#ask box is open if you want to ask me anything

[sungiescheotluv]

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more. 

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel. 

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad. 

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance. 

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.” 

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad. 

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone. 

Ill with lust, as you’d joke. 

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny. 

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.” 

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

[kumezyzo]

masterlist

Images began spreading unlike anything the media had ever really expected. They were all of you and Luigi. Well, really, how could anyone be angry about it? You were both beautiful. Something about the way you looked together was… unlike anyone had seen before

Although, the reason why these pictures were circulating so freely now was… not as wonderful. Luigi had finally been arrested.

There were reporters waiting outside your home now, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, a statement even. They were shameless, really. And the public wasn’t any better, really. Or more so… your coworkers.

You called off of work, even though you weren’t sure if your bank account would appreciate the act of self-preservation. The news had caught wind of your chat with the detectives.

People began to see you as a saint. Others saw you as a liar, even more believed you to be pitiful. You sounded small, desperate even. But they knew for a fact that someone who managed to get a ring from Luigi Mangione would protect him to the ends of the earth.

Regardless of what others believed for you, it was as if your life had truly, finally, fallen apart. You cried upon hearing the news. You didn’t cry because you hadn’t wanted him to get caught. No, you cried because you knew that regardless of the outcome of the court trial, your lives wouldn’t be the same.

That was clear to you because a clip of yours surfaced. It wasn’t yours so to speak, it was one that his sister filmed and you posted to your social medias. The day he proposed.

“Lu, where are we going!” You shouted, giggles falling from your lips as he pulled you ahead of his family. It seemed like he had a sudden surge of energy, grabbing you by your hand as you guys arrived at the park. It was the park he asked your out. It was his sisters idea to take a walk after family dinner.

He suddenly stopped, sending you crashing into him. He laughed as he held you up, steadying your footing. Despite your confusion, you couldn’t help but smile with him. He pressed his lips tenderly against yours. You smiled, hiding your face from his family, who was slowly catching up to you.

“What are you-” You began asking, watching him slowly get down on one knee. You swore you could feel your heart skip too many beats to be medically normal. “Oh, my god.”

Your hands shot up to your mouth as he smiled, opening up the small black box in his hand. Your heart was now beginning to beat out of your chest. Tears began filling your eyes, his only mirroring yours as he opened his mouth to speak.

He spoke your name like it was meant to be said by his lips only, “You are the love of my life. I couldn’t imagine spending the last four years with anyone else. I mean, you’ve been with me through so much and never once complained,” His voice and hands shook as he spoke. Even when he seemed so unsure of his words, his eyes told you everything. He already knew your answer. “I know you’re too good for me, but I can’t possibly imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. So… will you marry me?”

You let out a sob, unable to muster up any words. You could only nod, letting him shakily slip the ring onto your finger. His family began cheering at the sight. He smiled as a tear fell past his cheek. He stood up, engulfing you in a hug. The sheer strength in his hold told you that he more than loved you. It felt like you could live in eachothers skin. He spun you around, happiness and excitement gushing from both of you. 

You let out a watery giggle, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” He said, holding your face in hands before kissing you deeply. You both melted into the kiss, salty tears mingling between your lips.

You still remember that day like yesterday. Watching it from another perspective was just as emotional. Or maybe it was because that time felt like another lifetime. Or maybe because it was being used in edits with the song "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey.

I've had this in my drafts for a while. but it felt appropriate to continue it now for some reason. 🤷🏽‍♀️ -nony

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Laugh Like Me Again

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Angst, smut. Word count: ~7k

Summary: Billy accidentally strikes up a friendship with the girl that's just moved into the flat next door, but when faced repeatedly with the baggage of their pasts they struggle to take it any further than "just friends".

Author's note: A (belated) birthday gift for @targaryenrealnessdarling. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon. Billy sat on the sofa in the living room of his flat with the curtains closed, blocking out the midday winter sun. He’d not long gotten out of bed, barely lucid as an episode of Come Dine With Me played away to itself in the background. He stared at the TV screen, but wasn’t actually taking anything in, it may as well have stayed switched off.

A loud crash against his front door, followed by several soft thuds upon the floor outside of it, startled him out of his torpid state, the sudden noise causing him to jump slightly. Billy didn’t cope well with unexpected loudness anymore, he hadn’t for six months, not since he’d watched his car explode into a fiery wreck on Cranstead Fields. He grasped the arm of the sofa tightly, eyes wide and breathing accelerated as he looked towards the door, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he worried it might burst out of it.

It wasn’t until he heard the muffled voice of a woman swearing on the other side of the door that he finally relaxed, fear giving way to curiosity, as he rose slowly from his seat and walked towards the front door, opening it with trepidation.

There, upon the carpeted floor, knelt a young woman, a collapsed cardboard box discarded to the side of her, as she scrambled to pick up books that were strewn across the communal hallway floor.

“You alright?” he asked tentatively, watching as she huffed, attempting to gather the books into a tidy pile.

“Give me a hand, would you?” she asked distractedly, not looking up at him. “Fucking box was too heavy and the bottom gave way.”

He hesitated a moment, taken aback by her request. Nobody ever asked Billy for help, nobody ever asked him for anything really, he wasn’t usually a person that anyone felt they could depend upon, yet here was a complete stranger trusting him to come to her aid.

Finally, he stooped down, picking up as many books as he could manage to carry. His eyes skimmed the covers, taking in the authors’ names; Stephen King, Terry Pratchett, Tanith Lee – he’d read none of them. He had never been much of a reader though; the last book he had touched had been Of Mice and Men for GCSE English. Billy hadn’t understood it, and the F grade he’d gotten had reflected that.

He adjusted the heavy load in his arms, standing awkwardly, as she finally righted herself, the remainder of her books cradled against her chest.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“So, erm, where we taking these then?” he asked.

“Just next door,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him as she walked the short distance to the front door next to his. “We’re gonna be neighbours.”

Billy followed close behind. The flat next to his had sat empty for months. It had been nice not to have to worry about the odd hours he kept, or how loud he had his TV.

Oh god, had she been able to hear him watching trash telly through the wall?

Her front door had been left on the latch, and he watched as she gently nudged it open with her foot and began to place the books in her arms down upon the floor, off to the side of the doorway. Once her arms were empty, she gestured for him to pass her the ones that he was holding and then did the same with those.

“D’you want help shifting anything else?” he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his grey jogging bottoms once he’d passed her the last of the books.

She straightened, turning to face him as she wiped her hands on her blue jeans. She really was stunning. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a high ponytail, leaving her features open and unobscured, and despite the casualness of her oversized jumper and jeans, she carried herself with a self assuredness that, to Billy, made it seem like the sexiest outfit in the world. He was immediately self conscious of his own scruffiness at that moment. He hadn’t looked in a mirror since waking up, but he knew he needed a shower and a shave. A giant stain from last night’s Pot Noodle emblazoned the chest of his black t-shirt, the very same t-shirt that he’d worn all day yesterday and then slept in. It was suddenly difficult to look her in the eye.

“That was the last of the boxes from that carload, actually,,” she said with a soft smile. “I can only fit so much in my shitty Fiat Panda, so having to make a fair few trips. Thank you for helping me though, and sorry for chucking books at your front door.”

Billy huffed softly through his nose, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Don’t mention it.”

She pulled the door closed and locked it. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she smiled, giving him her name, “and what should I call you?”

“I’m Billy,” he told her, his tone almost apologetic.

“Well, see you around, Billy.”

He watched her retreat down the hallway, until she disappeared through the door to the stairwell. He really hoped he would see her again, if anything just so he could prove to her that he was capable of not looking like an absolute slob.

Billy headed straight for the bathroom once he was back inside his own flat, not emerging until he’d showered, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, shaved and changed into clean clothes. It all felt like an effort, everything did these days. Piecing his life back together in the months that had followed his car being blown up had been difficult. It had been hard to come to terms with the idea that he had been radicalised by a terrorist group, impossible to make peace with the fact that he’d survived the explosion designed to kill him. His older sister, Lana, had nagged at him to go to therapy, to work through the trauma of what had happened, but therapy was expensive and he needed to keep a roof over his head, especially since Becky had split up with him and moved back to her mum’s. He had managed to get a job behind the bar of a local pub – the hours were shit and the pay wasn’t much better, but it made him feel useful, especially when it came to the manual aspects such as changing barrels and taking deliveries of crates of mixers and spirits. Each shift left him too exhausted to think about all he’d been through. He was existing, not really living, but that suited Billy just fine.

As the sky outside darkened into the purgatory that exists between late afternoon and early evening, his stomach began to rumble and he realised he hadn’t eaten yet today. Pulling open the fridge, Billy sighed at the bare shelves within. A half used bottle of ketchup lay on its side, a red puddle of sauce gathering beneath its lid, while the dregs of a carton of milk that was already two days past its use by date occupied the space in the door.

Fuck’s sake, he muttered to himself, stepping into his trainers and pulling on his coat, preparing for a trip out into the cold to buy groceries. A soft knock caused him to pause as he was zipping up his coat, and he tugged the door open, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise at the sight of his neighbour standing on the other side. He hadn’t anticipated seeing her again so soon, but he was glad he was in a better state than he was on their first encounter.

“Sorry, me again,” she said, raising her hand in a slight wave. “You’re probably sick of me asking for help, but I’ve unpacked my kettle and was gonna make a brew, but realised I’ve not got any milk. Don’t suppose you could lend me some?”

Billy couldn’t help but grin as he looked down at her, clearly amused by her question. “I thought people only did that in films,” he admitted. “I was actually just on my way out to buy some, if you wanna come? I can show you where the Tesco Express is.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, actually,” she said, her face lighting up as she smiled brightly, “let me just grab my jacket.”

It was bitterly cold as they walked, the frigid air nippled relentlessly at Billy’s fingers, causing him to put his hands in his coat pockets to keep them warm. The street lamps were starting to come on as the sky turned a blue so dark it was almost black, and the continuous shine of the headlights of passing cars, coupled with the hum of their engines felt almost oppressive. He looked to her, seeking distraction. Billy worried that she might be cold; she’d only put on a leather jacket over the top of her jumper, though she had paired it with a massive, woolen scarf that she kept her face buried in up to her nose. 

“You all moved in now then?” he asked.

“Yeah, all my stuff’s in the flat now,” she replied, lifting her face from her scarf to look up at him, “just need to unpack it.”

Billy nodded, rounding a corner to the street that would lead them to the nearest Tesco. “So, what brings you to this neck of the woods then?”

“Had to leave my last place pretty sharpish,” she told him, “needed somewhere that was furnished and available straight away. This was the closest available to where I work.”

Her eye contact was avoidant as she explained this, seeming to retreat into herself. They were almost at the Tesco anyway, and Billy didn’t want to push a topic she was clearly uncomfortable talking about, so they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Billy grabbed milk, chocolate covered digestives and a couple of frozen pizzas, while she did a larger shop of essentials she didn’t have at her flat. As he watched her scan bread, eggs, milk and fresh fruit and vegetables through the self checkout, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the junk food within his own basket. She had done a proper grown up’s shop, his own was the furthest thing from that.

“Let me make you a cuppa, to say thanks for everything today,” she offered as they stepped back into the warmth of their block of flats.

“Alright, sounds good,” Billy nodded, following her through her door.

Her living room was a sea of cardboard boxes, with barely any room to stand, let alone to sit down to drink tea.

