are you free? I thought we could go to a cafe before our lesson. Just you and I :)

Chrispy boy <3:

Baby, how was the lesson with seungmin? We should talk about the next one, I remember you had some doubts

“It's Chan hyung, isn't it? He really likes you.” 

You offered him an apologetic look, you had to go.

“Go, you can make it up to me on our date,” Seungmin pressed another feather light kiss on your cheek as goodbye and then walked you to his door after you had collected your things. The short walk from Seungmin's room to Chan's seemed even shorter that day. Knocking wasn't even an option at this point in your relationship, so you just swung the door open. Chan was laying in the bed, only in his boxers, typing something on his phone.

“Baby,” he beamed, “ I was about to text you again, come here.” You didn't even hesitate for a second before throwing yourself in his arms; you didn't care that your clothes would get wrinkly, you needed that Bang-hug.

“It went well with Seungmin.”

“Just well? Nothing else?” 

“Yeah, I'm honestly just a bit worried about the next lesson, Chan. A threesome is a lot.” 

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to,” his grip tightened on you and he squeezed you against his chest.

“It's not that I don't want to but I need to be sure about that other person. Do I know him? Does Innie know him? I just need to know,” you were clearly frustrated.

“What if that other person was me? Would you do it?”

You pushed yourself away from his chest to look him in the eyes.

“Are you serious?” Chan just nodded.

A threesome with your college best friend who had always treated you like you were royalty and a cute junior with dimples, a killer smile and a charming personality. That sounded like something out of your deepest fantasies.

“Okay, let's do it.”

Jeongin had insisted you two had a date alone, no Chan, just you two. ‘Its because hyung makes everything awkward,’ he had said in front of him but you hardly believed him. Chan wasn't awkward at all in front of girls, he was flirty and charming. 

A cup placed in front of you snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“Thank you, Innie. This place is really nice.” 

The cafe was spectacular, you had never seen a place with such a balance of chic and cozy and the beverages looked delicious as did the food.

“I came here with Seungmin hyung once, I wanted to take you here. Alone.” 

So that was why Jeongin didn't want Chan around, he wanted to go on a date. With you. The thought made your head spin a little, he was one of the hottest freshmen on campus and he wanted you? Luck must have been really on your side.

“You wanted to come here with me? Why?” 

He was cute, unbelievably so. His ears and cheeks were completely red and his gaze was on his mug.

“I think you're nice and pretty, and I’ve wanted to go out with you for a while.”

His sudden confession left you flabbergasted. THE Yang Jeongin wanted to go out with you.

“You don't have to answer right now, noona, take your time.”

“You're so cute Innie, thank you,” you got up from your chair and leaned across the table. Your lips pressed a light kiss on Jeongin’s cheek. You were so close now, you could feel his breath on you and heard him gulp loudly. His face was almost buried in your tits, you chose a low cut shirt for the occasion and you didn't care that he could see everything you had to offer, you wanted him to see. 

I.N. stood abruptly and grabbed your wrist, with a sharp tug you were at his side.

“We've talked enough, noona, let's go.”

Jeongin's thumb swiped at your folds for what felt like the thousandth time. As soon as he had gotten you in Chan's room, he had removed your clothes hastily and pushed you back into Chan's arms. Your legs had been opened roughly and a pair of arms, a pair that you knew very very well had circled your middle to keep you in place. Jeongin had taken his place between them, a scowl on his pretty face. 

Jeongin's thumb caught on your clit and your back arched, finally glad for some real stimulation but retreated as soon as it appeared. 

“Are you a whore, noona?” 

All you could do in response was pant and wriggle in Chan's grasp. The boys were both fully naked and you could feel Chan's cock against your backside and see Jeongin's drooling precum and looking painfully hard. You wanted to put your mouth around him and suck until his soul came out of it. At the thought a few drops of sleek dropped on the covers beneath you.

“Our baby has a mouth on him doesn't he?” Chan’s voice was supposed to be comforting compared to Jeongin's harshness but the contrast made you drip even more.

A sharp slap was delivered to your pussy.

“Answer me.” Jeongin was completely different in and outside of the bedroom, now you knew why girls came out of his room with shaky legs and a bewildered look in their eyes.

“N-no, I'm not,” you managed to stutter out. 

“C'mon Innie, I'm sure she only wanted to show you, not the others,” Chan argued. His thumb slowly circled your flushed cheek and you leaned into his touch with a whimper.

“Shut her up, hyung, and you whore don't you dare cum.” Chan's lips were on yours in an instant, it was an awkward position, your neck would hurt like hell after, but just the thought of Chan's plush doll lips made everything better. Your best friend was an exceptional kisser, he wasn't rushed but not too slow either and he poured just enough passion into it. As ruptured as you were, you didn't notice Jeongin gathering your wetness on his fingers and then slamming them into you. Your back arched off Chan's chest so much that he had to wrap his arms tighter and pull you towards him again. Little whimpers and moans came out of you, the pleasure was so intense after all that teasing that you couldn't even lift your head up from Chan's shoulder.

“I said shut her up, hyung,” Jeongin spoke nonchalantly like he wasn't pistoning his fingers into your g spot and abusing your already sensitive pussy. If he had kept that up, it would've taken you mere seconds to cum.

“No, I wanna hear her,” Jeongin tsked at his answer but didn't say anything; yes everybody was whipped for the baby and let him get away with murder but that didn't mean that he didn't have to respect the eldest authority. Chan lowered his head to the shell of your ear and whispered: “ keep up the pretty noises, baby.”

“Channie, I'm close,” your voice and your legs shaky. Jeongin pulled his fingers out and stuck them in your mouth.

“Mh, best I’ve ever had.” Your face felt like you caught on fire. Baby bread was nasty.

“Hyung put her down with her head dangling from the edge, I want to fuck her mouth.”

Chan's muscly arms picked you up and threw you down on the bed, your thighs slicked at the show of strength. With your head upside down, you could see and feel Jeongin's presence above you even more intensely than before.

“Open up,” his tip prodded your lips and without a second thought you opened. He was big, longer than Changbin but less thick, you didn't doubt you could take him. At the first roll of his hips, a tear rolled down your face. Your eyes focused on his heavy balls slapping on your forehead, you wanted those in your mouth too. Jeongin's continued fucking your face with fluid and deep thrusts, his face was thrown back and scrunched up. He was pretty, really pretty. 

Suddenly you felt something breach your entrance and soon Chan's tick and long cock was entering you.

“Hey baby, I'm sorry, I'm so worked up, I have to make you cum quickly,” his breath fanned over your collarbone and he pressed a soft kiss on your skin before he sent you back on Jeongin's cock with a sharp, quick thrust. His thumb pushed on your clit and relentlessly circled the poor swollen bud.

“Fuck, you're so wet baby,” Chan paired his words with another few heavy thrusts. His pace was frantic and almost animalistic, you wouldn't mind coming back to him after the whole ordeal to let him take his time with you.

Your attention snapped to the other boy when he squished your face in his hand, forcing you to open up your mouth.

“I wanna cum on your tits,” his voice was strained and sexy and so was his face. Jeongin pulled out of your wet and warm mouth and started quickly jerking his cock until white ropes of cum were cascading all over your chest. In the meantime Chan was still pounding into you with brute force. Your breath was erratic, your hands fisted your sheets; your orgasm was imminent but you didn't want all that to end.

“It's okay baby, let it go, I'm right behind you,” Chan leaned to once again kiss your skin, not caring if his friend's cum was staining his lips. The extremely erotic sight sent you barreling over the edge, your pussy gushed and pulsed around him. You felt your body go lax and you didn't even notice when Chan came inside you with the most sensual moan of all. When you came back to the land of the living, Jeongin was laying on your chest, fast asleep; his cute cheek completely squished. You cooed at the sight, baby bread was back being a baby.

“Are you okay, baby?” Chan sat next to you, his eyes, completely focused on your face, were sparkling as you had hung the moon and the stars personally. You just hummed in approval, there wasn't any energy in you left for more.

“You know what I was thinking, Channie? I wouldn't mind letting you take your time with me. Next time that is.”

Chris showed you that beautiful dimpled smile that he only reserved for a certain group of people.

“I wouldn't mind that either, I'm buying you food before tho, you're gonna need energy for what I'll do to you.”

@kflixnet

[whalesforhands]

Hii! I have an idea ☝️😈

What about teen gojo and geto meeting future reader and they’re all baffled and mesmerized and all this fluffy stuff and reader is just like “🧍‍♀️” confused since she was fighting a curse a few seconds ago- But the adult versions of the two are busy doing whatever else so she has to deal with them until the curse wears off?

Just wanted to ramble 🏃‍♀️ Merry Christmas!

i like ur rambling, anon. guess what timeline i picked, hehe. whether or not it’s canon to main dyf au, is for you to decide. merry christmas hohoho

You practically deflate onto the ground, knees scraping against the soft dirt whilst your poor, beaten up staff was used as your sole support where you had stabbed it into the dirt, your hands sliding down the handle of your weapon as the dust settles around you.

It was rare to have you deployed on-field for an exorcism of a curse, and even rarer for you to have to deal with anything above a Grade 2.

(Mainly due to your husbands who were sorely against you having to do any exorcism at all.)

But, alas, even they can’t slay every single curse in the world; the higher-ups having purposefully kept their most powerful busy as of late.

“And you promise to abandon your mission if you can’t defeat it?” A seriousness in his tone, almost dreadful, almost domineering in nature. Geto Suguru will not take no for an answer, his hands upon your shoulders squeezing lightly, trembling just ever so slightly.

“Do not fight anything you deem above your skill level.” Gojo Satoru is wholly deadpan, your pinkies interlocked in a promise as intense eyes stare you down. You feel his pinky tighten, restless, unlabeled impatience. Absent of any semblance of playfulness. “Okay?”

You’ve taken their words seriously, only taking fights that you know you would win; only running when you know you can’t.

A jujutsu sorcerer does not give their life up so easily.

You hear a rustle from the bushes, eyes darting behind you, and ripping your weapon out and readying for another face off just as you feel a familiar, overwhelming power looming just where you had looked away.

“Now, now, now.” That familiar voice, lacking in all the more mature tones you were used to, all the gentleness that you’ve grown so fond of.

“You’re gonna drop your weapon, put your pretty hands up and slowly turn around to face me.”

(You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Was he flying?)

There’s no hesitation in your compliance, the clatter of your staff to the ground as your hands are held up. The malice in the energy you feel all stoked and ready to explode at any given moment, the tones of his voice an underlying, upset melancholy.

You’re facing the Gojo Satoru, afterall. However, there’s an issue with him, something you’ve realized all too soon after loving him for so long.

There’s a tensed silence between the both of you during the stare-down, your eyes still getting used to his slightly shorter stature, much shorter hair as compared to your highschool days and current adult age. His cheeks a tad bit fuller, but eyes dulled considerably.

He’s still so cute.

“My Six Eyes tell me that you’re (name) (last name).” From your breathing pattern down to every last speck of your cursed energy; it was undeniably you. His eyes shine with quiet grief, and gritted regret as you meet his gaze.

You feel sorry for him.

“…but you’re not my (name).” You’re a little more mature looking, a little far too calm and collected in his presence. You’re the same; yet not the one he knew. His eyes narrow as the red on his glowing hand fizzles out, his stance commanding and broad as his feet finally touch the ground before you, using his looming height as a threat. It contrasts the way his voice cracks just as he ends his words, a beating silence enveloping the both of you as your heart calms, your hands slowly going down.

“And you’re not my Satoru.” It causes a stuttering, reddish plum to his cheeks, a throb to his heart that he hadn’t expected to feel, clenching his fists, a click of realization alongside his fingernails digging into his skin, intrepid gaze holding your calm one.

“So I am in another world.”

——

This wasn’t your Suguru either. His hair is messily bunned up, the bags under his eyes darker than you have ever seen him. His lips are dry, his complexion lacking any of the usual vigor your Suguru had.

He looks far too weary, far too tired as he sits upon a nearby bench, hunched over and just so exhausted that it makes you wonder when was the last time he has had a good night’s sleep.

“Oi, Suguru!” The ‘Satoru’ that you had met is all too keen to greet the boy, his hand around your elbow and pulling you along with him. “I found out where we’re at!” His loud call only heeds the visible slump of the black-haired boy’s tensed shoulders, eyes still cast towards the ground as the cicadas call around him.

“And I found somebody to help us.” He brings the both of yourselves to a stop before the blank boy.

“It’s nice to meet you?” You’re honestly at a loss for words at the situation. For how all powerful and odd Gojo’s powers can be, you hadn’t expected this situation one bit.

It’s at your voice that this ‘Geto Suguru’ nearly whirls his head back at a speed so quick that it nearly scares you. Dry, reddened eyes widening and mouth opening, getting up on shaky legs as he extends a hand towards you.

“You—“

——

“So…” The silence is far too awkward for you to be comfortable. “There was a (name) in your timeline too, I hear?” Your fingers are twiddling with your jujutsu uniform as you sat in between the both of them, their proximity a just inching between the line of too close whilst awaiting for Ijichi’s pickup to the campus.

‘Gojo Satoru’ is the first to speak up. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Our (name) is… Dead.” You see ‘Geto Suguru’’s hands clench at his uniform pants, bundling the fabric up so tight that his knuckles started to turn white.

Oh. You feel bad now.

“I’m… Sorry about that.”

A breath is sucked in through his teeth. “Don’t be.”

You shouldn’t feel sorry for them at all. It’ll just make it worse than it already is.

Isn’t it funny? Comical? That their (name) had to be ripped away from their hold, had to be clawed away from their reach, only for fate to place another you; living, breathing right in front of them.

So palpable, so alike, so unbearably, painfully you. It makes them want to throw up in disgust, honestly. But they can’t.

Because it’s you.

