#And the work and care all three did for him

[shawtuzi]

i’m currently reading the reverb series by the amazing, talented, incredible @chrollohearttags and now i can’t stop thinking about musician!eren *cries*

cw include: no plot whatsoever literally just nasty sex, reader is kinda obsessed w him, drug usage (weed), riding, reader has megan knees, pussydrunk eren, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), multiple orgasms, eren lowkey falls in love w reader shes that good man idk

the sound of skin slapping and your whiny moans could throughout eren’s tour bus—not even the rap music playing in the background from the stereo could tune you two out unfortunately.

“f-fuck m’nutting againnn!” you squealed out, your hand slapping against the blacked out window. eren took an extra long hit of the blunt perched between his fingers, his brows scrunching in pure bliss. his free hand was gripping onto the fat of your ass, whatever strength he had was being used to help move you up and down.

he couldn’t help but moan when you smushed your lips against his, inhaling the bitter smoke from his blunt. “your dick is even better than i imagined w-when i—hah! touched myself,” your words were slurred as you spoke, a tiny giggle following. all eren could do was nod and bite his lip. my mans was lost in the sauce, pussydrunk as fuck!

you drained his balls three times; once from head and the other two from riding him like a fucking madwoman. you didn’t even give him a break to catch his breath either, no no you were determined to leave this man a drooling mess! that way he’ll be more likely to give you call whenever he’s in your city again hehe

“you’re fuckin’ crazy,” his voice was low when he spoke, boarder line growling out the words. his head pathetically fell backwards with a lil thud, this gave you the perfect opportunity to start kissing and sucking at his neck. normally he’d tell you to back the hell up and not leave any evidence, but hey, with pussy that good you could do whatever you wanted with him.

you warm, gummy walls hugged his dick so nicely he was actually about to start tweaking out. “w-why *huff* why’re you fuckin’ me like that, goddamn girl,” eren grunted, swatting your ass three times. you slowed down your pace until you stopped completely, his balls now sitting snugly against your ass.

you cocked your head at him, a dopey smile making its way onto your lips. “well ain’t it obvious ren? i’m your biggest fan,” you pointed to your left breast where eren had signed his name in sharpie, it was a tad streaky now due to your current activities but it still looked hot as fuck. “and as your biggest fan i wanna see you every time you touch down in my city ‘kay?” you began to circle your hips and that had eren’s lashes fluttering.

eren damn near dropped the blunt when you reached behind you to squeeze at his swollen balls, which were already more than ready to fill you up with his cum again. oh yeah! did i mention he’s hitting it rawww? yeah you’re that good.

“yeah, yeah i’ll hit you up. on my life i will,” his sentence trailed off as you pushed your chest into his face, suffocating him in literally the best way possible. you plucked the blunt from his fingers and took a couple hits before setting it aside—you’d be damned if he forgot how to work his limbs and burn you!

“i really mean it when i say m’your biggest fan—mmph! i-i jus’ happen to fuck good too,” you adjusted your position before bouncing on his dick once more. you left out the part where you quite literally practiced this exact encounter on your favorite dildo.

eren’s nostrils flared as he looked at the mess between your bodies, it was beautiful. he never knew someone could make such a mess out of him yet here he was, drool nearly slipping past his kiss bitten lips as you brought him closer and closer to his fourth orgasm of the night.

“i just wanted to take care of you after your show, you work so hard renny ‪‪❤︎‬.” renny? you had nicknames for him already? fuck, he was so close to cumming what was even happening anymore?

eren felt like the air got punched out of his chest when you halted your movements, you looked at him with what he could’ve swore were hearts in your eyes. “did you hear me renny?”

eren’s adams apple bobbed when he swallowed, he licked his lips and nodded. “yeah i heard you, baby. so sweet for taking care of renny like that,” he couldn’t even believe what he was saying right now—this had to be his dick talking for him.

his head tilted back when you starting moving again, this time you had a little swivel in your hips that had his abs clenching. “god i’m finna—” eren bucked his hips up desperately to reach his high, it was just in his grasp. when he came it was earth shattering to say the least, and you just kept on going, milking him for everything he was worth.

thick, opaque globs of his cum dripped from your pussy and onto his thighs, creating an even bigger mess. “so good ren,” you muttered, licking up his neck until you reached his lips. “sure fuckin’ is,” eren hummed into the kiss, his tatted hand coming up to wrap around your throat.

sometime later . . . .

“what the actual fuck is taking him so long in there? he never takes this long with the other ‘fans’,” jean sighed, beyond irritated as him and the rest of eren’s security waited outside of the rocking tour bus. loud moans could be heard from inside, along with the occasional slap.

“fuck it i’m calling him,” jean growled, whipping out his phone to chew eren thee fuck out. surprisingly the call went through, unfortunately for jean eren wasn’t about to stop what he was doing in that moment to give him his full attention, hence why skin slapping could be heard on the line. “what do you want,” eren’s words were slurred as he spoke, almost as if he was actually fucking drunk!

he currently had you in backshots, both of your hands being held back by his larger one. his emerald eyes zoomed in on the way your pussy pulled him back each time he pulled out, what a pretty little sight.

“you need to hurry it the fuck up, we have a flight to catch in an hour! wrap it up er—”

“i don’t wanna hear none of that,” was all eren said before hanging up and tossing his phone to the side. no fucking way was eren about to stop now, not when his new, pretty lil fan girl was so close to cumming!

[simpjaes]

PERVERT. ― P.JS 

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: dilf jay and his daughter’s best friend. Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 2.8k

PAIRING ― dad/weirdo ! jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  jay is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s

WARNINGS ― age gap, somnophilia, dubious consent (due to somno), unprotected sex, dom jay, pocket pussies and masturbation Support me on patreon if you'd like!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Being called a creep or a pervert would have felt much more uncomfortable in any other situation, but it’s different right now because Jay is being a creep. A pervert, chubbing up in his pants solely because you’re trying to fuck with him again. He loves that playful tone of your voice when you call him that too, all while bending over in front of him without your panties on, fucking presenting yourself to him, then mocking him for looking. 

It’s very different. You’re very different compared to the previous times you’ve been here. 

He groans to himself as he remembers it. Lying alone in his bed now like he couldn’t have bent you flat over his coffee table not two hours ago. He could have done it, genuinely, you’d not have fought him on it while parading yourself around like that. 

And it’s true that he always loved it when his daughter would bring her friends home from campus for a Holiday. Not for the reasons he loves it now, but still. It was always a different excuse for all the faces he’s met. Family is too busy, home life isn’t great, their family is too strict. Whatever. You come alongside his daughter often under the sad truth that you simply have no one to go home to. You’re alone and in need of some care. So, you come here, to Jay’s home, clearly acting like you’re more interested in his daughter than you are him.

Three times now you’ve come for the holidays and summer, trotting through that front door as if you always belonged here from the start. The first time was the only visit where Jay was casual towards you, somewhat of a father figure even. 

He still remembers what you did at the end of that visit too. You had already been living in his house with his daughter for a month and a half by that point, only a week or two left before going back to your shitty little dorm rooms on campus for the Fall semester. His daughter was at her usual summer job that night, and you were fucking yourself openly on his living room couch. 

You had feigned embarrassment, despite knowing when Jay comes home from work. He saw that shine in your eye though, the way you tried to hold back a smile at the way he looked directly at what your hand was doing, unable to tear his eyes away until you jumped up and apologized, smelling like the alcohol in his cabinet. The week following that should have been awkward too. But it wasn’t. 

Solely because you found reasons to flaunt yourself from that point forward. Something clicked in Jay’s head. Lust, need, curiosity. And he thinks it clicked in your head too, because goddamn did you have nothing to hide at that point. 

And still, even now, he remembers the exact spot on the couch where you had dripped all over it. So many lonely nights after that he found himself on his knees in front of it, nose planted right in that spot and trying to inhale some remnant of how wet you were that day. 

The second time you appeared at his house, he had very nearly forgotten you. He can only get off so many times against his couch, after all, other things were more exciting after so many weeks had passed. He was outside on his porch hanging up christmas lights when he saw you getting out of his daughter’s car. Instantly his cock throbbed, nearly throwing him off the short ladder and onto the ground into a horny mess of man. 

His daughter was there though, and he had to keep that under wraps. Quickly, he had tucked his cock and allowed the loving hug, promising a dinner of shitty food and horrible B movies to both of you before continuing his duty of, well, being a fucking dad to his daughter before being a creep to you.

That visit went well, you were actually quite distracted with his daughter and he was thankful for that, however, the day you left to start spring break was the day you reminded him that you’re…interested. Maybe.

Your daughter had already packed her belongings and gifts up in her car, and you hung around behind, feeling the electricity in the air as always when it’s just you and Jay in the room. Always wondering if he’ll say something or look for too long. You lingered, glancing at him shyly as if he knew, as if he could feel it too. But he still said nothing.

You huffed, hearing the horn outside blare as if to tell you to hurry it up. Staying too long here wouldn’t necessarily alert your best friend of anything weird going on, but there would be questions. So, you hurried it up, reaching into your bag and practically throwing a wrapped box at Jay. 

He quirked a brow, looking at you under half-hooded eyes.

“Christmas was five days ago.” He said to you, almost like a question. “I know.” You had very quickly responded before practically sprinting out the door out of fear of what he’d think. Truly, you couldn’t face him opening it in front of you. 

And Jay stared at that item for about two minutes before fucking it. All night. All day. Practically locked in his room, solidifying that you, his daughter’s best friend, provided a pussy for him. 

All of that circles back to now, still lying in his bed alone after you had let him steal a glance of your pussy openly for the first time. Your third time in his home, this time for much longer than your last winter break.  He’s gotta do something about this. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・  The good news: your best friend left for work an hour ago.

The great news: Jay hasn’t stopped looking at you.

At first, this was scary for you. You recall the night you snuck into the liquor and had a few too many sips, wondering what would happen if Mr. Park saw you doing something scandalous. You’d thought he was hot upon meeting him, all dressed up in his business attire the day you first came here. That crush deepened the second you saw him fresh out of a shower not thirty minutes later, whipping around the kitchen to cook a meal for you and your best friend as if he hadn’t worked for nine hours already.

Something about him was just so unbearably sexy, and when he looked between your legs that day…you knew. 

And you wanted to be sexy for him too. Thankfully, you definitely are. 

The two of you are alone now, but in separate rooms. You can hear him moving around in the kitchen, washing the dishes he had used to throw together a quick breakfast, and you’re sinking into the couch wondering if he’ll ever bring up the pocket pussy you so graciously, and bravely, bought for him last christmas. 

But it stays silent between the two of you, regardless of how loud the eye contact is when you pass each other, or he finds himself in the same room as you.

One hour, two hours, three hours. 

Time is passing too quickly when you’re aware of someone in the room that you want. When you need them to fucking say something at this point because you’ve done your part. 

Who cares if you want to fuck your best friend’s dad before she gets home from work anyway? She’ll never find out. And even if she did, you’re an adult. 

“Mr. Park–” You mumble as he walks through the living room again, seemingly busy with yet another task. 

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck that toy I got for you?” You didn’t have to work up the courage to ask him, the way he acts around you is enough to know. 

Yet, still, he freezes in place as if he’s got a spotlight on him and newspapers being printed this very second at the mere truth of it all. 

“What–” He pauses, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he prepares to lie. “What are you talking about?” 

You lift from the couch, peeking over the back of it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You threw it away?” 

Still, he’s frozen.

“Of course I did.” He lies again, but he sees that disappointed look in your face to not know of how often he fucks it. Thinking of you, no less. “Funny gag gift, but there was no need.”

There was no need? What? Like, he gets around? He fucks around? Other people? 

“Oh–” You start, but quickly cut yourself off to lie. “Yeah, it was a gag gift anyway. Thought you’d laugh.” 

And it’s the way both of you pretend you didn’t just ask him so blatantly if he’s fucked it. A gag gift? Bullshit. You’re so fucking bad at lying it almost makes Jay want to punish you for trying to dumbly. Fucking yourself on his couch, presenting your cunt to him, gifting him something to shove his cock up into. A gag gift.

Right. 

Yet still, he pretends to be normal. Acts like he’s not interested just to see if you keep trying. The funniest part is you both fucking know what you’re doing. Doesn’t change the fact that your best friend comes home and Jay continues to act like nothing has ever happened. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Disappointed sits in your gut as you cuddle under the blankets, feeling the cold fabric grow warm against your skin. This guest room has its charms but you can imagine the only action it’s ever seen has been you under these very same blankets, time and time again, plunging your fingers in and out of yourself with silent moans bitten into a pillow. 

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give Jay another ounce of your lust for embarrassing you like that today. Surely he’s used the toy, right? He’s a man, whether he actually wants you or not, he wouldn’t throw away a toy that only offers pleasure, right?

Maybe that’s all it is, too. Jay being a man. Anyone would look for too long if they’ve seen you fuck yourself. Anyone would stare at your pussy if you put it in front of their face. 

You’re being too confident. In fact, you’re probably just making him uncomfortable at this point. And here you are probably reading an awkward atmosphere for one suffocated by lust and pining. How…fucking embarrassing.

And, so, you count your sheep. 1, 2, 3, 100, 200, 300, 1023, 1024, 1025– and finally, sleep overtakes you.

A heavy sleep, one deep enough to not hear the click of your door or the quiet, socked feet making their way to your temporary bed. In fact, you do feel the bed dip beside you, and in your sleepy haze all you can do is mumble out to your best friend, Jay’s daughter, “Fuck off to your own room.”

There’s a pause, allowing you to fall right back into your deep sleep.

Honestly, if it weren’t for those words, Jay would have already had his hands on you. But he holds himself back, one knee on your bed and head hanging as he looks down at you. Peaceful when you sleep, no mocking or cheeky look in your eyes solely because they’re closed. 

He holds his breath, thinking about all that’s happened. This is okay, right? For him to sneak past his daughter’s room just to get to you at nearly four in the morning? This isn’t weird. 

It’s not. He already knows you want it, and using that toy tonight just…wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He wants the real thing. 

Jay hypes himself, over and over again as he stares down at you, lifting a hand slowly to tug at the blankets. Gently, so softly pulling it down past your waist. He holds his breath at your skewed tank top, allowing a view of your plump tits squished together from the weight of your arm. 

A side sleeper, forcing the curves of your body to be blatant even under the blankets. He stares more, more, more, not yet touching but now continuing to pull the blanket off of you entirely. 

Ah, shorts. Those fucking shorts. The ones that show the curve of your ass when you walk around the house. The ones he’s thought twice about, three times, four times about. Wondering what they’d feel like crumpled in his hands, tearing them off of you. 

And god, his cock is aching. Leaking in his sweatpants, dampening the front of them as he finally leans down, face just inches from your chest as he allows his hand to land on your hip. 

Slowly, he caresses down your body with one hand, and holds himself up with the other. He can smell your lotion on your skin here, so close to your tits. He leans closer, now tucking his hands between your legs, rubbing even more gently at your thighs. And then, he leans back.

All the way up, unsure of what to do, what to touch first, if he should wake you, or if he should just fuck off and pretend yet again that this happened. His hand goes from your inner thighs to your stomach, toying with the hem of your tank top before he reaches the neck line. Right there, he pulls more gently than he did the blankets. 

Hoping, praying he can see.

And see, he does. He effectively pulls your tank top enough to allow one of your nipples to pop out, slowly erecting at the sudden coolness against it, and instantly he’s playing with it. Soft pads of his fingers very lightly touching the tip of your nipple, rubbing little circles before glancing down your body when you shift.

There’s a little sound out of your mouth at this point, something that is similar enough to a moan that lets him utilize his other hand now for more than just holding himself up. He runs it right back to your thighs, both touches barely ghosting against your skin until his hips start to fuck forward on instinct. 

You. Gifted. Him. A. Pussy. 

It’s hard for him though, to stop what he’s doing just to grab at your hand and bump it closer to him, all so he can rest his cock in it. So, he doesn’t, not yet at least. He continues his play like this for now, moving the hand on your thighs up slightly, until you shift again in your sleep and roll onto you back.

There, he readjusts, watching the way your sleepy legs spread open and the way your tit remains exposed for him to keep massaging. His hand intentionally moves to your clothed pussy now though, hoping you’ve gotten wet in your slip.

And you have, apparently, because he can fucking feel it on the tips of his fingers. That’s all he wanted. All he needed.

And so, he doesn’t care if you wake up now. Feeling that right against his skin was enough to send him over the edge. No more enjoying it, no more simmering in the delight of touching you. No. 

He pulls back, practically tearing is cock out of his pants and forcing himself between your legs with no care or even consideration. You had half woken up to the commotion, but your eyes shoot open at the ripping feeling of his cock being shoved into you. All the way to his balls. 

He falls over you, both hands cradling your head as he twitches inside of you, pistoning his hips so fast, so aggressively that you can’t even catch your first waking breath. Instantly, your hands shoot around him, clawing at his back as you come back to reality from the realm of dreams. 

Or, is this a dream? A sweet, wet, desperate dream?

“Shh,” Jay hums against your ear, holding your head so tightly against him as his hips move freely, without his full intent, almost animalistic. “Gonna show you–”

He cuts himself off in a moan, feeling your nails dig into his back before your legs, surprisingly, don’t run. No, you wrap them around his waist. Yet, still, you can’t speak. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hope to fucking god you can adjust to him. He’s…so much thicker than you expected.

You can feel every vein when it pulses, the bulbous head pushing past your walls regardless of how much more wet you’ve gotten. Goddamn, what a way to fucking wake up. 

Expectations will never live up to reality, you suppose. Because honestly, you thought you’d be the one on top of him, taking him for all he’s worth, but somehow the way he moves seems better. The blatant taboo nature of this, and how desperate he sounds against your ear. 

Fuck. 

“Show me?” You manage to cry out quietly, feeling the pain slowly fade to nothing but pleasure. 

“How hard I fuck that toy.” He smiles when you finally speak, relishing in the way you grip him all over. From your fingernails to your legs. Even your cunt squeezes him pathetically tight, so fucking tight. 

You moan now, satisfied that he’s a fucking liar. Confident that everything you thought originally was and still is true. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

✧ please support me on patreon !

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples, pt. 2

part one part three

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you run into a familiar face at work.

word count: 4.9k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, kinda sad, a good mix of everything! a hint of foreplay! not proofread!

author's note: thank you for all the love on part one! here's part two! should there be a part three? also, enjoy a pic of caleb i grabbed from the game today!

taglist <3 : @kebarney @pinkismyfavcolor @romils @erisnxxi @rik0shii @reni502 @spacehopper27 @llamabois @likesvader @pandoras-rabbit @princessfruit @lukassafespace @jexizia

Caleb couldn’t say how long he’s been standing outside your door for. Had it been an hour? Three? Maybe it’s only been thirty minutes…time truly flies by when he’s with his love.

It doesn’t matter, though. Caleb would stand guard outside your door if it meant that you were safe.

Safe and alone inside your apartment…no other specimen in there to protect you.

Caleb wouldn’t let them come in if they came. He’d use his evol to shove them towards the side stairwell. He’d shove them down and watch as their bodies crumbled together, bones breaking, finding their screams of pain and agony satisfying.

It would all be worth it because you’re safe. All because of his much needed protection.

You’re his.

His to protect. His to look after. His to care for. His to love.

He glances to the side and notices that Skyhaven’s clouds have slightly parted. A smile spreads across his face, the man sneaking towards the hallway window, looking out at the morning sky. The weather is still undoubtedly gloomy, but the slight sight of sun is sign enough for him that you two are meant to be.

Caleb prances down the hallway, stopping by your door one last time. He slowly inhales, his eyes feeling heavy, and flattens his palm against it.