“I know the cups are in here somewhere,” she said, setting down her shopping bags and beginning to open a box marked ‘KITCHEN’,

“Tell you what,” Billy suggested, “let’s go to mine for a tea. You can owe me one once you’re unpacked.”

Her eyes softened in gratitude as she looked up from the box at him, and it made warmth spread through his chest that rose all the way to his cheeks. He had to look away for fear she’d notice.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Billy.”

He regretted his offer almost as soon as they stepped into his flat. Billy had never been tidy, if he hadn’t realised it himself, then the countless times that Lana had visited and nagged at him for it had certainly driven the message home.

You know, you can tidy up, Billy.

You’re allowed to open the curtains.

When was the last time you washed up?

It was easy to ignore when it was his own sister's passing comments, however, with a pretty girl by his side, it was as though he was looking at his living space through a fresh set of eyes, and he hated what he saw.

“Sorry…” he muttered, shame settling over him like a weighted blanket as he looked at the array of empty beer cans and crisp packets that were strewn across the coffee table.

She huffed an easy laugh as she followed him through to the kitchen. “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s not like you were expecting company, and you shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for how you keep your own space.”

He turned to stare at her, his brow furrowed in confusion at her lack of disgust. There was sincerity in her eyes, she wasn’t just being nice, she meant it. Her reaction eased his embarrassment somewhat, until he opened the cupboard to find he had no clean mugs.

“D’you live alone then?” she asked as he flicked on the kettle.

“Was it that obvious?” he replied with a grin, fishing two mugs out of the full sink. He busied himself with rinsing them out, while she leaned her back against the kitchen side, watching him.

She laughed at his response, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he scraped off the plate of used tea bags into the almost overflowing bin. It had been a long time since there had been laughter in his flat.

“So, what do you do for work then?” he asked, once they’d settled on the sofa with their teas. Billy had discarded his dirty washing to make space for her to sit next to him, and cleared the table so they could set down their mugs, alongside the packet of chocolate digestives he’d bought.

“I’m the social media manager for a publishing company,” she told him, before helping herself to a biscuit from the open packet and taking a bite.

Billy didn’t think he’d ever heard anything so daft in his entire life. He took a swig of his tea in an attempt to hide the way his features twisted in disdain. “So…er…do you just sit on Facebook all day then?”

She covered her lips with her hand as she giggled around a mouthful of biscuit. “That’s a bit of an oversimplification,” she said once she’d swallowed, “there’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Yeah, I s’pose there’s Twitter and Instagram too,” he said with a playful cock of his eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off!” she grinned, swatting playfully at his leg.

Billy adored how easy he found being in her company, he had anticipated them not having much in common when he’d helped her to pick up her books earlier, but was now finding he hadn’t been this relaxed around anyone in a long time.

“So, what do you do then?”

The question made him tense, all sense of relaxation leaving his body as the familiar feeling of shame found its home within his body once more. His gaze drifted down to the mug that he held cradled in his hands as he spoke, feeling the need to justify his answer, and terrified she’d judge him for it. “I…erm…I work at The Joiners. It’s a pub not too far from here. It’s just temporary though, until I find something else.”

“What would you rather be doing?” she asked, before sipping her tea.

Billy blinked, stunned by the genuine interest in her tone. He was used to ��you aren’t trying hard enough, Billy’ or ‘there’s always an excuse not to’. No one had ever bothered to take the time to ask him what he actually wanted.

“I dunno,” he admitted, lifting his eyes to meet hers, “I applied to join the army a couple of times, and kept getting rejected. Not sure what else I could do, I just wanna feel useful y’know? Work with my hands.”

She nodded in understanding, shifting to sit cross legged on the sofa as she faced him fully. “So, like manual labour?”

“Yeah, I s’pose. Bricklaying or something, would be cool to have a trade.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, leaning forward to put his half empty mug on the coffee table, before settling back against the sofa cushions. “Not that simple, is it? I’ve got no experience, I can’t just rock up to a building site and ask for a job.”

“No, but you can train,” she said, leaning towards him, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm, “there are vocational colleges that have two year courses for that sort of thing, and it would fit in perfectly around your bar work.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he admitted, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s why it’s good you’ve now got a friend that sits on Facebook all day for a living,” she said with a playful wink, “because I do. Let me help you.”

Let me help you.

The simplicity of those four little words made Billy’s heart soar, the warmth of his smile lit up his entire face as he nodded at her. “Alright then.”

“Good,” she smiled softly, before gesturing towards his Playstation. “Got any two player games?”

She had utterly destroyed him at several rounds of Street Fighter, before all too quickly they had to call it a night. Billy went to bed happier than he’d felt in ages, never more grateful for someone having chucked books at his front door by accident.

When he woke the next morning, he was surprised when he looked at his phone to see that it was before midday – 9am, to be exact. Billy never got up that early, yet he found himself slipping out of bed with ease and, for the first time since Becky had left, he opened the curtains.

Letting light into the flat felt like opening up a new chapter of his life, but also it highlighted just how much of a shit state he’d allowed the place to get into. He busied himself that morning, clearing rubbish off of every surface, washing up, wiping down the sides, emptying the bin, and filling the washing machine with dirty laundry. He even hoovered the floors and cleaned the bathroom – neither one a job he had undertaken since moving in. It filled him with pride to think that the next time his new friend visited, she’d see his place clean and tidy.

By the time Billy finished cleaning the flat, it was almost time for him to leave for his afternoon shift at The Joiners. As he stepped out of his flat, he noticed a luminous pink post-it note stuck to his door.

‘IOU one cup of tea’ it read, with a smiley face next to it and the link to a vocational college’s bricklaying course scribbled beneath it. Billy smiled to himself, plucking it from the door and stuffing it into his pocket, before making his way to work.

A few days went by and Billy didn’t see or hear anything more from her. While he wondered about her, he figured it wouldn’t be unusual for them not to cross paths – they kept completely different hours – she worked a Monday to Friday nine to five, while he worked a combination of late afternoon and evening shifts at the pub.

It was a late afternoon shift he was returning from that evening when he heard raised voices coming from her flat. They were muffled from behind the door, but he could hear the distinctive anger of a deep male voice, and her softer one in response. She sounded upset.

Billy paused, his key lifted halfway to the lock, as her front door flew open.

“Just get out!” she sobbed, “I don’t want you here!”

She shoved desperately at a man that was slightly shorter than he was, but of a much sturdier build. He moved clumsily out of her flat, righting himself against the wall as he stared her down with fury in his eyes. “You can’t leave me,” he seethed, “who else would want you? You’re damaged goods!”

Billy’s anger flared as he heard that. That stupid cunt had no idea what he was talking about, and certainly had no right to say that to her. He shoved his keys back into the pocket of his jeans, and stalked over to where the bloke stood against the wall.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” he glowered, staring intensely at the man before him.

“Billy, don’t–”

“Who’s this then?” the guy scoffed in amusement, cutting her off. His gaze moved between her and Billy. “You moved on already? You lying bitch!”

“I said, don’t speak to her like that!” Billy snarled, grabbing him by his jacket.

“Liam, no!”

Her shout of protest came too late. The impact of the fist against Billy’s face whipped his head to the side, the inertia knocking him off his feet as he landed heavily on the carpet with a shocked expulsion of air.

Liam stepped over Billy, walking away towards the stairwell, leaving him to cradle the side of his face as he lay on the floor, a dull pulse of pain throbbing against his cheekbone and spreading out across his eye socket.

“Oh god, Billy, I’m so sorry,” she cried, kneeling beside him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?”

A few minutes later, he sat in an armchair in her flat, with a bag of frozen peas clutched against the side of his face. The eye that wasn’t obscured by the makeshift medical aid took in her living room. She’d unpacked. The shelves were filled with books, the sofa adorned with colourful throw blankets and cushions, and she’d placed plants and candles on almost every surface. It was cozy, it felt like a home.

“Thought you might want something a bit stronger than tea,” she said, appearing from the kitchen with two open bottles of beer in her hands. She handed one to Billy, before moving to sit on the end of the sofa that was nearest the armchair that he currently occupied.

“Thanks,” Billy said, offering her a tight smile, “for the beer, and the peas.”

Her brows arched in concern, her eyes still red rimmed from crying as she looked at him. “I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Not you that needs to apologise,” he told her, pulling the peas away from his face as he took a swig of his beer. “Who was that prick anyway?”

She sighed, her eyes downcast as her thumbs picked anxiously at the Birra Moretti label on her bottle. “My ex, Liam. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Billy huffed in mild amusement, placing the bag of peas on the table in front of him.

“You’re gonna have a bruise,” she said, her tone apologetic.

“I’ve had worse,” he replied with a shrug, “are you alright?”

“I will be…” - she drank deeply from her beer - “was stupid of me to tell him he could come round anyway. He said he was gonna drop off a few things I’d left behind and I was gullible enough to think it wouldn’t end in an argument.”

Billy longed to comfort her. He’d only known her a week though, and they’d only hung out once, he wasn’t sure how she’d take it if he just pulled her into a hug. His heart ached for her, yet at the same time his own selfish jealousy flared within him, wanting to know precisely what had led to their split, to know if Liam was still a part of her life.

“So, what happened between you two…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Caught him in bed with someone else,” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, “Liam had always had a bit of a wandering eye, but I never thought it would amount to anything serious. It did, so I found this place and moved out as quickly as I could. As you saw, he’s not enjoying dealing with the consequences of his own actions.”

“You think he’ll come back?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Billy furrowed his brow, growing pensive for a moment, before an idea occurred to him. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding his hand out.

“What? Why?”

“I’m gonna put my number in it. If he comes back, I want you to ring me okay?”

“So he can deck you again?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “He caught me by surprise, is all. I’ll be ready next time.”

He knew he was lying. Billy had never been a fighter, physical strength just wasn’t a skill he possessed, it was part of the reason the army had rejected him twice. Still, as he entered his number into the contacts of her phone, he knew he’d feel better just knowing he could be there for her.

She never texted him, though over the next couple of weeks they spent every evening that Billy wasn’t working together. At his place, they played Street Fighter and he imposed a rule that she wasn’t allowed to choose Chun Li as her character, as her knowledge of her special moves put her at an unfair advantage. When they were at hers, she read aloud to him from a copy of The Shining by Stephen King – a chapter for each visit. Billy had never enjoyed books, until now; the story was engaging, and not just because of Jack Torrence’s slow descent into madness. Her voice made every word more captivating and he found himself disappointed when each part drew to a close.

He was coming towards the end of an afternoon shift when his phone vibrated in his pocket – a text from an unknown number.

‘Hi stranger. Got a surprise for you back at the flat xxx’

His heart skipped a beat, his pulse racing as he realised it was from her. She’d never text him before, which is why her number wasn’t saved. He wondered what she could possibly have in store for him, and the rest of the afternoon felt as though time had ground to a halt as he waited impatiently to go home.

He frowned as he heard music playing softly from his flat as he arrived back – how had she gotten in? She didn’t have a key.

Opening the door, the music grew louder – some 90s R&B song that he didn’t know that name of, and there were lit candles on the coffee table in the living room.

“H–hello?” he called out, struggling to keep the anxious tremor from his voice.

“In here,” a voice replied from the bedroom.

He froze at the sound of it. He knew that voice. It filled him with a sense of dread, and for a moment, he considered simply turning and leaving.

Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. The sight within formed a pit in his stomach. His ex, Becky, lay provocatively on her side, her curves encased in lacy black lingerie, as she looked at him with a sultry smile upon her lips. Six months ago, he’d have been a goner for the display before him, now it made bile rise in his throat.