“I-I’m sure that I-“ No. “Your (name) lived a good life if you were both around, then. Please- Trust me on this.” You know. You know that any version of ‘you’ would be satisfied with their life if they had friends like them; Gojo, Geto and Ieiri.

It’s a life that no version of you would ever regret. You wouldn’t regret becoming a jujutsu sorcerer if you had gotten to meet people like them.

And it brings two broken hearts just a tinge more comfort.

——

“Um, Satoru..”

“Yes?” It was a chorus of two similar voices.

“Ah— No. Uhm— My Satoru.” You’re a bit frazzled as you nod towards your blindfolded husband, a satisfied hum coming from him as he made his way towards you.

“Just call the other one Gojo! Or you can just call for your hubby~” He’s cooing into your ear for the duo to watch on, a hand on your waist to hook you in close as a smile is donned upon his face.

There’s a beat of silence before the more intimidating white-haired sorcerer spoke up.

“No. I want to be called Satoru.” The younger Gojo had had his eyes set upon you, never letting you leave his vicinity. Then, that means that the other ‘Geto Suguru’ would be called as simply ‘Suguru’, then.

“Your blindfold’s pretty lame. Do I actually want to wear that?”

Your Gojo chooses to turn his nose up, and ignore that sneer his younger counterpart gave him. “Man, I was so angry.” You hear a sigh as you see a hand wave off the younger boy. “Do whatever you please, little me. But don’tcha leave yet, please! My Suguru’s gonna be so stoked to see this.”

Oh, speaking of your Suguru.

“Did you tell him to pick up some dashi stock for our dinner tonight? I ran out yesterday.”

“…how about we just order a pizza tonight?”

“Sator— Gojo!” Your hands are immediately upon your hips as you feel him hug you towards him, a hand going up to stroke the back of your head, as your face is pressed to his chest to muffle the incoming scolding.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad at me! A wife’s scorn is a husband’s greatest regret!”

“…you guys live all together?” ‘Suguru’’s voice breaks the moment between the both of you.

You feel a rumbling of your husband’s chest as a laugh is released.

“And we got kids together too. Ya jealous yet?”

——

“Aha, this is certainly a sight.” Suguru is shedding himself of his jacket as he kicks off his shoes by the genkan, the sight of his younger self, and double the Gojo certainly jarring for him as they sat around the dining table.

“Welcome home, honey!” It’s your Gojo that skips along to press an obnoxiously wet kiss to your other husband’s lips first as you gently place the final bowl of zaru soba down.

(Minus the miso soup side dish. You’re still slightly mad, but you have guests over.

“We could’ve just ordered a pizzaaaaaa!” Your husband’s whines are ignored as you strain the noodles out.

“I’m not feeding guests a pizza, dearest idiot husband of mind.” You pat your hands dry upon your apron, turning to flick at his forehead as he whines even more, begetting a giggle before you tiptoe up to press a kiss to the area.)

“Welcome home.” Your voice greeting your husband is lost on ‘Satoru’ and ‘Suguru’’s ears as they stare down at the bowl before them. The significance of the food almost making the cursed spirit user tear up.

This was his favourite food. It— ‘You’ and himself used to eat this frequently until—

“Suguru… Are you okay?” A whispered concern from his Satoru.

“Yeah. I—“ He thinks he’s going to be sick. “I’m fine.”

“It isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy it.” His ears finally tune back in just in time to hear your voice once more. Dreary copper-amethyst gaze flicking up to meet your warm, lovely face.

He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t.” It’s this world’s Suguru that pops in, much longer hair, his older features, his broader stature and more muscled body.

(Does— He know what he’s been through?)

His chopsticks are trembling as he brings the noodles to his lips, mouth opening and slowly chewing— He stops as a realization hits him.

It’s delicious. It’s so delicious. There are tears in his eyes as he begins to gobble it up, a hack in his throat as ‘Suguru’ pushes the urge to vomit away to take in more.

(If— if this was his final time meeting you- Then he has to. He has to. But— This is strange. Even his counterpart didn’t react all that much to his and Satoru’s appearance.

It occurs to him that perhaps, they aren’t in another world. If they’re meeting their older selves, then— Perhaps they are in another timeline.

Which means—)

His gaze returns down to the now empty bowl before him, before flickering up to meet your satisfied, almost prideful face.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome! I’m so happy you loved it that much!”

Perhaps this situation wasn’t so bad at all, giving him the chance to see your smiling face once more.

——

“If you give me a kiss, I’ll tell him~” Is he mocking his younger self…? You just wanted him to help the other ‘Satoru’ to get back to his world. Alas, you relent, leaning over to press a chaste, quick kiss to his cheek as your Geto watched on with upturned eyes and a happy smile.

“Hey, kid me.” A joyful hum, a satisfied gait as your Gojo watches the little boy who he once was.

“You already figured out how to go back already, right? Whatcha waiting for?” Huh…? Your Gojo already knows how to get them back?! Your eyes widen as you nearly choke on your water.

“Now, now Gojo. Don’t tease them.” Your Geto is chuckling, patting your back as you cough. “You’ll make our poor wife worried. I’m sure that they have some sort of unfinished business here.”

What?! Were they both in on this? This is just getting stranger, and stranger…

“Heh. Guess it isn’t a surprise I would know myself best, huh?” Satoru lets a cocky grin overtake his features as his fingers intertwined with his Suguru’s.

“Guess I really am the strongest.”

His gaze finally stops at you. “It was nice— Y’know.” He grows shy, eyes shifty from behind his sunglasses. “Seeing a (name) again.”

‘Suguru’ speaks up. “Thank you for— Allowing us to experience it again.” He’s grateful. The most he’s ever been, the most he’s ever felt ever since your passing.

Thank you. But— It’s only goodbye for now.

“It was nice meeting the both of you!” You’re bowing politely as you wave.

(The younger Suguru is finally smiling. Even if it’s just a little.)

“We’ll see you soon! Wait for us!” A salute and a bright grin. And in a flash, they have disappeared.

…what?

masterlist

Notes:

If you don’t get it, your current Satoru and Suguru have experienced what their younger counterparts have been through.

Younger Gojo and Geto have been watching every move you’ve been making. Keep that in mind if you ever reread this, haha.

During dinner, younger Gojo and Geto decided to share a bowl together since Geto hasn’t been able to eat a full meal without throwing up. It was the first time in a while he’s eaten so much. When Gojo saw how much he was eating, he asked for a separate bowl for himself.

Geto Suguru thinks he’s pretty handsome in this world. Would…you have liked someone like that too? His Satoru certainly does. He’s seen the shifty, almost shy gaze his Gojo threw the older Geto. Maybe he will grow out his hair.

“Aww, I was such an adorable brat!~” His hands are placed upon his cheeks as he cooed, watching as his husband and yourself cleared the plates.

“Hmm. I suppose you must’ve lost all that cuteness in your youth, wouldn’t you agree, darling?.” Suguru’s cooing back at him from the kitchen with a laugh, his body turning to you to ask for your opinion.

“His younger self was certainly so cute… But I suppose my answer depends on whether he helps with the dishes today.” You’re teasing him right back as you slowly wash the plate.

“W-what? Fine, I’m coming! Call me adorable, pleaseee!”

[koocycle]

over wine | jjk | teaser part one

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

teaser word count. 2k

estimated word count. 35k+

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

teaser warnings. mild cursing, suggestive and mature themes

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

released on thursday, july 6th 2023.

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or take the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the ‘’reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen’‘, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘’Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you. . . you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

full version, date of release july 6th 2023.

taglist: @codeinebelle @cxcotin @hrts4kook

please send me an ask to be added to the list.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #31

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The October cold air hits Jungkook's cheeks like a slap to his face, nor does he need it judging by the beating heart that hammers harshly in his chest. He can't remember the last time he was this nervous, probably on their first date as he wanted everything to go perfect and smoothly. And it went, beyond his expectations actually. However, he's not sure about this time because he has no idea how today will end.

And he's just minutes from finding it.

With each step he takes inside the restaurant, he feels like he could throw up onto the luxurious polished floor. For now, he tries to swallow down the lump that sits uncomfortably in his throat as a waitress welcomes him. The words about his reservation leave his mouth automatically, he barely puts any mind in what he's saying other than mentioning his name and the fact he made a reservation for tonight. The waitress smiles at him, completely oblivious to his racing heart and mind as she guides him through the restaurant. She says something to him but he doesn't pay any attention to her, he can't because his eyes are focused elsewhere until they stop on her.

The waitress shows him his seat, informing them something about her coming back in a few minutes when they'll decide on their order. But Jungkook barely acknowledges her, slowly sitting down as if the seat should burn him while his eyes don't leave Kiko.

He can't believe his own eyes. Not just because she's gorgeous like she's always been, or that her hair is shorter than he has ever seen on her. But her sitting in front of him, on the other side of the circled square table after two months of trying to meet up with her is certainly something different. It seems like her visiting her family in Japan has benefited her. The other times he's seen her, like at Seokjin's wedding or the camping trip, there was something in her eyes that he knew was wrong. And he got that answer.

It was guilt all along.

However, she smiles brightly at the waitress and thanks her with a bow, her whole face beaming from the natural glow that she's holding. At first, for someone not knowing her so well, someone would've thought that she doesn't feel as nervous or guilty anymore. Jungkook knows better though. Thus, her eyes flickering to him from the opposite side of the table and the sudden change in them tells him otherwise. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, giving him a weak and somehow shaky smile in return.

She's nervous.

Just like Jungkook that feels like his hands are already so sweaty that he ends up wiping them against the black slacks he's wearing.

"You're early," Jungkook starts, voice surprisingly confident but soft at the same time.

He wanted to make sure he's earlier than Kiko, just to have enough time to prepare himself for something he's been thinking and preparing for months. And maybe chug a glass of wine before she arrives to ease up his nerves and the possible outcome of tonight's night, because he doesn't know what to expect. But nothing could prepare him for tonight.

Attentive as always, he picked out one of the best restaurants — the one they used to come for dinner dates because the food is delicious. Jungkook thought that maybe picking up a familiar place would bring at least some kind of comfort. Although, he's not sure about that because none of that is on his mind right now.

"Yes," Kiko chuckles, the soft sound coming out shakily as she's looking at Jungkook.

He can tell she spent more time on her makeup than usual, the eyeliner making her eyes bigger and if he leaned closer, he'd see the soft peach eyeshadow coating her lids. There's no point of denying that she's beautiful, whether she wears makeup or not.

"I was nervous, actually I still am," she admits, and Jungkook mentally agrees with her because yes, he feels the same and can relate to that. "You came early too."

"I'm nervous too," he admits, lips lifting up in a slight grin as she smiles at him, letting out a faint giggle. "But I think you can already tell."

Of course, she can. Jungkook is not the only one who knows her, she knows him too. They weren't dating just for fun.

"This reminds me of our first date," she says, briefly laughing at the memory that seems so long ago but still very clear to both of them.

Jungkook joins her, remembering that time he finally had the guts to ask her out only for him to be a nervous wreck. They were holding hands for ten seconds before their hands got too sweaty, their anxiety acting up. But it wasn't awkward or embarrassing at all, they laughed it off and it was quite cute. The whole evening ended up much better than Jungkook thought.

He treated her to a nice dinner and then they went to a park, walked around while they were surrounded by nature and the moon glistening in the sky. He even got to kiss her when he drove her home. Well, it wasn't their first kiss but it still counts because by the end of the night, they both agreed on going on another date. This time as a boyfriend and a girlfriend.

"I don't think I've ever been that nervous on a date." she laughs, shaking her head.

"We were more anxious than we should've been." Jungkook agrees, taking into account how their date ended after all. There was no reason to be that nervous.

"Sorry," Kiko suddenly blurts out, shoulders sulking as if she just remembered something. She glances up from her lap and stares at him with that guilty look.

Jungkook's brows pinch together, growing worried and mostly confused by the sudden apology.

"Why am I bringing up our first date? That's so stupid," she scolds herself, huffing out an angered breath. "You're dating Y/N."

At the mention of your name, Jungkook's eyes widen and he realizes that Kiko doesn't know. The only people who know are Jimin and Taehyung, they are not exactly the type to blurt our other people's business, especially if it's you and him. They're curious, too curious for their own good and invested in your lives (which intensified when they found out the two of you 'are dating') but they wouldn't go around and speak about your lives to random people.

"About that... we're not dating anymore," Jungkook clarifies, tasting a weird taste in his mouth at the lie. Fuck, he hates lying but now it's not the time to come clear.

He wouldn't go on dinner with his ex-girlfriend if he was dating someone else. He's not that kind of an asshole. If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn't care to win Kiko back or try to save whatever their relationship is right now. Even if he maybe needed some kind of closure, he wouldn't meet up with his ex-girlfriend while he has a girlfriend waiting for him.

"We broke up."

Kiko's eyebrows shoot up at the information before they twist in somewhere between pity and guilt. But she doesn't say 'I'm sorry' or anything close to it because she knows how stupid that would sound. As much as Jungkook is a gentleman, she's not such a bitch to steal someone else's guy.

Sure, she didn't know that the two of you 'broke up' but knowing what the real purpose of this meetup is, she probably knew there is something else behind this. Jungkook wouldn't just ask her out for dinner, something that almost seems more intimate and romantic than lunch (at such a nice restaurant) or anything else. Yet, she still seems surprised to hear it.

She did confess that she still loves him. Jungkook is the one who has to think about other things too, and deal with them. She's looking for answers too.

"Why?" Is the word that leaves her mouth, instead of apology because both of them know how stupid that would sound.

But she still would feel sorry if the reason behind your break up is her. She never meant to come between your relationship. Jungkook was the one who kept insisting and pushing Kiko to answer his questions on the camping trip.

"We agreed that we're better as best friends." Jungkook answers, saying the same thing he said to the guys back in the club.