He’ll be seeing you soon.

The Colonel exits your apartment building, his phone attached to the side of his face. His voice is cheery and if you were to hear it, you’d think that his face would be all smiles and joy. It isn’t, though, and is instead a stoic expression.

“Hey, buddy. Remember that favor you owe me? Well, it’s time to cash in. I need you to get me information on someone. Yeah, yeah, I’ll send her name over to you now. Great! Thanks!” He hangs up and settles into a spot across the street.

People pass in front of him, his back pressed against the outside wall of a convenience store. Caleb barely pays attention to other woman who pause to get another look at him. He doesn’t have time to entertain their fantasies. He’d prefer to cater to your wants and needs. You deserve it after all your years of being apart.

Caleb tilts his head up and finds your window. His sick smile returns to his face, waiting for you to appear.

Except, he doesn’t know that you don’t peer out the window in the morning. Instead, you stay in bed for as long as you can, face and body covered by your sheets and obnoxious amount of blankets. 

Your arm sticks out, slicing through the chilly morning air.

Shit. You think to yourself. Did the heater not kick in?

Your toes feel inexplicably cold despite being buried under a behemoth of blankets. Slowly sitting up in bed, your tired eyes look around your dark room before they float to the butterfly that hangs from your window. You love how the orange and blue hues grace the floor, softly turning the cold environment into something warm and welcoming.

It reminds you of home and most importantly, it reminds you of him.

You can’t help but laugh, slapping your forehead as you slip out of bed. Last night was a trip and a half!

Your date with George was so bad that you actually hallucinated Caleb being alive. Ha! It’s laughable, really, and you can’t even fathom who was there to witness your crazed haze. You definitely sounded like a crazy person, probably looking like the other blacked out people on the street who struggled to get home.

“Poor guy,” you say aloud, filling in your apartment’s silence, “I hope we never run into each other again.”

Oh, the irony.

You slowly get ready for your day. You take a quick shower, already running late, and stumble into your closet with your toothbrush hanging from your lips. You snatch a clean uniform jacket from the hangers, sliding it over your white blouse. You tuck your shirt into your black pencil skirt and make for sure there are no wrinkles in the fabric.

You hesitate, staring at yourself in the mirror. 

Who are you trying to impress, anyways? It’s not like you’re going to find your Prince Charming at work.

Finally ready for your day, feeling rejuvenated and having shaken off your hysterics from the previous night, you step out of your apartment. You chew on a last minute attempt at making toast. The bread is dry instead of being lathered with butter, a complete oversight on your part.

You don’t even have time to stop for a coffee for a boost of energy. How the hell are you going to get through the day?

The rain stopped but the clouds still hang low in the sky. You’re used to the gloomy days, you actually welcome them with open arms. Too much sun reminds you of home and all of the misfortune you went through and, well, Linkon has a Wanderer problem that you want to avoid. Skyhaven still has them but it’s significantly less. You have the Fleet to thank for that.

And you definitely don’t have to thank a certain hunter who always seems to be at the scene of the worst attacks. As long as she stays away, you can live in peace knowing that if a Wanderer were to show up, she wouldn’t be the one to save you.

Your job as a translator stresses you out. Your boss, Darryl, is a weird, perverted dick that abuses his power. Whenever you don’t accept his daily flirts or go to HR about his behavior, you’re rewarded with horrible assignments that take years off of your life because you’re surrounded by men who are exactly like Darryl. You swear that you’ve seen a gray hair or two sprout from your head.

Being a translator under Darryl is a soul sucking job. You’ve applied to different departments in the Deepspace Aviation Administration, but Darryl has decided that you’re only good enough for translating documents and transcripts.

Your dream is to be a live translator, one that sat in a hidden room during negotiations and meetings between presidents and generals. Hell, you’d be fine with translating between the generals’ secretaries! It’s a thrill that you’ll unfortunately never be able to experience.

A big fuck you to Darryl.

You step through the shiny and clean doors of the Deepspace Aviation Administration. The building is eerily tall, shooting further into the atmosphere. You’ve managed to stay within the clouds, though, barely able to move past the fifteenth floor. Your security clearance is less than desirable, but it hasn’t stopped you from inching your way to the top.

You hope to see the secret levels soon enough but sincerely doubt it.

You smile at Abel and Remy, who work the entrance of the building, manning the security clearance that you pass through every weekday. You place your bag down on the conveyor belt, scanning your I.D. card in the little pad before stepping through the metal detector.

“Good morning you two,” you greet them with a familiar smile.

“Morning!” Remy chimes with a smile. He hands you your bag and nudges Abel’s side. He barely looks up, waving, before sinking his head back into the computer. “He slept like shit. Don’t mind him.”

“It’s all good,” you shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Just as you are about to step away, Abel’s head shoots up.

“Stay here. You were flagged.” Abel waves his hand in the air. Two nicely dressed soldiers approach you, guns slung on their sides. Your eyes widen, looking around for any kind of sign that this is a prank that Remy and Abel were pulling on you.

When the soldiers approach you and take your arm, a weight forms on your shoulders. 

It’s not a prank. It’s very fucking real.

Terror rips through your body. Your eyes widen as the masked soldiers stare down at you, their eyes dark and unwelcoming.

“Ma’am. Follow us,” one of the soldiers barks at you. You nod, ready to comply, but are unable to move your feet. You try to move your leg but it doesn’t budge. You awkwardly laugh to yourself, looking down at the unresponsive limb.

Move, dammit! You internally scream, cheeks heating up. 

Remy gives your back a gentle tap, nudging you forward. You stumble over your feet, pushing through the gap between the soldiers.

They track you from behind and occasionally bark a direction for you to take. They guide you towards the elevator that is reserved for higher ranking officials and officers. Your gulp, heart pounding in your chest. Your ears begin to ring, heating up as nausea overtakes your body. You close your eyes and grip the railing in the elevator, clinging to the cold metal for some kind of relief.

Where did it all go wrong?

Did you translate something wrong? Is it your fault that a world war is about to erupt? You knew you should have told Darryl to not give you assignments on the language you’re weakest at! He should have given it to Miranda!

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator floor. Each ding from a new floor heightens your anxiety, body shivering at the thought of what could happen to you.

Ding.

Goodbye cruel world!

Ding.

It was nice knowing you all!

Ding.

Don’t forget about me! Use my death as an example on what not to do!

You have heard many stories of what happened to translators that interpreted a word incorrectly. They simply disappeared off the face of the earth and were never heard from again. Or they ended up teaching languages at a community college far away from Skyhaven and the Fleet.

You’d rather disappear off the face of the earth than succumb to that fate.

The elevator doors slide open. You look up from the floor, surprised to see a normal looking work environment. One of the soldiers place their hand on your back, pushing your forward. You move with his hand, not particularly enjoying his touch. You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll take her from here.”

You freeze. Goosebumps spread across your skin and chills run down your spine. You focus on the wall in front of you, a figure sliding in front of your vision. Your eyes are met with a black uniform, the typical red, white, and blue accents that the Fleet uniforms have.

Your eyes float up, taking in the figure before you. Purple eyes stare down at you, your haze focusing on the golden spot that lays on the bottom of his iris. The nausea you once felt disappears but is quickly replaced with an even worse feeling of complete and utter dread.

“Caleb?” His name rolls off your tongue like butter, melting the ice that surrounds your heart.

So last night was not a dream. Caleb was the one to save you from George, not some random stranger who was there at the time. It was your ex-childhood best friend.

A semblance of a smile flashes across his face before his gaze sharpens. He looks you up and down, hands behind his back. Your gaze drops, taking him in his entirety.

Fuck…he looks great in his uniform.

“Long time no see,” he quips, stoic expression remaining on his face. “Follow me.” Without missing a beat, he turns on his heel and begins to walk away. You look around, blinking as if it’ll snap you out of the dream you’re clearly inside of.

When you don’t follow, Caleb walks back. His fingers curl around your wrist, his touch shocking your body to life. You fumble over your words, random sounds fleeing from your lips, as Caleb guides you away from invasive eyes.

His hair is still short but is just shaggy enough to remain charming and add to his looks. Your squint your eyes, noticing a few light scars on the right side of his body. They creep up his neck from under his wrinkle-free uniform. Caleb opens a door and you step inside, swallowing whatever confusion you had left in your mouth, and turn to him.

“Caleb?” Your voice is breathy. Caleb’s eyes fix themselves on you, the man leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re…what?”

“Take your time,” he chuckles. Your breath gets caught in your throat. His chuckle makes you want to jump for joy. “We are on a time crunch though, pipsqueak—”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt him, hissing as your instincts take over.

Any positive feeling you felt towards him in the past five minutes has vanished. You glare and cross your arms over your chest.

How dare Caleb call you that? That was always her nickname, alongside other ridiculous pet names that always made you gag whenever you looked back in your memories.

You made for certain that you’ll never be his pipsqueak.

You groan, rolling your eyes, and turn away from him. To him, it feels like you just drove a knife into his heart. He stares at the back of your head, his gaze falling for a brief moment, noticing the curve of your ass, before circling in front of you.

“I won’t call you that…noted,” he breathlessly chuckles. Once you tilt your chin up to show your glare, his chuckle gets caught in his throat. He covers it with a cough, suddenly feeling nervous around you.

Caleb has never felt this way with you before. In the past, everything was so easy! It was smooth sailing with you, low maintenance. He knew that you didn’t need the constant validation from him whereas she always needed it.

Maybe that’s been his foolish mistake all along. He should have paid more attention to you instead of her.

Is this what loathing feels like? Complete and utter contempt towards someone? Caleb hasn’t experienced this kind of negative feeling before, at least, not with her.

He had always felt so alive whenever she looked his way. Her beauty and innocence was so captivating. He adored playing the hero she needed.

Where was your hero? Who was there to call you pipsqueak or any other cheesy nickname? God, he’s been a fucking idiot.

“Is there…a nickname you’d like me to call you? For old time’s sake?” Caleb’s question earns him an angered scoff from you.

“You can call me by my name, thanks,” You look at him, eyes flickering down to his exposed neck.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His gloved hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, wanting to loosen his restrictive tie, but falls. When your eyes meet again, his shoulders tense before relaxing.

Is he…is he nervous?

“Tell me, Colonel,” you begin. Caleb’s head perks up and he looks at you, hanging onto every word that comes from your lips. “Why am I here?”

“I heard you’re the best translator we have,” Caleb’s compliment makes you raise your eyebrow, “I only want the best. I need you to translate something for me.”

“Sure, I can do that. Not like I have much of a choice, right?” Your half-joke earns a loud laugh from Caleb. You raise an eyebrow at him.

Really? You think to yourself. That’s what made you laugh?

“I forgot how funny you are,” Caleb comments. He pokes your nose and your face scrunches up, watching as he turns on his heel, opening up the door. You stare at his back and the memories of him from your childhood come pouring in.

You sit alone on a bench. You watch as Caleb stands in line with her at an ice cream stand. You watch them with close and steady eyes, your gaze transfixed on how she plays with his fingers. They laugh and lean into each other, undoubtedly whispering secrets that only they can know to one another.

It pained you, yes, to always be pushed to the sideline. You got used to it with time. You didn’t notice it the first year of knowing them. You were all careless and innocent children. Of course there was no malcontent with their actions!

However, the constant repetition of being left out only to be covered with half-asses apologies and sorries became very old really quick.

And it definitely felt like a stab in the back when you hear their mingled laughter through your open window. You’d catch your self sitting by the window, sighing to yourself as they played knight and princess in Josephine’s backyard.

Whenever you played with them, she always made you the monstrous dragon that held her captive. Caleb had to the the one to kill you. You had to watch from the ground, covered in dirt and dust, as he brought her into his arms, swinging her around.

Her thrilled shrieks and giggles were like poison to your soul.

You were only eight.

With thicker skin and a heart beginning to protect itself with a shield of ice, you braved the final days of your friendship with them. When it grew to be too much, you left.

It was the best decision you could have made, right?

It felt so easy to leave, even as they excluded you from the ice cream line. What’s funny is that they forgot to get you your sweet treat, meaning that you had to eventually stand in the line by yourself while they relaxed on the bench.

You were always left with sticky fingers while he cleaned hers, calling her by that stupid fucking nickname while he wiped away the melted ice cream from her fingertips. They were clean and pristine while yours were left with sticky residue and bits of napkin that lingered behind.

You were almost always determined to ditch them after moments like these. You laid in bed, holding your favorite plushie to your chest, when a small pebble hit your window. You walked over, pushing the glass open, as you poked your head outside.

Caleb stood on the ground below. He smiled up at you and held up a small plastic bag. You watched as he climbed up the side of your house with ease, using the vines to reach your window.

The anger slowly left your body the closer he got to you. He’d poke his head instead and you plucked the plastic bag from his mouth, revealing a small metal butterfly you had saw in town earlier that day.

“I got it just for you,” he said, resting his elbows on the windowsill. You watched him with wide eyes, your ice heart melting from his actions and words. “A token of my appreciation.”

Maybe sticking around for a little longer isn’t a bad idea, you thought to yourself.

You always loved butterflies after that day.

“You coming?” Caleb asks, head tilted to the side.

Looking around, you realize where you are and shake away the bittersweet memories from your childhood. You let out a ragged breath. Your lungs burn and your vision blurs.

His purple orbs memorized every detail of your face. When he noticed the small amount of tears in your eyes, he reached forward, wanting to catch them before they had the chance to fall. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You slap his hand away and push past him, entering the main room.

As you walk, you realize that what’s left between you two has expired.

The apple of his eye is not you. You were a Granny Smith while she was a Honeycrisp.

You were perpetually sour and she was always refreshing. Everyone always lavished in her presence while you faded into the background. You were left out in the sun while she was carried inside and taken care of.

It’s no wonder why you’re rotten to the core. 

Daggers of pain stabbed into his sides, slipping between his ribs, leaving him breathless. His perfect demeanor finally reveled a crack, head lunched over. He follows you into the hallway, planting himself at your side.

Clearly, there is something wrong with you. Not in a way like there is with him, you know, having failed his psych evaluation, but something that is deeply rooted in your core. He wants to rip your chest open and to pull your heart out. He wants the slowly pull away the thorns that pierce your heart and kiss the wounds. He desperately wants to mend your internal wounds and hold you until you fall asleep in his arms.

“Where’s the file?” You ask him, the tears now gone from your eyes. A slow and ragged breath leaves his mouth, unable to look away from your remarkable face. You snap your fingers in his face, irritation blossoming inside your chest.

“Oh, right,” Caleb recovers. He lays his hand on your lower back. Warmth seeps through the thin fabric of your blouse. Despite the anger you felt a minute ago, you can feel your body relax under his touch. You can tell that he notices it too when his cocky smile returns to his face. You tear your gaze away from his, heat tingling your ears from embarrassment.

He leans down to whisper something in your ear but you turn your head away, not wanting to hear anything else from him. Thankfully, he catches on and straightens his posture.

The office is foreign to you. Many hallways lead in different directions. People in uniforms turn left and right, catching you off guard as Caleb pulls you out just in time before you collide with them. They barely look up from the papers in their hands or leave their conversation to say sorry or apologize.

Caleb swiftly guides you through the floor. The two of you weave and bob through the organized chaos. People stop and salute Caleb as he passes by. He nods in their direction, his charming smiling disappearing as he puts his Colonel mask back on.

He opens a door and reveals an almost empty interrogation room. There’s no two way mirror nor are there the usual cameras in the corner. At least, that’s what you’ve seen on your favorite television show. You step inside, flinching when the door slams closed, the faint click of a lock making goosebumps form all over your skin.

“No need to be nervous, Caleb says, sitting down into one of the chairs at the metal table. He spreads his legs open, making himself comfortable. He looks up at you, gesturing to the chair in front of him. You hesitate, having to force your eyes to look away from his legs, and sit in the chair beside him.

The table only has a few items. Caleb takes off his hat, placing it near the edge. He plucks off his gloves, taking his time since you’re watching him, and set them on top of his hat. In the center sits a neat stack of papers with a few pens and pencils on top. Beside that is an audio recorder with an attached set of earbuds.

“You know how to be discreet, right?” Caleb asks. You sneak a glance at him, throwing a bit of side eye, before picking up the audio recorder.

Ha. Do you know to be discreet…how do you think I got through high school? I was discreet with my hatred of your beloved pipsqueak

“I’ll manage,” you cooly respond.

You already know the drill.

You put on the headphones, you write down whatever it is the people on the other side are talking about, and you hand your work over to Darryl.

Except…Darryl isn’t here. Caleb is.

And you aren’t at your usual workstation using your computer to type. You’re actually writing these words down. What kind of mission is this?

“Then you know that you’ll be working directly under me for the assignment,” Caleb leans closer to you. You pay no attention to it.

“Will I?” You play coy and look at him, batting your eyelashes at him.

Caleb has to picture Josephine naked to stop the tent from forming in his pants.

“Yes…” his word comes out as a whisper.

“May I know any background on it? You know, for translation sake.” You can feel him slowly draw you in.

Those purple eyes that you quickly get lost in. The way his fragrant cologne smells. The way his canine tooth flashes whenever he smiles.

And that fucking uniform. Fuck me. You think.

“It’s classified,” he breathes back, your faces mere inches from each other. Caleb is so thankful that there are no cameras inside. If this keeps going the way he wants, he’ll have you bent over with your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Shame,” you quickly quip back. You tear yourself away from Caleb, leaving him hanging in the tension you two created. You grab the earbuds and slide them inside your ears. The first piece of paper is placed in front of you and you opt for the pen, knowing you never make mistakes.

Caleb watches you with close eyes. Your hand moves at a furious pace, swiftly scribbling down the words from the audio file.

He sits up in his chair, resting his elbow on the table beside him, placing his chin on his raised palm. The Colonel’s eyes close and he slowly inhales. That sweet yet spicy scent of apples and cinnamon fill his nostrils. He slowly exhales, hoping that your perfume lingers on his uniform long after you leave.

His eyes open when he hears you switch to a new paper. You slide him the filled one, you fingers grazing against each other, before you continue to write like you have a gun to your head.

Caleb chuckles to himself. He leans to the right. With the slight movement, he’s able to get a better look at your face.

Your brows are pushed together, no more space between the two. The skin below your bottom lip is sucked in, slowly moving back and forth. Are you…eating yourself? Your eyes flit to him for a brief second. Your face relaxes before it immediately returns to its focused state.

You are so beautiful. Even when you focus on the assignment at hand, Caleb can see the dedication you have for the things you love.

He hopes that soon, he’ll be number one on the list of things you care about. Caleb can brag about it to his already minuscule group of friends, showing off the future photos and selfies you’ll take together. He’ll be able to say that you’re his and nobody else’s.

If someone like George were to come in the way of that, well, he’ll deal with them and lock you away so you don’t have to witness it.

“What are you looking at?” You question, not even looking up from the paper. You slide it to him, drawing your hand away before he can touch your delicate skin, to feel just how soft it is even if it was for a fraction of a second.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” His question surprises the both of you. It slipped from his thoughts before he could stop it from escaping. Caleb’s face remains stoic. On the inside, though, he’s screaming at himself for coming off as too strong.

Your pen scratches to the side, destroying the perfect lines you’ve made from transcribed words. The tip of the pen pierces the paper. Black ink pools around the sharp metal tip. Your fingertips turn white from how tight you grip the pen.

Caleb reaches over you, his muscular arm passing in front of your gaze, trapping you in your chair. He grabs the audio recorder, the device looking minuscule compared to how large his hands are. Veins are prominent in his hand, leading up his wrist before disappearing under the fabric of his uniform jacket.