“Hiya, gorgeous,” she cooed, “I’ve missed you.”

His lips set into a hard line as he looked away, annoyance in his tone. “Becky, what the fuck are you playing at? How did you even get in?”

“I wanted to see you,” she said, pouting as she slipped off the bed to move towards him, “and I’ve still got my key.”

Realisation set in – the text had been from her. On the advice of Lana, he had deleted Becky’s number when they’d split for good, a means of avoiding the temptation to reach out to her. It had helped a lot in the process of getting over her. But it was now apparent that she had kept his.

He backed away from her as she reached for him, his face hardened in an expression of disgust and anger as he clenched his fists at his sides. His nostrils flared as he battled to keep his voice from raising. “Well, you can give your fucking key back when you leave. I don’t want you here.”

“You can’t be serious?” she scoffed, “You are rejecting me?”

He stared at her, unable to believe that this was a person who he had once mourned the loss of – he felt nothing but irritation seeing her now, a desperate need to be rid of her. “I am, yeah. You bailed when things fell apart. I don’t need you hanging around like a bad smell now that they’re finally piecing back together. Get out.”

“You’ll regret this, Billy,” she said angrily, her movements erratic and hurried as she snatched her tan coloured trench coat from the floor and belted it around herself, “you won’t do better than me.”

“I think I already have. Keys,” he demanded, holding his hand out.

She pulled them hastily from her pocket, chucking them towards him, before barging past him and out of the flat. Billy followed, watching her leave. She paused once in the hallway, looking to her right and smiling, before turning her attention back to him.

“Bye then, Billy,” she said, her tone saccharinely sweet. She blew him a kiss and then sauntered away.

His brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in her behaviour, until he looked to the left and saw his neighbour standing in the hallway, her copy of The Shining clutched to her chest. Her eyes were wide, a look of shock upon her face, though Billy was certain he could also see something akin to hurt reflected in their depths.

“Oh,” was all she uttered, before hurrying back inside and slamming her door behind her.

No. No. No. No. No.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath, slamming his hand against the doorframe in frustration.

Billy’s heart felt as though it was dropping endlessly through his body. Every part of him screamed at him to go after her, to explain to her what had happened, to reassure that what they had was – what?

The more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t quite know what was occurring between them. It would be weird for him to show up at her door and explain all of that away, under the assumption that she’d care. Perhaps he’d misread the situation, but as he retreated back into his flat he couldn’t shake the heavy burden of misery that settled upon him. There was a lingering sense of loss, a feeling that he had just allowed something important to slip through his fingers.

Billy fell back into a state of miserable, lifeless existence over the following week. There were no further hangouts with his neighbour, and he ached with the sensation of missing her. The flat grew messier with each passing day, but he found himself not caring, trapped in his own cowardice of not being able to simply reach out to her. All it would take was a knock at her door, but it felt too big, too scary. The curtains had closed around his world once more.

As he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets on his way to work one afternoon, his fingers brushed against a slip of paper. Fishing it out, he saw that it was the pink post-it note she had left on his door the morning after they’d first met. He smiled faintly at the memory, though his heart twinged with sadness. He looked at the URL scrawled at the bottom – he had forgotten about it until now.

During a lull between customers at the pub, Billy disappeared around the corner of the bar, pulling his phone free from his jeans pocket and hastily typed the link from the note into the browser. It led to the page to register for an open evening at a local vocational college. He’d left it so long to check it out, that the day was now only a week away. For a moment, he considered simply locking his phone again and forgetting about it. It was overwhelming, the unknown, the possibility for failure, but something niggled at the back of his mind – the memory of how enthusiastically she’d offered to help him out – he owed it to her to register. Before he had time to convince himself otherwise, he input his details, hit submit and then pocketed his phone once more.

As he worked the rest of his shift, his mind was preoccupied by thoughts of the open evening. What if they told him he was too stupid, laughed at him for even considering applying to any of the courses and told him he was useless?

He realised he needed someone there with him, otherwise he wouldn’t go at all. For a moment, he considered asking Lana, but that would put too much pressure on the situation – she’d ask too many demanding questions, expect him to know straight away what course he wanted to apply to, and then feed it all back to their parents. That was the absolute last thing he needed; nagging from mum and disapproval from dad. He wanted her there with him, the person who had started all of this in the first place. She made him feel supported and inspired, and the thought of having her by his side made it seem less overwhelming. The question was, would she even want to come?

Once he finished work, he found himself outside of her flat, fist raised to the door, but not quite able to knock. In the time they hadn’t spoken, their friendship had existed in limbo to Billy – it either was or it wasn’t, but there was still the hope to cling to that she did still think fondly of him. He hated the idea of knocking on her door and her reacting negatively, telling him to get lost. It would add a sense of finality to it all, confirm once and for all that he was alone again.

Fucking idiot, just knock, he muttered to himself, before finally rapping his knuckles against the wood.

He heard her soft footsteps on the other side of the door before she opened it and for a moment Billy just stood there, lips parted and unable to say anything as his entire body surged with warmth at the sight of her. Her hair was loose, tousled around her shoulders, and she was wearing an oversized white t-shirt and pyjama shorts – it looked as though she was ready for bed.

Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, obviously not expecting to see him. “Everything okay?” she asked, a tinge of concern colouring her tone.

It was then Billy realised he hadn’t said anything, had just been gawping at her like a creep. He lowered his gaze, swallowing thickly as embarrassment made his cheeks blaze. “S–sorry…yeah…I erm…I registered for that open evening at the college you mentioned.”

“Oh…oh, right,” she said slowly, nodding as she wrapped her arms around herself, “that’s good…that’s really good.”

“It’s next week,” he told her, finally looking up to meet her gaze, “I wondered if you wouldn’t mind coming with me…if…if you’re not busy?”

She chewed her lip anxiously for a moment before replying. “Isn’t that something you’d want your girlfriend to go with you to?”

Billy sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Of course that was what she had thought. Fucking Becky.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he admitted, “I mean…she was, but she hasn’t been for a long time.”

“What was she doing at your place then?”

Billy fought the urge to smile at the imploring look upon her face as she asked that question. She was jealous, and it made his stomach flip to know she still liked him enough to feel that way.

“Can I come in before I answer that?”

She gave a slight nod, stepping aside to let him in before closing the door behind them. They both took a seat on the sofa, and Billy felt a part of himself grow lighter as he was once more immersed in the familiarity of her flat. It felt like just as much of a home to him as his own place did.

Billy turned the upper portion of his body to face her, watching as she placed a cushion in her lap to cover her bare legs as her shorts rode up her bare thighs. The sight made his throat run dry, and he had to wet his lips before he spoke, to remind himself why he was actually here.

“Her name’s Becky,” he began, “we split up about six months ago. She left me when my life had gone to shit – that’s something I wanna tell you about one day, once I’m ready. I want you to know. But yeah, she came round, wanting to rekindle something, I guess. I chucked her out, and that’s the end of it.”

Billy watched her, eager for her to say something, anything, as she stared pensively at the cushion she held in her lap, her fingers idly stroking its edges. “I suppose it’s not my place to be upset, considering my ex decked you,” she finally said, her voice quiet, “and really, it’s none of my business–”

“But I want it to be your business,” he interrupted, “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m still with her, especially not you!”

His eyes were wide as he stared at her, hoping that she could see he was being sincere. She said nothing as she stared back, though her posture softened, becoming less defensive.

Billy wasn’t sure who moved first, but he hoisted her into his lap as their lips connected, weeks of pent up tension melting away as their mouths moved with urgency. His tongue licked against hers, messy and desperate, as he hands caressed and squeezed every part of her body his hands could reach. She was soft, so soft, and she felt right against him. He cock stirred to life, hardening in his jeans with embarrassing quickness.

When they broke for air, both panting softly, she pulled her head back as he tried to kiss her again.

“What is it?” he asked, stroking his hands up and down her sides in a soothing gesture. She hadn’t moved off of his lap and didn’t look disgusted by what had happened, much to Billy’s relief.

“I just…maybe it’s too much, too quickly?” she whispered, “We’ve both got so much baggage, I don’t want to lose you if this doesn’t work out.”

Billy shook his head, giving her hips a gentle squeeze. “I get it, I do. But why write it off before we’ve even given it a chance? I’m sick and tired of waiting for my life to start, tired of acting like we’re just mates. Can we just…”

He threaded his fingers into her messy hair, guiding her lips back to his. This time she didn’t pull away, she kissed back eagerly, only stopping to tug her t-shirt up and over her head, chucking it to the side as she straddled his lap. 

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

His hands trailed up her bare torso, tentatively palming her breasts, feeling their weight and softness in his palms. When she lifted off of his lap to tug down her pyjama shorts, she giggled as she watched him struggle with the button and zipper of his jeans. God, he loved her laugh, he’d missed that sound. He pulled her back onto his lap with a lazy grin, his eyes screwing shut as a groan escaped him. The feeling of her wet folds stroking across the head of his hardened cock sent shockwaves of pleasure shooting all the way up his spine, making him feel light headed.

“Go slow,” he pleaded, as she sank down onto him, enveloping him in her tight heat. He knew it would be over all too soon if she continued to make him feel like this. His balls were already drawing up tight against his body.

“Thought you were tired of going slow,” she teased with an experimental roll of her hips.

“Fucking hell,” he gritted out, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she rode him. Each rock of her hips made his entire body tense and tremble. The slap of their flesh meeting punctuated every undulation of her hips, combined with their soft pants and moans.

“You have to stop,” he whimpered, as the telltale build of pressure at the base of his spine signalled his end, “I’m gonna–”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, tugging at the hair at the base of his neck to prompt him to look up into her eyes, “let go for me.”

Billy stilled, holding her hips in a grip so hard he was certain he’d leave bruises as his vision turned white, his mind going blank as his cock pulsated and spilled inside of her. The sensation made his entire body shudder, his thoughts not returning until the last of the tremors had subsided.

“Fuck…fuck…” he panted, brushing his hair away from his forehead as he looked up at her, “I’m sorry, you didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” she reassured him, pecking his lips gently with hers, “you’re not getting away with doing this just once tonight.”

A grin spread across Billy’s face. He was no longer a bystander in his own life, and he had her to thank for that.

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[herbertten]

therapuss!

summary: justin agrees to be on his girlfriend’s best friend’s podcast

word count: 1.1k

When Jake suggested having Justin on his podcast Therapuss, Y/N honestly thought her boyfriend would politely decline. To her surprise, he was all for it. She’d always thought they had a cute older brother-younger brother dynamic, and she couldn’t wait for the world to see a new side of him.

But when the time came to film the episode, Justin was a bundle of nerves, frantically searching for the right outfit. He didn’t want to be overdressed, but definitely didn’t want to show up looking underdressed either. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as he ran in and out of his closet, holding up different options every few minutes. She’d tell him he looked fine in whatever he was wearing, but Justin was never satisfied, always finding something wrong.

After about twenty minutes of this, he threw in the towel and begged Y/N to choose for him. She giggled, planted a quick kiss on his lips, and headed to the closet. She picked out a dark green Nike sweatshirt, khaki shorts, and a black Nike hat.

“This was one of the first things I tried on,” Justin said, grabbing the outfit from her.

“It looked fine—just like half the stuff you tried on,” she said, flopping back on the bed. Justin plopped down beside her, looking like he was about to explode with nerves. He started talking about how anxious he was for the podcast. He knew Jake wouldn’t ask anything invasive, but he still worried he might say or do something that would rub people the wrong way.