It seems like the most reasonable reason to say, especially when you and Jungkook are still best friends and completely fine. They'd question it if you said something else.

Kiko is not stupid. She may not be the full reason for your breakup, but she surely knows Jungkook isn't over her yet when he wanted to meet up and find the answer to the question; What now?

Their conversation is interrupted by the waitress, politely asking them about their orders but they haven't  even checked the menu since they've sat down. Jungkook orders a steak, the first thing that comes to his mind and the only rational choice since he knows they have it on their regular menu. Kiko orders the same, knowing grins spreading on their lips. Jungkook orders wine, asking Kiko about her preference even though he knows she prefers white wine. Just like he predicted, the same answer rolls off her tongue before the waitress nods and leaves to get their order ready.

Kiko opens her mouth, ready to say something, ready to question the biggest question mark of tonight and Jungkook sees that, noticing her nervously rubbing her hands in her lap even from the opposite side.

"Let's eat first, okay? Then we can talk about... more serious stuff." Jungkook offers, not prepared to talk about that right now.

At least he wants to enjoy the food, he tries to tell himself. He just really wants to talk to her casually, acting as if nothing's wrong even if it's just for a moment.

"Yeah, sure." she smiles, trying to mask the way she sighs in relief but Jungkook notices, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

"You visited your family in Japan, right? How was it?"

He starts the conversation, feeling himself relax a little bit.

"Great, I needed that. It helped me a lot, I went there to think..." She starts nervously biting her bottom lip as Jungkook notices what she's aiming at, but he ignores it. "I was there for about... two months I think? I took a few weeks off and then worked from home. I'm incredibly lucky that my job allows me that, although my boss wasn't very happy about it. But I missed Korea. Japan is my home but I've built so much more here."

Jungkook nods in understatement. He feels the same way with Busan. This is one of the reasons why he fell in love with her. She's an easy person to talk to and they're both similar, understanding each other.

"How are your parents?" he asks with interest, remembering the lovely people that treated him so nicely when he went to Japan with Kiko.

Unfortunately, he didn't get to see them as often as Kiko got Jungkook's parents but it's only understandable, considering the distance. Busan is always closer than Japan. But it doesn't mean Kiko's parents aren't lovely either. If he ever thought about the future, he knew they would be amazing in-laws.

"Great," she smiles at the thought of her parents, almost wanting to say something but she closes her mouth and gives him a weak chuckle. "They're great. What," she hesitates, "What about your parents? How are they?"

She's careful about the topic of Jungkook's parents, knowing they've always loved her but who knows what they think about her right now.

"I went to visit them in August," Jungkook answers, mentally making a note to visit them as soon as possible.

Looking at it now, the nearest possible visit to his hometown will be on Christmas. Which is in two months, so it's not that far away but still, he'd be glad to visit them before that too. Unfortunately, this season is busy for him as he has scheduled weddings and photoshoots.

"They're doing great too. Mom's sad she doesn't get to see me more often but, yeah, that's nothing new." he breathes out a chuckle and Kiko joins, knowing how much Jungkook's mom loves her children.

She hesitates again, the question muffled and Jungkook has to lean slightly towards her to hear her better. "Did they, did they ask about me?"

Jungkook notices her face flushing with embarrassment and she avoids Jungkook's eyes for a moment, before she gets the courage to look at him again. He sucks in breath, tongue glazing over his dry bottom lip before he opens his mouth.

"Yeah, they did," he answers carefully, "They didn't know we broke up, so I had to tell them."

"They didn't know? Why?" she asks, growing bolder as curiosity is slowly replacing embarrassment.

He coughs, shifting on his spot. "I, uh, I didn't want them to know because I had a hard time admitting that it's over. I guess I was trying to persuade myself that it's not over yet. If I told them the truth at the very beginning, my mom would ask just too many questions and I didn't exactly feel like explaining to her why we broke up, since I didn't even know."

When it first happened, the first weeks after Kiko broke up with him all of a sudden, Jungkook's mom used to call him to check up on him. She's not calling him every day, knowing very well that he's got his own personal life now but when Jungkook failed to call her or even text her for two whole weeks, she grew worried and called him until he picked up. He remembers that his excuse was saying that he's sick, when his mom could tell something's wrong by listening to his weak and heartbroken voice.

"So... they don't know about..." she stops, biting onto her lip harshly.

The guilt and embarrassment is clear on her face, something that Jungkook notices right away. He's not the only one who's having a hard time talking about this, it's just a reminder of what she had done. And Jungkook knows what she's trying to ask, it's not that hard to guess.

"No," he answers, "You know they could never hate you, not even if I told them the truth. But I don't want them to know, I don't want them to look at you differently."

It's an incredibly huge and brave thing to do, but that only shows Jungkook's kindness because yet again, he thinks about others first before himself. Kiko broke up with him, she wasn't the one insisting on getting back together because from her point of view, she doesn't deserve him. But judging from what Jungkook heard from her or could see, she still loves him. If they both love each other, there's a chance they can get past this.

"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes suddenly growing big as she tries to blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

Jungkook almost reaches for her, wanting to comfort her but she chuckles at herself and shakes her head. "See? I don't deserve you. You're too good, Kookie."

He smiles at the nickname, "How about we enjoy that dinner, hm? No more serious talking until we're full." he offers, giving her another smile which almost makes her burst in tears as she slowly nods.

The waitress from before is already walking towards their table, a bottle of wine in her hands as they both allow themselves to relax a little bit.

They bring the food shortly after, reminding Jungkook one of the perks of eating in this restaurant – fast service. Him and Kiko chitchat through the food, the conversation surprisingly flowing naturally and comfortably as they sip on the white wine.

The rest of the dinner goes over Jungkook's expectations, shockingly there's not an ounce of nervousness inside him. Maybe a little uncertainty of what tonight can bring to him but there's one thing he's certain about. His wild mind and thoughts completely shut off as he and Kiko talked so freely, like nothing had changed between them. He had found himself being comfortable, even joked a few times and earned a couple of giggles from the woman on the opposite side of the table. The sound had brought him back to the time when everything was perfect for both of them, as a couple.

Once their dessert is already eaten, the empty plates being taken away from the waitress, they know it's the right time to get to the root of tonight's purpose. And just like that, there's uncertainty and maybe even discomfort lingering in the air as he sees Kiko shifting in her spot. He doesn't like that.

"I don't want to sugarcoat anything," he starts, putting down the glass of sparkling water he ordered since he drove here with a car and doesn't want to risk drinking more than he is allowed.  He has never done that and doesn't plan on doing.

He watches her giving him a brief nod of understatement, anxiously looking at her nude nails which Jungkook recognizes as another sign of her being nervous. He knows that if they weren't in a restaurant, she would pick on her nails too.

"You know why I asked you to meet up," he sighs, trying to speak carefully as she listens to him. "I wanted to see how this night would go, if anything is worth saving..." Their relationship.

"And I guess, I wanted to see how I feel about you even after... you told me," he says, flickering his eyes to meet hers as she looks like she's ten seconds from crying. "We didn't have that much time and space to talk."

She stays quiet, slowly nodding along his words not interrupting what he has to say. She knows he has to get it off his chest and it's only fair for her to listen to him.

"Do you love me, Kik?" he asks suddenly, surprising her as her eyes widen and she straightens up slightly.

"Yes," She doesn't miss a beat to answer. "I know I screwed up, I hurt you so much and I'll never forgive myself. And I thought you'd never want to see me again, I thought you'd hate me."

"I told you I could never hate you," he says quietly, "No matter how much you've hurt me."

"But you should," she says, her voice hardening as she frowns. "You should hate me. Just tell me one thing. You didn't break up with Y/N because of me, right?"

It surprises how guilty she sounds, even his eyebrows shoot up a bit at the question as he nibbles on his bottom lip. Technically, you "broke up" because of her but realistically, you've never dated in the first place. Things got messy ever since he figured out that she didn't break up with him because she wanted space. The whole thing was supposed to be easy – he wanted to know if she still loves him and if she saw you with him, that would be his answer. But the whole thing blew up into something completely different and big, something that hurt him ten times worse than the actual breakup.

"I told you," he mutters, "We're better as best friends. There are no hard feelings."

"That's hard to believe," she chuckles, looking down at her lap shyly. "You both seemed happy together."

Jungkook almost chokes on his spit, wanting her to assure her that it wasn't like that. Yes, you both enjoyed time spent together but it wasn't like that. It's not what she's implying. He keeps his mouth sealed, not wanting to expose the real reason behind the two of you 'being happy together'. It's not the right time anyway. He'll tell her eventually, plus, he's not the one who cheated.

"I was happy with you too."

She widens her eyes, letting out a cough. "I know," she admits, "I never planned on telling you. I wanted to spare you the pain but you kept insisting..."

"So it's my fault?" he shoots, cursing at himself when he sees the shock on her face mixed with hurt and guilt.

"No, of course not," she shakes her head, looking like she's in pain. "It's all my fault, I know that."

"That's not what I meant," He's the one who shakes his head. "Look, I'm not gonna lie. This dinner made me realize that things aren't that bad between us, we can still talk and it feels like nothing changed. You're still the woman I fell in love with, I guess it's obvious I still love you. I wouldn't have gone through all of this if I didn't."

She can't help but smile at the mention of him still loving her. She doesn't deserve him, she knows but her heart is screaming at her for fighting for him.

"I love you too." she whispers as Jungkook's heart jumps at that. It hits differently when she says it so openly, instead of answering his question with a simple 'yes'.

"But I can't forget what you've done," His voice shivers, "But I can forgive slowly."

"What do you mean?" she asks cautiously, her breath catching in her throat as she sees him taking a breath, staring right back into her eyes.

"I want you back," he confesses, her mouth opening as her eyes water with tears. "And I believe we can get through this."

"I'll do anything you need me to." she says, wanting nothing else than to reach towards him. She holds herself, watching his doe eyes flickering between her eyes and the table.

"Time," he breathes out, "I need time."

The muted music carries itself around the closed club, much softer than it'll be playing in twenty minutes before a bunch of people with a purpose to get drunk and have fun will be allowed to come in. You can't help but feel a little uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach because you don't know what to expect.

"I don't like this."

Your best friend's voice resounds, not really helping with your inner battle with an uneasy feeling.

"I know," you roll your eyes, "You told me like hundreds of times by now." you mutter, raising a brow at him as he stares at you from the other side of the bar, sitting on one of the stools while watching you.

Realizing that he's not really helping, he sighs and slouches his shoulders. "No, I mean... Do you think this is really a good idea?"

"What other option do I have, Jungkook?" you ask, almost annoyingly even though you know he is only worried and cares about you.

It happened only recently that you've made your decision to work a part-time job in a club in Itaewon. If somebody told you you'll spend some of your weekends working behind a bar in a club, you'd most likely laugh in their face and tell them that's not going to happen. Well, it did. Inconveniently, your car started to show the consequences of its old age. Not only had it started taking tools on you financially, the engine stopped working and you'd spend a few minutes in front of the company's building trying to start it. Then you had to buy new brakes because the old ones have not worked properly and there are still a bunch of things that need to be replaced. The middle aged mechanic who's been in charge of your car in the car service you've entrusted your precious old car into has told you, it's probably best to look for a better car because this one will just cost you money.

"I could always lend you some money." he tries, ignoring the glare you're giving him.

You know Jungkook has some saved up money but you can't let him do that. What if his new car breaks down all of a sudden? What would he do then? Jungkook doesn't really think about possible consequences and scenarios that can happen. He's so determined to lend you his money that he doesn't think about himself, and you can't let that happen.

"It's just for a few months, anyway," you wave your hand at him, ignoring his attempt of changing your mind even though he knows you've decided.

You're standing behind a bar, aren't you? It's already done, but you could still back out.

The funniest thing is how you got into this job and the person who helped you to get this job is the least person you ever thought would help you. It's actually pretty random too.

It was one of those days when your car wouldn't work, so you just sat inside your car with a completely annoyed and pissed expression. All you wanted was to get home, get out of your work clothes and take a nice shower. The last person you expected to be knocking on your window is none other than Min Yoongi himself, grinning at you or maybe even laughing at your desperate expression.

"What do you want?" you grumble annoyingly once the car's window is rolled down.

He has the audacity to lean his arms against your rolled down window, almost sticking his head into your car as you want to sneer at the close proximity. 

"You in trouble, grumpy?" He even has the audacity to laugh, cackling at your sore expression.

Of course he knows about your trouble with your car. He has spent a good week grinning whenever he walked up to his car, seeing you struggling to start the engine while passing by yours. It's only now he stopped by.

"Why are you asking such a dumb question? Of course, I'm in trouble. My car is not working and you know that, so please spare me the--"

"Jesus, okay, calm down you maniac," he stops you, straightening himself and giving you some space to breathe. "Get that fat ass out of your car, I'm gonna help you start the engine."

"How are you gonna do that?" you speak, narrowing your eyes as he looks at you dumbfoundedly. 

"Using jumper cables, of course." he deadpans, and fuck, you hate the look he gives you. Like you're dumb, you hate when people do that. Or naturally looking down on you because you're a woman.

"I know what that is, thanks." you snap, opening the door so you can step out of your car.

"Really? Why haven't you used it then?" he raises a brow at you. 

"Because I don't have those cables?" you react by raising your voice. He's getting on your nerves again.

Still, everyone is already home. You and Yoongi had to stay behind and work overtime again. 

"Then you should've asked someone for help." he snaps, annoyed by your attitude. It's the same thing with you two. Both too stubborn and annoyed at each other to stand back and keep your mouth shut. 

"Someone? Who? You?" you laugh bitterly, knowing he had a fair share of fun while watching you struggle with your car. 

"I'm helping you, aren't I?" he shoots back, walking to the white Toyota that's parked just a few parking places from yours. 