Your gaze starts from the tips of his fingers, gently dragging past his exposed skin and up his dark material of his uniform, sliding up his shoulder, hovering on the bare skin of his neck. The audio recording in your ear pauses. Caleb retracts his arm, hooking his finger under your chin. He eases your eyes the rest of the way up to his.

Your breath hitches. Lips barely parted, your cheeks flush from his touch and how close he is to you. His lips are mere inches from yours.

All it takes is one…gentle…push…

“I asked if you were doing anything tonight,” the raspiness in his voice makes your lower stomach purr. Your eyes fall to his lips. You gnaw the inside of your cheek, slowly leaning closer to him.

“Are you asking me as Caleb? Or as my Colonel?” You whisper.

“Which one will you say yes to dinner with?”

“Hmm…” you quietly hum. You reach out, fingers curling around his uniform’s tie. You give it a firm tug. A low groan emits from Caleb’s throat. You smirk. “Neither.”

Caleb matches your smirk. His hand snakes up your arm. His long, slender fingers wrap around the entirety of your hand. He overpowers your grip and the tie falls free from your hold. He brings your knuckles to his lips. He plants a firm kiss to them, his eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You push away from the table. Cheeks red, unable to breathe, you step away from him and to the interrogation room door. You tug on the cold door handle, the metal immediately warming due to you body heat. The lock clicks and you shove the heavy hunk of metal forward, escaping into the public eye of the office.

[reikaryu]

18:58 ♡ s.coups

fluff, established relationship, we all need a cheol to care for us don’t we? seungcheol is WHIPPED, 0.7k words

been in my drafts for so long I decided to free it at last. enoy my loves!

“come on, babe, let’s gooo!” you whine, a pout forming steadily on your lips as you tug at your boyfriend’s arms.

seungcheol only stares up at you with a smile on his face — that little smile that has been taunting you for the past ten minutes, denying you full, premium access to the snowy weather outside.

“no, darling, you have a fever. it’s not gonna get better if you go out and play in the snow,” he tells you for the nth time today. he reaches up to press a warm palm to your forehead, then frowns at the temperature. “still warm.”

but you’re not giving up so easily. quickly, you try to reason (albeit dumbly), “well, if I’m warm now, then the snow will help chill me down!” the wide smile on your face makes seungcheol feel a little sorry for you.

“that’s …” he sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “that’s not how it works, babe.”

seungcheol checks the clock on the wall just opposite him a few metres away. “go take your meds, love. it’s seven,” he smiles up at you sweetly, no doubt an attempt to take your mind off exiting the warm house.

but you know better. which is weird, because normally you’d be entranced, completely, by his adorable smile.

you slouch, groaning as you trudge your way to the kitchen. your medicine is placed on the counter in a little bag, labels and everything.

suddenly, an idea pops into your head. you ponder for a moment. will seungcheol fall for it? yes, probably. he’s too whipped for you not to.

quickly, you place your pills in the cupboard as silently as you can, then brace yourself and shout out, “cheol!”

an “it’s on the counter, babe,” tells you he heard you.

“no, it’s not,” you reply, making loud sounds of moving items around. you hear the movement of his feet, the shuffling growing louder and louder. swiftly, you move to grab his coat and hide.

seungcheol enters the kitchen with a confused expression. he looks around, trying to find you, but to no avail. shrugging, he shifts his focus to your pills, which, true to your words, are not on the counter.

he sighs. “where did I put them?” he mumbles, opening all the cupboards and looking behind appliances.

without notice, you jump onto him from behind, wrapping his coat around his shoulders. you tie a simple knot with the sleeves at his neck, as if you were trying to murder him.

“yn! what are you—?” seungcheol exclaims, a hint of laughter in his tone.

“I won’t let go unless you bring me outside,” you huff, tightening your arms and legs around his body. “I feel perfectly fine.”

your boyfriend closes the cupboard door slowly. “well, your body doesn’t agree.” but his hands come to wrap around your legs, holding you tight so you don’t fall.

you don’t reply, a pout slowly forming on your face. you seem to be pouting a lot more than usual.

seungcheol can’t see you properly with the position he finds himself in, but he knows your lips are jutting out — again — with the way you press your warm face into the crook of his neck.

silence lingers for a moment or two, before he suspires in defeat. “okay. take your meds first, then we’ll go out.”

the cheer you let out almost strips him of his hearing, but it doesn’t bother him. a smile finds its way to his lips as you retract from your koala hug and open the cupboard three steps away.

his eyes widen in realisation the moment he sees your pills in your hands. he’s speechless, mouth agape, watching you gulp down your meds in less than ten seconds.

“you absolute minx,” he mumbles, a scoff escaping him. you flash a cheshire’s grin and skip towards the coat rack where yours hung lifelessly.

seungcheol’s eyes are filled to the brim with soft admiration. you never know how to back down from a challenge, and he loves that about you. he loves you and everything you have to offer.

even when you’re sick and whiny and stubborn, he just can’t help loving you. even when you’re utterly willing to possibly fall even more sick than you are, he loves you too much to do anything about it. he’ll regret it later, but now, he’s content to see you smiling ear to ear, pulling him into a kiss to show your appreciation.

“you have three seconds to get out the door or I’m locking us in for the next week.”

seungcheol will kiss you if you reblog (.◜◡◝)

[ruinix]

hi i’m just here to drop in and mention how bad Quinn wants to leave marks on your body. he doesn’t care where or how he just needs to see him on you at all times ya know?

Halloo, love, my lovely moot😚. I’m sorry it took me long. I blame my two braincells. They got distracted. [Also... i totally didnt try to repost this (i did, but it didnt happen...😭 sorry)] Here it is...ummm.... i think i have veered off in a different path. Sorry...🧎🏻‍♀️

CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut or smut(ish), Sloppy kisses and Marking, Slightest bit of choking, Quinn being a love sick fool 🙂‍↔️

Count: 1448 words | Masterlist

One. Two. Three. Hmmm, that’s not right. Quinn swears he left you four marks on your neck…Why the fuck are you bundled up after all the hard work he did?

He could feel his irritation bubble up his throat, but he swallows it down—crossing his arms, eyebrows drawn—as he tracks your movement across the apartment. You’re doing miscellaneous cleaning, dusting here and there, dancing along with whatever music blasting in your headphones.

You look cute, really. Pretty and cozy in your matching sweatpants and your crewneck sweater. The colors are soft and makes your skin glow. The fit is oversized. You demanded that size when you got him to buy it—he bought five sets for you, because you rarely request something. You are even wearing your comfy and grippy socks. Adorable, really. Really—Fuck. What the fuck? Are you covering him—his marks—up? Didn’t you say you love them last night?

Before he could spiral, you finally notice him. Whatever complaints he has disintegrated to nothing. Your smile with the twinkle in your eyes takes his breath away. When you squeal and run towards him, his arms instantly drop, spreading to give in your hug. You smell like fresh laundry. Home. You smell like home. His home.

Quinn melts into your touch, head dipping where your neck and shoulders meet. His eyes dart from one mark after the other. Where is the other one?

 “Quinn, you’re home! How’s your day? How’s practice?” you ramble on, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“All good. I had fun,” he murmurs, slightly parting from you. “How’s yours?”

You happily recount your day—cleaning, work, watching a show, taking a good and satisfying bath. Quinn guesses that this day is for a nonlinear storytelling, which he has no complaints about. He could get lost in your voice, that’s like the soft patters of rain, like the soft breeze in summer, like the rustle of leaves, like soft chirps of birds. Your voice is like every calming tune of nature. Soothing. Nurturing. That’s what you do to his soul.

Mix that with how firmly your arms are wrapped around his torso, hands slipping into his shirt. They smoothen over his muscles, tracing his spine, causing shivers to run down his fucking soul. Oh, the effect you have on him, but that doesn’t appease him as it usually does. Not one bit—fine, maybe just slightly—because where the fuck is it?

While you talk about a grocery list, Quinn carefully rubs your arms and your shoulders. When he thumbs the column of your neck, you instantly pause, shuddering, breaths picking up. You look at him with wide eyes. The blush staining your cheeks deepens. Cute.

Quinn slips his thumb into your collar and tugs. He almost gets distracted with the goosebumps on your skin. Almost. Because there it is. The fourth mark. It’s just hiding under the edge. Still red and purple, the same shade as the other three. Still so beautiful on your skin. So fucking beautiful.

“Quinn?” you call, confusion etched in your face. “Did I lose you?”

Lose him? Never. You will never lose him. You’re stuck with him. He will chase you no matter where you go, stand beside you, hold your hands every step of the way.

You know that, but you’re still pouting. As second ticks, your confusion turns into annoyance. Your eyebrows furrow. You’re such a brat sometimes. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does. Your arms hook over his nape. The way your lips instantly part sends blood rushing down his groin. You’re always so eager, parting your thighs for his leg to step between.

“You ignored me,” you murmur, nipping at his lip. “You can’t ignore me.”

Fuck. That feels good.

“Not ignoring you. I heard everything you said,” Quinn whispers back in between kisses. “You know that, brat.”

He feels your smile, hears your giggle. He’s so fucked. Even that turns him on. With how your eyes shine, you know you had him in a chokehold. Well, he can have you in a chokehold too. Literally. So, he gives your neck a squeeze. A small whimper comes out your lips.

“Quinn.”

Your name spills out from his lips as a response.

You moan like he’s already fucking you, grinding your clothed cunt over his thigh. He pushes it up, letting you take all the friction you want.

When he goes for another kiss, your lips are already parted, tongue out, waiting for his. You beautiful siren. Quinn can’t hold in his growl as he meets it.

The kiss is sloppy, messy, and hungry. Your spits mixing. Your tongues lashing. Your teeth bumping and nipping each other’s lips. So different from the first one just a while ago. So different, yet utterly the same—full of love, lust, and devotion. So fucking good.

Quinn grinds his hard-on against you, raising his thigh to help you chase your high, but he stops. Not yet. You can’t come just yet. Your whines fill his ears as he parts from you. Tears threaten to spill as you try, try, and fucking try to get him to kiss you again. To get him to let you ride his thigh again. To get him to fuck himself on you.

You have to wait.

“Maybe,” he mutters against your lips, almost laughing when your tongue darts out to gaud him for another kiss. Little seductress. Quinn impatiently tugs on your sweatshirt. “Maybe you should get rid of this, yeah?”

He nearly preens when you nod—desperately and utterly wrecked. His hands shake as he helps you pull it off.

Fuck. You’re just wearing an almost-sheer crop top underneath. Your nipples are already taut, begging for him to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your low neckline showcases your beautiful skin littered with different shades of kiss marks. Some are old. Some are new. All his.

Yet. Not. Enough.

Not when there are still lots of blank spaces of skin to mark. Not when many of them are already fading. Not when you can still hide them. He doubts it will ever be enough. He just needs him on you.

His kiss marks.

Different from cum and spit which you—or he, depending on your mood—wash away.

Different from the occasional fingerprint bruises he leaves on your hips and thighs from holding you so tightly as he fucked you until you couldn’t stop cumming, until he’s left with watery cum or with nothing because your sweet pussy already sucked him dry.

Different because it shows the whole world how he worshipped you, your skin, your being.

Different but they always come one after another. He can’t have you all marked up with your pussy unsatisfied, can he? No. That’s not possible. An offence that he would rather die than commit.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes, grazing his knuckles over your ribs. His other hand tenderly holds our hips, keeping them pressed against his, not letting you do anything else. “So pretty.”

He nearly chokes on those words. He relishes the feel of your hands on his shoulders, fingers casually tugging the tips of his hair—a demand for him to stop fucking around.

Well, can you blame him for taking his time? He just loves you so much.

Then, your little tugs turn more desperate, fingers wrapping around his locks. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it off, but you would ease and scratch his scalp effectively seducing him.

But first, he needs to remedy his problem. He grips your arms, holding them against the wall, as he partakes on your skin. The way you surrender—when he starts sucking and adding marks on your neck, even craning it to give him more access—almost made him fall to his knees. Oh, he is essentially on his knees, because you are his love, his law, his Goddess. He is always kneeling for you. His existence is nothing without you now. He can only beg that you always be with him—of course, he will ensure that.

But he can’t be on his knees right now. How can he reach your neck then? How can he hold you up when you are melting with every suck and lick and kiss then?

Later, he can be on his knees. Later, when he needs to mark up your belly, your hips, your thighs, the creases between them that leads to your pussy, and your beautiful fucking ass. Later.

Right now, he needs to mark up your neck to show everyone—honestly, just him, fuck everyone else—that you are his and his alone.

[aciddrattboyy]

Wԋҽɳ Yσυ Mҽʂʂ Wιƚԋ Lσʋҽ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "your boyfriend arrives late for your study date and things(sex) happen"

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Mark Grayson x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 3.9k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Drama/Rom/Adult Film] smut, both reader and mark lose their virginities, fingering(f!receiving), vanilla sex tbh, there will be eventual angst, set in au where they are in college before... (gulp) chicago incident, two part story ★ soundtrack: karma police, basta ya ★ pls pls pls any invincible fans HIT MY LINE i have no friends in this fandom and i desperately need them ★ 01 . 02 .

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noon. you invited mark over to your dorm at noon. it was three o’clock now, with no text messages or calls from your boyfriend; even after he assured you he’d be there about four hours earlier. mark had been… distant. constantly ditching you, not even showing up to dates or hangouts, or asking for rain checks if he had the decency to do even that. today was supposed to be a typical study date, with exams coming up you thought it would be nice. because even though mark left you hanging seemingly more often than not, the time he was there was, well, amazing. when he did manage to find the time for you he treated you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, acted as the perfect, doting boyfriend. whether it was picking up your favorite food without asking or buying you a plushie of your favorite animal you didn't even remember telling him about, mark was loving.

but as the minutes ticked by, your phone continued being pathetically dry, and your dorm mark-less, you were starting to think maybe the good no longer outweighed the bad. with a sigh, you push back in your desk chair, slumping in the seat as you tipped your head back. you glanced over at your phone sitting atop a pile of books, almost mocking you with the lack of notifications, and thought about texting mark. again. dragging a hand down your face, you began to spin slowly in your chair, watching the room swirl by out of boredom. 

as you spun lazily, you could see your door slowly opening. and then there was mark, peeking his face through the crack, sporting that same guilty expression you were starting to think you saw more than him smiling. you plant your feet on the ground, coming to a halt as you looked at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. 

“if your excuse is you had to help your dad with work, lost track of time, or ‘had something to take care of’, save your breath,” you turn back to your desk, staring at the open textbook with your jaw clenched and brows pinched together. mark grimaced at your words, his hand twitching hesitantly on the doorknob, not sure if he should even come inside.

“alright no excuses,” he murmured softly, scratching at his nape as he stared at your back. sheepishly, he held up a plastic bag, the contents inside rustling softly. “but… how about an apology? starting with some food from that place you said you wanted to try?” mark’s voice had a hopeful lilt to it, although he knew he couldn’t keep fixing everything with food. he was entirely sure he’s been fixing anything at all, like a bandaid on a broken bone. but he also couldn’t exactly say: “sorry for being late to our study date. i promise i wanted to be here but my alien space dad made me go train with him since i just got super cool powers.”  it wouldn't be a secret identity if he started telling people. and unfortunately, people included you, no matter how much he didn’t want it to be this way. 

your glare aimed at your text book softened at his words, once again he had gone out of his way for you. acting as if he cared for you even as he was constantly blowing you off. a few quiet moments of you contemplating what to do pass by before you speak, turning in your chair slightly to look at him. 

“i guess that’s not a completely bad start.” marks face immediately lit up like an excited puppy as you spoke. it wasn’t a hard get the fuck out of my room and that was as good of a start as any when trying to make up for his major fuck ups. without missing a beat, he steps inside, closing the door behind him before toeing off his shoes, dropping his backpack near the foot of your bed and making his way over to you.  

“i uh got you a little bit of everything- well not everything everything but y’know a reasonable amount of-”

“thank you mark,” you cut him off quietly, not entirely sure how mad at him you still were. you take the bag from him, not able to meet his eyes as you set the bag down on your now limited desk space. mark stood somewhere to the side behind you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“yeah, yeah no problem,” his voice cracked slightly and he winced at his own tone, feeling helpless and not at all sure how to really fix this without coming clean about his secret identity; something he could not do. the silence seems to drag on as you looked through the different containers. his eyes trailed over your desk and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him when he the notes scribbled into a notebook. “you.. um you got a lot of work done,” mark said awkwardly, grasping at straws to try to fix what he was rapidly breaking between you two. 

“yeah well it would’ve been easier if you had been here to help.” both of you freeze at your words that came out just a bit more harsh than you intended. mark frowned, not sure what to say. he reached out a hand, hovering it over your shoulder as he slowly opened his mouth. but you sighed before he can get anything out, running a hand through your hair before you turn in your chair to face with a faint frown of your own. “look, i’m sorry for talking to you like that. let’s just eat yeah? i’ve done enough studying for the both of us” you offer mark a small smile, one that he returns hesitantly. he takes a step back when you get up from your chair, grabbing the bed and heading over to your bed. 

“yeah that… sounds good.” mark nods, following you over to the bed. he sits next to you, mirroring your cross legged posture with his back leaning against the wall. he slowly scoots closer as you pull out the various containers until your knees are touching. you didn’t acknowledge it, but you didn't pull away and that was as good of a win as any. his eyes light up with an idea before leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his laptop. “thought we could watch something while we ate.” he offers softly, already turning on youtube and putting on the type of videos he remembered you telling him you watched sometime in the past. you nod at him softly, your smile growing both in size and genuineness just a bit.

“good thinking,” you respond softly, the anger already subsiding just from being with him. mark had a way of making you feel good, even if it wasn't for long, even if he upset you more often than you’d really like. you knew deep down he was still a good guy, and you desperately wanted to see him be better. wanted to see him start living up to his apologies.

the two of you eat in a somewhat comfortable silence, interrupted by laughs or brief commentary on what you were watching. and everything starts to feel normal again. for you, but also for mark. for just right now he wasn’t Invincible. he was mark grayson, a freshman in college with the more amazing girlfriend by his side. it felt nice to feel normal again, even if he had been waiting his whole life to get powers, to be just like his dad. you find yourself curled up against mark’s side, watching random videos with your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. the sun was starting to set, the fading sunlight casting shadows and warm orange light through the blinds. 

when you tilt your head to look up at mark, he meets your gaze. his lips slowly pull into a goofy smile that makes you huff with amusement.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you murmur playfully while tracing idle shapes over the fabric covering his chest. he pulls you closer, the movement almost imperceptible as his expression turns warm.

“you’re just so pretty,” mark answered just as softly, getting lost in your eyes with a stupid smile. only a second passes before he realizes what he’s said; his eyes widen, face flushing red as he sputters out apologies while trying to pull away. “oh shit that was so stupid- fuck im sorr-” before mark could run away and hide, you grab his face and pull him into a kiss. he lets out a muffled noise of surprise, eyes wide before his brain catches up to what was happening. then he’s humming softly instead, hands finding your waist as he kissed you back gently. “wha… what was that for?” he whispered breathlessly when you pulled away, your faces only inches apart. 

“am i not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?” you ask teasingly, smile only growing as your swipe your thumbs over his cheeks.

“no- i mean yes- uh yeah you can kiss me,” he lets out an almost self deprecating laugh, hands squeezing your waist gently. “i’m fucking this up aren’t i?” you pull him into another kiss, languidly moving your lips against his.