Y/N reassured him that he had nothing to worry about—it was just a conversation, like any other. He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before putting on the outfit she had picked out for him.

“Hi Pussies, and welcome back to Therapuss! Today, I’m so excited to have the only NFL player I know, Los Angeles Chargers quarterback Justin Herbert!” Jake introduced as everyone in the studio clapped. Justin waved at the camera with his signature dorky smile. “Okay, Justin, before we get to know you, I wanna know—what are you therapissed about today?”

“Therapissed?” Justin repeated, trying to think of something that had frustrated him. “I’ve got one. It takes a lot to upset me, but my biggest pet peeve is when people leave their shopping carts anywhere but the cart return. Y/N and I went to the store today, and the parking lot was packed. We thought we’d found the perfect spot, but as I pulled into it—boom!—there’s a cart right in the way.” Jake giggled as Justin continued. “The worst part? The cart return was right across from the spot.”

Jake nodded, chuckling. “I think I’ve only seen you truly upset once, and I’ve known you for about a year.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty chill, but when it comes to my family, I can lose it. Like, commentators can say whatever they want about me—I really don’t care. The NFL is tough, and it’s not easy. But when Y/N and I started dating, it felt like everyone’s focus was on her, and it was just frustrating.”

Jake smirked. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. You’ve got this ‘I’m just a chill guy’ vibe, so it’s funny to see you get those little bursts of frustration—especially in games or in the media. Like, remember that game in Vegas this year? Y/N brought me, and we were sitting above the field, and I still heard you shout, ‘What are you waiting for?’ That was scary.”

“Yeah, well, that’s football for you,” Justin shrugged, trying to act casual. “I’m nothing like that off the field.”

The conversation flowed easily from there. Jake asked about Justin’s growing up in Eugene, his time at the University of Oregon, and how he’d probably have been a doctor if football hadn’t worked out. Y/N was excited to see her boyfriend open up, especially with the cameras rolling.

“I remember how obsessive Y/N was about you when you first started dating,” Jake laughed, glancing at Y/N, who buried her face in her hands. “When you became a TCL partner, she’d see those TV boxes everywhere, and it was her mission to take a picture with every single one.”

“I’m so lucky to have her,” Justin said, grinning.

“Okay, I’m gonna throw up,” Jake joked, putting his hand over his heart.

“Every time I look at her, I just wonder how every person who’s had the chance to meet her hasn’t fallen for her, even just a little bit.”

Justin smiled at Y/N, who returned his look. She knew how much he loved her. He showed it in every way he could, but it never stopped making her heart skip a beat.

“You two are the worst,” Jake sighed, shaking his head. “I genuinely hate you two so much.”

“Jake, we’ve had this conversation before,” Justin teased. “I’m totally ready to put you on one of those dating shows. Love Island would be perfect for you.”

The podcast wrapped up about 20 minutes later, and Jake and Justin filmed a few promotional videos and took some photos for social media before everyone headed out for lunch. The vibe was light and easy—lunch was more like a hangout than anything else. The podcast crew was small, and they were all good friends of Y/N and Jake, so it felt more like a family gathering than a work event.

Once it was time to go home, Y/N and Justin dropped Jake off at his place. The entire drive there, the trio sang along to their favorite songs,as if they were on an episode of Carpool Karaoke.

“Thanks so much, Mom and Dad!” Jake teased as he got out of the car. He gave Justin their signature handshake, the one that Y/N still had no idea when or how they’d come up with it, but she loved every time they did it. “Justin, thanks for coming on the pod. I can’t wait for it to come out!”

Y/N laughed, watching them. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jake turned to her with a grin. “And thank you for letting me ‘borrow your boyfriend’ for an hour,” he said, throwing her a wink.

“Anytime,” she replied with a teasing smile.

Once Jake was out of the car and waving goodbye, Y/N and Justin headed home. The whole way, Y/N couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Thanks for doing that,” she said, glancing over at Justin.

“Of course. I’d take any chance to talk about you for an hour,” he replied with a grin, his fingers intertwining with hers as he kissed the back of her hand. She squeezed his hand, smiling even more. “You’re such a dork”

“I mean it,” Justin said, his tone sincere. “You’re my favorite topic.”

Y/N's heart fluttered, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as they drove, feeling completely at peace

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four teaser+moodboard (JYH x reader).

this mini series is part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

status: wip (i still have a bit to go, sorry ya'll). chapter title: i love you, i'm sorry. word count (so far, more to go): 15.8k teaser word count: 1.2k posted: 01/26/2025 taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay

notes: hey everyone... how ya'll doing... OKAY, SO. I've been writing like crazy these past couple of days and I explained it in a post before but I just want to let everyone know that I'm a little busy with life, finding a remote stable job (or a job at all at this point) is a little hard, especially when the only thing you do succesfully is being a writer lmao. so I've been focusing on that instead of this but!!! I'm almost done with this chapter. I do think we're getting a chapter five, a shorter one, just to kind of explain how everything goes after the end of chapter four and that's going to be cooking as soon as this chapter goes live! ANYWAY. I wanted to give you all a little teaser that covers a little of what's to come in this one. it's my favorite one so far, too, so I'm really looking forward to you reading it!

remember that I have a permanent taglist form! that way, i can tag you in all my future works <3 also, if you'e reading this on the tags, here's my main masterlist and the mbc!masterlist if you want to catch up!

thank you all for being so patient and into the teaser we go.

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh.

Well, well, well... If it isn't the enemy turning into a potential lover time. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THE TEASER. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[catladyoftheyr]

ೀ⋆｡🍞𝓑𝓾𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓞𝓿𝓮𝓷 🍞｡⋆ ೀ

𝘕𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: you call Nanami home from a mission early for a special surprise 🤰

Word count: just under 700 I believe, short & sweet

Notes/ warnings: tooth rotting fluff, all ages welcome. Loosely inspired by That would be enough from Hamilton 💖

ETA: thanks for letting me know I completely forgot to copy paste the actual fic from my docs, Jelly 🤦🏼‍♀️

── ���୧ ── ୨୧ ── ୨୧ ── ୨୧ ── ୨୧ ── ୨୧ ──

You were filled with emotion, specifically gratitude when Nanami walked through the front door of your shared home. You said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God sent him home in one piece this time. He was quiet, clearly exhausted from his latest mission. You greeted him with a soft kiss, enveloping him in your arms. “I’m so glad to see you, Ken,” you murmured in his ear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You inhaled, taking in the scent of his cologne mixed with hair product, a tinge of natural musk coming through.

“They sent me home early. I was scheduled to be in Kyoto for at least another week.” He mused while stroking your hair. “They didn’t give an explanation either, I hope my work is still satisfactory.”

“I’m sure your work is exceptional, dear. You’re a strong grade 1 sorcerer that anyone would be happy to work with. Don’t worry so much, darling. It’s not good for you.” You slowly broke your embrace, leading your husband toward the kitchen. “I have a surprise for you”

“You spoil me, my love,” Kento said, holding your hand as he followed you. “If anything I should be grateful to you for being such a good wife.”

“Oh hush. Now sit down and close your eyes.”

“As you wish”

“Thank you. Now no peeking! It’s important.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” A grin spread across Nanami’s face, his smile lines letting you fall in love all over again.

You pulled a small brown box out of the cupboard where you’d hidden it. Inside was a loaf of fresh sourdough from Nanami’s favorite neighborhood bakery. The bread was still fresh, having been picked up earlier in anticipation of your husband’s return. You’d arranged for them to write a special message for him to see when he opened it, and you’d carefully placed an envelope with your latest ultrasounds under the paper in the bottom of the box.

You placed the gift on the table and strode to stand behind Nanami. You bent over, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and whispering in his ear. “You can look now”

You released him from your grip to let him open his surprise, eager to see his reaction. “You shouldn’t have” he murmured.

“You deserve it. I had them make it special this afternoon”

Nanami opened the box slowly, taking in the scent of the bread with great joy. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the writing on the inside of the lid. “There’s a bun.. in the oven?” He looked at you with slight confusion as the wheels turned inside his head.

“Goodness, Ken. Look under the bread; under the paper.”

He did as he was asked, gingerly lifting the bread and its barrier from the box. He opened the envelope with slow precision, eyes widening as pulled the ultrasound images out. You could see the moment he connected the dots. “Wait a minute. Are you?”

“Yes. I’m pregnant! You’re going to be a dad, honey.”

Nanami sat in stunned silence for several moments, processing the information you’d laid on him. “How far?” He asked, seemingly only capable of simple sentences currently.

“8 weeks, my love. I’ve known for about two now, but you were in Kyoto, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I said anything. So truth be told I requested you home early. I couldn’t stand waiting any longer. Your performance is exceptional as usual, dear.”

“I’m speechless. Truly. But I’m overjoyed to be a father. You’re going to make a wonderful mother, sweetheart. I couldn’t be happier to embark on this next chapter of our lives together.”

[missseong]

a quick drabble of how you meet gi-hun and how he falls for you hehe

Gihun was a reserved man after the games; he wasn’t actively seeking new people to get involved in his chaotic life. He kept his head down in public, maintained a good distance from people on the sidewalk, and avoided those he knew before the games. It was just him. He’d sit against the corner of the bed with his knees pressed against his chest and think, why bring someone into my life to risk theirs ?

The older man would mull over his memories, late at night with anxiety and anger drowning him. He’d think of all the possible ways he could’ve died in the games, like dalgona or the glass bridge, or if he killed someone— that thought kept him up all night. A lingering fear that he had killed someone on accident and just never realized it.

Gihun was still kind and helpful, but his altruistic actions felt distant to him now. His spark was dim but still lit, even if he felt like he was being manipulative. But here he was, smoking in the rain, watching a young woman struggling to open the door of her small business while balancing a comically large box and umbrella.

He jogged to you without a second thought. “Here— I’ll help you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said with a smile. He took the box from your grasp with ease. Quickly, you hold the umbrella over him while fumbling with your keys again. You open the door, stepping aside for him to enter before you. “Thank you, I should’ve just placed it on the ground, but I didn’t want anything to get wet.”

“It’s no problem,” he said.

Your warm smile made him still at the entrance of your business, a little café. It was four buildings down from his motel. He had seen people go in and out all day for the past few weeks since it opened, but he wasn’t into treating himself so he never checked it out. He set the box down near the front counter.

He watched as you bent down to open the box, briefly checking the contents over. His curiosity got the best of him and he peered inside. There were bagged sandwiches, juice containers, sanitary supplies, and other items he couldn’t distinguish. “What’s all that?”

Gihun stunned himself for asking someone a question but pushed the feeling aside when you turned to him with a small smile. “I gift it to the people who need it for free,” you said. As simple as your response was, he was hooked after that.

The two of you would casually bump into each other often after meeting. You would smile and wave, bring him small goodies from your bakery (which began as a ‘thank you for helping with the box’ but quickly became a routine), and chat with him. As much as you liked to get to know him, he developed strong feelings for you.

You could talk to him about your favorite dish on the other side of South Korea from a little market off the coast, and he would probably bring it to you that night. Actually, he was doing that. “Hey,” he said as he lifted the bag slightly, “I wanted to bring this over earlier, but you looked busy and didn’t want to bother you.”