You watch him unlock the car, sitting into it as he drives and parks it in front of your car. He walks out, pulling out the jumper cables out of the truck. It looks weird, seeing him in his shirt and blazer while holding those cables.

"Do you even know how to do this?" you ask, hugging yourself with your jacket as the end of September's breeze runs chills. Yoongi's pink cheeks are proof that you're not the only one getting cold. 

You watch him opening his car hood as he does the same to yours before he raises a brow at you. Well, he certainly knows what to do with those cables but you still had to ask. You've never seen him doing such a thing (of course you didn't, you don't actually spend time with him outside of work) and even in work, he's known as being lazy. Still gets the job done though, but you never tell him that.

"I'm not completely useless," he grumbles at you.

The irritated part of you wants to snap back, not giving him that satisfaction of you being quiet but that's exactly what you must do. He's the only help you've got right now. It's already late and dark outside for you to be sitting in a car in an almost empty parking lot.

"Now shut up and turn on your flashlight, I can't see shit in this darkness." he grumbles as usual, shooting you a glare as you fume at his words.

Patience, Y/N. He's the only one who can help you.

So, keeping your mouth shut, you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight while he starts ordering you around. You're sure he's doing that to piss you off even more but you ignore it, changing the angle of the flashlight every five seconds with clenched teeth as he keeps nagging you. 

Your car started after that, but the same thing happened a few more times leaving you completely helpless and you can't believe it, but you complained to Yoongi during the lunch break. He seemed completely unimpressed with your issue, sipping on his iced Americano like you were talking about the weather instead of your actual problem.

And you were sure he didn't even listen to your single word, praying when you'll finally shut up until he opened his mouth and surprisingly, nothing bitter came out of it.

"My brother owns a club and he's looking for someone to work behind a bar."

You stare at him with an open mouth, ready to cuss him out for interrupting you in the middle of your sentence but you pause yourself. He has a brother? And he owns a club? Why does it feel like everyone owns something? Jungkook's friend Seokjin, owns a restaurant and Jungkook's brother owns a coffee shop. 

"Behind a bar?" It's funny how your voice is quiet and timid, assuring that you've heard your co-worker right. 

"Yeah, I mean... it's not exactly a dream job but he pays well. I could ask him, you know... if you're interested." he mumbles the last part, almost looking regretful that he even started in the first place. 

You're intrigued. You're not going to lie, you started looking for a part-time job but most of them weren't going well with your working schedule. You need something where you'll be able to work during weekends only. 

"I've never mixed a drink. I don't know how to do any of that stuff." you admit, hating that you sound stupid in front of him but it's true. Apart from the failed drinks you were trying to mix for your friends which unfortunately, ended up unsuccessfully. You remember Jimin's cringed expression and Taehyung looking like he's just seconds from throwing up very clearly. 

"He'll teach you everything you need to know. He needs a little help behind the bar," he shrugs, "And I'm sure he'll be able to adjust to your working schedule too."

You stare at your co-worker, recognizing the way he's avoiding eye contact as he keeps sipping on his Americano while staring at the busy streets of Seoul. Your lips curl into a grin, your hand draping over his shoulder as he tenses and gives you a glare, silently asking why the hell are you touching him. 

"Min Yoongi, are you helping me?" you ask, not able to hide the grin and amusement in your voice as he doesn't waste a second, scoffing at you.

"No," he disagrees, but what could you expect from him, right? "I'm just tired of listening to you complaining, I'm sure my ears are bleeding at this point." 

You clench your teeth, rolling your eyes at him. "I don't know, working at a club seems dangerous." 

"That's why there's security there." he deadpans, causing you to scowl.

"And I'm a woman. Working in a club where there are a bunch of drunk idiots all the time seems kinda dangerous." you point out, voice harsh but you try to control yourself since you're not alone in the breakroom. 

"Don't flatter yourself," he says, looking you up and down as you scoff. "My brother cares about the safety of his customers and employees. It's not that bad as it sounds." he decides to say, almost as if he has the need to have his brother's back even though you've never specifically said something about him or his working ethic.

You purse your lips for a moment, staring at the view with Yoongi by your side. He is an annoying co-worker and sometimes, you're sure he hates your guts and loves making your days at work miserable with his snarky remarks. But you're sure he wouldn't be offering you a job at his brother's club, someone who's close to him. And it's very rare to see him speaking to you about something so freely and casually, and that's how you know he's honest. 

"Okay, can you give me his number?"

And here you are. After coming here for a couple of days, trying to learn how to mix a proper drink (just the simple ones since the difficult drinks are Mark's responsibility). A guy who's close to your age with a nice and friendly smile.

You don't know what you expected when you were about to meet Yoongi's brother for the first time, but you definitely didn't expect someone so friendly and well-mannered. The opposite of his younger brother who happens to be your co-worker too. Deep down, you know he's not that bad of a type guy and it's just his personality that's shitty. Some part of you thought his brother would secretly hate you. That's what siblings do, right? Having each other's back by hating the same person.

Yejun is in his mid thirties, very polite and professional and there's only a little resemblance between him and his annoying younger brother. He's been nothing but polite and very flexible when it comes to your working schedule. So far, you won't be working every weekend and the pay is really good, Yoongi was right about that one.

Actually, he was right about most of the stuff. The place is secure and Yejun made sure to tell you that if someone is being persistent and rude, just tell one of the security guys and they'll have that person kicked out. That definitely settled your nerves.

"What if something happens to you?" Jungkook asks, the doe eyes staring at you with a sudden alarm at the thought of you being hurt by one of the drunken males.

He's not stupid, he knows what working in a bar involves and he definitely knows how drunk men often think about women way out of their league. Men can be real pigs. It doesn't matter that your working attire consists of light blue jeans and a simple tight white shirt with a tiny club's logo on the right side.

"There are security men in every corner, I'm safe here. Plus, I'll be behind a bar all the time with Mark," you say, pointing towards the mentioned man who's talking with one of the bouncers.

Jungkook follows your vision, frown settled on his face as he doesn't look to be too convinced.

"And the break room is just right next to the bar where one of the security guys will be standing all night."

It seems like you're trying to convince him, but the truth is you're trying to convince yourself too. You're nervous after all, not knowing what to expect.

"What if someone follows you outside?" he exclaims, trying to prove a point as you roll your eyes at him. Again.

"Jesus, Jeon," you groan, "You're not helping."

He looks guilty, shrugging before he mumbles; "I'm just trying to prove a point."

Yeah, well there was a reason why you haven't told him about this before it was hundred percent sure and you signed a contract.

"Our cars are parked behind the club, no one has access to that parking lot, just the staff."

He frowns, you see the wheels turning inside his head and how much he tries to keep his mouth shut. He wants to say something else but knows he's no help, especially when tonight is your first day and you're already nervous as it is.

"But how was the dinner?" you ask, trying to change the topic and well, you're curious how that ended.

Ever since Jungkook came into the club to check on you, he never uttered a single word about it and started to voice out his worry about your new part-time job instead. Maybe it was his way of distracting himself or distancing this conversation, although there is no reason to. He'd tell you eventually.

Even when you called him this morning, he sounded so freaking nervous and as much as he tried to hide it by trying to act and sound cool, you know him better than that. He's been preparing for that dinner for weeks, checking his phone in fear Kiko would cancel it. Even though you had usually hung out during weekends, since the two of you work during the week, you could easily see him trying to distract himself by thinking about her or the dinner.

"It was... good. Better than I thought it would be." he answers honestly, shifting on his spot.

Well, he definitely made sure to look good on that dinner. He came here straight from it, wearing button-up and black slacks, replacing his all black and loose outfits with much more elegant appearance. His hair is styled nicely, parted in the middle while he's hiding the undercut beneath it. It's a change from the constant man bun or a bucket hat he's been wearing often these days.

"What does that mean?" you ask, flickering your eyes to his while there's a little knowing feeling inside of you.

First of all, he doesn't look miserable. If the dinner went wrong, he wouldn't be sitting here so casually. And then as soon as he registers your question, a sheepish grin settles on his lips while there's a slight shimmer in his eyes and then you know.

"That I got what I wanted?" he asks unsurely, dodging answering your question directly as you raise a brow at him.

You're sure you look dumbfounded, the look you're giving him dares him to say it directly and he looks almost alarmed. Still, you're controlling yourself because you know how much this means to him. Although, there is a pinch of hope inside you hoping he'll tell you otherwise.

"Which is?" you murmur, already knowing what his answer is but how can you glare at him for listening to his heart? Especially when he smiles, genuinely smiling with happiness that you haven't seen in him for a while.

He sighs, raising his brow as if it's not obvious but then he takes a deep breath and beams; "Kiko."

Unfortunately, you can't quite share the happiness with him, even though he's your best friend and you support him. Is that wrong of you? You can't help it, you just can't support a relationship and a woman that cheated on him when he gave her everything. He was ready to ask her to move in for fucks sake. He had been so serious about their relationship, wanting to take another step and she crushed his heart just like that. And that's not even the worst part. She cheated. She freaking cheated on one of the best men walking on this planet.

And even the stiff smile you give him, murmuring 'congratulations' doesn't go unnoticed by him and his shoulder slouch a little, letting out a defeated sigh.

"Please, don't look at me like that." he pleads, hand rubbing his forehead with a tiny distress.

"Like what?" you ask innocently, feeling bad for having that kind of reaction. But you can't control it! It's not your fault you'd jump at her and slap her face for hurting your best friend. It's all on her.

"Like you're disappointed in me."

That one hurt. Your eyes flash with guilt and sadness before you let out a sigh, leaning yourself against the bar and closer to him.

"It's your life, Kook," you remind him, "Whatever makes you happy." you smile, but Jungkook's brows furrow in a slight frown when he recognizes your smile as forced.

"I don't want you to hate her, she regrets it, you know. And we're taking it slow." he tells you softly, pleadingly staring at you while you let out a snort.

"I don't hate her." Yes, you do. But you can't tell him that, that would break him.

"I don't want to be put into a position to choose between you two."

"You don't have to. I'm your best friend and she's your girlfriend," Fuck, even that word tastes bitter in your mouth. "You didn't have to choose in the first place. It's been her all along."

"But I still want my best friend. You're important to me, Y/N," he says, sounding serious and genuine. "I just... I don't want you to hate her because one day, you'll probably see her again and I don't want you guys to have some... I don't know, tension between you two." he tries to explain.

It makes sense. You feel bad for reacting the way you do but again, you can't control it. You can't fake your emotions and opinion about their relationship or Kiko, Jungkook knows very well what you think about this. You're not about to say you hate her and don't want him to be with her, because she'll ruin him. And if it's not going to be her, it's going to be the fact she cheated on him. You still control yourself as best as you can, thinking about Jungkook's feelings knowing what he's trying to say with his.

He doesn't want you to hate each other because like he said, eventually your paths will cross whether you like it or not. She's a part of Jungkook's life and you're too.

"Look, I'm not gonna pretend I like her because I know she hurt you. And maybe you're over it, or trying to be... but I'm not. But it's also not my relationship or any of my business. I just hope she won't hurt you again. I really wish you to be happy." you tell him honestly, seeing him giving you a soft and appreciative smile.

"You're the best," he says with a smile, "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

You smile back at him, this one a tiny bit more honest when you see the happiness dancing in his eyes. This is what he wanted after all, you both got what you wanted from your deal. And you should be happy...

Somehow, you still don't feel content because so much has happened. Things you both haven't expected like her hurting him for the second time, breaking his heart again and you have to remind yourself that this is what he wants. No matter how many times you find it wrong in so many ways (getting back to an ex who cheated), it's Jungkook's decision. You're just looking out for him, the same way he does for you right now. Sitting on the bar stool with sparkling water in front of him because he had driven here, making sure he's here to support you on your first day.

You just hope he'll be there for you on other days too. You just got him back, you're not quite ready for him to focus on Kiko all over again. Maybe it's a selfish or just natural reaction of a best friend that missed him.

And when Mark calls out to you, informing you the club is opening in five minutes, Jungkook is there to assure you that you'll do great and he's right there.

And maybe, just maybe, this time it'll be different. And just like Jungkook hoped to win Kiko back, you hope nothing will change and you won't lose him again.

[headkiss]

single thread (pt. 2)

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after the kiss, that string between you and steve seems to get thinner, shorter. you find out some things about him, too.

word count: 7.6k

warnings: spiderman!steve au, a little angst, fluff, injuries (most likely some inaccurate descriptions of them), idiots!!!!

a/n: part two is hereeee!!! thank u guys for all the love on the first one, i hope u guys continue to enjoy this one :,)

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

If it’s even possible, Steve thinks about you more after the kiss.

Kisses don’t usually feel like that. At least, he doesn’t think they do because he can’t remember what any other kiss felt like. You were enough to erase any that happened before you came along.

It was the best kiss he’s ever had and he never should’ve done it. Being friends with you was one thing, but letting his feelings get involved… there’s no turning back from that.

He’s sure that if he said any of this to Robin she'd call him a dingus and tell him to ask you out, but he can’t do it. He can’t.

You wouldn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into. That is, if you’d even want him at all. The injuries he comes home with—more so than what you’ve patched up yourself—the things he’s had to do, all of it.

You’re too soft, too good, for him to weigh you down with it.

He likes you so much, he knows he does. He likes you so much that he doesn’t want to do anything that could end up with you getting hurt or being unhappy. If that means only being your friend, he’ll do it.

He meant it when he said he never hated you, that much is obvious. And he meant it when he kissed you, the way he felt. He felt brave then, he makes himself brave everytime he puts on his suit, but he’s afraid of this. Of being with you fully, letting you know the truth.

It's been days, maybe a week, since he kissed you and neither of you have brought it up. Steve’s been trying to figure out what to say, how to tell you he’s not sorry for kissing you but he can’t do it again.