“i think you’re doing just fine,” your fingers tangle in mark’s hair, deepening the kiss, starting it off slow, gentle, but one thing led to another and soon enough you’re pulling him closer as you fall back against the sheets. mark follows you willingly, hovering over you with his hands on either side of your head. one of mark’s legs slot in between yours, involuntarily pressing his knee against the apex of your thighs. you gasp softly against his lips, grip tightening in his hair. when you roll your hips, a shudder runs through both you and mark when he realized what you were doing. the revelation only served to send blood straight to his already semi-hard dick.  

the kissing grows frenzied, the air between you heavy with harsh panting and even messier kissing. your laptop had been precariously moved out of the way and onto the corner of your desk. both of your shirts? thrown god knows where. was this all happening just a bit too fast? maybe… probably… definitely. but slowing down seemed to be the last thing on your mind along with mark’s. who was now practically buzzing with nervous excitement and lust. he’d kissed you before, many times actually. but never like this. never half clothed and making out with you as if you were trying to eat each other’s faces off while you ground your hips against his knee.

shifting slightly, mark props himself up on his elbow, body pressing more firmly on top of yours. he smooths his free hand up your waist, hesitantly thumbing over the hem of your bra as he waited for some sort of signal to stop. but none came, in fact, he could feel your back slightly arch into his touch. he let out a low groan, muffled by your lips, the obvious tent in his sweats pressed snuggly against your thigh. for a brief moment he thought maybe he should be embarrassed. but how could he when you seemed to just as affected. and somehow a lot more confident… with a gasp, and much reluctance, mark pulls his mouth off of yours, panting heavily against your lips.

“have you uh… y’know… before?” his voice was barely a whisper, face feeling hot and eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you.

“no…” you start, your voice equally as quiet as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “is it that obvious?” your brows twitched, just barely pinching together with a hint of worry and newfound self consciousness. 

“no- no no!” mark quickly squeaks out, shaking his head with wide eyes. “i just- you seem so- so…” he trails off, not entirely sure what to say anymore.

“we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. do you want to stop?” your voice was soft, a small smile on your face in hopes of making sure mark knew his comfort was important above all. but it only served to make mark feel more… feel more of whatever was making his stomach flip and his cock twitch against your thigh in a way that was getting harder to ignore. he swallowed the lump in his throat when thought about what ‘keep going’ would actually entail. 

“um… no. not really,” he murmured softly, a sheepish smile on his face. he feels his face heat up all over again at the admission. but before he can doubt himself, you’re smiling at him. and then you were kissing him, and it was like you had never even stopped at all. 

the kissing quickly grows heated, hands fumbling to rip each others pants off through breathless giggles and sloppy kisses until mark was seated between your open legs; both of you in nothing but your underwear and your bra long gone. mark smoothed his hands over your inner thighs, chest still somewhat heaving from the rather heavy makeout session just moments ago. he swallowed thickly, thumbs tracing over the lacy edges of your panties. his head snaps up when he hears a small noise leave your lips. the kind of noise that has his body going hot all over again.

“can i…?” mark wasn’t sure what he was exactly asking permission for. but the way you were looking up at him made him pray to any existing god that he was granted the sexual prowess of a veteran pornstar just for tonight. upon seeing you nod your head, he sucks in a deep breath, feeling both a wave of arousal and anxiousness. with shaky hands, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them off of you. looking at your naked body, mark was afraid he’d bust right then and there. but then your voice, soft and playful, cut through his thoughts currently being led by his dick. 

“c’mere,” you reach out, tugging on his hand and pulling him closer until he was hovering over you again. the backs of your thighs resting atop of his, the bulge in his boxers not too far from your pussy. you could tell he was a little nervous. and although you never got verbal confirmation, it was clear to see that mark was a virgin; somehow more a virgin than even you were. you card a hand in the hair at his nape, pulling him into a kiss that seemed to make mark relax just a bit. kissing was good. kissing was familiar territory. and after a small while, you placed your free hand on top of his hand not supporting his weight and slowly inch his palm downwards. 

marks breath hitched in his throat, body temporarily going still. that is until he felt how fucking wet you were as you guided his middle and ring finger through your soaked folds. a guttural groan vibrates through his chest, only barely muffled by your tongue in his mouth. 

you were panting against his lips now, soft mewls escaping you led his fingers to circle your clit. teaching him what you liked, how you wanted to be touched. and to mark’s credit, he was a very fast learner. soon enough he was moving on his own, your hand holding onto his wrist instead as he pumped two fingers inside of you. he ground his palm against your clit, making your hips buck into his hand as the pleasure just kept building. 

“o-oh fuck-” you cry out when he hits that sensitive spot inside you, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face against the sensitive skin just below his jaw. if it were not for the string of muffled moans leaving your lips, even mark was able to tell you were getting close almost embarrassingly fast by the way your thighs trembled against his and how your hips snapped up to meet each thrust of his fingers. “fuck- fuck ‘m gonna- hah-” 

mark felt like he was almost there with you; he could feel the damp patch on his boxers growing as his dick continued to throb in it’s confines, leaking a lot of precum. his hips twitched involuntarily, searching for some sort of relief. but he would continue to push his own wants aside, breathing heavily through his nose as he peppered your collarbone with wet kisses and focused solely on making you cum. and that he did. biting back a moan of his own at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers, your whole body going taut under him as you held onto him tighter. 

after a few moments filled with only heavy breathing, your body goes limp against the sheets as he pulls his fingers out with a soft squelch. there was a very satisfied smile on your face as you looked up at mark, who somehow looked more fucked out than you. 

“you were… surprisingly good at that.”

“ha, thanks… hey, wait what do you mean surprisingly?” you giggle softly at the small pout on his lips, lifting your head just enough to press a kiss against his lips.

“don’t think about it too much,” you mumble as you pull back, trailing your hands down his sides until your palms met the waistband of his boxers. “uh there’s condoms in the drawer if you…” you trail off, eyes widening when you realized what you had just implicated. “i- i didn’t buy them they were uh- a gift from my roommate a while ago…” you look up at mark with narrowed eyes after seeing the way his lips were pursed, twitching with the force he had to use to keep himself from smiling. for now, mark would bite his tongue, not wanting to face your wrath when his dick was so hard it was starting to hurt. 

“condoms. got it.” the words were strained under the weight of his stifled laughter, but before you could comment on it, he was already leaning over you. rummaging through your night stand, he was able to pull one out, settling between your legs with the gold foil in his hands. “but are you sure you want to do this?” there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, sounding almost worried that you’d regret being with him, or you were for some reason only doing this out of pity. but then you were giving him that warm smile and nodding your head, and suddenly all doubt jumped out the window. 

through more muted laughter and clumsy, inexperienced hands, the two of you manage to get the condom on without mark blowing his load then and there. placing his hands on your hips, he leans down to kiss your lips, rubbing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. you hum into his lips, gently holding onto his biceps as you kiss him back just as passionately. but when mark reaches a hand between your bodies to line his tip with your hole, the energy shifts. less playful and more so intense, romantic. like the both of you realize what you were doing, and what it means for the relationship going forward. 

“are you sure?” mark whispers against your lips, eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction.

“yeah, yeah i am,” you breathe out, eyes shining with something that made mark’s stomach flip in an almost scarily good way. he nods, adams apple bobbing before he presses his lips against yours again. he snakes his free hand up the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head as his hips slowly push forward. it takes a little while of patience and whispering sweet nothings to each other before the two of you are comfortable enough for mark to start moving, the whole situation intense for both of you in a way that was both exciting and a little nerve wracking. 

“h-holy fuck-” mark’s voice comes out as a shaky pant, head hanging as he looked down at where your bodies met. his hand in your squeezes gently, the other holding onto your hip as he slowly rolls his hips; pulling out until only the tip was inside before slowly pushing back. “feel s’good,” he groans softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he continued to slowly fuck into your wet heat. his hand leaves your hips, entwining his with yours and pinning you to the mattress. you bite your lip, muffling the whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth. squeezing his hands tightly, you tilt your head when you feel mark starting to suck and nip at the skin of your neck

“y-you can- nngh- go faster,” your breathy words do not fall on deaf ears. mark’s whole body stills for just a second before slightly readjusts on top of you. the moment he quickens his pace, both of you are turning into moaning messes. kissing sloppily and exchanging spit as the cheap bedframe rocks slowly with mark’s movement. he lets go of one of your hands, reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb.

it didn’t take long for mark to get close, hips already stuttering as he teetered on the edge as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling any and all embarrassing noises that leaves his lips. your hips buck up to meet his with each thrust, thighs shaking with your own impending orgasm. your nails rake down his back in a way that has mark groaning against your skin.

intense orgasms hit you both at the same time; mark’s thighs trembling right along yours as his hips jerkily buck his dick inside you until he spilled every last drop into the condom. collapsing on top of you, the room is silent save for heavy breaths and the smell of sex. after a few moments, mark presses a soft kiss to your jaw before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his back next to you with a content sigh after tossing the condom into the trash bin under your desk. 

“that was…”  mark turns on his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your back flush against his warm chest. nuzzling his face against your hair. “was… amazing,”  he murmured softly, voice full of bliss as he held you tight. you giggle softly, letting your body melt into his warm embrace. at some point, you both clean up; with shrugging on a shirt and underwear and mark slipping back into his sweatpants. cuddling up under your sheets, it was easy to fall asleep in his arms, perfectly content and feeling loved.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

[scentofhydrangea]

for @vershautece, based off of this and a little of this 🩷 enjoy!

warnings luigi is a baby making machine! sahm themes, let’s just assume he never had back problems shhh, all italian is translated at the bottom, breeding, oral (both receiving), missionary + doggy, orgasm denial (?), rough sex, ass slapping (i don’t like the other word), reflection ;), half-assed proofread

a/n i am actually so sorry this is so late, i’ve been stacked today and then i scheduled this to post and it never did… ALSO THIS IS WAY LONGER THAN I ORIGINALLY INTENDED!!! and i’m sorry the smut is kinda vague i haven’t written actual smut in SOOOO long it’s embarrassing… i’m gonna be a hornball on your dash!

getting accepted to upenn was definitely in your top three most exhilarating moments of your life. with plans of majoring in art, you were over the moon to start your independent life at an ivy league school! you rarely let boys get in your way — enjoying life in the moment was a top quality of yours as an artist.

that was, until you met luigi. oh god, he’s so beautiful. you only picked up one digital class that you really didn’t even know the name of because you’d wanted to get into digital art and you thought it’d be fun to learn the functions. as soon as you saw him about two weeks into the course, you were swooning. unbeknownst to you, most other girls were also swooning.

you only had a few tight friends, but your kind personality was a trait everyone noticed about you as soon as you would approach. also how good you smelled. and your beautiful smile. and your full, happy cheeks when you laugh. really just everything — and you’d had no idea that boys in your courses would pine after you, too.

a few trusty years later, you and luigi were to be wed! babies came shortly after, and you had the most beautiful twin toddlers. after you’d been granted maternity leave from your job as a high school art teacher, you’d gotten a little too used to staying home and tending to the house, rather than scrambling every weekend to get everything done as well as take care of your husband and children.

you had a talk with luigi and determined that the money from his job would be enough to keep the family steady going as well as a few pieces you’d make and sell on ebay every now and again. almost as quickly as you could, you sent an email to the superintendent and principal of your school saying that you would unfortunately not be returning due to personal issues.

luigi had never asked you to be a sweet little tradwife for him, but he damn sure enjoyed it. today in particular, your three year olds’ daycare was closed so you were fortunate enough to leave them with their godparents. this was good for you, they’d likely ask to spend the night with their padrini*, so you can have tonight and tomorrow morning without a ‘bedtime’ for you and your children!

in the morning after dropping them off, you went back home to get cute and dolled up — you usually made breakfast wearing a silk pajama set that luigi bought for you last christmas. then you went to the grocery store and to the bank to deposit a check from a painting you sold for a little under $500. then back home to make a small lunch — you were planning to cook a big dinner — and then onto housework. you played music while you worked, and once beds were made you retreated back to your bedroom to tweak your hair and makeup for dinner.

you also made sure luigi knew not to come home before 5:45 because you wouldn’t be done with your dishes, and checked in on your kids to confirm they’d stay the night at their padrini’s house.

when luigi came home, just like out of a scene of a movie, he shouted from the front door: “tesoro, sono a casa!*” followed by the door closing and locking mechanically behind him. he strutted into the kitchen to see you putting plates together — exactly 6:00. he must have waited in the driveway to give you some extra time!

with a gentle hold of your waist and long kiss on your cheek, you suddenly felt much more comfortable; almost feeling safe that he was home. anxiety was sometimes a struggle when you’re home alone all day and your husband working half an hour away.

as you plated the food and brought the bread out of the oven, luigi went upstairs to change into something more casual. when he opened the bedroom door, he noticed you had left a precious little lingerie set laying on the bed, likely accidentally. his interest was certainly piqued! quirking an eyebrow and grinning a little to himself, he took a few minutes to change and mess with his hair a bit in the mirror.

luigi came down the stairs with happy haste.

“thank you for making this meal, babydoll, smells so good,” he compliments, kissing your cheek again.

your face burns excitedly. “thank you,” you kiss his lips a few short times.

over dinner, you chat about each other’s day and the children. he seems to be deep in thought for a moment, and when he notices you staring he speaks again.

“you think we should have another baby?” he asks cheekily.

you nearly choke and your heart rate runs rampant, looking as if you hadn’t had sex before. “do you want to?”

“would i ask if i didn’t want to?”

there’s a rush between your thighs almost immediately. you place your fork down onto your plate and stand up, but before you can walk off he’s up and scooping you into his strong arms. he cascades up the steps with you bridal style.

as soon as he steps into the bedroom, he places you down on the fuzzy chair in front of your vanity. a finger points to the lacy set laying on the neat bed.

“you wanna tell me what you got this out for?” he presses, kneeling down on the ground in front of you. luigi’s pretty lips pepper kisses on your ankles, lifting each one up slowly to remove your kitten heels. once each shoe is off, he places the now bare calf on his shoulder.

“please, lu…” you plead pathetically.

his eyebrows furrow upwards, looking at you with big eyes full of faux empathy. “please what? use your words, mio amore. dimmi cosa vuoi*.”

words are quick to fail you. your brain is blank, almost static. most times you have sex it’s quick and hushed because the twins are in the house.

he’s kissing up your legs again, attempting to get a rise out of you. once he gets to your thighs, you’re getting a little restless.

“taking too long,” you mumble, and he lifts his head to look you in the eye again — this time much more stern.

“what was that?”

“said you’re taking too long,” you repeat yourself louder, locking your gaze with his.

within a second, he’s snatched you up and thrown you onto the neat bed.

“you and your goddamn bed decorations. i never know why you put all these pillows on here when we’re just gonna throw them all off later,” he grumbles, clearly angry and clearing the throw pillows from the bed, tossing them to the floor.

luigi pushes your maxi skirt up and nearly tears your little cotton underwear off of you. his tongue darts between your warmth and his nose harshly rubs against your clit, catching you off guard and sending your spine into electric shock. your hands fly to grip his hair in one hand and the tightly made bedsheets in the other.

“y’taste so sweet, tesoro,” he groans against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your thighs before going back to devouring your sex.

he’s already working an easy orgasm or two from you. he pulls you from your stupor and unzips your dress, gingerly pulling it off of you — he knows how upset you got last time he accidentally ripped the hem of your dress.

his shirt is gone, his chin and parts of his cheeks are still wet, and removing his belt as quickly as he can. as soon as his pants drop, you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. every time you see his cock, it never fails to surprise you that the tip touches his fucking belly button.

you pop his throbbing pink tip into your mouth, giving it little kitten licks and short kisses. you work your way down, or as much as you can, using your hand to pump what you can’t fit in your mouth. you’re moaning and slobbering around his cock, vibrations from your voice sending chills up his spine and down into his arms. his hands find their way to the back of your head, carefully urging you to take more.

your throat is constricting and you retract from his cock, looking into his eyes for validation.

“you’re taking too long,” he mocks in a faux whiny voice. luigi pushes you back onto the bed by his shoulders and holds his heavy cock. he teases your folds, rubbing his hot tip through to spread your own spit and cum from him eating you out. slowly, he pushes in. he always waits a little for you to adjust to how big he is.

“fuck, m’so full…”

“you’re so tight, mio amore.”

his eyes are boring into yours and his hands press down onto your womb to see his own cock buried into you.

“gonna cum if you don’t breathe for a second and relax, holy fuck baby,” he reminds you with a deep, raspy tone.

you take a deep breath and mid-exhale he starts to pound into you with a feverish and eager alacrity, causing you to almost scream.

“mmmmy fucking god!” your voice shakes with each impactful thrust against your hips. one of his hands grips your waist and the other attaches to your boob, his head following shortly. his tongue laps around your peaked nipple rapidly.

then both hands are on your waist and he briefly pulls out to flip you onto your stomach and prop your ass up to his liking. he’s shoving his cock back into your soaked cunt and returns back to his relentless pace.

“gonna fuck a baby into you, bella ragazza, gonna get you nice and swollen with a pretty baby, hm? isn’t that right?” he pushes his hand down onto your lower back, arching you up higher for him. both of his big hands find your frizzed up curly bun and he snatches your head back.

“feels so fucking good, m’gonna cum, lu!”

“aht,” he slows down exponentially, “you’ll cum when i tell you to.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head with adoration and you swear your ovaries start jumping at the demand. he’s back to slamming into you and a hard hand comes down onto each ass cheek three or four times. he adds to the torture by holding your hair in one hand and moving his other arm around your hip to grind his palm on your clit.

“oh my god, i’m gonna fucking cum luigi…” you breathe out between a moan, a scream and a whisper.

“what’d i tell you?”

“to wait ‘til you tell me to cum!”

“do what i tell you, be a good girl and listen to me.”

your brain is numb and your head falls limp, his grip in your hair is the only thing holding your body close to his.

“you’re so fucking pretty, mio amore, can i take a picture?”

you just nod obediently, not really caring too much at this point. he reaches over to the bedside table where he put his phone before dinner and opens the camera, showing your mascara dripping down your face from tears you didn’t know were flowing and an agape mouth, moans slipping through with every motion.

“you see why i love fucking you s’much? hm? look at yourself while i fuck you, baby,” he’s shoving the phone into your hand to palm your clit again. you’re bucking your hips against each form of stimulation with your jaw wide open, breathing shakily.

“there you go, tesoro, y’wanna cum?” he taunts, to which you nod your head and moan a hearty ‘yes!’

his index and middle finger focus on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as tightly as he can. your eyes go crossed, no longer paying any attention to the reflection in the camera. luigi’s hand drops from your hair, pushes your head down and arches your back up one more time. he pressed record on the camera and kept up with his cock bullying into your cervix over and over.

“go ahead and cum with me baby, take it like the good girl you are.”

when he gives you permission, almost like a stage cue, you totally let go. your cunt squeezes around him entirely and traps him in. his cock twitches rampantly inside you as he meets his release, watching your face through the camera that you’re gripping onto with your life.

it takes a few minutes to cool off after he lays down beside you, stopping the recording and kissing all over your face. “you did so good for me, baby. sei una brava ragazza*.”

you don’t even have it in you to respond, your chest heaving.

“you think that one will take? should we go for another round?”

this gets a breathless chortle from you. “can i catch my breath first? also, you messed my hair up.”

“so that’s a yes?” he asks, already burying his face into your chest and carefully pressing kisses to your hot skin.

🌺🩷💋

italian words and phrases:

padrini: godparents

tesoro: sweetheart

sono a casa: i’m home!

dimmi cosa vuoi: tell me what you want

sei una brava ragazza: you’re (such) a good girl

[gojopill]

a/n. i wanna eat gojo’s ass so bad guys

Inside the confines of four bedroom walls, Gojo lets himself feel. He cries. He cowers. He aches. He lets you dismantle him with steady, capable hands, surrendering the weight of power that’s been pressed upon his shoulders since birth. You take care of him, and Gojo thinks he likes it that way. To be soothed instead of soothing—what a rare comfort. A fucking treat.