“Is this…?” Your eyes widen with excitement and reach for the bag. “Gihun– you shouldn’t have! You wouldn’t have bothered me, I was busy, but I love talking to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gihun couldn’t get enough of your smile. He started doing little (and large) gestures more frequently to hear your laughter and see the way your eyes would light up around him. Being around you reminded him of the simply good people in the world who look out for others, it reminded him of feeling happy.

The two of you would quickly catch feelings for each other. He felt guilty at times for liking you. It felt selfish to find you interesting and want to spend time with you because if he cared about you, shouldn’t he want you to be far from his mess for fear of getting you into trouble? But you reeled him back in every time he tried to distance himself with a little pastry in hand as you knocked at his motel entrance and a smile to his camera.

[shybunny]

18+ ONLY 💗 werewolf roommate takes care of you when your abuser shows up at a party, plot heavy, hurt/comfort, party antics, giving orders, guided masturbation, control play, dog cock, cute and awkward, confessing feelings, allusions to sexual trauma, alcohol

based on a very sweet request that was kinda personal so i’ll keep it anonymous :)

You and your housemates are throwing a party tonight. It started out as just a small thing, but it always goes like this with these kinds of events, word gets out, people bring their friends, friends of friends, and then suddenly the house is way too crowded and loud. You don’t even know half the people here at this point. You and the werewolf—one of your housemates—are standing together in the corner, holding tight to your plastic cups, trying to get out of the way of all the milling bodies. The werewolf is the biggest person in this room, and even he managed to get swept aside. You always find his large awkward presence comforting in these situations. You wonder if he’s noticed how you always seek him out.

Then the front door opens again, and in through the doorway comes the last person in the world you want to see. Your stomach plunges. Who the hell invited him? You take a second to decide if you’re brave enough to stand your ground, and you decide that the answer is no.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say abruptly. You turn and force your way through the crowd, down the hallway and into your room where you slam the door shut. It’s not far enough away. You wish the house had a staircase you could crawl up.

You sit down on the bed and feel your heart pounding uncomfortably with shame and fear. You hate having him here.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“What?” you call out, irritated.

The door opens, and a large furry head pokes itself in. The werewolf steps halfway inside, blocking the half-open door with his large body, and stares at you where you’re sitting on the bed.

“Uh… are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Is it that guy who just came in?” he asks.

“Uh…… yeah.” Whatever. You decide to just tell him. “Remember when I told you about that guy, who like… did stuff to me?” You stare down at your fidgeting hands, trying to figure out how to say the rest.

“Yeah…” says the werewolf. “Okay… Stay here.”

Before you can say anything else, he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. You get up and go to the door, cracking it back open just enough to hear him over the noise in the other room, saying, “Hey, you need to leave right now.”

You hear the angry reply—“What, man?”—in that stupid, annoying voice.

“Get the fuck out.”

A medium-sized commotion follows, in which you can hear some of your other housemates getting involved, and for a minute you’re afraid there’s going to be a fight. But it sounds like they manage to get him out the door, spitting angry but leaving nonetheless. You would be lying if you said that this didn’t make you feel extremely happy and smug.

You sit back down heavily on the bed and drain the rest of the contents of your red plastic cup. Your housemate pokes his snout back through the crack you left open in the doorway.

“Hey…” he says, leaning around the door jamb. “He’s gone.”

“I heard,” you say, staring down awkwardly at your fingers again. “Um… thank you.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No… Yes. But I need another drink first.”

“Okay,” he says, and then disappears again. He’s gone for a few more minutes, during which time you just sit there staring into space and listening to the babble of the ongoing party. When he comes back he’s carrying a whole unopened six pack.

“Those are supposed to be for the party,” you say, laughing.

“Whatever,” he says, tearing the box open in his claws and handing you a beer. He sinks down to the floor next to the bed, making himself comfortable with his own can. It looks very small in his large paws.

You’re working yourself up to say something when there’s another knock at your door, and one of your other housemates pokes their head in.

“Heyyy…” they say, looking back and forth between the two of you, then settling their eyes on your face. “You good in here?”

“Yeah,” you say, embarrassed to be fussed over.

“We kicked that guy out.”

“I know.”

“Should we throw everyone else out too?”

“No no,” you rush to say. “I’m fine, keep having fun, I’ll just be in here.”

They leave to rejoin the party, shutting the door behind them, and then it’s just the two of you again, sitting in awkward silence with the loud hum of voices in the background.

“I know it’s stupid,” you finally say, “but I feel kinda bad for making you guys kick him out.”

“No way,” says the werewolf. “Fuck that guy. It’s your house.”

The two of you spend the rest of the party talking alone in your room. You go through the whole six pack together. You tell him a lot—too much probably—and you’re pretty happy with yourself because you don’t even cry. The noise of the party continues in the background, fading in and out, breaking into occasional cheers and exclamations as a game gets played, until you can hear it finally starting to wind down out there.

There’s something else you want to tell the werewolf. You might as well, since you’re already oversharing. You’re lying on your back in bed now, staring up at the ceiling, so you don’t even have to look him in the face.

“Is this a weird time to tell you that I have a huge crush on you?”

His large shoulders shake as he laughs. “It’s a little weird.”

“You like me too, don’t you,” you accuse him.

“Yeah,” he admits, still laughing.

You don’t think it’s very funny though. All the breath leaves your body in a heavy sigh. “So what do we do now?” you ask him. “I don’t know how to be intimate with you. It’s hard for me to touched… like that.”

“We don’t have to be ‘intimate’ with each other just because we like each other.”

“But don’t you want to?” you demand.

“Well—yeah,” he says, and you can hear him laughing again.

“Me too,” you say, sighing again. “That’s the problem.” You wish you could laugh with him, but you’re starting to regret all this oversharing. This isn’t a very sexy conversation. You’re suddenly worried that you’re scaring him away.

“Okay,” he says. “Here’s my idea.” When he doesn’t say anything else, you lift your head to look at him. He’s lying down on his back on the floor, spreading his long body out across the carpet. He reaches his arms up over his head, so that his large paws are resting near his ears, out of the way.

“I would just lay here like this,” he says, looking up at you, “and you could do whatever you wanted to me. I’d keep my hands to myself, and I’d do whatever you said, and I wouldn’t move at all unless you told me to. And like, maybe it wouldn’t freak you out so much.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, right now?”

“Oh. Well—” He looks a little taken aback by that, but his eyes hold yours shyly. He doesn’t move from his prone position and his paws stay where they are. “Yeah. If you want.”

You stare at each other for several seconds, him looking up at you from where he’s spread out on the floor, and you looking down at him from up on the bed.

“You’ll do whatever I say?” you ask again.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, laughing. “How do we, uh… how should we start?”

“However you want,” he says seriously.

“Right. Okay… Can you um, take your shirt off?”

He reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt, and then pulls it up over his head, wriggling out of it, tossing it aside and then placing his paws back on either side of his head—awaiting orders.

“Your pants too,” you blurt out, fighting not to laugh. You’re kind of messing with him. You want to see how far he’ll actually go. But he obediently lifts his hips and slides his pants down over his hips, wiggling out of those too and then kicking them off. He puts his paws back up over his head, in a pose that now seems unintentionally seductive. Almost all of his body is on display for you, all of his long limbs and interesting musculature, all of that short messy fur. Your gaze follows his down to his boxers, the only thing he’s still wearing, and to all of the interesting shapes suggested underneath the fabric.

“Those too,” you say.

He hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slowly slides them off, and then he’s completely naked on your bedroom floor. You can see where his thick fur gets a little lighter and sparser over his lower belly and between his legs, where his testicles and his thick sheath are now visible, with the red tip of his cock just starting to poke out.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, but your voice is a little wobbly. You’re feeling a lot of pretty intense things right now, in lots of different places. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he says, almost smiling.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Can you, uh…” You can’t help laughing. “Can you feel yourself up a little bit?”

“Seriously?” he asks, laughing with you, a little breathlessly.

“Yeah, like… stroke your chest or something. I don’t know, is that too much?”

“No,” he says. “I’ll do it.”

He slides both of his large paws into the fur over his chest awkwardly, unsure. He gives you a helpless look and then you’re both laughing again.

“I’m gonna do it,” he insists, his voice husky, both of you still laughing. He starts to runs his paws through his fur, slowly stroking up and down his chest and stomach, self-conscious at first, but then you think he starts to get into it, and his breath hitches whenever his fingers graze the small nipples running in pairs up his stomach. Between his legs, his alarmingly red cock is starting to slip farther and farther out of its sheath. You feel mesmerized watching him.

“Is this good?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yeah,” you say. Your voice is rough around the edges. “Can you touch your thighs too.”

He laughs, embarrassed but obeying, sliding his large paws down his stomach and onto his legs. His fingers run slowly back and forth through the light fur on his inner thighs, obediently touching only where you’ve asked him to, even though his cock has slid most of the way out by now, long and thick and dripping. He’s almost teasing himself now, since that’s the most he can do, his breath catching as he runs his fingers along the creases between his thighs and pelvis. And the part that’s driving you the most insane is that he’s looking right at you as he does this, his head tilted towards you and his eyes looking right into yours as he waits for your next instructions.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” you ask, almost whispering now.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Do it.”

You watch enraptures as he teases himself through his sheath first, still watching your face, whining a bit, then shutting his eyes and groaning as he slides his fist around his cock, gently stroking around the base. He gets lost in himself for a little bit, and then his stroking fist slows, his eyes blink open and find yours again, breathing heavy as he watches you.

You have to clear your throat before you can speak. “Are you still okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he grins hearing how his own voice sounds, how husky he sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You’re doing great,” you blurt out, and there’s this giddiness in your voice that has you both laughing again. “Me neither,” you clarify. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, keep, um… stroking it.”

“Okay,” he says, with another snort of laughter. But soon he has himself panting again as he works his fist over his cock, half-lidded eyes looking for yours but then falling shut, losing his focus as he strokes himself, getting himself closer.

“Don’t cum yet though,” you say.

“Fuck,” he says, laughing hoarsely. “I won’t.” His fist slows around his cock, and he whines as he gives it few more long strokes before stopping altogether, panting and staring into your face. You actually feel like you might overheat if you don’t go cool off for a second.

“I wanna go get some water,” you tell him. “Can you wait here?”

“I can wait,” he says.

“Don’t touch yourself while I’m gone.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I won't,” he says, and he makes a show of placing his long arms back up over his head, away from his throbbing red cock.

You slip out of the room, full of nervous energy as you sneak down the hallway to the kitchen. The place is basically empty now, but the evidence of the party is strewn around everywhere in the form of plastic cups, paper plates, pizza crusts, and forgotten jackets. The TV’s still on, and someone is passed out on the couch in front of it. You go into the fridge and pour a glass of water out of the filter. You drink it in one long pull, and then you fill it up again. When you close the fridge door, one of your housemates is standing there, smirking at you from ear to ear. They have clearly guessed what you and the werewolf are getting up to in your bedroom right now.

“Shut up!” you say, even though they didn’t say anything, and you race back to your room, fuming with embarrassment. But once you shut the door behind you, everything outside the room evaporates. There’s still a very large werewolf lying naked and spread out on your floor, with his half-hard cock out and his eyes looking up at you in patient expectation. You feel a twinge of something close to panic. Trying to ignore it, you kneel down next to him and hand him the glass of water. He takes it from your hand, but he doesn’t sit up to drink it.

“You can sit up,” you tell him, embarrassed all over again.