Today, he’s decided he’s gonna try. He taps his knuckles against your door, all too familiar of an action by now.

“Just a second!” You call. Even just hearing your voice, Steve knows it’ll be hard to have this conversation and sound like he means it.

You open the door, hair pulled away from your face, “hi, Steve.”

“Hey.”

You’re opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him in before he even asks.

Steve’s eyes are as soft as ever, his smile shy, almost nervous. Looking at him, you still can't believe he kissed you, that he opened up with just a few words.

Never hated you.

“Everything okay?” You ask him. It’s early in the afternoon, and if Steve’s knocking on your door, it’s usually late. You wonder why it’s different this time.

“Yeah. Yep. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” nerves bubble in your stomach.

“I kissed you,” the words come out in a rush, like he had to force them out, to bring it up.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t said anything about it. I just, um, needed to think about what to say.”

He sounds more serious than he has with you in a while. Since you started bringing him meals and he started to let you in. You twist your hands in front of you.

“I never said anything, either.”

He shakes his head. “I’m really glad to know you, okay? I just think, maybe, being friends works for us, right? And I don’t want to mess that up, so…”

“So we don’t kiss again.” You hope your voice doesn’t show your disappointment.

You like Steve an embarrassing amount, and when he kissed you, your heart expanded in your chest. A balloon filling up with air until, inevitably, it’d pop. Now, he’s letting you down easy and he’s being so gentle about it that it makes you wanna cry even more.

Damn him for being such a good guy.

“Is that okay?”

“Steve, we’re friends. Don’t worry about it. We’re good, promise.”

You mean it. It’s okay, he can’t help the way he feels and even if it’s not what you’d been hoping for, it’s not his fault you got your hopes up. You’d rather be his friend than be nothing at all.

You can squish your crush down, tuck it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist. You can do it because you were doing it before. It’s fine. It has to be.

Steve feels relief wash over him, though it mingles with some sort of worry that even in doing what he thinks is better, he’s still managing to hurt you. Either way, he’s said the words and his decision’s been made.

He can tell you’re biting at the inside of your cheek, a habit of yours he’s noticed. He knows you do it when you’re nervous or upset and his jaw tenses. He steps over to you and hugs you.

Steve rarely hugs you. There was that time when you cooked for him, and that was it. The rarity of the action tells you he means it, it matters. He’s so gentle when he does this time, his arms folding around your shoulders and his chin perching itself on top of your head.

You fall into his hold easily. You think you always will. Your arms go around his waist, cheek pressed against his shirt’s collar. You don’t think you’ve ever hugged a friend like this before.

So softly, quietly. Both of you breathing each other in and hoping the other doesn’t notice, wondering who’s gonna break away first.

Steve tilts his chin to press a kiss against your hair, his lips still against you when he mumbles, “thank you for understanding, honey.”

The pet name reassures you. Nothing has to be different, and you can be okay with that.

“Thanks for being honest. And I’m really glad to know you, too, by the way.”

Reluctantly, you pull back first, looking down at your feet as you do, too scared that your feelings are written all over your face.

“I’ll see you, yeah?” He still sounds nervous, cautious.

“We do live across the hall from each other, so…”

He huffs, it’s a barely-there laugh, but you’ll take it.

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Steve.”

When he leaves and shuts the door behind him, you fall onto your couch, head in your hands and mumbling about how stupid you are, how hopeless.

Steve’s senses can pick up the sound of your voice, the sound of your footsteps, he can pick out some words. Like ‘dummy’ and ‘idiot.’

He mouths the words ‘I’m sorry’ at your door.

He thinks, If whatever he encounters while patrolling tonight doesn’t, Robin’s gonna fucking kill him.

-

Things were awkward for a bit after that. Not enough to make you want to avoid him, though. He’s not someone you can let go of like that. He’s under your skin and he has no idea.

You’re standing outside his door with the dinner you’ve made him once again. You thought that maybe this would help make things feel normal again. Routine and friendly.

He opens the door quickly after you knock, shaking his head with a smile at the dish in your hands. “I told you, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“I told you I like doing it,” you hand him his food, and despite his protesting, he takes it easily.

Steve was relieved to hear you knocking at his door, relieved to see you with those same strands of hair falling around your face, the same shy smile you wear every time you deliver food.

“Do you wanna stay?” He asks.

“I have to go close at work.”

Steve nods. He knows where he’ll be patrolling tonight, at least.

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Maybe not to you, but it is to him. Steve doesn’t want you wasting money or energy on him, but he can’t lie and say that it doesn’t feel nice to have someone care about him the way you do. To have someone actually want to take care of him, even in small ways.

He has Robin, of course he does, but it isn’t the same. He’s not sure his feelings for any person have ever been like his feelings for you.

He wants to do something for you for once, and when you go to turn around and leave, he stops you, “hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me cook for you sometime? Let me do it for you for once?”

You feel warm, your heart growing in your chest. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow work for you?”

“Tomorrow’s great.”

“Okay,” Steve has no idea what he’ll make, and he’ll definitely have to go grocery shopping, probably—reluctantly—call Robin for advice. That doesn’t stop him from feeling a buzz in his chest ‘cause he’ll get to see you. For longer than a couple of minutes this time.

This time, when you turn around, Steve lets you.

Your shift that night is slow and uneventful. Thankfully, so is your walk home. Even after weeks, you’re checking over your shoulder every so often, glancing up at the buildings in search of a superhero you’ve met once. One who probably meets people like you every day, who probably doesn’t even remember you.

Tomorrow comes quickly, and suddenly, you’re worrying about what to wear. Then, after making a mess of your closet, you’re standing in the hallway knocking on Steve’s door all over again.

For once, he didn’t hear you coming, too focused on making sure everything looked right, that he didn’t seem as nervous as he is. When you knock, he hides the cookbook he’d bought that morning in a cupboard before letting you in.

There’s a strand of hair falling over his forehead. That’s what you notice when you first see him. You stop yourself from reaching up and pushing it back.

“Hey, come in,” he moves aside and shuts the door behind you when you walk in.

“Smells good.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” You aren’t lying, but you would if you had to. If his cooking was awful, you’d probably have two servings to make him feel good about it.

He’s set up plates at the stools by his island in his kitchen. When he notices you looking there he speaks up, “sorry. I don’t have an actual table.”

You shake your head, “don’t be. Neither do I. You know, ‘cause we live in the same apartments.”

“Right, yeah.”

He gestures for you to sit down, and you do. He brings the food over, putting some on both of your plates before sitting down beside you. His knee brushes yours.

He waits for you to take a bite first, searching your face for a reaction.

“Steve, this is really good.”

He makes a mental reminder to thank Robin for the cookbook recommendation later. Right now, he focuses on the brush of his leg against yours, on the way you laugh softly at his jokes, the way your cardigan falls off your shoulder.

Steve’s eyes are on you so much that you swear you can feel it. You don’t even think he realizes that he’s staring, that he’s leaving a blazing trail wherever his eyes go.

When you look at him, you find his gaze easily, eyes meeting, saying things you couldn’t say out loud. You can't help but feel like this is more than just two friends hanging out. If it was, you probably would’ve gotten take out, and you probably wouldn’t be fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his lips. Especially when he talks.

Not a date, you remind yourself. Just friends.

Steve’s an idiot for thinking he can keep himself at a certain distance from you. He’s an idiot for ignoring his feelings and thinking that because he said you should be friends, they’d go away. It’s clear that they won’t.

He forces his eyes away from you and back down to his food, filling the tension with the first question that comes to mind.

“So, where do you work?” He already knows the answer. He’s jumped across buildings to make sure you get there safe and done the same for your walks home.

“Oh, just this small bookstore. It’s pretty quiet, but I like it there.”

“You like to read, then?” He knows this answer too. There’s a very full bookshelf in your living room.

You nod, finishing your bite of food before replying, “love it. Sometimes, when we have extra stock that isn’t selling, my boss lets me take books home for free.”

He can hear the honesty in your voice, the excitement you get when talking about something that makes you happy. He likes the sound more than he should.

Steve’s about to ask you something else when it happens; the hairs on his neck and arms standing, the goosebumps trailing across his skin, the ringing in his ears. Something’s wrong.

You can see the shift in him. His shoulders tensing, his eyebrows scrunching. You have to say his name three times before he hears you.

“Steve?”

His head snaps over to you, “hm?”

“Is everything okay? I lost you just then.”

“It’s fine,” he drops his fork onto his plate, his hands balled into fists. “I just forgot that I have to do something.”

“What?”

“I have to go. I’m so sorry, you can stay, finish your food. But I really have to go, okay?”

The last thing he wants to do is leave you, but he has to.

“Steve, are you sure everything’s okay?” You put a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away.

“It’s alright. I gotta go,” he stands and snatches his backpack on his way out the door, “I’m sorry, honey.”

And he’s gone.

-

You don’t finish your food. You’re stuck staring at the door after Steve leaves. It’s obvious that there's something he isn’t telling you, and you wish it didn’t bug you so much.

By the time you’re able to snap out of it, the food’s grown cold. No, you don’t eat it, but you try to occupy yourself by cleaning up the best you can without snooping through his stuff. You take as long as you can, hoping that maybe he'll come back at some point.

He doesn't.

The short walk back to your place is almost robotic, your mind in a haze, legs moving on auto-pilot.

You’ve always known that Steve hasn’t told you very much about his life. It's been clear in the way he distanced himself from you for so long, in how he likes to ask more questions, let you talk more. Still, you worry that it’s bigger than you ever thought.

You worry that out of all the seemingly impossible things you’ve wondered about what could be happening to him when seeing him injured, one of them is true.

It's worse because you like him so much. You care more than you ever should for someone that you don’t know all that well. You think you knew him best when he kissed you, when he wasn’t talking with his voice at all.

It was unguarded, like something had snapped, frayed enough to let his feelings seep through. You’d like to know him like that again. Just friends.

You sigh and head to your room to change out of the outfit you’d spent so much time choosing. Then, you do your skincare. Your apartment is completely silent, but your head is a roaring mess of noise. You finish up in minutes, though you feel like it's been longer.

It’s too early for you to go to bed, and you know you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you tried, so you head to your living room and sit on the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest.

You grab the remote and switch on the news, needing something to fill up the silence, to drown out your thoughts.

The headline on the bottom of the screen is what you notice first. The mention of Spider-man.

You rest your chin on your knees and stare at the screen, the rushed footage of that red and blue suit swinging across buildings. The screaming in your head of SteveSteveSteve fades to whispers.

You remember the sound of those webs that hold him up, the air that rushed through your hair and against your skin when he swung you home. You remember the feeling of his suit under your hands and the way the white eyes of his mask were expressive despite being fake.

It feels wrong to think about Spider-man as often as you do while wanting to be around Steve so much. It’s just curiosity, you tell yourself. He saved me and I can’t forget about it.

You’ve been subconsciously searching for him all over the place. Your walks home, the front pages of papers at newsstands. You look for his face—mask, really—and you don’t always realize what you're doing.

Still, when the segment about the hero ends, Steve floods back into your mind. Just like he always does.

He’s growing all over you, vines of ivy stringing across your being just a bit more every time you see him. You’ve never really felt that way, never had someone that you wanted to let so close. It hasn’t been long, but he knows you better than most people do.

You huff and get up to grab one of your books. You hope that the words on pages you use to escape so often will work the same way this time.

-

It’s late when Steve gets home, completely dark, completely quiet.

He climbs in through his window and showers like always when he finishes a patrol. He hates how he had been hoping to see you when he walked into his kitchen.

Instead, he sees that you cleaned up a lot of the dishes, that you were kind enough to do that even when he left the way he did. It sends a ping of something he has to ignore to his heart, a squeeze, an ache.

He doesn’t know how he’ll explain himself to you, because he doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the truth, either.

It’s completely fucked. He’s fucked.

-

Steve never really explained himself, and you sort of just accepted that. He’s not obligated to share every bit of his life with you, as much as you want him to. You want to be the person he’s completely himself with.

It’s selfish, and it’s absolutely not going to happen.

Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they have been since the kiss. Rather than making him dinner, you and Steve take turns and have a meal together once a week. He’s finally convinced you to stop buying extra food just for him.

He’s even made a habit of visiting you at work when things aren’t too busy, and with every passing day, any lingering upset or concerns you had about his hasty exit that day seem to melt away.

He’s human, he has secrets, and you can only hope that they aren’t anything that’s hurting him.

The way that you seem to let things go unanswered with him make your feelings clear. You more than like him, you want to plant yourself on him the way he has on you, to be something to him.

Steve’s been trying again and again to keep himself away from you in a sense. To be platonic and be okay with that, but he’s smart enough to know that the hold you have over him is so much more.

He has no idea how you don’t see it all over him, but he figures it might be for the best. If he can’t hide it, at least you can be blind to it.

Today’s another quiet day at the bookstore. Business seems to be slowing more and more in the independent shop, and though you love the quiet, you’d hate to lose the place. The smell of the books and their pages, the section of used books with enough character to fill the space.

The first eventful part of your day so far has been the phone ringing, and you pick it up quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” it’s Steve, just like you’d hoped. “You busy?”

“Not at all.”

“Hungry?”

Somehow, his voice sounds even better over the phone. The crackle of it in the speakers, the way that it’s all you have to focus on since you can’t see him at the moment. It has a bigger presence.

“I could eat,” you say.

“That’s great, ‘cause I already ordered the food.”

“Steeeve.”

He can almost hear the smile in your voice, and if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can see it, too. The shyness behind it, the way your shoulder will lift to your cheek. It’s cute.

“You don’t mind if I stop by, do you?” He asks, like it’s even a question.

“You’d show up no matter what I said.”

“But…”

“You know I don’t mind. You’ll be my first customer of the day!”