“You want some tonight?” You ask him. You always ask. 

And he most definitely responds, “yeah.” 

Infinity gets turned off and set aside. Bony knees sink into the memory foam topper, followed by his hands — thin fingers splayed wide and ready to clutch the sheets. Gojo blushes in that boyish way he does when he’s bare like this, on all fours. A touch traces up the back of his thigh, slow and deliberate, smoothing over flesh until it meets the curve of his ass—slap.

Gojo feels. He lurches minutely, ripping a sharp inhale. “Ouch,” he says with a dry chuckle. 

“Too much?” You massage the afflicted area, smacking a peck over his ass cheek. Gojo shudders. 

“No way.”

It took trust and patience to ease the man into such a vulnerable position. Countless post-mission lazing, reminiscing about the good old days of high school. You let him ramble about his woes, never once calling him annoying. No, you just rub his back and offer better wisdom than any quack shrink he’s had the displeasure of seeing. The memories are hazy; Gojo can’t quite pinpoint when this beautiful friendship soured into sex—when hugs turned to humping—but he knows one thing: whatever this is, it cannot end.

“Did you have a difficult day?” you ask softly. He feels about four years old, answering with a quiet, whiny hum. You’re knelt close behind him, coarse pubic hair brushing the sensitive flesh of his rear, fingertips tracing lazy circles along the dips of his tailbone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A flicker of irritation edges Gojo’s voice. “Right now?” Shimmering, diamond-cut eyes glance back over his shoulder, casting a half-hearted glare through translucent lashes.

“You can if you want. I don’t mind.”

Gojo heaves a dramatic groan, letting his head hang heavy between his shoulders. The jagged ends of his mussed, snow-white hair tickle the bed beneath him. “You got me too worked up to even think about the shit day I’ve had.” Though, now that he’s said it aloud, Gojo thinks that's been your goal all along. His head drops further, voice thick and low, dipping several octaves. “I just wanna cum.”

“After, then?”

“Sure. Sure, fine whatever.”

That seems to satisfy you, so you begin to satisfy him. Two hands pry him wide open before a warm, wet tongue presses into him from behind. This wasn’t the first time you’d done this—eaten him with such ravenous vigor it made his eyelids twitch and his toes curl—but despite that, it always felt so foreign to Gojo. Like this level of intimacy wasn’t meant for hulking, six-foot-three grown men like him. It was the kind of juxtaposition Gojo would mock, he thinks.

“Oh,” he gasps airily. Your mouth has reduced him to a collapsed, weeping thing. By now, Gojo’s chest is pressed into the bed, his flushed cheek squished against his drool-sodden pillow. The soles of his feet have turned white from the pressure, digging deep into the mattress, connected to a trembling pair of legs that work overtime to keep his ass raised for you. His arm, uncomfortably wedged beneath his stomach, bulges with bluish veins that throb from overuse as he desperately tugs himself off, matching the rhythm of your relentless tongue. A bead of sweat rolls down his inner thigh… or maybe it’s your spit. Both, perhaps? All the same, Gojo reaches down to gather the wetness on his fingers, using it as lubricant. “Oh… my God.”

He moans until he can’t anymore. Something in his voice box goes to malfunction, and Gojo is left choking on stuttered pants of pleasure as his hips writhe up and down, up and down— “You’re... g-gonna make me fucking... cum...” he warns, his words breaking between frantic breaths. You hardly falter, sending another sharp spank to the meat of his ass cheek before sinking five fingernails into his skin. Gojo tastes like everything and nothing all at once; like wet skin and comfortable memories. Like masculine musk and spring break. His unintelligent mumbles fuel you—you eat him out until he’s tugging at your hair, tossing your head back and complaining about it being ‘too damn much.’

He lies there on his tummy, breathing heavily into a puddle of his own fluids, offering you a gorgeous view of his toned back. Ripped, heaving, scarred to the nines. Your eyes wander lower, to Gojo’s most private places. Between his legs, glistening, sticky, and damp. Despite his state of disarray, Gojo has never felt so cleansed. You wipe away the remnants of his orgasm, fetch him a glass of water, and help him redress into a pair of sweatpants. He won’t ever give this up. Knowing that every day, week, month, year leads back to your warm embrace, stroking him like he’s just another guy. Like the fate of the world doesn’t rest in his shaky hands. Knowing this, having this, is what gives Gojo strength.

“You still owe me.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He’s curled up like an overgrown kitten, nuzzling his head against your chest. “I’ll get you off in the morning, I promise. Too sleepy right now”

“What? I didn’t mean…” You pause, shrugging as you think. “Well, okay, that sounds nice. But I was talking about your day. You said you’d tell me about it.”

And so he does, albeit with a playful eye roll.

[chrollohearttags]

CHARACTER ANALYSIS: EREN JAEGER AKA EJ THE DON

so in honor of me finally reviving Reverb, I decided to do some character analyses and info cards, if you will. These were so much fun (and a lot of work) to make and I really hope y’all like them. I was heavily inspired by a wonderful, talented mutual of mine and her amazing character analysis she did for her series a while back! As always, y’all know reblogs and comments are appreciated!! (Fair warning, this is a long read but it’s been in the works since last year and I hope y’all enjoy)

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╗ ╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╗ ╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧. ✦✧.

name: Eren Michael Jaeger | date of birth + sign: March 31st, 1998 (aries sun) | age: 26 | aliases/nickname: EJ, Eren, EJ The Don, The Underground God, Rennie | pronouns: he/him/his | sexuality: straight (but a bit bi-curious) | race/ethnicity: white, italian/turkish + german

song in the video: ChainSwang - BONES (slowed and reverb ver.)

biography and early life: Eren was born in Montclair, New Jersey to his mother Carla and father, Dr. Grisha Jaeger. The couple met while Carla was working as a bottle girl at a gentleman’s club called Starlets in New York, when she was nineteen years old. (age gap oops)

Grisha, who was working at Mount Sinai as part of his residency, was twenty seven at the time and married to (but separated from) socialite and heiress, Dina Fritz. The two were a classic case of opposites attracting and it didn’t take long for their bond to flourish from a one night fling to something far more. A year into their relationship, Carla learned that she was pregnant and Grisha, who had annulled his first marriage some months prior, proposed right away and the couple settled in the suburbia township to raise their newborn son. Eren was described as a ‘very enigmatic and unique child’. Growing up, he was said to have always had a natural inclination towards music. From playing on toy keyboards to babbling songs into his Spider-Man karaoke machine at just three years old, it seemed that early on, the young prodigy was shaping his destiny. Eren attended the Montclair Township Charter Elementary, alongside his childhood best friends, Mikasa Ackerman and Armin Artlert, who were among many of the children of affluent families. He was extremely intelligent and schoolwork was a breeze. The problem was that he could be less interested! Eren struggled to focus and with maintaining relationships, which worried his mom. She took him to therapists, sought counseling and even considered moving him to alternative school when he began getting into trouble.

She worried what would happen to him…but luckily, her fears were for nothing because soon, Eren would show her and the entire world his true purpose. When he was ten years old, Carla enrolled her son in lessons for piano and guitar. During this time, he began to really hone his musical talent, and needless to say, he was a prodigy. All but mastering everyone he picked up. This seemed to be the area that little EJ most thrived in. Even his friendships began to grown. Having left New Jersey before they went to middle school, Mikasa and Armin were the only two people he'd bonded with. But eventually, Eren found companionship in several people from all walks of life and other areas of town. He didn't care about how much money someone had or what they looked like, he just enjoyed like minded people. Finding himself hanging out, playing basketball, skating and of course, making music. However, his father was less than pleased with his academic performance and new group of comrades. As the son of a prestigious doctor, Eren knew that his father wouldn’t approve of his hobbies if his grades weren’t up to par but he never expected that the catalyst for his dreams would be their falling out..when Eren was 15 years old, he made the decision to leave home and emancipate himself from his parents after a horrendous fallout with his dad.

It came as a shock to his friends, who felt that his life was objectively better than their own. However, it was the principle and anyone who truly knew the situation..knew that it was a long time coming and much deserved. Years of being put down or not acknowledged for refusing to follow in his footsteps and the final straw came when his father's cowardice and lying caused him to lose someone very important to him. Something that Eren could not forgive (explaining this later in the story!) After receiving $300 from his older half brother, young EJ boarded a bus to Miami, not looking back once. And he was fully prepared to make a life for himself, one not attached to his dad's name..no matter the cost. After arriving in Florida, Eren would work odd jobs to provide for himself and found housing at a local boys home in the Northside area. Just two blocks from Ocean Shore High School, where he finished out the remainder of his junior and senior years. It was then that he met fellow classmates and future group members Connie Springer and Onyakopon 'Ony' Baptiste (he doesn't canonically have a last name that I am aware of so I gave him one and I will explain it in his own backstory). The three of them immediately bonded and only grew closer when they played on the varsity basketball team together and began working at a local shoe store in the Aventura Mall. This would be the first time that the world would get a glimpse into Eren's musical talents when his friends would record him singing Miguel's "Sure Thing' in the backroom of the store and posted it online.

career: After going viral, Eren began to take his craft even more serious. Going from penning rhymes in his notebook between periods to doing makeshift recording sessions in the chorus classroom, he would post covers and original songs to a YouTube channel as well his Sound Cloud. He would save a portion of his paychecks and do yard, mechanic and janitorial work for neighbors to procure studio time. He eventually saved up and purchased a MacBook, and began making instrumentals. It was during this time that he began working a temp job for a local underground club, where artists like Denzel Curry, Ice Billion Berg and Pouya got their starts. Hired to clean up after sets and during closing, Eren would listen in on the performances, watching, studying and observing the rappers' movements. Having never done an official performance, it was an area he had no experience in. But during an open mic night at the club, he got an opportunity and didn't miss! Debuting one of his now infamous tracks, First Degree, Eren once again shocked everyone with how talented and charismatic he was. It was almost as if rapping and singing came as naturally as speaking did. Now 18 years old, graduated from high school and riding the momentum of his first stage set, Eren continued to grind. Working by day and recording and writing by night. It was then that he began going by the name EJ the Don after Ony joked about his New Jersey and Italian origins, implying that he must have 'mafia ties' because he assimilated into life in this rough area so well. His image and brand slowly came together afterwards..embracing the dark, edgy aesthetic coupled with his buttery smooth voice and unique lyricism, Eren was in a league all on his own.

And it didn't take long for the rising star to catch the attention of some big names in the industry, including renowned Neo-Soul artist and five time Grammy winner Vivian James. Who was not only doing a show at the Miami Amphitheater for a music festival but scouting prospects for the talent agency giant, Ackerman Management Group. Known for catapulting the careers of some of the biggest names in music, modeling and acting. Still building his reputation, EJ got the chance of a lifetime when he not only received a job request but an invitation from Vivian herself, looking for a backup vocalist and pianist. Naturally, being a huge fan on top of a starving artist, Eren immediately accepted and the rest was history! Vivian was blown away that he was able to recite the songs verbatim and so perfectly on such a short notice..so much so, she gave Eren an offer he couldn't refuse: an audition with AMG on the condition that he would work as her protege regardless and it was a no brainer. Two days after his nineteenth birthday, EJ the Don officially signed with Ackerman Management Group, the family business of his old childhood friend, Mikasa. Who was going by the stage name Mika ASH. But it wasn't smooth sailing for the new rap sensation..although he was Vivian's protege, he captured the attention of other executives who was interested in more than his music. Unfortunately, it caused them to try and take advantage of him, both career wise and physically. Eren persevered and focused on what his goal truly was and that was sharing his gift with the world. Six months after being signed, he released his first EP, Living Dead Boy. He went on tour shortly after and released Living Dead Boy II: The Casket Chronicles a year later. Fast forward and Eren took the 'horrorcore' rap scene and the internet by storm, with his gritty wordplay and captivating visuals. Ten years later, he is hailed as the Underground God and widely credited for reshaping the genre as a whole.

musical muses: BONES (the character playlist can be found here), $uicideBoys, August Alsina, Jon Dretto

notable achievements: LivingDeadBoy I sold 50,000 units its first week and debuted number seven on the charts. But his debut single, First Degree was number two on the charts and widely viral on social media. LivingDeadBoy II: The Casket Chronicles sold five times with 250,000 units and at just 20 years old, EJ had his first sold out tour in North America. His debut album was very successful and received two Grammy nominations. (even though he doesn't give a shit about awards and accolades) EJ the Don has released over ten EP's and five mixtapes, as well as three studio albums, one being a visual series. He has gone on to produce, write with and direct for several other artists, including Prince Cee + Ony the God, his high school friends and fellow musicians. He has earned 2 VMA's and appeared in a BET Hip Hop Awards cypher. He has headlined two North American tours seperately and three international ones alongside his groupmates. EJ has made many accomplishments in his ten year rap reign and is far from done.

personality traits, flaws, etc: Eren can be described as very emotional by some yet stoic in the same breath. He can be temperamental, not thinking hostile actions through sometimes. He acts of his own accord without considering other peoples’ feelings. He’s very blunt, and won’t hesitate to speak his mind. He CANNOT hide his true feelings for shit (if his mouth doesn’t say it, his face surely will.) There are times when he’ll go days without answering his phone or making contact with anyone because he loves being in his own little world. Friendships, partners..it honestly doesn’t make a difference if you’re around or not. Especially when he’s locked in, working on important projects. He shuts down when he doesn’t want to deal with something and you’ll have better luck catching a pig flying than him apologizing or doing what he’s told! In the same vein, Eren can be very emotional..it’s almost like a dam breaking. When he finally cracks, it’s hard to control the flood with him. He gets really intense, whether he’s crying, laughing or angry. He’s very passionate when he cares about something and he’ll let it be known. Behind that rough exterior is a gentle, sweetheart of a man that just throws his all into whatever or whoever he loves.

relationship status: Eren is currently seeing the influencer and rising star of pole dancing, (Y/N) (L/N). The pair has been in a low key relationship for some months now, taking it slow and really getting to know one another. Although they started with a hot and steamy romance, sprouting from years of loneliness and celibacy from them both, they’ve really grown to care deeply for one another. He puts a lot of effort into making sure he contacts her regularly bc it is not easy to keep his attention and always gifts her the most expensive and thoughtful things. He never seen himself as the lovey dovey type, but anyone that knows EJ..will tell you that he’s fallen head over heels for miss (L/N)!

physical descriptors: EJ is 6’3, just barely 195 pounds with a slender but toned frame. He’s been working out quite a bit since his last project and tour so he’s a little more jacked than before. He has several tattoos including full sleeves with various pieces he’s been getting since he was 16 years old. A few of his most notorious being the serpent and chain going around his hand all the way to his shoulder, the pink rose with the name ‘Ma’Kiya’ tattooed in one of the petals on his back (🌚) and his mom’s name. He has dark green eyes, brownish black hair that he wears in a half up-half down style most of the time. Occasionally though, he’ll wear it down and grow out facial hair. He’s always wearing some sort of jewelry..his infamous ‘The Don’ chain, as well as his bottom silver grills. His fashion sense varies on his mood.

hobbies + interests: when he’s not in the booth, Eren is somewhere tinkering with cars! He particularly loves older model vehicles and will spend days working to fix them. He loves going to the racetrack, sitting in the skybox like a little kid and watching drag cars and motorcycles go down the strip. He also loves to paint and draw, even designing a majority of his tattoos. (fun fact: he gifted (Y/N) a portrait of one of his favorite photos of her on her birthday.) and of course, he’s a huge gamer. His fans look forward to seeing him on Twitch, being stressed out by whatever franchise he’s delving to at the moment. Especially when he’s with his friends or (Y/N).

@violetxxvenom @shamelesshoefairy @shawtuzi

[signanothername]

Under any circumstances, would murder time trio get along to geniually be friends, or does it stay situational?

It always stays situational

You’re taking about three mentally and physically abused, tired and depressed individuals, who are fighting to survive under a boss who feeds on their misery like it’s a Tuesday night, and who, specifically puts them in an environment that they can’t truly flourish under unless he specifically wishes it so, cause while Killer has his own special conditioning of his own, Murder and Horror go through conditioning too in the form of rewards and punishment system

So you can easily imagine how Nightmare can turn them against each other under him, which Nightmare actually in reality does, he makes sure they can never truly form a meaningful connection with each other, because if they did, they can easily start plotting their escape plans together or to betray him, in unity there’s strength, and Nightmare, despite his power, knows better than to let them find strength, find a stable relationship, or a stable bond they can use to find hope under him

So they can never really form a genuine friendship even if they truly wanted to, it just wouldn’t work out, Killer to put it bluntly, wouldn’t even care to form a genuine connection, he’s constantly dissociating from everything and everyone around him, he’s apathetic on stage 2, a stage, that Nightmare keeps him in constantly, and even if he was at stage 1, Killer still wouldn’t care about the two guys who can easily stab him in the back for their own gain, and this is the same thought process Murder and Horror have, they simply aren’t convinced to rely upon people who can easily screw them over, Horror has a brother to keep safe, and Murder has an AU to get back to

I’d say Horror and Murder have a bit of a friendship going on, but it’s less genuine friendship and more “let’s look out for each other’s back while in this hell”, and even with that in the mix, Murder can and will stab Horror in the back if it benefited him and the vice versa is also true

Even if they all got freed from Nightmare, they still wouldn’t form a genuine friendship, cause each of them would look at the other as a painful reminder of their abuse than another individual like themself that they can form a connection with, they would simply rather to go their separate ways and never talk about what they went through under the same roof

Do I believe MTT would feel a bit of fucked up nostalgia when it comes to each other had they gotten freedom? Yes absolutely

Do I believe that if they somehow crossed paths again after said freedom, that they might talk to each other, even if briefly? Yes

But that would be the end of it, there won’t be anything deeper than that

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

“What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope. 

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table. 

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely

[theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming]

Alright don't look at me. This post is going to be very large because I am 3 weeks behind oops. So here we go with Week 4/5/6 of

Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you)

And also don't look at me about saying there would be an influx of older Sterek, okay? The Buddie brainrot is hard to beat.

Sterek: 6 Buddie: 33 (Buddie is all below the Read More :) )

BONE APPLE TEETH

"good boy" by quackquackcey | @quackquackcey (2025•E•10.8K)

Stiles doesn’t think his senior year can get any worse with his best friend turning rabid every full moon, until he finds himself stuck with a massive black wolf overnight that doesn’t even like jerky. But on the bright side, the hot guy with the half-dying sister he met at the gas station seems to be in town for a bit, so there’s still a chance that his senior year, his supposed best year of high school, isn’t a complete lost cause…right? That is, if he can manage to juggle the sassy wolf that he takes care of at night and the hot guy that asked him out on a date for some reason.~ 🐺🍕

You're My Sanctuary by lilmissdaydreamer (2022•E•33.4K)

The Argent Wolf Sanctuary. It’s been Stiles’ dream since he was five years old to work with the wolves, ever since his mother took him up there to see the magnificent creatures on one of their ‘full moon runs’ that the Sanctuary does once a month. The wolves are beautiful and much larger than Stiles would’ve thought, or at least, the newest wolf is. The owner had said he’s a special breed. Stiles just didn’t realize quite how special he is.