He looks embarrassed too, but he sits up next to you to drink the water. You suddenly feel very small sitting there next to his large body. You really did feel more comfortable with him on his back, that was a good intuition on his part. He thanks you for the water, wiping his muzzle with the back of his hand, and you think with unease about what’s going to happen next. Now that you’ve had a second to clear your head, you don’t think you’re actually ready for this to go any farther. But now that you’ve instigated this, do you have a choice? Will he get mad if you want to stop? Your mind starts spinning itself into anxious circles, but his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Is it cool if we stop?”

You blink up at him. “Yes of course. Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah, I’m fine…” He looks down at the carpet, looking embarrassed. “It’s not like I’m not, you know, enjoying myself. It’s just that…” He grins sheepishly. “I think we're both pretty drunk.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Do you wanna call it for now and see what we feel like in the morning?”

He looks at you with his big eyes serious, and his warm close presence still feels comforting and safe.

“Yeah,” you say. You look down at your fingers as you take his large paw in your hands. “But I don’t want you to go.”

“Can I sleep here?”

You grin at him. “Carry me to bed?” He grins back and slips his long arms under you and carefully stands, lifting you into the air, both of you laughing. It’s not the first time he’s carried you around like this—he’s very warm, and the touch feels familiar and safe.

He puts you down in bed, but stops to pick his boxers up off the floor and tug them back on before getting into bed beside you. He’s huge, and the two of you barely fit, but you make it work. He loops his long warm arm around your waist, clutching your body close to his, and he falls asleep almost instantly. He must have been more drunk than you realized. You hear his deep rumbling breaths that will eventually turn into snores. Your heart is aching with an overwhelming feeling. You feel perfectly safe. You fall asleep in his arms.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 62

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,500ish

Summary: Wade continues to search for a solution while Logan, Laura, and you try to fix the previous night.

Notes: I hope y'all like this chapter! I just had to get it out as soon as possible. Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Have you found anything?” B-15 asked, coming over to the table that Wade had spread the files on.

“I have found that only five Ember’s, including my Buttercup, have her phoenix ability and none of them had power problems like her,” Wade stated, still searching through the files. “She is truly unique, which I could have told everyone, but I didn’t need her to be this unique.”

“Keep looking. There has to be something.”

“There’s a few leads here and there, but nothing that could heal her completely.”

B-15 sighed. “Maybe she can’t be healed completely. Maybe all you can do is find her something that allows her to live without pain for as long as possible.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying that maybe saving her looks a little different than you hoped.”

Deep down, Wade knew that B-15 was correct. But he wasn’t about to stop looking for something that would save you. Logan, Laura, and Wade wouldn’t be able to survive if your powers were to finally end your life. They wouldn’t survive watching you in pain like that, though he knew that none of them would leave your side. Wade had to keep looking and he wouldn’t return until he found a solution.

~~~

Logan didn’t get any sleep that night, too worried about you. In the morning, he went down to the nearest bakery and grabbed some pastries. It took him awhile to settle on a wide variety since he realized that he didn’t know what you or Laura enjoyed. As he walked back, Logan paused in front of a flower shop. He looked at all the different flowers and hated that he knew his old you’s favorite flower but not yours. He didn’t want to bring you a bouquet that could be wrong, but he wanted to still bring you something. Just to see you smile after the hard night you had.

The florist was clearly unimpressed when he asked for two bouquets, with one of every flower in each. Logan didn’t care though. He didn’t know your favorite flower or Laura’s, he had to make do with it and next time he’d hopefully know.

Arms full, Logan headed back to your apartment. He had a key that he could easily use, but after Laura throwing him out last night, he wasn’t going to cross that line. He knocked on the door the best he was able to with the items in his grasp. Logan’s nerves felt like they were on fire as he waited for someone to answer the door. He was hoping that it would be you, not knowing if Laura would let him in or not. His stomach tightened as Laura opened the door.

“Mornin’,” he greeted. “I, uh, brought you and your mom some pastries and flowers.”

“Come in,” Laura said, quietly. She moved out of the way to allow Logan to enter.

“Thanks.”

Logan stepped inside and stood near the door as Laura closed it. Glancing around, he couldn’t see you anywhere. His concern grew thinking that you might have had a harder night than he thought.

“Mom’s asleep,” Laura explained, already knowing what he was thinking. “But I can wake her—“

“No, no,” he interrupted, “don’t. Your mom needs her sleep.”

Laura nodded and motioned to the dinner table with her head. “Let’s sit down.”

Logan followed Laura over to the table. He set down the box of pastries and one of the bouquets before offering the other bouquet to Laura. “I, uh, didn’t know what flowers you and your mom liked.”

“These are for me?” Laura timidly took the bouquet from him.

“Yes.”

“But I was terrible to you last night.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“But it is. You didn’t deserve it. Mom told me that you helped her. Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Laura, it was just a misunderstanding. I know that you and your mom have been through a lot and I understand that you’re protective of her. It’s just been you and her for a while and now it’s not. I’m here to help both of you— oof!” Laura had barreled into Logan, gripping him in a tight hug. It took Logan a moment, but he eventually hugged back.

“Thank you,” Laura was crying into Logan’s shirt. “Thank you for being here… for her… for me.”

He pressed a kiss to her head. “Of course, kid. You’re stuck with me. No matter what.”

“And my favorite flowers are Fire Lillies because they remind me of mom.”

Logan chuckled lightly as they continued to hold each other. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“What’s going on out here?” Your voice came from the end of the hallway. You were confused as to why Logan and Laura were hugging.

“The kid was just apologizing,” explained Logan, pulling away from Laura. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you told him, coming over to the table. “What’s all this?”

“Uh, these are for you and Laura.”

“He brought us both a bouquet,” Laura said with a grin.

“I can see that.” You looked over at the bouquet in her hands and then at the one at the table.

“Here,” Logan quickly grabbed it and handed it to you. “I, um… I’m sorry that I didn’t know what your favorite flower was.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, holding the flowers close. “These are perfect. Thank you, Lo.”

“I’ll grab vases,” Laura said, taking your bouquet from you and taking the needed steps over to the kitchen.

You sat down at the table and dragged the box of pastries closer. You lifted the box and took in the smell. “Are these from the bakery down the street?”

“Yes,” Logan answered as he sat in the chair beside you. “Again, uh, I’m sorry that I don’t know your favorite.”

“Logan, the flowers were already too much, please don’t hold it against yourself. I’ll honestly eat most pastries anyway.”

Logan nodded. “Good to know.” His eyes found themselves studying your bandaged arms as you reached for one of the pastries. He noticed that some blood had managed to bleed through. “I’ll be right back.” Logan stood up and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing the needed supplies before going back to sit beside you. “Give me your arm.”

“I can rebandage myself, Lo.”

“No need, I’m here.” He reached over and carefully pulled your arm straight. “Just sit there and eat the pastries. You need somethin’ in you if your body’s gonna heal.”

“You’re bossy this morning,” you teased, taking one of the pastries out.

“Gotta be, doll. You’re far too stubborn.”

~~~

Breakfast was full of talking and laughter. It was a nice change of pace from the day before. Laura eventually had to go to work as did Logan, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You sat on the couch, staring at the two bouquets of flowers that sat in jars on the table. Despite how crazy and ugly they might seem to others, they were beautiful to you. It made you think of Laura’s words last night.

Logan did make you happy. The happiest you had been in a long time. You were impressed with how hard he was trying to make up for past mistakes, though they had nothing to do with you. He was also trying so hard to just be there for you and Laura. It meant so much.

You sighed as your eyes fell to the ring that weighed heavily on your finger. Your feelings were all over the place, though was thing was clear. You felt like you were cheating on your husband. It was ridiculous. Your husband was dead—well, technically no, he was still out in the world with a younger version of you—but he was dead to you. You thought after so long, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But now that feelings were starting to rise in you about this Logan, it began hurting again. And you had no clue what to do. You knew that this Logan deserved better than a confused widow. Though you were pretty positive that didn’t matter to him. 

Your other hand pulled off your ring slowly and held it up. This ring symbolized a lot. It held a lot of weight—a lot of memories and a lot of love. You hated the thought of taking it off permanently. It felt like you were forgetting your Logan—your James. But you knew that it was part of the reason you couldn’t fully heal and try to move on. You brought it up to your lips, closing your eyes as you pressed a kiss to it. A tear slipped passed your closed eyes.

“I love you, James,” you whispered. “And I miss you every day.”

You pulled the dog tags out from under your shirt and over your head. Opening up the chain, you slipped the ring next to the dog tags. You closed up the chain and held the items in your hands. The ring had sat next to these dog tags for years and it felt like they belonged there. You wiped the tears away before slipping the necklace back on and tucking it under your shirt.

Your finger felt empty as you moved your fingers around, trying to get used to the lack of weight. It would take longer than a few seconds though to fully get used to it, but you would eventually. As you sat there, you came to the conclusion that another ring would never sit on your finger again. Your marriage was between you and James, no one else could step into that place. Yes, maybe a relationship could come down the line, but there would be no marriage from it. Your husband would always be James.

Taking a deep breath, your thoughts returned to Logan. You don’t know if anything would come of your sprouting feelings for him— you may not let anything— but you knew that you couldn’t lose his friendship. He had changed your life in more ways than you truly knew and you were so grateful for him. As you thought more on it, you realized that you didn’t do enough for him and that you wanted to put more effort into helping him like he was helping you. And so you would do just that.

~~~

Laura came home to find you in the kitchen cooking dinner. 

“Hey, kiddo,” you greeted, throwing her a smile. “How was your second day?”

“It was good,” she replied, dropping her things on the table. “Still just training. But I think I’ll like this job.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How was your day, mom?”

“It was good. Just spent the day here, cleaning, and now I’m making dinner.”

Laura nodded and moved to look at what you were making. “This is Logan’s favorite meal of yours,” she immediately noted.

“Just a thank you for the flowers and the pastries this morning.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

“Laura, don’t read into it, please.”

“I’m not, I’m not. But you are lucky that Wade’s not here to mention anything.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do hope he’s okay. We haven’t heard from Wade at all.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He got into plenty of trouble before us and seemed to be able to get out of it, I’m sure now is no different.”

“I guess.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. Laura stood near, watching you cook until she noticed something. She stepped closer and grabbed your hand, stopping you from working.

“Mom, where’s your ring?” She asked, clearly concerned.

“With the dog tags around my neck,” you told her.

“What? Why?”

“It’s the next step to healing… at least, it’s me trying to heal more. Who knows how long it will last there. My hand feels naked.”

“Mom… that’s a big step.”

“I know. And it wasn’t an easy decision, but it was necessary.”

Laura gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go. “Need any help?”

“From you, always, kiddo.”

~~~

Logan had once again made sure he was all cleaned up before heading over to your place to check on you and Laura. As soon as he opened your apartment door, Logan recognized the smell of his favorite dinner you make.

“Hey, Lo,” you smiled, noticing him enter. “You’re just in time. Food’s all done and the table is all set.”

“Smells amazing, doll,” he complimented, heading over to the table. 

“It’s your favorite, right?”

“It is.”

“Good. I wanted to make something as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Laura.”

“You didn’t need to, darlin’.” He shook his head. “I don’t need anything as a thank you.”

“I know… I wanted to.”

Butterflies fluttered in Logan’s stomach at your actions and the way you were looking at him. Laura awkwardly cleared her throat as she sat down at the table. 

“Are we going to eat?” She wondered. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh, yeah,” Logan said, pulling himself from staring. “Here, let me.” He pulled out your chair at the end of the table.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you sat down and he pushed the chair in.