“What an honor,” there’s silence for a moment, and you can hear each other breathing on the other line. “I’ll see you in a few, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

The phone’s hung up with a click.

In the time it takes Steve to walk (swing, but you don’t know that) over, you walk around and tidy up anything that’s out of place. You do this every time he calls to ask if it’s alright that he visits, trying to make the minutes go by faster.

You’re straightening books on the front display table when the bell above the door jingles, and soon after, a wide hand covering your eyes.

“Guess who.”

“Hmmm, let me think. Spider-man?”

You’re clearly joking, but Steve’s stunned. If you listen close enough, you can hear his sharp intake of breath at your reply. She doesn’t know, he convinces himself. She doesn’t know, shake it off.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

Steve takes his hand away from your face and sets the paper takeout bag on the front counter next to the register, the bag crinkling as he opens it.

“Mmm,” you hum, looking at the spread of what he’s brought you. “You’re the best.”

He likes being called the best by you, and he likes the feeling he gets when he hears it. Like he’s someone important, someone good.

“Yeah, well. I’ve gotta make up for all of the meals you’ve made me.”

He always says that, and you always tell him the same things. “You don’t owe me anything, Steve.”

He absolutely does. He owes you so much. For the food you’ve made him, for patching him up and never pushing the subject, for being the person you are and bringing out the person he hasn’t been in a long, long time.

He won’t tell you that, though, so he just shakes his head. “Dig in.”

You do, and so does he, the white, cardboard containers spread across the counter. You talk between bites of food, the easy kind of conversation that isn’t very common, especially for someone like you.

You don’t have people, really. Steve is the someone you do have.

He asks you about the book you have sitting on the counter, and he listens to everything you say like he really cares. You bond over the poor water pressure in your showers, and you laugh at Steve’s impression of your landlord. It’s your favorite kind of lunch break.

Your shifts usually feel slow, but when Steve shows up, time flies by. Before you know it, you’re stacking the empty boxes and tossing them in the garbage.

“Thanks for the food, Steve.”

“‘Course.” He’s about to say something else when it happens again.

The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps spreading all over, his hairs standing up. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, forgetting that you’re there to see him do it, focusing on his senses and where he has to go.

“Steve?”

Shit. He has to leave again. At least he made it through the meal this time. That’s something.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect, yeah. Just, um, a headache.”

You don’t look convinced, but like you so often do, you drop it. Steve doesn’t know why you let him get away with so much, and he feels awful for it. He’ll tell you one day, maybe, when it’s safe. Just not today.

“I have some water, here,” you go to grab it but he stops you.

“That’s okay, honey. I think I’ll just head home.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good rest of your shift, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

He grabs his backpack and heads out the door. You wait for him to be a few steps away and then you peek out the door, eyes following his figure on the sidewalk.

You see him break into a run before turning into an alleyway. You’re confused all over again.

-

Steve really wasn’t expecting it to be so bad this time, especially considering the fact that the sun’s still up.

He’d changed into his suit in that alley you saw him run into, hiding behind a dumpster and swinging off as quick as he could when he was done. He should’ve guessed it’d be serious by how strong his senses came on. Should’ve seen it coming.

He was a little busy thinking about you.

But then he saw what was going on and forced himself to focus. There was a group, maybe five, six people, who'd made some sort of enhanced weapons using electricity, and his superpowers, as great as they are, don’t protect him from the shocks those things could cause.

Not to mention how outnumbered he was. He knew this one could take a while. First, he focused on getting anyone in danger out of there, clearing the area until it was just him, the people with the weapons, and news reporters stupid enough to stay on scene.

He had to be smart for this one, so he used heights to his advantage, staying above them all while tracking them quickly. Steve also made sure they didn’t start heading in the direction of the bookstore, your bookstore.

The first two were easy to get, the ones that fell behind their group. Steve was able to web them up without getting too close.

It gets tougher after that. The others seem smarter, strategic, and he had to be better than them to make it stop. He takes a second to hide from them, closing his eyes and really letting his senses do the work.

When he opens his eyes again, things move in a blur.

He’s flipping and ducking, narrowly avoiding their shots, running harder than he has in a while. It’s the type of day that’ll leave him sore in the morning, he knows that for sure. Before he really processes it, there’s only two guys left to catch.

There’s a wake of broken and burning things behind them, but Steve can’t stop to fix anything until this is taken care of, so he doesn’t even look back.

Just as he tries to web one of them, they shoot at him, and the electric current collides with his web, sending a shock up his arm. A zap so quick, he couldn’t see it coming. He’s distracted from it, his hand shaky and it makes things harder.

After some swinging and punching, he manages to get one guy. In the midst of it, he’s lost the other one. At least, until he feels a spark of pain in his side. The electricity was focused enough to leave a welt on his skin, one he can already feel developing.

He’s too late to avoid the second hit when he spots the guy, ducked behind a dumpster, peeking out like a sniper. The same side is hit, and he knows another mark will prove that.

Steve has to rush around the corner to get out of sight and recover for a moment, a hand—shaking and sweaty in his glove—coming to hover over the burn marks on his suit.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The pain is sharp and hot, the kind that doesn’t go away until it’s taken care of. “Okay. Get the guy, and go. It’s fine.”

He grunts when he stands straight again, another noise escaping him when he shoots a web and swings around the corner back to the alley. The last guy is still by the dumpster, and Steve lets go of his web and lands close enough to knock him off balance.

The guy must panic, because he pulls the trigger on Steve and manages to nick his side a third time. From this close, the current is only amplified. Steve’s knocked to the side, but he manages to stay upright.

Get him, and go home. Do it. He has to push himself, and it has to be enough to finish the job. When he realizes that he’s closer to the bookstore than he was before, he clenches his fists and punches the man hard enough that he falls to the ground.

Steve webs his there, and then he slumps against the wall of the alleyway, his side burning, his breathing short. He has to get home.

He breathes out a deep breath and stands, shooting his first web and gritting his teeth as he goes up with it. He swings by news anchors and finds it in himself to mumble, “fucking idiots,” at them.

By the time he gets inside his apartment via the window, it’s dark outside, and he doesn’t know how long he spent wrangling that group. He’s a mess of panting and sweating, his suit scorched and his skin an ugly color.

He takes a cool shower and throws on a thin shirt and the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He has to sit on his bed for a solid ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t pass out the next time he stands.

But when he does get up, he heads to his door like the absolute idiot he is. He heads into the hall to find you.

-

You stand up quick enough to get a head rush when he knocks on your door. You know it’s him, that’s not the question going through your head. No, you’re wondering if he’s okay.

Your heart’s already racing when you open the door. It gets quicker when you see him.

“Steve?” Your eyes flicker all over his face, searching for blood or bruising. Anything at all. “You okay?”

Steve’s eyes are bloodshot, his forehead damp with sweat and the droplets of water falling from his hair. Even so, all he tells you is: “I just wanted to make sure you-” his face scrunches, he pants between his words “-you got home okay.”

“I’m good. I’m alright,” you say, though it’s obvious since you’re standing right in front of him. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” He holds up his arm in a weak thumbs up and winces with the movement. You aren’t fooled in the slightest.

“No, you’re not. Get inside and let me help you.”

“Honey-”

You grab his hand gently, your fingers wrapped around his. You can feel him shaking as you tug him inside and shut the door. “Come on.”

He doesn’t really have it in him to argue with you, and as much as he shouldn’t, he wants to be around you, to hurt less because of your comfort and your soft touch.

Steve lets you lead him into your bathroom once more, watches as you bend down to grab the first-aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. He still has the bandages you gave him, and he’s lucky he won’t need them now since he’s not bleeding. He didn’t bring them with him.

You guide him to stand in front of the counter where the light is best and reach for his face, your hands holding his cheeks and tilting him down to you. His hands grasp your wrists, like an instinct.

There’s guilt in his eyes that you try to ignore. A frown tugs between your brows, at the corners of your lips.

“You look a little pale. What happened?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell you that right now.”

You push his hair away from his forehead before pulling your hands away. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod. You’re more worried about him right now; you can worry about whatever happened later.

Steve goes to lean against the counter. He grunts when his back hits it, his hand covering his side in reflex. You catch it.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Wha-”

“You’re hurt, Steve. I can tell. Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that and let me see. Please.”

He blows out a slow breath and reaches for the hem of his shirt, because he knows you won’t let it go until he shows you. Taking his shirt off is uncomfortable, and he makes quiet sounds to prove it. He keeps his eyes cast onto the floor when he tosses his shirt aside.

You look down slowly, your eyes passing down his neck and chest first, then lingering on his stomach for a second too long. You’d never expect him to be built the way he is, lines of muscle under his skin.

You can’t focus on that for long, not when you notice the three welts on his side. There’s already bruising, shades of purple and green spreading, outlined in redness.

You swear you can feel something crack in your chest, the sadness that seeps into your eyes in the form of tears along your waterline. “Oh my god.”

He hates the way your voice sounds, the way your expression shows how worried you are for him. He hates that someone like you is so concerned about him.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Steve.”

You kneel on the tiles in front of him to get a closer look. Your hands hover over the marks, too afraid to touch him, too afraid to hurt him even more.

Steve’s shaky hands grab yours, squeezing your fingers like he’s reminding you he’s okay, he’s alive enough to do that. You don’t look at his face, but he can’t look away from yours.

“What can I do to help?” You ask.

“You’re doing more than enough,” he says quietly, his voice a low hum in the air. “They’ll go away.”

Who could possibly be hurting him? This boy with soft eyes and a kindness even the highest of walls couldn’t keep hidden.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

You lean forward and peck the skin of his stomach, just beside the bruises. You’re not thinking about the consequences when you do it, you’re only thinking about how much pain he must keep hidden from everyone. About how much you’d do to make it go away.

Steve doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss you stupid for it. He settles on tugging you up to stand with his grip on your hands and leaning his forehead against yours. He’s not thinking about the consequences, either.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. Not you.”

“You’re hurting.”

“And you have nothing to do with that. If anything, you do the opposite.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stop any tears from escaping.

“Will you stay for a bit?”

No, there’s absolutely no thinking about the consequences when you’re this close, when your hands are in his. There’s no thinking when Steve agrees.

“Yeah, honey. I’ll stay.”

You nod and breathe in, catching the scent of his body wash, and pull away. You have to force yourself to let go of him and move out of his way so he can put his shirt back on.

Steve has to stop himself from reaching for you when you step away. Instead, he tries not to wince again when he picks up his shirt and pulls it on.

He follows you out into the living room, sits beside you on the couch and leaves distance between you. He observes you as you pick out a movie to put on, thanks you when you toss him a blanket.

He feels warm all over at the way you seem to take care of him without thinking. It spreads from his chest and expands and expands and expands until it’s everywhere from his head to his toes.

-

Somehow, you end up with Steve’s head in your lap.

The inches separating you and him on the couch grew shorter and shorter as you spoke until your thighs touched. You both acted like you didn’t notice.

Then, the further you got into the movie, the quieter you both became. So quiet that you hadn’t noticed how tired Steve was until you felt his head drop against your shoulder. You were barely able to smile at the action before he jerked himself upright.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re tired.”

“You must be, too.”

You shake your head, “not really. You should lay down.”

“I can just go,” he said, like that’s what you’d prefer.

“I’ve got a comfy lap, promise.”

Steve blames his tiredness and the haze of it all for agreeing and laying on his side, his cheek against the top of your thigh.

He’d never say it out loud, but he does feel really comfortable in the moment. He almost forgets about the bruising on his side. It takes a lot for him not to wrap his arms around you then.

“You can sleep if you want to,” you say, noticing the way his eyes blink heavily.

“Then you’ll be stuck here.”

That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. “I’ll go to bed when I want to. I’ll be sneaky, you won’t even notice.”

“As long as you wake me up if you have to.”

“Sure I will.”

Steve knows you absolutely won’t—he knows you’d rather fall asleep where you’re sitting and risk a sore neck than disturb him, because that’s who you are—but he doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he shuts his eyes and lets the comfort of your apartment, of you, put him to sleep.

You look down at him after a bit, and you notice his even breaths, the pout on his mouth as he sleeps. Softly, you run your fingers through his hair, pulling apart the tangles gently.

Without thinking, you keep doing it until the movie ends. You still aren’t tired, and you really don’t want to wake him up, so you grab your remote and switch it to the news.

They’re talking about Spider-man, you realize. They talk about him a lot.

“Today, a group of criminals with illegally enhanced weapons were taken down by none other than our city’s masked hero, Spider-man.”

The anchor talks in that classic news lady voice, one that would usually have you turning down the volume, but where Spider-man’s involved, you’re inclined to listen.

“We have some witness clips here, where you can see him in action.”

The screen switches to show a video that was taken on a bystander’s phone, the footage shaky, the witness dumb enough to stand there and film rather than run.

You can see Spider-man fighting someone, can see the quick flashes of webbing as well as the opponent’s weapon shooting. You can see how quick he is, the way his reflexes work. You think about what it was like to see it with your own eyes.

Then, it cuts to a new video, where he seems to be swinging away from the scene, but towards the camera. The anchor says something that makes your ears ring.

“It looks like there are some burn marks on his suit where Spider-man was hit. Three on his side, I’m being told.”

Three marks. On his side.

It has to be a coincidence that Steve showed up to your door after the whole Spider-man thing had happened with the exact same injuries, right?

Then, what if it isn’t? What if this is why he’s been getting hurt all this time?

You think about every interaction with Steve you’ve had. The day you met, when he carried your boxes without breaking a sweat. The way he tried so hard to isolate himself from you, the lack of details he shares about his life. The injuries he’s come to you with, the scars you’ve noticed but haven’t mentioned.

And most recently, the way he’s left in a hurry after zoning out for a minute.

You think your heartbeat might be loud enough to wake Steve up.

Steve.