The Accidental Stilinski by DaisyBeats | @jos-corner-of-the-world (2025•GA•4.2K)

Eli starts his first day at lacrosse practice being mistaken for Stiles. Eli just rolls with it We all love a good unhinged Coach Finstock moment

Badlands by write_light | @write-light (2024•E•33.4K)

Sterek AU as camp counselors / ranch hands from different worlds, meeting in the mountains over three summers, and falling in love but living separate lives. They're only truly free in the endless high altitude summers that never last long enough and can never return the same way twice. Will they find a way to do this forever and just be together? Beacon Hills holds no monsters, but terrible creatures fill the lands around Hale Ranch, high in the Colorado Rockies. Nature walks and howling wolves, bucking bulls and stars overhead, and two boys who need each other more than they’ll ever admit.

begging you to stay (if it isn't too late) by MonsterRae1 | @monsterrae1 (2025•E•15.6K)

“Why?” He asked in between broken sobs “Why did he leave us, dad?” Derek hadn’t know what to answer, he hadn’t known how to explain to their perfect and sweet boy that they had struggled with their marriage for a long time, that they loved each other very very much, that Derek would always love Stiles, but he wasn’t going to force him to stay somewhere he didn’t feel loved anymore. Stiles had wanted more, and Derek couldn’t give him that. * Or, after getting injured on a mission, Stiles is forced to recover under the watch of his ex husband, feelings occur.

Stay the night, stay forever by Helloloveyes (2025•E•9.7K)

Stiles met Erica, Boyd and Isaac on three different occasions, their friendship saved him from the loneliness he carried. Then they introduced him to Derek Hale, a man that changed Stiles' life forever. After failing in love and still suffering the consequences, Derek wasn't expecting to find someone like Stiles, so perfect for him it hurt.

Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•E•61.2K)

When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

i can read between your lines (dizzy from the spinning) by buckleydiazy | @buckleydiaz (2025•E•4.3K)

“So, theoretically,” Eddie sounds absolutely delighted, “if we didn’t know each other, you’d hook up with me in a public bathroom?” “Theoretically—I mean, do you want a serious answer?” Eddie hesitates for a moment. “Yeah,” he says quietly, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Tell me.” “Probably,” Buck says. Then a little firmer—“Definitely.” aka: Buck and Eddie have phone sex.

save all your questions for the end by lady_ragnell | @theladyragnell (2025•T•9.3K)

She’s got that pitying expression that always puts Eddie’s hackles up, the widows-and-orphans face, and she’s looking at Buck and Chris as Chris whoops his way down the slide and Buck watches carefully as he catches himself at the bottom. “He must miss his sister very much,” she says. “They look so much alike.” In which someone makes a totally logical, if heteronormative, assumption and Eddie loses his damn mind about it.

making me crazy (really driving me mad) by sunshinelester (2025•E•4.9K)

“Fuck, Buck,” Eddie muttered against his skin, his voice rough and strained. “You smell… good.” Buck’s mind was spinning, conflicting emotions rising in his chest until he felt like he would explode. The alpha in him wanted to growl and nip at the older man’s audacity. To treat him like a potential mate? To look at him like he wanted to swallow the younger man whole? This wasn’t normal. Alphas didn’t act like this with each other, especially not during a rut where the instinct to mate was at the forefront of their minds. And yet. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Eddie was in a rut. As a fellow alpha, Buck didn’t think much of it; not until he had the older man pressed against his back with sharp canines scraping on his mating gland.

a buck caught in headlights by smilingbuckley | @smilingbuckley (2025•M•6.1K)

After going to a queer club together, a drunk Buck and May call Eddie to bring them home. Completely forgetting who is driving, Buck ends up confessing his love for Eddie to May... with Eddie in the front seat. -- Okay,” Buck says to himself as he fishes out his phone from his pocket. The bright light hurts his eyes and he has to put it far away from him, not unlike Bobby trying to read a meme without his reading glasses. The thought makes him giggle. “Who do we call?” “Ghostbusters,” May says, snickering. It takes Buck three tries to unlock his phone. “Hmm… Hen, Karen, Maddie – nope, she needs her beauty sleep. Uh… Eddie, Chim-“ “Eddie!” May says excitedly. She smiles at him, “I love Eddie! Eddie is awesome.” Buck nods, “He really is. I will call Eddie.”

Canine Teeth In The Side Of My Neck by RighteousPunk (2025•E•5.9K)

Eddie’s skin is pale, cold under his touch, yet, something feels different. It’s not pale, cold, is about to die skin he’s used to touch on the worst of emergencies. Their gloves usually don’t manage to hide the feeling that comes with someone who’s on death’s door. And then, it hits him. There’s a hue in Eddie’s eyes, something he’s sure was never there before. In the dim lights of the loft, Eddie’s eyes are shining red. And through Eddie’s slightly opened lips, two white canines are perking out.

Or, Eddie arrives wounded at Buck's loft, and Buck learns a new truth about his best friend.

Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon | @glorious-spoon (2024•T•9.6K)

"Though—and I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but since you and Natalia are over with now, I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie?" Buck stops wincing and just blinks at her for a second. Then he says, "What?" "You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." - Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

shoulder the sky (let the rain come) by literalmetaphor | @absolutelybifurious (2024•M•44.5K)

There’s too much heat. The flames crackle and curl in the busted windows. The house is only two stories high. If Buck would listen, if he’d turn around and get out – he could be at the door, he could be out of the fucking blast radius. But Buck’s still standing in it. Eddie is cursed. Like he has been for years. Eddie is the blast radius. OR Eddie Diaz is cursed.

Parabola by semperama | @semperama (2025•T•4.6K)

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” Eddie turns toward him, mouth quirked, brow furrowed, like Buck has just said something sort of silly. Like he’s talking about curses again. “What?” “I mean. Like.” Buck twists his fingers together in his lap and looks down at them. “You need to change it so your parents will be his guardians, right? If something happens to you.” “What?” Eddie says again, and he doesn’t sound amused this time.

you'll find you again by rangerdanger (mxgicxltrxgedy) | @call-me-medusa (2025•E•4.6K)

“Eddie,” Buck asks again, punctuating each word as he repeats his question, “What did you want to do?” Eddie can barely remember how they got here in the first place. “Give myself joy.” “Give yourself joy.” Buck repeats. “Now, how are you going to give yourself joy if I come and get you off myself?” - Or, Eddie's learning how to want joy for himself.

A Million Stabs Is All It Took by hearmyplea (2025•T•18.2K)

Eddie wants a tattoo after returning from deployment. The fact that his tattoo artist, this Evan guy, is affecting him this much shouldn't be examined.

from your point of view by MacksDramaticShenanigans | @stevethehairington (2025•T•4.3K)

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie not-quite-slurs. It’s a close thing, though. The glass in his hand is his fourth— no, fifth, and wine always hits him so much harder. He’s bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked and loose-limbed on the couch, pressed so close to Buck he’s half in his lap. Buck’s got a steadying arm around his waist— couldn’t avoid the draw to touch even if he wanted to. “Hm?” Buck asks, feeling a little buzzy himself. “Buck,” Eddie repeats. “You’re bicyc—bisect— bisexual.” Buck laughs at Eddie’s stumble. Smiles bright, proud, and nods. “I am,” he agrees. “Have you ever—” Eddie’s winestained mouth purses; his brow furrows thoughtfully, “— have you ever thought about me?” He sways forward, widens his eyes purposefully, whispers, “Like, y’know.”

white house AU by buddiebuddie | @buddie-buddie [Part 1 & 2]

buck is the president of the united states and eddie is the secret service agent in charge of his security detail. shenanigans ensue.

Ink Flowers Into My Skin by hoveringcat9 | @hoveringcat9 (2025•T•4.7K)

Buck feels adrift, he’s fed up of dating and his search for the right tattoo artist has been fruitless. Luckily Karen has a new friend up to the job and more. For Week 7 of Winter of Buddie - Prompt Floral

kiss me on the mouth and set me free by keiro (2025•E•3.6K)

“It’s alright , it’s alright… I got you,” Eddie whispers on his skin, punctuating the end of the phrase with a kiss. When he speaks again, his voice is a tone lower, words rasping out of his lips. “Eyes on me, Buck.” Buck forces himself to open his eyes, and he’s just in time to see Eddie staring right at him, opening his mouth just a little while he holds his arm. Buck sees the way Eddie’s fangs expand, a gasp stuck on his throat right as they sink into his skin. - Eddie bites Buck, what comes next is a consequence.

He touched me, so I live to know by KejfeBlintz (2025•T•4.1K)

Eddie was jostled as Buck crashed down beside him, drinks in hand. The bar was packed so six of them were jammed in a booth designed for four. Eddie shot a quick apologetic look at Ravi, who had been squashed against the wall with Buck’s ungainly arrival. Buck handed out everyone’s drinks then pushed himself close to Eddie to fit on the bench, elbowing him in the ribs. “Watch it, Buckley,” Eddie groused, elbowing him back. “You watch it, Diaz,” Buck replied, kicking his ankle. “How about you both watch it,” Ravi grumbled as he was shoved against the wall again. “Be easier if there wasn’t a literal giant taking up all this space,” Eddie complained, “dude, when did you get this broad?” “These are lifesaving muscles, Eddie, don’t be a hater.” Or, 5 times Buck and Eddie touched, and one time they really touched.

An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•M•43.8K)

Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

H-E-A-T-A/B/O: A Buddie Anthology by Bucksbelly (drarryweasley) | @bucksbelly [WIP] (2025•E•20.9K)

An anthology of Buddie one-shots based in omegaverse settings. These stories are NOT connected; they each have slightly different lore and can be read in any order! Brought to you by I wanted to write my favorite trope but couldn't decide how to do it so I wrote a bunch of them

Pain's like cold water by shadowkatninjawarrior (2024•M•75.2K)

Evan Buckley had lived a lie for sixteen years and it was going just fine. Until the truth started spilling through his fingers. Or, Omega!Buck has been pretending to be an alpha for more than half his life and everything changes when Eddie finds out.

faded from the winter by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•T•9.9K)

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry.

gravity in between us by charmingqueenie | @alexisrosemullens (2025•T•16.7K)

Eddie’s not used to explaining his relationship with Buck. Everyone in LA just knows what they are. They’re Buck and Eddie. There isn’t one without the other. He knows that he’s been vague about what Buck is to him with his new coworkers. He knows this and yet he can’t stop himself. The first few times were an accident. He doesn’t mean to be vague and what he said could imply platonic. This time though. or Eddie accidentally implies that he's dating Buck to his new team in El Paso.

We're Overdue for a Revival by BespectacledBunny | @bespectacledbunnys (2024•M•60.8K)

“If I had,” Chris lingers on the words, watching Eddie intently through the screen, “If I had conditions?” Eddie feels his stomach knot up. It’s the first time Chris has ever alluded to a willingness to come home. Usually he just shoots Eddie down with a flat “I know” before hurrying off the call. Eddie Diaz will be damned before he lets this chance slip through his hands. “Anything,” his voice rings with desperation in his own ears, “Whatever you need to feel ready to come home. If I can make it happen, I will.” Chris eyes him, young face serious as a judge presiding over trial. An apt comparison because only Chris could condemn or parole Eddie. His fate is in his son’s hands so completely that if he was going to therapy, Frank would probably be concerned. Finally, Chris opens his mouth and says something so earth shattering as to crack the foundations of his father’s mind. “Marry Buck,” Chris says firmly.

cat-astrophic by smilingbuckley | @smilingbuckley (2025•T•5.5K)

Buck falls in love with a kitten. The kitten falls in love with Eddie. (Buck doesn't blame her.) -- It doesn’t take long before a familiar truck approaches. Eddie looks unimpressed as Buck gets into the car, holding the kitten tightly to his chest. “I’m surprised it took you this long to pick up a stray.” Buck snorts, “Well, you picked me first, so.” Eddie shakes his head, starting to drive again. “I didn’t pick you. You just appeared.” “Well, this one just appeared as well,” Buck tells him. “I couldn’t leave it, Eddie. What if a predator eats it?”

What if All I Need is You by serenelystrange | @serenelystrange (2025•GA•2.9K)

“Does Ravi actually think me and Eddie are dating?” “Maybe,” Chim says after a moment of consideration. “Or he’s just really good at fucking with you.” “50/50,” Hen agrees. “Eddie doesn’t even like men,” Buck says with a frown. “I asked.” “Of course you did,” Chim says, dropping his head into his hand with a murmured whisper of Jesus Christ.

oh brother, I see (you burn like me) by canadadry (2024•M•47.9K)

Adriana doesn’t tell their parents that she’s going to LA. She doesn’t tell Eddie, either—or ask, for that matter. She does ask Chris, and he thinks it’s a good idea—says as much, on the phone, and doesn’t say much else. “Buck will probably be hovering,” is what Chris does volunteer. It still surprises her when the man who opens the door is not Eddie. It’s—Captain America, is the thing that actually comes to mind—a man close to a foot taller than she is, if not more than that, with blond curls and broad shoulders, and he’s got a question in his very blue eyes that’s probably less friendly than the one he actually asks her. “Uh,” he says. “Can I help you?” — Or: Adriana arrives in LA. Maddie has been here the whole time.

Don’t hang up on me, cause I’m hung up on you by creatures_that_dont_die | @creatures-that-dont-die (2025•E•5.8K)

“What are you making for dinner?” “I was just going to reheat some leftovers,” Buck says. Eddie makes a noncommittal noise on the other end, sounding almost disappointed. “What, were you hoping I’d make you something?” “No, I—” Eddie hesitates, then sighs. “I sort of wanted to listen to you cook.” The softness in his voice shifts to teasing. “You talk so much while you do it, I figure it’ll fill all the silence here. But I can just watch TV instead, once I figure out how to—” “No, no, I’ll cook something. Only because you asked so nicely. I’ll put you on speaker, okay?” As Buck sorts through Eddie’s fridge, deciding what he can throw together, he and Eddie fall into their usual chatter. When he’s at the stove, facing away from his phone resting on the table, he can almost imagine that Eddie is here with him and not 800 miles away. (Buck and Eddie talk on the phone almost constantly, and one thing leads to another.)

one way out and we're gonna find it by atlasblue85 | @atlasblue85 (2025•T•6.9K)

He just needed a little more time, is what he kept telling himself. A little more time to work through it and he’d be okay, wouldn’t feel like there’s a vice grip over his heart and lungs and the voices of his childhood priests in the back of his head at the thought of being seen in public with a man. There’s tears rolling silently down his cheeks now as Buck cradles him, and he finally manages to whisper, “How’d you do it? Go on a date with a guy, in public?” “Eddie?” Buck’s hands still from where they’ve been rubbing soothing patterns across Eddie’s back. “I don’t– I can’t–” Eddie tries, but he can’t make the words come, and he grips Buck’s shirt tighter instead.

younger than clouds by seachanged | @spacesongs (2025•T•1.1K)

When Buck drifts back awake the sun is about to drop over the horizon, its last light bathing the cabin in buttery pinks and corals. Eddie is leaning against the kitchen island dressed in a pair of boxer briefs that appear to be Buck’s, at least judging by how low they hang on his hips.

check me out and take me home by prioritizelove (2025•GA•1.4K)

“Chris really likes you, you know. One time–” Eddie laughs, “One time I brought him here during the evening, so you weren’t here, and he was literally pouting when we left. Said the librarian at the desk wasn’t as good as his friend Buck and ended up just checking out one of those, uh,” he waves a hand, “wimpy diary books.” Or Buck's a children's librarian and Christopher is his favorite patron. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to seeing Christopher’s dad as well.

Meet Me in the Middle (Underneath a Little Bit of Mistletoe) by Princessfbi | @princessfbi (2022•E•40.2K)

“I’m sorry…” Eddie said, holding his hand out to stop the tumble of words falling from Buck’s lips. “You want to what?” Of all the things he thought Buck wanted to talk about at breakfast, the breakfast Buck had asked Eddie if he wanted to grab at the end of their long shift, this was nowhere near it. “Fake date.” Buck repeated with all the confidence in the world that Eddie didn’t believe for a second because what Buck was proposing was insane. “For the holidays.” aka Buck and Eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!

Face to my face by EtoileGarden | @etoilegarden (2023•T•46.5K)

“Is your birthmark genetic?” Bobby asked, raising his eyebrow at Buck over the salami he was slicing. “Does it match one of your parents?” Buck spoke through the slice of salami he’d snuck into his mouth. “Nah,” he said. “I’m the first.” “Maybe your kids will have it,” Hen suggested. “If you end up having kids.” “Poor kids,” Chim said, patted Buck on the back. “I can not imagine that was a kind birthmark to wear during school. Kids are mean.” Buck tried to laugh it off. Was filled with the cold memory of his classmates teasing him. He’d managed to bluster his way into popularity as a teenager - once he’d shot up and became broad in all the right places. But before that? “Maddie - my sister - she always said I looked cool,” he said in an attempt at bravado. “I think - I think - I was fine.” Or - another dad!Buck fic because I always love writing baby fics. Eventual Buck/Eddie.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

A deceitful Valentine's

It's Valentine's Day and Natasha is on a mission. Katya won't let the day pass by without seeing her.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova) • Wordcount: 1.9k • Warnings: sexual talk (they're horny lesbians) •A/N: not proofread because it's 1AM and i'm tired :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

''No, I'm not helping you so you can fuck each other's brains out in a hotel room. Or whatever it is that you lesbians do.''

''Wow,'' Katya breathed, an amused smile lingering on her lips as she watched her appalled friend shake his head. ''I thought you were a romantic.''

''Me?'' Clint scoffed, shuffling through the papers on his messy desk. He hadn't been able to look at her since she asked her question, a red tint on his cheeks. Obviously, it made him uncomfortable. Katya loved making men uncomfortable. ''Valentine's Day is a ridiculous product of capitalism, created to make us spend more money on things we don't need.''

Katya hummed knowingly, placing her hands on his desk. ''Is that why you bought Laura that perfume she's been obsessed with for months? And, oh, what is this?'' With a smirk, she plucked a Valentine's card from underneath a stack of papers on his desk. 

Swift like a cobra, Clint snatched it from her hand before she could open it. His cheeks burned as he stashed the red and pink paper deep in a desk drawer, slamming it shut loudly. ''You Russian dickheads need to stay out of my business,'' he grumbled. Natasha had been sitting next to him when he ordered that perfume, and while he thought he'd been sneaky, obviously she saw. And then told Katya.

The brunette had to fight off a malicious laugh, in the depths of her element. ''Hm… Natalia will be thrilled to hear about that card.'' She tilted her head, pursing her lips as she pretended to think hard. ''What did it read on the front, again? 'A man like me has a lot to be thankful for'?'' 

''Okay, okay!'' Clint looked like he was about to scream in frustration, slamming the papers in his hands down. He knew she was completely serious in her threats—she would tell Natasha. But Katya could keep a secret if he helped her out. ''Fine, I'll help with your plan.'' He pointed a warning finger at her. ''But if I face serious consequences because I tempered with an agent's mission, it's your responsibility.''

''Absolutely.'' Katya nodded sternly, her eyebrows knitted together. ''I'll tell them I blackmailed you with a Valentine's Day card.''