He shot you a small smile as he sat down next to you, across from Laura. The three of you immediately dug into the food, chatting away about your days. It was a comfortable scene, like it was a frequent occurrence. Once you all were done eating, Logan and Laura cleaned up, forcing you not to move from the couch.

“I’m heading to bed,” Laura said once dinner was cleaned up. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, kiddo,” you told her.

“Night, kid,” Logan said. His focus returned to you. “You need anything?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m good.”

He came over and sat beside you. “How are your bandages?”

“They’re fine. Should be off tomorrow.”

“Good, good.” His eyes still scanned your arms to check for himself, pausing at your hand. His brows furrowed as he noticed that something was missing: your ring. “Darlin’, where’s your wedding ring? Did you lose it or somethin’? I can help you find it. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“It’s okay, Lo,” you stopped his hurried offerings with a hand to his arm. “It’s just around my neck. It’s still with me.”

He nodded, not fully knowing how to respond to that. He didn’t know if he was his place to pry as to way you had decided to take it the ring off your finger after all this time.

“Well, I, uh, I should get going,” he said, standing up. “Thanks again for dinner. It was amazing.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you continually do for me and Laura.” You stood up with him and walked him to the door. 

“It’s no big deal. I’m here to help.”

“I truly appreciate it, Logan. Really.” You opened the door for him, allowing him to step through. “Goodnight, Lo.”

“Goodnight, doll. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

next chapter >

[kabr0ztrousers]

Got a request! A rich male alien that adores and loves to spoil a fem reader who is his captive lover. She tried to escape and he gives her a choice in punishment. She chooses the least threatening one which is to be the refreshments for a party he's hosting. Whatever the heck “refreshments” mean. She'll know when her tits get bigger and start to leak a lot.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 26: Disciplinary action

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Lactation; dubcon; noncon; intox; Interspecies; sextoy use; lack of liberty; sexual punishment; cunnilingus; some femdom; it's a fun time

A/N: This is the last request in the box 😱 If you have an idea you'd like me to write into being, have a kink you want me to indulge, or just want to tell me my writing's hackneyed and uninspiring, please please please click my profile and send an ask, a DM, it's all open. Do it now before the post-nut clarity hits!

And with that out of the way:

#########################################

It's been six months since humankind was bought in a land deal. Most of your race exists in vast facilities where they're milked like cattle, kept alive on a mixture of algae and drugs. Some still live in cities on Earth, playing pretend that the world hasn't ended for the benefit of tourists. The rest are like you: domestic housepets.

You touched the back of your skull, feeling the almond-sized implant your owner put there. Somewhere between an ID and a shock collar. You don't know what happens if it triggers, and hopefully you'll have it cut out before you find out. A chittering sound echoed over the ships tannoy. You listened intently. The Chitinid language may sound like a can of dry peas being dropped down stairs, but it's intelligible if you learn how. You catch the important parts.

You'll hit the jump gate in 20 rels, then be in witchspace for another 30. You know you're in Sol at the moment. 20 rels is about an hour old-Earth time. Plenty of time to get to an escape pod. If you time it just right, you'll jettison on the Solar side and the ship will be God knows where by the time they notice you missing.

Now's the time to make your move. You hurry down the azure-lit hallways of the starship. Your clothing isn't meant to be easy to move in, all wispy fabric and high heels. It's not doing anything to preserve your modesty, rather drawing the eye to your bare tits, ass, and pussy. The Chitinids don't even have compatible genitals to fuck a human with, but it still seems to be fashionable to dress their pets like they do.

Playing the idiot housepet has its perks. Chitinids don't expect you to understand them when they speak their language. Humans can't make those kinds of sounds, and they're capable of speaking Human languages, so English, Spanish, and Mandarin tend to be the common languages. Nobody challenges you as you pass them, they barely look at you.

At last, the escape pod door. Now just to open the hatch.

You realised your mistake as soon as you touched the controls. A heat radiated from the nodule at the base of your skull. Static radiated down your spine. Your arms went to sleep, then your legs. You collapsed into a heap, limbs twitching.

You don't know how long you stayed there. You felt the lurching sickness as the ship jumped to witchspace, then the reverse-headache of regaining normality. Only then did your owner appear.

He was as grotesque as the rest of his race. A huge beetle, stood on its spindly hindlegs, the stopping slouch of all Chitinids keeping him no more than about 4 or 5 feet tall. The two left forelimbs held a staff, some symbol of office. In his right he held your remote. He clicked a button and your arms came back. You dragged yourself to a sit, your legs still twitching and numb.

Your owner walked away, leaving you to drag yourself behind him using your arms. The bastard was leading you back to his cabin, you were sure of it, but he was taking the scenic route. He made sure to pass every damn member of the crew, the chittering laughs turning your face red with embarrassment and rage. At last you reached his quarters. Two armoured security guards stood to attention as he passed them.

"So. You are the rebellion. This to be punish." He still hasn't got the hang of English. "I am generous owner. Pet gets to choose punish.

You glared at him, silent hatred burning in your eyes

He didn't notice, or didn't care. "First option: Brig, I turn on your collar and you stay in brig for week or two" Staying in the brig without even the use of your limbs? Not particularly enticing. "Second: I get male Human from friend. You make me many more pets" You almost shuddered at that one. "Third: We travel to a business deal. Big party after. You give refreshments"

Ok. Two nightmare scenarios, or a shift working hospitality for some assholes? Fuck, you were a cocktail waitress before the world went to Hell, it'll almost be nostalgic. "Three" You spat the word at him, and he sat back.

"Good. Party in a day. Put on nice clothes. Best behaviour, or you get brig and I get more humans." You bit your lip, you knew better than to try and backtalk him when he got like this. Especially not now you know what the "collar" implanted in you does.

He switched your legs back on after you'd left the cabin. You could at least walk properly back to your room. You whiled away the time imagining yourself cracking open his carapace like an overgrown lobster, before dressing in some fresh silks and making your way to the docking umbilical. He was waiting for you there, chittering with another one you didn't recognise, also holding a staff.

You could see the other ones pet. A young man. You shivered to look at him. Angry welts criss-crossed his back. While your silks were revealing, they were comfortable. He was dressed in leather straps, over-tightened and decorated with spikes pressing into his skin. He was gagged tightly, a rubber ball stuck in his mouth and a strand of drool leaking down. His genitals were bound up in a shiny cage, indicator lights flashing on it occasionally. You noticed he would twitch and groan when they did, it was probably set up to electocute him periodically. You knew better than to ask, but this was probably your prospective mate if you misbehaved tonight.

"Are we early?" You asked as sweetly as you were able. Your customer service voice was a little rusty, but you had all night to practice.

The Chitinids laughed "Right on time" The new one spoke much better English than your owner. "But you're not fully dressed."

You felt a sharp pain in your ass. Your owner had stuck you with something. You shot him a glare, but they only laughed harder.

You stepped into the party, and the room looked at you. Most were uninterested, paying more attention to the beetles behind you as you let yourself be ushered to the centre of the room.

A rail shot up around you, and an azure containment field snared you. Your arms lifted above your head and hung there, pushing your tits out. You felt strange, a tingling feeling spreading across your body.

Your tits started to ache.

The man you saw in the umbilical stepped towards you, gazing up apologetically as he knelt down. He parted your legs.

You felt fingers press against your pussy, gently rubbing into you, making your body respond. You felt yourself getting wet around him and could hear the sound of his fingering as he played with your hole.

One of the guests stepped towards you, and loudly chittered at the crowd. Something about a story, a couple, drinking, milk? Wait. Milk. Fuck. The guest produced a flask from its exoskeleton and tipped your head back, pouring the contents down your throat. You gagged at the bitter taste and the stinging burning as it flowed down. Then you moaned as your pussy became dripping wet all at once. The man's fingers slid inside you and you came hard. Your body seized as you shook in the containment field. His fingers kept pumping up into you as he buried his face in your pussy. You writhed as you felt a tongue lapping at your clit, his gag must have come off.

Your chest felt heavy, you looked down and saw your tits were growing. They were already twice as big as they were before and weren't stopping, ballooning cartoonishly more and more with every moment. You gasped and cried as the man found your g-spot, another orgasm hitting you like a train and making you lift your legs as your body tried to double over, held upright by your wrists. You'd settle for wrapping that man's head in your thighs, keeping his tongue where it belongs.

The constant stimulation along with the drugs brought you to another orgasm, then another and another. Your tits had stopped swelling now, though they're still way past conventional bra sizes. You could still feel pressure building in them, growing with every passing moment.

A servant Chitinid approached with a pair of devices, clear plastic cups with valves on the stems and strange modules inside. It wasn't until he fixed them to you that you understood. They're the devices used in the farms. To regulate flow of milk from the cattle. The servant turned a tap, and you felt it start extracting milk from you. The feeling of being milked, on top of the fingering and riding the man's face was too much. Your head rolled back and you screamed put your orgasm to the cheers of all the Chitinids present. The servant filled a glass with your milk and fed it too you, warm, creamy and sweet. Then the rest came, each filling glasses and chittering to one another as you came over and over again, barley giving the man working your cunt enough time to breathe between squirting your orgasms into his face.

The party lasted for hours. By the time it was over the man had already passed out between your legs and was slumped on the floor, long since replaced by a curved vibrator. Your tits were still huge and set you off balance, tipping invitingly forwards as the spigots leaked the last of your milk.

The containment field snapped off. You fell onto the unconscious man, startling him awake. Your owner stood over you, alone but for the servants and you two humans.

"Male's owner, tired of him. Sold to me for two thousand credits. You both mine now. You two get along. Make me more humans."

He walked away. You struggled to your feet, still dripping from the spigots attached to you. You helped the man up, you told him your name, he told you his.

You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted

############################

A/N (again): Just taking the time to reiterate what I wrote at the top, if there's anything you want to see, anything at all, let me know. Ask soon and you might wind up prompting the next episode

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Day 11: Convenience Store/Emerald

The ice cream drops into Kara’s basket with a rattling thud that jars her frazzled nerves even more than the humming of the flickering convenience store lights. Alex’s words echo in her ears. Words like “reckless” and “unnecessary risk” and “I should send you to the medbay. I didn’t realize that fight with Corben had melted your BRAIN.”

  Kara felt that last one was a bit much. It wasn’t like she’d been hurt or anything. And all those people in the L-Corp lab had been saved! As far as she’s concerned, that’s an absolute success!  Kara drops another pint into her basket. It hits her already tall stack and rolls off. Should she get a fourth basket? No. The plastic grocery bags might rip on her flight home.  She puts the pint back with a resigned sigh. 

And you know what? Her plan had been solid. Sure, it was risky to go straight through the kryptonite powered robots without waiting for backup but she’d been on a time crunch! And maybe Alex should think about issuing less dumb orders if she wanted Kara to follow them. “Wait while we identify the bomb” what kind of stupid idea was that? It was already ticking! 

She’s just turning the corner, still thinking about Alex and the fact that she’d actually seemed a little disappointed when Kara had told her Lena survived when she nearly slams into someone coming the opposite way. It’s only her superspeed that averts the collision as she jerks to the side just in time. In her distracted state, however, it is not enough to prevent one of her baskets from clipping the stranger’s arm, sending both her ice cream and their groceries tumbling to the floor. 

 “Oh— Oh my gosh I am so sorry! I can help you clean this up. I— Lena?” 