You look down at his face, at the delicate skin under his eyes, at the way his eyelashes rest there in his sleep. You look down at this boy, asleep in your lap, and realize that he’s carrying all that weight by himself.

If you’re right about this, about him being Spider-man, you think he deserves even more than what you give him. More than the dinners and the company, more than the friendship. He deserves to be hugged, to be told how strong he is.

Fuck, you need to thank him, if you’re right. Because he’s the one who saved you, the one who brought you home and made sure you got inside, the one who reminded you to take care of your wrist.

Holy shit. That realization makes your head spin.

“Who are you, Steve?” You whisper. He can’t hear you, he’s fast asleep, but you ask anyway.

When you finally manage to lift his head from your lap and get up, shutting off the TV as you do, you head to your bedroom. You lay on your back on top of your sheets and stare at the ceiling.

You don’t sleep very much that night.

-

Cooking has become something to do to keep you busy, to take your mind off things. So, when you’re sure you’re not getting any more sleep, it feels natural to head to the kitchen and start making breakfast.

You move about your small kitchen as quietly as you can, the presence of the boy asleep on your couch something hard to ignore. The boy you’re pretty sure is Spider-man, the boy you more than like.

Despite Steve’s enhanced hearing, he doesn’t wake up due to any noise. No, for the first time in a long time, he blinks his eyes open slowly and lets the sunlight seeping through the window get him up. He stretches before standing up from your couch.

There’s a stiff ache in his side, which isn’t surprising, but it still has him cursing under his breath at the reminder of yesterday.

His voice makes you peek over your shoulder at him. “Good morning.”

Steve rubs his eyes and looks over at you standing by the stove. He has to rub them again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

He walks over and leans against the counter next to where you cook. “Hi. Thanks for letting me stay.”

You give him a quick smile, a sunbeam.

You’ve decided to try and act normal with him, act like you don’t know this huge piece of information. He deserves the space to tell you in his own time. That is, if he’ll ever tell you at all.

“Yeah. You feel okay?”

“Bit sore. It’ll go away.”

“I doubt my cheap couch helped with that.”

“It helped.”

He sounds so sure about that, like it was the best sleep he could’ve gotten.

“Are you hungry?” You ask. You’ve already cooked enough for him, too.

“I don’t want to overstay or anything.”

“Steve, I’m offering. I’d like it if you stayed for breakfast.”

His stomach growls before he’s able to reply. You both laugh softly, you amused, him embarrassed. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Steve acts the same as he usually does as you eat, keeping conversations steered towards you, pretending like there aren’t bruises under his shirt as you speak. He seems to forget the powers that he has, the persona that’s a kept secret.

He wants to thank you over and over, to apologize to you over and over, to tell you all of the things he swore he couldn’t feel for you. He wants to tell you so much, but he’s scared—not nearly as brave as he is when he has his mask on—and he can’t get anything out.

Steve just wishes he could put into words exactly what you do for him, how unfair he knows it is to ask of you, how much it means that you help him regardless.

Instead of doing any of that, he eats the food you cook and shares more smiles with you than he does with anyone.

You watch as he takes his empty plate and rinses it off for you, the way his t-shirt is a bit tighter across his upper back, the set of his shoulders. Those shoulders that carry so much all by himself.

You’re frowning before you can help it. Not because he hasn’t told you, you can understand that, but because he must be so convinced that he’s better off doing it all alone.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You cook too many meals for me.” He lingers by your door, rocking on his feet like he’s not sure where to go.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Steve’s expression shifts in the smallest way when you ask. He can’t wrap his head around someone caring about him—besides Robin—to ask so often.

“I’m okay.”

Before you can really think about it you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You squeeze him as tight as you can while being mindful not to hurt him. Your face is tucked into the side of his neck, and he can feel your lips on his skin.

His arms seem to move before he’s aware of it, hugging you back around your waist, squeezing you just as tight. He needed this, he thinks, and somehow, you knew he did.

“I really care about you, Steve.”

He rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, shutting his eyes to try and capture how it feels to be held by you, to hold you.

“Me too, honey.”

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

thank u for reading!! if u enjoyed, please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think!!! it helps more than you’d think <3

[frostiwars]

let's pretend i live on the west coast and it's still DAY 5: AU!!

do you think we're gay in every universe?

in which i turn insane and draw 5 different drawings for one prompt. and as a result, the rendering is a lot rougher, but oh well! i hope the designs are fun enough!!

GORE WARNING!!!!! and design ramblings under the cut

Role Swap: i referenced hanyuu from higurashi for king metata because, while dedede has no idea about how to properly dress in traditional voidborn-based royalty attire (because his parents never taught him), metata wears EVEN MORE traditional garb, fancified, and a tiara rather than a crown cap. instead of hiding his wings in his cape, he hides them in his silk scarf. i didn’t even have to change his hime cut. he’s still cocky and arrogant but less traumatized so he’s less serious and more haughty. also his bow tying his hakama is shaped like an M haha. meanwhile, knight dede is far more armored, aiming for bulk over dps, and of course his armor has his classic triangular patterning all over the place. instead of the jaw scar, his eyes are clawed over. i wonder how that happened...

Species Swap: voidborn dedede is shorty mcshort short, even shorter than regular meta. he’s so short he doesn’t even wear hakama cuz he’d just trip over them, so he sticks with just a kimono and obi (once again adding to the androgyny common in most voidborn designs). his geta are less bulky as well. it’s not seen fully because his wings are out but his cloak goes all the way to his ankles instead of his knees. additionally, his wings have a blue gradient that matches the new color of his robe. his hammer is more embellished, like if galaxia was a giant mallet instead of a sword. and to keep with the ‘circular’ feeling for the hair common to my puffball gijinkas, i gave him kinda croissanty hair. meanwhile, avian meta has eschewed much of his armor for the sake of piercing and aerodynamics. he’s much lighter and his sleeves flow out to make room for the wings he can spawn on his arms. and of course his hair is slicked back and feathery like Coo and Vul. even his mask has a few more spikes to imitate bird talons.

dedede is a negatively-to-neutrally charged voidborn. i talked with my sibling @clutzicone-dts and they suggested denial as a birth emotion. i also like @moonmacabre01's idea of using regret. very fitting for a redeemable character

Gender Swap: normal dedede wears his garb in a feminine fashion, wearing the kimono over the hakama, so fem dedede does it in reverse, tucking the kimono inside the hakama. different sandals again, and wearing just the crown while eschewing the cap, mostly so i can have her long flowing braids more visible. at least she has a top knot to resemble the pom pom tho. meta meanwhile is largely unchanged physically (duh, voidborns don't have physical sex) with outfit adjustments. she keeps some design aspects from her younger days to distinguish her from normal meta while still seeming in character. tassels on the shoulder pads, and a hood on the cape instead of the frill. plus her lower body armor is longer and more decorated to give the illusion of a skirt without actually being one and i gave her low double buns to keep the round hair shape without just leaving it as a bowl cut

Mirror Versions: i have a whole ass complicated headcanon for the mirror dimension. i think it would be best described that, in this gijinkaverse, the mirror dimension is less an alternate universe and more an alternate timeline that went wrong at a very specific point. it's led to shadow dedede being much more... in tune, let's say, with the dark matter blade within his heart. and dameta isn't very pleased about that. after all, the two never got the chance to reconcile over Meta Knight's Revenge before things went to shit in that world. so they have a very complicated, somewhat tragic relationship. but i can talk about that more another time. let's just say that all of this is why i made certain slight changes to the two's designs. but i also gave dameta striped legs because stripes are for evil people

Bad Ending:

:)

no spoilers. feel free to theorize about it. i'm sure there are plenty of clues to let you figure it out on your own.

[a-strange-inkling]

Haunted bookshop AU for the thing <3 <3

this has awakened things in me! 📚 👻

• chrissy desperately needs an after school job to earn enough money to get away from her mother. she applies at all the small businesses along main street. she gets a few call backs, but none are as peculiar or intriguing as mayflower books, a small antique bookshop that does not bear any resemblance to its fresh, springy name.

• the bookshop is old, disorganized and completely stuffed full. dusty books stacked haphazardly in every nook and cranny, shelves bursting at the seams. with all the stacks, it’s like a labyrinth, there’s a few hidden rooms and reading corners. her mother would hate it. but there’s something warm and cozy about the place that chrissy can’t explain when she comes in to meet with the owner. something that makes her accept the job and take the afternoon shift from three to eight o clock.

• the owner is a sweet old man who’s so happy to have such a nice girl like chrissy to bring some new life into the place. he’s slowing down in years and would like to have his evenings off, but he couldn’t bare leaving the shop all on its own. he seems to really love his store. he talks about it like it’s a person rather than just a building. the arrangement is perfect all spring and summer long. chrissy greatly enjoys running the front desk, exploring the shop, and finding new books to read. it’s the perfect place for her to escape and hide from her life. she slowly starts to fall in love with it too. mr. munson’s right. there’s a warm presence that always makes her feel so happy and at home.

• however, thing change when autumn rolls around and the days get shorter. chrissy’s a little frightened of the dark. the hour before closing she starts to hear noises, books falling over, strange whispering sounds. it goes on for awhile until one night she’s so scared she begins to cry. one of the ghastly noises makes her duck under the desk. there’s someone in the shop with her. she knows it.

• and then there’s a gentle knock on top of the desk and she finds a boy standing there, well a young man. just a few years older than her maybe. and yes, he’s a little scary, with long wild hair and a big leather jacket, but when he smiles chrissy isn’t so frightened anymore and feels a little silly about it. he asks her why she’s so upset and she tells him about the noises and that she feels like she’s going crazy. she thinks the place might be haunted. he laughs, “oh yeah? do you believe in all that? ghosts?”

bonus:

• she whispers that she doesn’t know, a little flushed. but she likes the sound of his laugh, it reminds her a little of mr. munson’s. she asks the strange boy if she can help him find anything. he laughs again, telling her that he knows his way around. his uncle’s the owner and he used to help him run the store when he was a kid.

• chrissy is fascinated. mr. munson never mentioned a nephew before, but then, he is a private, quiet man. he doesn’t say much of anything. the boy tells her his name, eddie, and chrissy promptly replies “i’m chrissy.” he nods bashfully, like he already knew that. he tells her he’ll stay with her and help her close up, if she wants. he knows absolutely everything about the store, that it used to be called munson books, but mr. munson changed the name to mayflower books after his wife, may passed away. eddie excitedly shows her even more secret places and passageways that she didn’t even know existed. he digs around and finds her book titles that he thinks she might like to try too. it’s like he knows all her favorite authors and genres.

• chrissy begins to look forward to closing time now. eddie stops in every night so she won’t be scared or alone. he’ll help her tidy up and sort the shelves. she never hears the noises or whispers when he’s around, he makes her feel so safe. sometimes they just sit and read together, other times they’ll talk until chrissy’s voice is hoarse. to her amazement, she feels herself falling for him.

• it’s of course, quite a horrible shock when she discovers that mr. munson’s nephew was murdered several years ago.

[reginamillls]

💙💙💙⚡⚡⚡ 🎄🎄🎄🔮🔮🔮🐺🐺🐺📖 📖 📖 gimmeeeee

buddietommy "crash that helicopter" fic -

"You going in?" Hen asks, and she strartles Eddie away from his thoughts. He looks up at her and sees the offered cup of coffee and takes it.

It tastes like sludge, and it burns his tongue a little, but it does the trick to get Eddie back to being present, instead of spiraling more.

"I figured I'd give them some more time," Eddie explains himself, he avoids looking at Hen again, instead he keeps his eyes down on his cup and he moves his thumb across the sleeve. Hen hums above him before she's sitting down next to Eddie, her thigh warm against his own. "Tommy has been able to stay away for more then a few moments, he should be with Buck."

"Yeah," Hen agrees. "But I bet he would want to see you too, you know. It's almost like you're one of his closest friends. Buck's too actually, in case you forgot."

"Hen-" Eddie starts, but doesn't know where to go from there, because she was right. He was one of their closest friends.

And that was the problem.

superhero buck/ bucktommy fic -

"I'm getting blood on your carpet-" Buck mumbles weakly, holding his hand over his side. It's sticky with his own blood, and Buck can feel himself fading fast. He doesn't have much time.

"Good thing I'm renovating," Comes Tommy's gruff reply. When Buck's legs buckle beneath him, Tommy catches him and before Buck can even protest, Tommy is lifting him up like it's nothing.

cracky bucktommy hallmark christmas fic -

The man next to him is handsome.

Shorter than Buck but older. His hair is peppered, more grey then dark on his head, swooped to the side and looking perfect despite the fact that he had been wearing a Santa hat on stage only moments ago. His beard is much the same, trimmed neat and clean.

Briefly, Buck wonders what it would feel like if he kissed the other man, wondering if his beard would tickle. Tommy never let his beard grow that long-

At the thought of Tommy, Buck takes another long pull of his beer.

"I have awhile before my next set," Sexy Santa says casually, giving Buck a warm smile. He lifts his glass of water and tilts it towards Buck. "If you wan't to listen. My name is Nick."

witch tommy au

The spoon was big in Tommy's hands, but he held it carefully, stiring just like his momma taught him.

"Stir four more times," Laura says softly, and helps Tommy count before she takes the spoon from his hands and has Tommy open up his hands so she can give him a few precious white petals. "Can you put them in for me?"

"Okay momma-" Tommy says confidently, wanting to do right by his mom. He looks at the swirling pot and carefully places the petals in one at a time, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

When the last petal goes into the pot, the liquid changes from clear to golden.

buddietommy werewolf tommy, witch eddie, vampire buck

There's movement from the corner of his eyes, too big to be Buck.

Tommy.

The wolf comes in slowly, sniffing the air as he does so. In the morning light, Eddie can make out the other colors in his dark fur, browns and reds come out and make Tommy look softer somehow.