Spotting the amused glint in her eyes, Clint shook his head with exasperation. One of these days, either Katya or Natasha was going to cause him a mental breakdown because they were just so good at emotional manipulation. ''You need serious help,'' he muttered, grabbing his laptop.

~~~~

The hotel bar wasn't too busy. Most people were still enjoying their late dinner or were spending the evening with their lover, holed up in a bedroom. Natasha had seen enough of them today; couples. It's the one day of the year where people suddenly seem to remember to show affection to their partners. Dinners, movies, gifts—they were all talking about the same things, all day.

She didn't really care about Valentine's Day as a holiday. Sure, she and Katya bought a little something for each other, and tried to do something together if they got the chance to—not including the evening sex, of course—but she did it because it made Katya happy. Natasha was a moreso a believer of showing her appreciation all year 'round. Leaving a sweet note, taking her out for dinner, planning a movie night with snacks, running Katya a bath, giving her a massage. 

But Natasha would be lying if she said that she didn't miss her a little more today. This mission had been dragging on for three weeks. And while she had hoped to be home tonight, she was sitting in a five star hotel's fancy bar, all dressed up, sipping on her Dirty Martini, because Clint had given her new intel. Seducing a man, of all things, when she had a sexy, attractive woman waiting for her at home, must be the universe's type of karma. 

Lazily, she stirred her drink, seeing the bartender move around in her peripheral vision. The stools beside her were empty, the atmosphere calm; soft, classical music playing in the background. It was boring. Clint didn't say what time her target's ''business associate'' would arrive. She could be sitting there for hours. Her mind wasn't as focused as it should be, her thoughts drifting away from her.

It took her a moment too long to realize that somebody was sitting down on her left, gracefully settling down on the high stool with a quiet rustle. There was a flash of red silk, and then a whiff of a deep, sensual perfume. 

Natasha stiffened, her body already knowing what her mind didn't want to believe yet. Slowly, from the corner of her eye, she looked her neighbor up and down, her gaze lingering on their chest and exposed neck. It was the most elegant, exquisite picture she'd ever seen, the red silk dress draping around her figure like liquid. Most of her back was exposed, a decent amount of cleavage showing while the fabric ran all the way to her ankles in loose waves, accentuating the curves Natasha could draw with her eyes closed. 

This was the type of woman men used to go to war for.

Natasha's heart started to race in her chest. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath as she averted her eyes forward again, fighting to keep her cool. Preferably, she'd rip that dress off her body right here, right now, but she had a mission to run. Although she was starting to get an inkling that she might have been misled. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?" The bartender had materialized in front of them.

Katya smiled charmingly and placed her clutch on the bar. "A Vodka-Martini, please."

''Coming right up.''

Natasha followed the man with her eyes as he walked off to make her order. Next to her, Katya casually touched up her lipstick. Fuck, it was her favorite. "I'm assuming there's no "business associate" I'm meeting tonight?"

"I thought you'd rather have me instead,'' Katya said, tapping at her lip with her ring finger. Her complete lack of fucks given about interrupting her mission and using Clint to lure her here with a lie was both annoying and amusing. Natasha wanted to be more pissed, but in reality, she was really happy to see her.

"You're not wrong, but I am supposed to be on duty around the clock."

"Screw the mission,'' Katya declared, tossing her lipstick and mirror back in her clutch before turning to face her girlfriend. She tilted her head, a smile on her perfectly kissable lips. ''It's Valentine's Day. We're not supposed to be apart."

Part of Natasha's brain wasn't working correctly. Katya's alluring appearance had hypnotized her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sculpt her beauty into marble for all eternity to see, or worship her body all night until it was covered in drops of sweat. "So you sabotaged my mission because you missed me too much?" She smirked, finally giving in and turning her body in Katya's direction.

The brunette shrugged, something mischievous flashing across her face. "Maybe I'm just incredibly horny."

Caught off guard by her bold statement, Natasha nearly lost her composure. "Are you?" She mused, ignoring the twitch low in her stomach.

Instead of answering, Katya smirked confidently. "Are you?"

"Definitely." She couldn't lie—or joke—about the impact Katya had on her, her teasing demeanor fading into an intense, lustful one as she took the time to take in Katya's appearance once more. "You look fucking incredible," she muttered, noting how Katya shifted on her stool at the desire in her voice.

In that dress, she was an expensive, rich wine from France and Natasha was the alcoholic who hadn't had a drop in three weeks. It took every ounce of self-control to stay seated. Her throat was dry, her hands were itching. 

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, Natasha reached for her drink and took a big sip. It didn't fix her burning throat, but the sensation brought her back to Earth. "Maybe I should leave more often so you can interrupt my missions looking like this," she joked.

Katya chuckled, slowly circling the rim of her Martini glass with her finger. "Or, you can take me out to dinner sometime, give me a reason to dress up." Her gaze met Natasha's. "Maybe to one of those posh restaurants where I would actually have to wear underwear to."

Natasha's fingers tightened around her glass, her wide eyes flickering to Katya's hips. "Baby…" Katya had prepared for this night to end one way, and with how she was working her up, Natasha knew it was going to be good. She smiled to herself, excitement flooding her veins. "I'm gonna buy Clint such a big bottle of Vodka when I get back."

"I don't think he's gonna be able to look at us for a while. It's pretty obvious what I was planning when I asked him to help us meet up. At night. In a hotel."

"Oh, yeah?" Natasha smirked.

Katya raised an eyebrow. "If I'm still able to walk out of here by myself tomorrow, I'm gonna make you pay for this dress."

Natasha chuckled, reaching out and slowly trailing her fingertips up Katya's arm. They left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "How about this: I ruin your pretty makeup, your ability to walk, and I pay for the dress?"

"That better be a promise." Katya's lips held a daring smirk, her body still as Natasha's fingers had reached her collarbone. "My mascara is waterproof."

"Do you doubt me?" Natasha asked, her hand ghosting over Katya's throat. A shiver ran through the brunette's body as her pupils dilated. 

"I know you like to talk big."

Natasha pulled her hand away to place it over her heart. "Katariina, you're breaking my heart."

"I didn't know you had one to break," Katya mused.

"It's a little messed up, but it's yours."

Between all the flirting and sexual tension, this half-hearted, soft joke came out of nowhere. Katya had to take a second to switch around. "Where did you learn to sweet-talk like that?''

Natasha shrugged, turning away to take another sip of her drink. ''A place where I met this girl.''

Katya's smile turned knowingly, warmth swirling in her chest. She loved it whenever Natasha spoke about falling in love with her. ''There's always a girl."

''This one was special. She cared. And nobody had ever cared about me." Their eyes met. Natasha's started to sparkle with a amusement. "Oh, and she had the most beautiful blue eyes.''

Katya fought the urge to roll them. ''She sounds nice.''

''She's more than just nice." Placing a hand on her thigh, Natasha leaned in more with every word, until their faces were only inches apart. Her breath fanned over Katya's chin. "She's brave, and kind, and stunning, and so incredibly smart…''

A low hum fell from Katya's lips, her gaze flickering from the redhead's mouth to her eyes. Her heart raced in her chest. ''You're trying to get in my pants.''

''I thought you weren't wearing any.''

Katya smiled amusedly, her thigh tensing up when Natasha's hand started to creep higher. This was exactly how she hoped this night would go. ''So, how did things end with that girl?''

Her breath hitched when she caught the look on Natasha's face. So lustful. If all of that was going to be released tonight, then her girlfriend would for sure make good on her promise. 

Katya's stomach swirled heavy with anticipation as Natasha brought her mouth to her ear. ''With her underneath me, naked, in a hotel room, her pretty dress on the floor, screaming my name as I make her cum for the sixth time in one night.''

And then they have bed-breaking, wall-shaking, earth-shattering sex

A/N: Please consider reblogging if you liked this fic. It really helps me :)

[butterflyscribbles]

Wachowski Family HC List

Part 1: The Wachowski Origins

Buckle up bc I’m going way back straight out of the gate….the Wachowski family wouldn’t exist without two certain soulmates coming together after all.

- Let’s start from the very beginning….Tom and Maddie have at least known each other since grade school. In high school, they were part of the same friend group but Maddie had been dating someone else at the time. Tom had girlfriends “come and go” as his mom put it, but was single most of senior year.

- Tom was already en route to becoming a sheriff, having it run in the family and with his other two “lunatic” brothers on their way in to very different directions, he was on the way to being the lone and youngest Wachowski left to “defend Green Hills” once his dad retired. I lowkey feel like it’s actually something he never really wanted to do. It was more of a family obligation. However, he did like helping people (and he didn’t want to go to college) that was really the biggest draw for him lol.

- Maddie was the resident biology and animal nerd in her class. Her dad was a park ranger that worked closely with Tom’s dad at the sheriff’s office, especially for hunting/fishing license issues and animal control type calls. Watching her dad work was where she developed a love for nature and decided she wanted to be a vet.

- It wasn’t until one night senior year at a house party, Maddie’s boyfriend at the time dumped her just before prom. Tom, being a close friend and the upstanding “punch first, questions later” kind of guy we know he is, started a fight with the jerk that broke her heart. He skeedaddled with her from the party before Tom’s dad showed up to break everything up. ✨That was spark #1✨ They continued talking and hanging out more after that (it was also since then Rachel has been giving Tom the side eye).

- High school graduation came and went, Maddie went off to college and Tom stayed in Green hills and started training to become a deputy. He and Maddie kept in touch even when she was off studying. When she came back into town to visit her family, they would hang out and catch up.

- Tom’s dad passed away not long after he graduated and things were a bit rough for Tom at this point. His oldest brother didn’t even show up to the funeral and his other brother didn’t help much with the process. Maddie was a beacon of light in this darker point of his life.

- One weekend while he’s out driving with her during this time, they come across a fawn by the side of the road that (very clearly) lost its mom. Tom was an emotional wreck, not wanting to leave it behind. Maddie calmly helped scoop it up in some spare blankets in the back of his car and they took it to her dad so he could find the proper wildlife rehabilitator to send it to. ✨That was spark #2✨ They started dating the next day.

- Skip ahead a bit, they’re big in love. They move into a small condo type deal together once Maddie graduates college and starts veterinary school. Tom is working his three jobs to help her pay tuition: as a police officer, part time at a local sewing shop his mom used to work at, and taking odd jobs around town mowing, doing car repairs, landscaping work. He’s exhausted, she’s exhausted, but they love each other sm….they’re married 2 years later after he proposes on a camping trip (guess who was already on Earth and witnessed the proposal but was too young to even know what it meant at the time).

- Jump again, they buy their house after Maddie has been working as a full time vet for a while and Tom is promoted to sheriff.

- Maddie’s parents are both still alive and together though her dad is retired. Her mom wrote for the Green Hills newspaper for a good while on top of taking care of her and Rachel. Tom’s mom is also still kicking. She left her job at the locally owned sewing store when Tom’s dad passed and mostly just makes her living selling crafts and vegetables from her garden at the local farmers market while also giving local children sewing lessons. Tom is doing most of the supporting for her while getting some help from his one older brother who actually got his life together a bit and got a job in insurance. He moved back to Montana, but not to Green Hills. Tom hasn’t heard from his eldest brother in over a decade.

- They’ve been living in their house for about 8 years before the events of Sonic 1. They’re “too busy for kids” but they adopt Ozzy from a litter that was dropped off where Maddie works.

- Then we all know what happens next…

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day fourteen: "i love you."

ᰔ pairing: javier peña x reader

ᰔ summary: when the party's over, who do you call for a ride home? your good old fashioned lover boy.

ᰔ author's note: happy valentine's day! much love to you all 🥹💙 i can't believe this series is already halfway through. i'm thinking about making a din or oberyn series, along with some one-off ficlets. tbd, but until then, fourteen more days left to find love

ᰔ content warning: f!reader, fluff, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of bar setting

"Babe, are you sure you wanna leave so soon? We still have three more places to hit, then we're going dancing!" One of your girlfriends pouted as you nodded. It was hard to hear her over the loud noise of the bar.

Your girlfriends celebrated Galentine's Day every year with a bar crawl. Sometimes there was clubbing afterwards, which you rarely ever missed out on.

"I think the drink from that last place really did me in," you admitted. "I'm gonna call for a ride, but I'll text you when I get home."

As much as you loved the themed drinks and free covers to get in, tonight just wasn't the same. It wasn't anything specific. Your friends had made the whole night fun with conversation and company. Work had been getting to you, but the drinks made the sharp sting in the back of your mind ebb away with every sip of some hot pink concoction.

"Alright, baby. Be careful, okay? We love you!" Your friend kissed your cheek before she scampered back to the bar. From where you stood, you were in viewing distance of your friends for your safety. They watched as you stood at a nearby payphone and slipped a few quarters in.

You dialed the number you knew like the back of your hand. It rang twice before the other line picked up.

"Peña."

With a small sigh of relief, you hugged yourself.

"Hey, baby. The offer to pick me up still on the table?" You asked. You already knew the answer, which was confirmed by the sound of keys jangling in the background.

"I'll be there soon, cariño. Where are you?"

You turned back towards the bar and read the name, followed by the street he needed to turn down. Javier promised he would be there in no time.

True to his word, Javier's white mustang pulled up to the curb you stood on after fifteen minutes. You waved to your friends at the bar and blew a few kisses before you turned back to the car.

Javier hopped out of the car and slipped his jacket around your shoulders. Without missing a beat, he opened your car door for you before he helped you in.

You weren't sure if it was the drinks or Javier, but your head felt as if it was swimming. The two of you had been dating for a few months, and he had gone above your expectations, or at least what you had expected after the last few men you had dated. He was always the one to hold the door open, or keep you tucked at his side when places got too crowded.

As soon as Javier sat in the driver's seat, you leaned over to kiss him. He was a bit surprised, but he didn't miss a beat as he kissed you back. His hand cradled the side of your face, and you leaned into his warm touch.

"Thanks for picking me up," you murmured as you pulled away. Javier's hand lingered, his thumb brushed against the curve of your cheek.

"Of course, mi vida. I thought you would have called later," Javier admitted. He pulled his hand away to grab the steering wheel as he guided his car back onto the road. Once down the road, his hand found your skin again, this time on your inner thigh. It had been the spot he always rested his hand, but the tequila haze made your skin prickle where there was contact.

"I tried to stick it out. I really did," you sighed. "The drinks were good and I had so much fun with the girls. I just, I was ready to go home." You tried to pick up when had played through the radio. No doubt, it was some cassette tape of the four bands Javier actually listened to, but the music was too low for you to pick it up.

"No need to explain yourself. You know I'd rather keep you all to myself." Javier squeezed your thigh as his sentence finished. He looked to you while stopped at a red light.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, the sight before too good to look away from. Javier was bathed in the glow of the red light, an earnest expression on his prominent features. Before the light had changed, you leaned over and kissed him quickly.

"I love you, Javi," you whispered before you pulled away.

"I love you too," Javier returned. He admired you, the soft look in your eyes and sweet smile on your lips. He was so distracted, he almost didn't notice the light change.

The trip back to his home took no time, which you were thankful for. As he had before, Javier opened your door for you and took your hand to help you out of the car. He escorted you inside with his hand on your back. He always had a hand on you in some way, and it meant more to you than you had realized.

You shedded Javier's jacket off and hung it by the door, followed by your heels being kicked off. A sigh of relief slipped from your lips once both feet were firmly planted on the ground.

"I'm going to shower, if that's alright." You turned to Javier, who had lit a cigarette. He took the first puff and nodded.

"I'll get it started, mi vida. Get your clothes," he told you. When you started to shake your head, to argue that you could do it yourself, he began to walk out of the room.

"Javi—"

"Go get your pajamas." It wasn't harsh– instead an endearing command. You watched as he stalked towards the bathroom, determination written all over him.

Instead of protesting, you concede and gather your clothes. Sure enough, the shower is ready for you by the time you stepped into the bathroom. You thanked Javier with a kiss before you stripped down and stepped into the shower.

Once you were cleaned and curled up with Javier in bed, you closed your eyes. It had been a fun day, but you knew why you wanted to go home. Out of everything you had experienced in life, nothing beat this. Wrapped in Javier's arms, surrounded by warm blankets and a content feeling in your chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Javier broke the quiet. You looked to the clock and read that it was just past midnight. You leaned over and kissed him softly.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | three - golf & parties

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where Rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for one, who couldn't care less about him, she's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the Cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing him away but again they don't like each other. word count: 5.2k content: angst! alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff authors note: happy valentines! longest chapter so far and I don't think they are getting shorter. Anyways, thank you for everyone who has been reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. enjoy! <3

He couldn’t stand your cold demeanor towards him for one more second. He was aware he wasn’t your favorite person, but you were never cold to him. Bitchy and a pain in his ass sometimes? Yes, but never cold. You had this warm presence he always claimed to hate, but that was a complete lie. That’s one of the reasons he liked you so much; no matter where you were or what you did, you always made things better, not only for him but for everyone around you. That was also why he felt jealous of how you were with the Pogues, even though he would never admit it out loud. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling, which usually wasn’t how things went, and he was aware it was his fault.  

During the next three days, Rafe avoided going to the Country Club on purpose because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, and he’d rather not make things worse. He knew you hated him at the moment, so to avoid making things worse, he stayed home. He hated feeling that way; it was as if the thought of you was enough to make his brain short-circuit.  

He groaned for what felt like the millionth time that day. Since three days ago, you had been stuck in his mind. He had been uncharacteristically distracted and quiet; his dad had asked him to pull himself together a couple of times during work meetings and he had barely interacted when he got together with his friends.  

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Topper asked, pausing the game they were playing.  

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his tone indicating he was anything but fine.

“Right, sure, that’s why you have been moping for the past few days like a little boy who lost his mom at the supermarket, because you’re fine… sure.”  

“Not moping, just a lot on my mind.”  

“Like Pogue girl or wor—?” Topper didn’t finish his question before Rafe cut him off.  

“Shut up,” he bites back.  

“Oh! So it is her, huh? What’s her name again?” Rafe shoots him a glare, and Topper lifts his arms in surrender. “Okay, damn! My bad… why don’t we go to the club? A bit of golf might help.”  

“Can’t, I have to help Sarah prepare things for the party.” Topper looks at him, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You never help her with anything; it’s her party, let her handle it.” Rafe sighs, annoyed. “Come on, man, to release some stress before the party.”  

He stalled for a bit but sighed, giving in. “Fine… one round, that’s it.”  

“Atta boy, I knew you would come through.”  

No, he didn’t forget you worked there and that he might see you, but he was trying his best not to think about that. They made it to the Country Club; Topper had this mischievous gleam in his eyes. He would be lying if he said he didn’t plan this, all to see if you and Rafe could interact again. He had fun watching his friend stumble over his words, but he also knew Rafe was in a better mood every time he saw you, so at the end of the day, it was for the greater good if he saw you.

They made their way to their first hole. Topper didn’t miss how Rafe looked around, giving subtle, constant glances at the trail as they started playing golf. He was struggling to avoid thinking about you, secretly hoping you would show up in your cart, wearing that uniform that fit you like a glove, and… Topper pulls him out of his thoughts by telling him it’s his turn to hit.

—

After your break, you returned to the golf course, ready to continue your round. After a few minutes, you spotted two guys. You prepared mentally to greet them. Over the years, you had learned how to overcome your shyness, but some days, you felt your skin crawl whenever you had to address a club member. When you got closer, you noticed who they were and sighed. You parked the cart, and Topper’s face immediately changed as he gave Rafe a knowing smirk. Rafe turned around and saw you, straightening up as he noticed you stepping out of the cart.  

"Do you ever go to other places?" You smiled but avoided Rafe’s gaze as best you could.  

"Yes, but we just can’t stay away from here." Topper chuckled softly and then turned to see Rafe, who was unusually quiet. It was as if his tongue didn’t work.  

"Will you buy something today, or will I have to beg for tips?" You asked, lifting a brow.  

"We will buy something today, no need to worry," Topper said. He had been there the last few days, and to your surprise, he was nice, unlike other kooks. You had talked briefly with him a couple of times before and could see yourself being friendly with him, not just because your job required you to be nice to them.  

"And we’ll make sure to tip you well too," Rafe said finally chiming in, making you turn to acknowledge him.  

"Okay, good." Topper noticed how you weren’t smiling at Rafe, and as much as he enjoyed the tension, he was curious about what led to this. Rafe, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at you.  

"So what’s the special today?" Topper spoke up.  

"We don’t have specials," you smiled. "But the Bloody Mary has been a bit popular today. Here’s the menu if you want to see what else we have." You extended the menu to them, and Rafe took it from your hand, doing anything but looking at the menu.  

"Yo Rafe, everything good?" Topper asked, noticing he was a bit distracted all this while trying not to laugh.  

"Yes, I'm just… deciding what I want." You stood there, trying to mind your business, but you stole a few glances at Rafe. He seemed different today, or maybe you were just imagining things.  

"Well, while he decides, I want a Bloody Mary and two shots," Topper requested nicely.  

"Bloody Mary, simple or double?"  

"Simple, don’t want to overdo it." You nodded.  

"I’ll just have a beer," Rafe asked quietly, noticing the familiarity with which you and Topper talked, and he hated every second of it.

“Okay,” you said as you walked to prepare the Bloody Mary and took out the shots and the beer they had asked for. During this whole time, Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, even if he tried his best not to make it obvious.  

“Bloody Mary and shots,” you handed them to Topper, who grabbed them. “And the beer,” you gave it to Rafe, your fingers touching his slightly, sending a jolt through both your arms, but you ignored it.  

“It’s $30 for the Bloody Mary and the shots.” You turned to Topper, who handed you a fifty-dollar bill.  

“Keep the change,” Topper said, taking a sip. “Wow, this is good.”  

“Thanks,” you smiled, putting the bill away. “The beer is $10.” Rafe handed you the bill quietly, his eyes meeting yours; he could swear you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. You looked away and put the bill away. “No tip this time?” you asked, trying to see if he would bite back. He had been uncharacteristically quiet, and that didn’t sit right with you.  

Rafe smirked. “Oh, you want one?”  

“I did an amazing job giving you that beer. I think I deserve it.” A small smile you couldn’t control formed on your lips. Rafe looked over at you before he dared to speak again. He wanted to make a snarky comment to tease you, but nothing came to mind; he only managed a soft grunt.  

“Yeah, you did a great job.” His voice was slightly strained, but Topper didn’t miss the opportunity to chime in.  

“Come on, Rafe, give her a tip. It’s the least you can do; after all, she’s been an amazing waitress.” Rafe shot him a glare, not finding his comment amusing.  

“I’m not a waitress,” you said, looking at them.  

“Bev cart girl, excuse me.” Topper lifted one hand. “Either way, you’ve been great, and I think Rafe here agrees, right, man?” He nudged Rafe, who just huffed quietly.  

“Yeah, you’ve been… great.” His voice was a bit gruff. He wanted to strangle Topper for making this all harder for him. “You deserve a… nice tip.”  

“There you go,” Topper continued teasing him. “Don’t hold back.” Rafe grabbed his wallet, not without giving another look to Topper, wishing he wasn’t there. Now he didn’t want to look cheap, especially not in front of you. He grabbed a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to you. You widened your eyes.  

“What?” Topper wanted to laugh at your reaction; your cold demeanor with him before was gone in an instant, and your eyes had softened. Rafe was a bit embarrassed, blushing, but it was barely noticeable thanks to the weather.  

“Take it as a…” he paused for a second, looking for the right words. “A token of appreciation… for the good service today and on the other days.” He nodded, knowing what he said sounded very stupid.  

“Uh… this is too much; it’s like five beers. It’s—” Before you could even finish, he shook his head.

“Take it. You deserve it.” But this time, the tone he uses makes you believe his words; he’s not playing, he’s not being an asshole. It was one of those moments where you could maybe see another side of him.  

“Thank you.” You give him a small, honest smile, and he softens at the sight of it, his irritation fading slightly. He smiles back, feeling like his heart might leap out of his chest; it’s genuinely embarrassing for him to feel like this around you.  

“No problem.” His voice comes out softer than usual, and you decide to ignore it, even if it’s noticeable.  

“Well… I should be going.” Topper nods and takes another sip of his Bloody Mary. Rafe, on the other hand, isn’t happy about you having to leave.  

“Wait,” he says, making you turn back to him. Even Topper, who was already walking back to his cart, turns to see what Rafe will do. “Uh… before you go,” he pauses to gather his thoughts, “I have a question.”  

“Yeah, what is it?” you ask, a bit confused about where this is going.  

“Do you work here every day?” He never breaks eye contact with you.  

"I usually don’t work on weekends unless they ask me, and my shifts during the week can vary too."  

“What’s the usual?”  

“Uh… 7 to 3. Sometimes I do overtime, and some days I work just half a shift.”  

“You do overtime today?”  

“No, I get off at 3.” Rafe’s eyes light up at your answer, an idea forming in his mind already.  

“Good. There’s a party at my house today at 7. Why don’t you come?”  

“Oh…” you stutter. This is not how you thought this conversation was going to go. In general, you didn’t know how it was going to go, but this was definitely not it. “I—I don’t think I can make it, but thanks.” You see the way his face drops, and for a second, you feel bad. Then you remember who you are dealing with and shrug it off.  

“Right…” he says, feeling very disappointed about it. You get back into the cart and drive away.  

“Look at you, actually trying this time,” Topper says, patting Rafe’s back.  

“Shut up.” Rafe’s soft demeanor is gone the second you’re not around.  

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. Pogue princess disappears, and you’re grumpy again—okay, okay.”  

“I will knock you out.” Rafe points a finger at Topper.  

“Let’s not do that, or who else will be here to help you with her?”  

“Help? I don’t need help.”  

“From where I was standing, you do need help, or did I imagine her saying no?” Rafe glares at Topper, and he takes a sip of his beer. “Fine… I will shut up.”

—

After your shift is over, Sarah and Kie pick you up from the Country Club and go to Kie’s house to relax. Even though you were probably going to end up going out, it was Friday, so it was a given. Probably another Boneyard party, you thought.

You were lying on Kie’s bed, eating the snacks she had brought while Sarah was talking. You weren’t paying too much attention until she spoke directly to you.

“Earth to Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Golfers can sometimes be a bit too annoying,” you said, thinking about Rafe. Even though he hadn’t been annoying this time around, there weren’t many other words you would openly use to describe him.

“Well, you will forget about those golfers tonight,” she said a bit too happily.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t read the group chat,” Kie spoke up and then turned to look at you. “Sarah is having a party tonight at Tannyhill.” You felt your stomach drop; it was the same party Rafe had invited you to, and you had said no because you had plans. You opened your mouth to say something, but Sarah spoke before you could even get a word out.

“No, you can’t say no; it’s mandatory. It’s time for you to unwind!” She wiggled her arms as you stared at her.

“I’m tired, Sarah.” You looked at her and then at Kie, pleading for help. You didn’t want to see Rafe after saying you couldn’t go; it was a choice to see him outside your work hours—a choice you didn’t want to make.

“Sarah is right; you need to unwind. Come on,” Kie nudged you. “You can use my shower if you need to. We can go by your place if you want clothes, but you can use mine; they’ll fit you.” She pointed at her closet.

“You planned this, you evil people,” you pointed at them.

“Maybe, but if not, you were going to say no. And it’s at my house; what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Probably Rafe,” Kie said, almost like she had read your mind. You didn’t say anything.

“He's not going to be a problem; he’s going to be with his friends.”

“Oh yay, Topper and Kelce,” Kie says, rolling her eyes. “They are not the only friends he has, and Kelce is not invited.” At that, you perk up your ears; you want to ask why, but you busy yourself with your phone. “Oh, that’s new. Why?” 

“I said the same. He mentioned something about a fight they had over something he said, but didn’t give me many details, and it’s not like I care… but enough about my brother and his friends. You get ready,” she said, grabbing your shoulders. “And you,” she pointed at Kie, “make sure she gets there,” she said while walking to the door. “See you, my beautiful princesses!”

As Sarah exits Kie’s room, you sigh. “Do I really need to go?” 

“Look, I know you’re done seeing kooks every day, but we can ignore all of them today. Other people are going to the party, so it’s going to be fun. Now come on, let’s get dressed.” 

“I do need to shower first.” 

“Yeah, but first let’s see what you’re going to wear.” She opens her closet and starts taking things out. 

“Hey! This is mine,” I say when I see one of my dresses. 

“Well, look at that,” she jokes. “It’s a sign you need to wear that.” 

“It’s a sign that you robbed my closet.” You grab the mini black dress; it was one of your favorites. 

“Sue me, but this is your sign to use it and take it back to your house.” 

You spend a few more minutes looking at the options she threw at your face, picking what she would wear. After finally deciding, she gives you a towel so you can shower and start getting ready for the party you don’t want to attend. You take your time to shower and get ready, and when you both are set, Kie drives you to your house because you need to give something to your mother, allowing you to leave the things you won’t need and take only your essentials to the party. After that, you pick up the guys and Cleo.

—

When you arrived at the party, it was 7:30 p.m., and the music was blaring from inside. There were more people than you had expected to be there at that time, but again, it was Sarah’s party, so of course, there were going to be many people already there. You planned to stay at the party for a few hours, then say you had to wake up early the next day and leave. However, it was easier said than done.

As you walked inside, the music grew louder, and you saw some familiar faces smiling at you as they looked your way. As you and the Pogues searched for Sarah, you began to feel a bit anxious. You shouldn’t feel bad about saying no to Rafe and then showing up… but then why did you? You finally found her in the kitchen, where the snacks and cold drinks were.

“Y/N!!! You look so pretty!” she exclaimed happily as she hugged you first.

“What are we, chopped liver?” Cleo chimed in teasingly.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I’m happy to see you all here, but let’s be honest: when was the last time this girl actually got ready for something other than work?” Sarah stated again, and everyone silently agreed with her. You rolled your eyes.

“At least I work,” JJ chuckled quietly at your comment.

“Ouch?” Sarah feigned offense. “Enough about work. Grab a drink and make yourselves at home. John B is outside, so go. I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, disappearing again. JJ didn’t need to be told twice to grab a drink and went straight for a beer, and so did Cleo and Pope. Kie made herself a drink, and you did the same, but unlike Kie, yours had barely any alcohol; it was mostly just Sprite.

As you walked out of the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of Topper, who looked at you, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion. You hurried away quickly, cursing internally. If he saw you, that meant he was going to tell Rafe whether you liked it or not, but just like Kie had told you, you were going to ignore everyone and stick to your friends.

One thing you hadn’t considered or even thought about was that maybe Rafe would be outside. You didn’t see him, but he saw you when you and the Pogues stepped out. His gaze would normally soften when he saw you, but at that moment, he felt betrayed. Did you hate him that much? He didn’t think you were the kind of person who would willingly lie just to make someone feel bad.

—

As the night went on, you focused on your friends and those who came to the group to talk instead of on where you were. Rafe, on the other hand, was drinking to distract himself from your presence. He had noticed you were chatting with a guy who had approached you. You thought this guy was nice, but Rafe didn’t; he would have done something about it but decided to drink instead. 

You caught glimpses of Rafe, each time with a new girl and always with a drink in hand. Why couldn’t he stick to just one girl? You found yourself caring too much about what he was doing and refocused on the guy in front of you. You weren’t really interested, but it was always nice to meet new people.

“Are you trying to burn a hole in the back of her head?” Topper asked when he noticed the intense gaze Rafe had on you. 

“What?” 

“You are staring.” Topper glanced at you too; he had to admit you looked good. 

“You are too.” 

“Don’t drag me into this, but in my defense, she looks really good.” Topper said with a teasing tone, wanting to mess with him. Rafe took a big sip of his drink, feeling the burning sensation slide down his throat. “Woah, slow down.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“I get it; you’re jealous, but don’t take it out on the alcohol. Drink some water, or you will regret it.” 

“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of that? He’s…” Rafe trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He was talking to you, and you were engaged in the conversation. You were interested, which you usually weren’t with him. So yeah, he was jealous. 

He downed the drink in his hand and kept staring at you as if it were his life’s purpose. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way; he had no power over you, but it was as if you held power over him. If you were his girl, he would make sure everyone knew, but you weren’t, so he had to let you be and let you talk to whoever you wanted, even if the guy wasn't good enough. You deserved someone who could give you everything. He could be… he stopped himself; he couldn’t keep thinking about this. So, more alcohol it was.

You went inside the house to grab a new drink and more ice. He saw you, and before his brain fully processed it, he was already following you. He was a man on a mission, though what that mission was, even he didn't know. He heard Topper saying something, but he ignored it; nothing was more important than getting to you. 

When you got to the kitchen, you felt a sense of relief—no one was there. You grabbed more ice and Sprite; you weren't really in the mood for an alcoholic drink. After pouring it into your red cup, you stayed there, and then Rafe showed up, interrupting your party break just like he had done at the Boneyard. You didn’t want to deal with him alone… again. 

Some might say you couldn't move on from what he said and that you resented him. Well, maybe you did, and you hated it because it felt like allowing him to dictate your feelings. Your thoughts were interrupted by his closeness. Oh, he was drunk; his eyes were different, and he seemed more relaxed than usual, but you noticed something was bothering him.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “Weren’t you busy tonight?”  

“I wasn’t going to come; your sister made me,” you answered.  

“Right…” he paused for a second. “Next time, don’t lie to my face,” he said with annoyance. You huffed at his tone.  

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You turned away from him, not catching his comment.

“No… come on, I want to talk to you.” He stepped in front of you to stop you from leaving; he was set on talking to you.  

“I doubt it. I know I have nothing to talk to you about.”  

“Yes, you do. We have things to talk about.” The way he said it made it easy for you to know what he was referring to, and it made you angry. He had to be drunk to address it for the first time when he had seen you plenty of times before.  

“No, I’m not doing this today; in fact, I'd rather never do it.”  

“Y/N…” he spoke your name almost pleadingly and a bit slurred. “I know I messed up…” he started, but you quickly interrupted him.  

“Stop it.”  

“Let me talk! I’m trying to make things right, and you’re not letting me!”  

“Yes! Because you are drunk, Rafe! And I’m not having this conversation with you like this or ever. For all I know, you’re doing this just because you are drunk or high or both.” He knitted his eyebrows together at your words.  

“What? I’m not high. Who do you think I am?”  

“It’s common knowledge that the only reason you would ever step into the Cut is for drugs from Barry.”  

“According to who? Your pogue friends?” He felt the anger bubbling up, and you huffed.  

“Why do you always have to say it like that?”  

“Like what?”  

“Like you hate them, like you hate us.”  

“Bold statement coming from you,” he said, the alcohol making it harder for him to filter his words.  

“Excuse me?” You asked, genuinely confused at what he was hinting at.  

“Oh, what? Pogue girl get offended? At least I can say it without having to lie.” You scrunched your face; there was one thing you hated more than anything, and that was being called a liar.  

“I have never lied to you. Actually, I think I have been transparent enough to let you know I can’t stand you.”  

“Oh, I got that clear, pogue. You hate me, I know. You lied to prove your point; next time, just have the guts to say it upfront.”  

“What are you on about?”  

“This party! I invited you; I wanted you here, and you said no.” He grabbed a bottle of some liquor and took a swig of it, the burning sensation numbing, for a second, all that he was feeling at the moment. “You said to MY face you were busy and couldn’t come, and look at you here, having the time of your life, laughing with your friends and talking to other guys who don’t even deserve your attention.”

He took another swig from the bottle of what you now know is whiskey. You were confused, perhaps even in denial about his words.  

“I didn’t know!” you huffed. “I didn’t know this was the plan; I was going to go out with my friends, and I didn’t know this was the place.”  

“You want me to believe you didn’t know, huh? Your little nice act won’t work this time.”  

“No, no, I’ve gotten enough shit from you. I won’t put up with this,” you said, walking out of the kitchen. He stopped you in the middle of the hallway. “Rafe, stop it!”  

“No! You aren’t even listening to me!”  

“Why should I? I’m wasting my time here.”  

“Pardon me, your Majesty. I know there are other people more deserving of your attention than me,” his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm.  

“Leave me alone for once!” You pulled your arm away and walked out of the house, not even thinking twice about it. You thought it was over, but you were wrong.  

“Running away again? That’s all you seem to know how to do every time I say something you don’t like.”  

“You’re an even bigger asshole when you’re drunk,” you huffed.  

“Me? You’re the one lying when I’m trying to be nice to you.”  

“Nice? How? Talking down to me and my friends? Making me feel like I don’t belong here?”  

“Not all of us are natural rays of sunshine, princess.” He stopped. “I… It’s hard for some people. I—” he groaned, “I wanted you here! I’m sorry for—” you interrupted him.  

“You’re drunk.”  

“I know what I’m saying! Stop acting like I don’t. I mean this!”  

“No!”  

“STOP, Y/N! JUST… stop.” He sighed and walked closer to you, making you take a step back. 

“I’m trying here… but you’re being an asshole about it, and I’m TRYING to apologize for something I know I did wrong.”  

“You’re drunk…”  

“Stop saying that, as if it makes my words invalid! I know what I’m saying and I mean every word!”  

“I don’t believe them! Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t believe drunk words; alcohol doesn’t allow you to think straight, and I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” You turned away, ready to walk.

“For someone who claims to always be kind, you are doing a terrible job right now.” You stop in your tracks but don’t look back. “I’m here being honest, and all you do is think the worst of me… you’re just like everyone else…” he said, slurring more as the alcohol finally caught up to him. “I’m actually sorry, princess…” 

You heard the moment he walked back inside, and you finally turned. You watched as he went in and disappeared into his house, leaving you with the silence of the night and your thoughts. Why did he always leave you like this? Always analyzing his words. He sounded sincere; you could feel that, but there were so many layers to the conversation you didn’t want to dissect, yet you knew you were going to.

“You're leaving?” Topper interrupted your thoughts.

“Uh… yeah, I’m tired.” 

“Who is taking you?” No one; you were going to walk. A stupid decision, probably. 

“My friends,” you lied. 'You’re the one lying,' Rafe’s words echoed in your head. 

“Liar, they’re still inside.” You sighed. “Come on, I’ll drop you off. I need to buy more ice, so let’s go.” You didn’t protest and followed him to his car. 

You got in, gave him the address, and he drove in silence. He stopped for a bit of ice at a small store he found when he was closer to the address you provided. 

“Here, it’s okay.” You made him stop beforehand. You didn’t give him the exact address of your house; you were a bit paranoid about sharing it unless it was someone close to you. Topper parked his car right where you told him. 

“Thanks… you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Rafe would’ve killed me if something happened to you.” He paused, debating whether to say something else. “He would’ve done it, but he was too drunk.” 

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “I promise I didn’t know I was going to end up at the party…” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said sincerely. “You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation.” You nodded; you knew that, but it was as if you needed to ensure someone understood. You said your goodbyes and walked to your house, which was just around the corner from where Topper had left you.

You went directly to your room to change clothes. It was supposed to be a good night, and yet here you were, with your feelings all over the place, but mainly feeling guilty.

12:55 AM - Pope “Where are you?”

12:55 AM - Pope “Please tell me you’re alive”

12:55 AM - You “I am, sorry for leaving without saying anything”

12:56 AM - Pope “Still didn’t answer me. Where are you”

12:56 AM - You “I’m home”

12:56 AM - Pope “How? Who? The guy you were talking to?!”

12:57 AM - You “No… Topper… he went to buy ice and dropped me off”

12:57 AM - Pope “Topper? As in Sarah’s ex? tf”

12:57 AM - You “As in Rafe’s friend”

12:57 AM - Pope “Oh…”

12:58 AM - Pope “Something happened again huh?”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m okay, I just need sleep.”

12:58 AM - You  “I’m exhausted, it was a long day”

12:59 AM - Pope “Whatever you need just let me know, fyi I will tell Cleo about this.”

12:59 AM - You “I didn’t expect less”

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