He stops, and Eddie wonders just how much of Tommy is in there as he stares at Eddie, head tilted to the side, considering him.

Is Eddie a friend? A stranger in his territory?

Prey?

"Buck went to get food," Eddie says to Tommy. There's a spell at the tip of his fingers, waiting to shield himself just in case-

Tommy huffs before he turns around, going back out onto the porch where he lays down in the sun, curling in on himself.

Eddie lets the spell go.

bucktommy once upon a time au

Tommy wipes his hands with the rag on his work bench before he turns to Buck, taking a step back when he realizes just how close Buck was standing next to him.

"I ah- I like seeing how things work," Buck says in lieu of an apology, explaining himself. "It's cool you know, watching you work. I can do some minor things on the jeep, but nothing like you've been doing."

"Thanks-" Tommy says and one side of his smile quirks up a little, the lines framing his lips hinting at the possibility of a much larger smile. "I'm afriad I can't finish until the part comes in though."

"That's okay," Buck says. "Story Brooke is small, I can just walk everywhere." He gives Tommy a reasurring smile. "I'm just glad you could pencil me in."

"I ah-" Tommy swallows before he continues, and despite his gruff appearance, Buck can pick up that he's nervous. "I can give you a ride back to your house, if you want."

"That would be awesome," Buck grasps Tommy's shoulder briefly in thanks. It's only a quick touch, but he still feels the way Tommy tenses beneath his fingertips. "You're a great guy Tommy."

Beaneath the scars on Tommy's face, he blushes.

[thefandomchaos]

THE OUTSIDERS HEADCANON:

Ponyboy doesn’t really remember his parents, the trauma from them dying was too much so he made himself forget to the point he doesn’t actually remember much of them. No matter how hard any of the gang or his brothers try, there’s stuff Ponyboy doesn’t remember.

Darry named Sodapop, Sodapop named Ponyboy. (Ponyboy said Soda is horse crazy, makes sense he would choose Ponyboy’s name tbh)

Two-Bit and Ponyboy are actually real good friends, he probably became Ponyboy’s best friend after Johnny died.

Darry threatens and actually puts all of the gang in time out if they misbehave

They all get together at the Curtis house on the weekend to eat together

Ponyboy’s jacket used to belong to Darry, then it belonged to Soda before it was handed down to him.

They all have their ears pierced, but only Two-Bits and Dallas really wear earrings

Ponyboy bites people

Darry can pick every single member of the gang with no struggle (Ponyboy weighs like a feather to him)

Darry, Ponyboy and Sodapop all have different hair and eye color, if it weren’t that they look similar people wouldn’t guess they are brothers first glance (technically canon)

Darry has brown hair like his dad, but his eyes are blue-ish green instead of blue like his mom’s; Sodapop has blond hair like his mom and brown eyes like his dad; Ponyboy got his looks from his grandparents with his red-ish hair and gray-ish green eyes (Darry also got the green-ish from them)

Two-Bit has a tattoo of a switchblade on his arm, he got it done when Steve went to get his done.

Steve’s bird tattoo is meant to represent his mom

Darry is the tallest, followed by Dallas, Two-Bit and Steve are the same height, Sodapop is a few inches shorter, and Johnny is only like two inches taller than Ponyboy, Ponyboy hates that his the shortest.

After the incident, Ponyboy can handle being in bodies of water but freaks out if he goes under, trauma does that to someone.

Darry plays guitar, every once in a while when he doesn’t have work to do, he’ll sit down and play.

Dallas has a New York accent

Ponyboy, Two-Bit’s and Sodapop have freckles

Sodapop’s old room is used as a spare in case anybody needs to crash

Once Ponyboy turned 18, they all got matching tattoos that say “Stay Gold”, is a way to always remember Dally and Johnny as well

not an a headcanon but personal AU; The Curtis parents dying 4 years prior to canon instead of a few months prior, this would also mean Darry is 22 (I made him older because I needed him to be 18 four years ago to take guardianship of Pony and Soda).

All their clothes are scattered in each other’s closet, if you can’t find something that means someone else has it.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit have ADHD

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: cisfem (request was afab, but I don't feel like I really did that vibe justice, so I've adjusted the label accordingly.) Character: Silvers Rayleigh Vibe: NSFW Consensual AU: Canon -- I am so sorry this is NOT canon au, forgive me. Prompt: Only One Bed Gift Giver: @kazieai

Summary: There's only one room, and it's your first time meeting one Silvers Rayleigh.

Content Notes: age gap, accidental edging, fantasizing about an older man, letting him help you orgasm. This would have more but it was already 2k words and I had to STOP.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

You looked over at the older gentlemen standing by you at the reception desk of the hotel. He was older, easily twice your age, you were sure, but he looked comfortable in the suit. Long silver hair, and a well-trimmed goatee. If you had to guess, you imagined he owned a business or two.

“Does the room have a sofa?” You question, and the desk clerk taps some keys.

“Yes ma’am.” She replies. “A single king and couch. I’m afraid it doesn’t appear to be a pull-out couch.”

“That’s fine.” You assure her, looking back toward the gentlemen. There was an amused look on his face, and you were certain he already knew what you were going to propose. “You seem an honorable sort, and neither of us have any other option anyway. As the shorter of the two, I’ll take the couch, if you’re amenable?”

“When you put it that way, young lady, it would be rude of me to disagree.” He says in an easy voice. “As I am receiving the greatest comfort, I insist on paying for the room.”

Nothing about his demeanor or offer leaves you concerned. If he’s a beast in sheep’s clothing he wears them well enough that there’d be no saving you anyway.

“Very well, but in that case I’d like to treat you to dinner, if you haven’t yet eaten?”

“The restaurant is open until 11,” the desk clerk interjects. “You have plenty of time to leave your things in the room before getting a table.”

“Seems that settles things then.” He takes his card from the clerk and extends a hand to you. “Silvers Rayleigh.”

You take the offered hand and give it a firm shake, giving him your name as well.

After taking your things up to the room, and sure enough the couch wasn’t the pull out style with a spare bed hidden under the cushions, you both head back down to the restaurant. The food was good, and the atmosphere was comfortable. Soft music played in the background and you were able to converse while you ate.

Rayleigh was an excellent conversationalist. You talked about your respective jobs, what brought you to this city at the same time. Two different conventions it seemed, which would explain why the hotels were filled to the brim. You weren’t wrong about him either, while he insisted he was retired, Rayleigh was the owner of several businesses, most of which he had passed down to others.

Mentor and adviser were the only jobs he did anymore, but he did enjoy the conventions to keep an eye on any up and coming talents. The simple pleasures of a simple man, as he said. Though you doubted there was anything simple about him at all.

You’d stayed at the restaurant until it was nearly ready to close, losing track of time in the comfort of conversation. Returning to the room, you traded off rights to the bathroom while getting ready for bed. The front desk had delivered a few spare blankets and pillows, with a small note about their appreciation regarding your kindness during the check-in process.

This meant your rest on the couch was going to be even more comfortable than you had anticipated.

As you were showering, however, the comfort of the couch wasn’t what was on your mind. It was his face you could see, his voice that was worming its way into your brain while you stood naked in the water, separated by a single door. The shower itself was only encased in glass, even as it steamed up from use there was nothing to really separate you.

You wondered at all the things he could do.

If his fingers were as smooth as his voice. If that tongue could dance against your skin with the same eloquence that it had with words. What could he do to you, with all that experience and knowledge? He joked about being far too old to indulge in all he enjoyed in life, but he’d come out of the shower with his wet hair on his shoulders, and little more than a t-shirt and boxers on.

What you could see was solid. Age was there, certainly, but there was strength and grace beneath his skin.

Shame flushed your skin, but your fingers wandered over your skin as you let your imagination run wild. He was intoxicating, and it wasn’t like you were going to try and seduce him once you got out of the shower. This was between you, your fingers, and maybe the shower head. No one was going to need the shower once you were done with it, so it was certainly okay to risk running it out of hot water.

After a few minutes you realized that all you were doing was frustrating yourself. Fantasizing normally worked, but your brain kept insisting you needed him, not the stupid shower head with its water pressure that wasn’t quite enough.

Sighing and trying to let it go, you finished up, dried off, and pulled on a baggy shirt that you had packed specifically for nightwear and a pair of cotton underwear. Nothing fancy, after all, you hadn’t planned on being in the same room with anyone else. Certainly not a hot silver fox like Mr. Silvers out there.

You were surprised to see him awake, reading a book in bed. “Sorry, I hope the water running didn’t keep you up.”

“Not even a little.” He assures you with a smile. “If the light bothers you, I can turn it off.”

“Oh, no. I’ll be fine, ah - thank you.” You notice the couch has been made into as much of a bed as possible and Rayleigh smiles.

“Thank you, young lady, for trusting me and treating me to such a delicious meal earlier.”

Your smile feels a little guilty, the nervous chuckle escaping you as you nod. You couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t going to sound like an offer of the more intimate kind, so you wish him a good night as you get comfortable in your little neatly made cocoon.

The light was not the problem.

The problem was that every time you closed your eyes you could see him, and practically feel him. Your mind was cruel and perverse, at least right now. You were getting irritated that you didn’t have enough self-control to stop thinking about someone you barely knew long enough to go to bed.

Oh, he wasn’t single, but he had an open relationship with his wife. He showed you pictures, she was beautiful as he was handsome, and there were always two or three other people in the pictures with them. There was nothing sexual, but these people weren’t ashamed of smooching in the middle of selfies.

What would those lips -

No, dammit, you had places to be tomorrow you had to sleep.

If you came you’d sleep.

…

The shower hadn’t been enough, but tucked under the blankets maybe. If you were quiet. You didn’t have to move much, you were all wound up already. If it wouldn’t give you away entirely you’d just go into the bathroom.

But he was reading, and the little bed lamp wasn’t strong. The blankets were dark. If he asks tomorrow you could just say you can be restless when you sleep. You’d never see him again, so what did it matter.

Resolve set, you slipped your hand under the band of your underpants as carefully as you could and began to move your fingers. You were soaked and it was hard to get any real friction going, but you needed to either succeed, or at least wear yourself out trying.

Unfortunately, your arm was tired, you weren’t, and you were no where near relief. Farther from it, honestly, as you’d done little more than edge yourself into frustration. The small sob that leaves you is louder than you’d like and after a second of being completely still your stomach knots.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks quietly. Quietly enough that if you were just making sounds in your sleep he wouldn’t accidentally wake you, but you know. You already know. He knows. He’s known.

The man’s observant. You figured that out from the beginning. He probably knew what you’d been doing in the shower the smooth bastard. There was no other choice, not really, he wasn’t truly leaving you with one.

“… Yeah.” You admit quietly.

You hear the book close. “Anything I can do to help?”

His tone. His damn tone. It’s so sure, so soft, so inviting, and there’s not an ounce of allure in it. He’s not trying to seduce you, he’s giving you the most neutral option to come to him he can provide. Considering he’d been - intentionally or not - seducing you all damn evening.

“I… wouldn’t want to impose.” There’s frustration in your voice. Not aimed at him, just at your situation.

“It’s hardly imposing if I’ve offered.” He counters and you practically whimper.

“Then… yes, please.” You say after a moment’s consideration. “I need to sleep, and if you’re offering to help, I would like to accept.”

There’s a shift in his tone, and you can picture the smile on his face, despite having your back to him right now. “Then, please, come to bed, young lady.”

You flinch a little, removing your fingers from your clit before moving the blankets aside. Getting up you step over to the bed, but you can’t quite bring yourself to look him in the eye. You can feel blood rushing through you and you have to wonder just how much he knows.

He moves the blankets aside. “Come, sit in my lap.” His words feeling commanding, but not absolute. He’s guiding you, giving you permission, but not forcing you.

You swallow, nerves making your stomach flop, and you get into the bed. The idea of looking into his eyes is a little too much, so you sit with your back to his chest, resting your thighs against his.

“Lean back,” he says it softly, warm hands on your arms, guiding you carefully backward until you’re settled against his chest. You’re a little surprised that there’s nothing pushing against your ass, and also a little extra frustrated that he’s not nearly as hot and bothered as you are.

His hands move down your arm, and his fingers slip over yours. You know he feels the slick on your fingers, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m just going to guide you.” He explains, moving your hands with his. He has you pull your shirt up, until the bottom hem is by your lips. “Open,” he says, and you do. He has you tuck the cloth into your mouth before bringing your hand down to your breast.

He slips your other hand, the one already slick and wet, under the band of your underwear. You moan as he guides your fingers against your clit, legs shivering against his thighs. He moves your hands, keeping your movements and pace steady, changing the pressure and movements as he whispers into your ear.

“Not too fast.”

“Pinch a little more, there you go.”

“Not there yet, move your fingers deeper. Just like that.”

“Those sounds you make are divine, young lady.”

“There we go. Listen to you, you’re so close.”

Your body begins to tense as you squirm against him. “Rah-Rayleigh,” you gasp, voice barely muffled by the fabric of the shirt, his fingers moving yours steadily, not letting your building pleasure hasten the pace. “Please, please, I’m almost…” You roll your hips, your body on fire and desperately needy. “Please!”

He makes you twist your nipple more harshly than before, and presses your fingers against your clit with more fervor. Hot lips against your neck nip at your skin and everything brings you to climax, biting down on your shirt as you tense and moan.

He keeps you moving for another minute, slowly helping you ride out your high.

“All better?” He prompts and you make a soft sound.

“M’sorry,” you mutter, brain and body hazy from the sweet release after so much accidental edging.

“For what?”

“Been… thinking of you… for hours.” You admit, your voice a dream-filled sigh.

“Oh.” He muses, fingers slipping from yours and pressing against your skin directly. “Then please, young lady, tell me what you desire, and I promise to do my best to exceed your thoughts of me.”