And it is. Tied hair mostly covered by a junky black hoodie Kara hadn’t even imagined she owned, Lena stares back at her with equal surprise behind a a pair of sunglasses. She smells faintly of burned plastic. And alcohol. 

“Hi… Kara. Nice… seeing you here?” 

Kara doesn’t think it’s intended to be a question, but she answers anyway. “It is! I would’ve thought you had people to do your midnight shopping though.” 

Lena says nothing. Probably would have been nicer if Kara hadn’t thrown her stuff all over the floor. “Oh! Here, let me help you with your… rope…and bleach.” 

Both of them pause, surveying the unique collection of bottles of lighter fluid, rope, bleach, and cartons of boxed wine. 

“Well. Lovely seeing you.” Lena says, and then she has her things shoved into her basket and is power walking down the aisle as briskly as possible without breaking into a run. 

“Lena— Lena, wait!” Kara calls after her, scooping up her ice creams. Lena pays (in cash) and by the time Kara has paid and caught up with her she is opening the door of her car. “Lena!” 

Lena pauses and looks back. 

“Are you sure you should be driving?” Kara asks, “You seem a little. Uhh—” Sloshed? Tipsy? Buzzed? “…Tired.” 

“I’m fine Kara. I drove myself here. I can drive myself home.”

“Oh, I’m sure, I just— I saw the news today.” Kara says. 

Lena stiffens at her car door. “What about it? Not like it’s the first time.” She says. Her flippant tone is somewhat undercut by the force with which she throws her bag into the back seat. 

“You almost died today. I— I heard Supergirl was cutting it pretty close with that bomb.” Kara says. It’s an understatement. After the robots and decoy bombs Kara only had arrived as it went off. It was a miracle Lena hadn’t been badly burned from the heat of the blast before Kara had gotten her cape around her.  

Lena shrugs. “Yeah, well. Another gift from Lex.” 

“Lena, that’s worse!” Kara says, harsher than she’d intended. 

Lena stops, and Kara gets the impression that Lena is truly looking at her for the first time since they met in the store. She pulls down her sunglasses, and blinks in the sudden light. Tipsy or no, her gaze is as sharp as ever. Then she sighs.

“Tell you what. You tell me what drove you to buy 37 pints of ice cream, and I tell you what the lighter fluid is for.” 

_______________

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kara is saying, as they enter the elevator to Lena’s office, her hands finally relaxing from the white knuckled fists they’d been in for most of the drive. If Lena crashes the car, Kara should be fast enough to keep everyone safe if she’s paying attention. I mean. If anything made drunk driving safe it’s having Supergirl in the passenger’s seat, right? “It’s not like I almost got blown up.” 

Kara cringes at her own words— sweet rao why did she SAY that— but Lena only shrugs. “Seems like it matters to you.” 

Kara doesn’t have much of a rebuttal to that. “Yeah. It does, I guess.” 

“Kara?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“Oh! Right. Alex and I argued.” It seems such a silly complaint now, standing next to Lena.

“What about?” Lena asks, pressing a fob to the elevator key. 

Kara pauses, searching for the right words. “I… did something… risky. At work.” Lena meets her eyes with a smile. 

“Kara Danvers? Do something risky in the pursuit of journalistic truth? Never.” 

Kara laughs, but the laughter fades quickly. “Alex was investigating the same thing I was. And she… uhh. Didn’t like my methods.” 

“Didn’t like you putting yourself at risk?”

“No. And today— today maybe came a little bit closer than I would have liked. But my plan worked! And nobody was hurt!”

“But you scared Alex.”

Kara sighed. “But I scared Alex.” The doors of the elevator open, and Lena pulls the bleach out of her shopping bag. “Sometimes I just feel like— I don’t know. Like she won’t let me be my own person. Like she’s so scared I’m going to get myself hurt that she won’t let me take a step on my own. Like she doesn’t trust me to. She’s always looked after me ever since I arrived. To the Danvers, I mean.” 

Lena blinks. “You’re adopted?” 

_______________

The smell of wine grows stronger when Lena opens her office door, and Kara tracks it to the large  purple stain that has spread across the white rug by the desk. Kara looks at Lena in question and Lena lifts the bottle of bleach with a guilty smile. 

_______________

“Have you ever bleached a rug before?” 

“No, but it can’t be that hard. You just. Like. Soak it, right?” 

“I guess? Don’t you need to dilute it?” 

“Please. This isn’t even lab grade. It can’t be that bad.” 

_______________

Ten minutes later, once they have thrown the now faintly smoking rug down the incinerator chute (Of course, I have an incinerator in my office. I run experiments, Kara), Kara finally asks, “So, you were going to tell me about the lighter fluid?” 

“Ah! Yes. Would you grab the rope? We need to bind these papers.” 

Lena doesn’t elaborate further until they’ve taken the old bags and stacks of papers and journals downstairs and out to the little park across the street from L-Corp. Or, well, Kara carries most of it as Lena struggles with her single bag. When Lena has her breath back she pants, “You’ve been holding out on me Danvers. What else do you have hiding under those cardigans of yours?” 

“Me?” Kara feels her face heat as she chokes out, “Nothing! Nothing hiding. I mean. My shirt.” 

Lena laughs like Kara’s said the funniest joke in the world and Kara relaxes. She should be more careful about lifting things. Alex would kill her if Lena found out she was Supergirl. Come to think of it Alex would kill her if she heard that Kara was alone in the park, at night, with Lena Luthor. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you have some compulsion that drags you to the nearest near-death opportunity?” 

Kara hefts the papers. Alex can suck it. 

“So, umm. What are all these?” She asks, depositing her stacks by Lena’s bag. 

“My brother’s things form the L-Corp office. Apparently, he left behind some items last time he was here. Notes, Photos, and the like. Nobody claimed them after Metropolis, so they just sat in the office cabinet. The ones the police didn’t confiscate anyway.” 

“Oh,” Kara says, eloquently. “And you wanted to do a… midnight de-clutter?” 

“Yeah.” Lena says, with a satisfied nod. “I’m gonna set it on fire.” 

“Wait, what?” 

But Lena is already grabbing rocks and arranging them in a tight ring, dropping a few journals at the center. “Would you pass me the lighter fluid?” She asks, before taking a large chug from a carton of boxed wine Kara had not realized Lena brought with her. She passes over the lighter fluid anyway. 

Lena sets about appropriately drenching the journals, takes another large gulp of wine (Kara scoots forward, hiding the other cartons behind the pile of paper.) then reaches into the bag. She freezes, then pats her pockets. “Damn!” She says, “I forgot to get matches.” She casts an eye across the park. “I suppose I’ll just have to make a spark.” 

Kara doesn’t know much about fire-starting technique, and the practiced way Lena moves suggests she does, so Kara doesn’t really move while Lena spins a small twig into a log. She succeeds in creating a small flame… which promptly goes out as Lena attempts to bring it closer to the soaked journal kindling. After several more attempts with the stick and a string of curses Kara isn’t sure are entirely in English, Kara bends over a pair of rocks and pretends to start sparking them. After a moment the campfire goes up in a roaring flame and Kara pretends to blink away the smoke while her eyes stop glowing. 

Lena beams at her. “You get more interesting by the moment, Kara Danvers. A veritable outdoorswoman.” 

Ears burning, Kara says, “Alex taught me.” And then, unfortunately, opens her mouth again. “She really likes explosives.” Dear god WHY— But Lena just nods like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say. Maybe it is in the Luthor house. Or maybe Lena’s just too drunk to know the difference. 

She tosses in a small paper pouch and the flames flash a brilliant, rippling green. Lena smiles. Her eyes reflect the fire like shining emeralds.  

  Kara feels a little dizzy. She’s hot again and she begins to sweat. She looks at the fading green flames again. Kryptonite? Lex is the kind of guy who would just have little baggies of powdered kryptonite in storage. What does she do now? Is this what Alex had been worried about? Kara begins to panic, before Lena picks up another paper sachet and whips it into the flames. Which promptly spark blue. 

“Copper.” Lena says when she catches Kara’s eye, a twinkling smile. “We used to mix up chemicals for homemade fireworks. Lillian would get so angry. Apparently smelling like sulfer and smoke is unbefitting of a Luthor.” She bends over the pile of packets and Kara hears, “Ooh! Potassium Chloride!” before the flames turn purple. 

And because Kara can never leave well enough alone, she says, “I am sorry, you know, about Lex.”

Lena stills with her back to Kara. 

“Why? Nothing changed for me today. He’s a homicidal madman. That isn’t new. I feel more sympathy for all the people caught up in that attack at the foundry across town.” 

“He was still your brother,” Kara says. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess that’s just how it is with siblings.” Lena replies. “You let them in close, they teach you everything you need to know, and then, when you least expect it, they stab you in the back.” She throws the last of the sachets into the fire. “Or blow you up.” 

And then, to Kara’s horror, Lena begins to cry. She turns away from the fire, hurriedly wiping away the tears from her face. She sniffs loudly, and laughs. 

“And, you know, I know it’s silly,” Lena says, voice trembling.“But I really thought he loved me.” 

“That’s not silly, Lena.” 

“Isn’t it? He’s done all these terrible things. This is— what? His fourth time trying to kill me? And even here, now, I look at these old notes and the only thing I can think about is when we used to sit in the treehouse and he’d tell me all about his latest projects.”

Kara picks up a photo from the pile. It’s old. Lena is probably around ten here. Lex still has his hair, a floppy early 2000s hairdo that looks almost comical knowing the man now. They’re playing chess. Lena is staring at the board, chewing on her lip with rapt focus, but Lex is looking at Lena. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. It almost looks like pride. 

“My family— My birth family were complicated people. And some of them did things that I could never understand.” Kara thinks of Astra’s wild eyes, of Non standing proud and cold before Ft. Rozz, her mother’s hologram. “I could spend the rest of my life trying to find what I could have done, what I should have said to change their mind.” Kara flicks the photo into the fire. “Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. Sometimes they go places you can’t follow.” 

“Humans are just pathetic creatures I suppose. All of us chasing after useless things.” Lena says, and she tosses a pile of papers into the fire. Old calculations, landscape sketches, and notes fizzle as they hit the flames, sending sparks out across the grass. 

“There’s nothing pathetic about loving someone, Lena. Even if it does nothing but hurt.” 

Lena doesn’t respond, busying herself untying papers to burn. Kara stares at her a moment, a hundred somethings on her tongue, and then she hears something whistling in the distance. 

“Are those sirens?” 

“Run!”  ___________

They sprint around the last alley corner and stop, panting. (Both of them, this time. Kara’s getting really good at this fake exercising thing!) 

“I can’t hear them anymore,” Kara says. “I think we’re good.” Kara can actually still hear them, but they’re going the opposite direction, so that should be good enough. She and Lena stand in silence for a moment, both breathing heavily. They make eye contact. And burst out laughing.

“Oh my god!” Lena giggles, “Oh, I haven’t done this since boarding school.” 

“What kind of boarding school did you go to?” Kara asks in alarm.

“The expensive kind.” Lena says, slyly. And was she always standing so close? 

“It’s late.” Kara hears herself saying. “You should probably get yourself home.” 

“Probably,” Lena agrees. 

They stand there frozen, nose to nose in the alley, and Kara has that feeling again. Like there’s something there on the tip of her tongue. Like she should say something. Do something.  And then two cats flings themselves out of the dumpster next to them with an awful yowling and they spring apart. 

Lena clears her throat, straightening her dress. “Well, it’s very late. We should probably get back to the office. I need to drive you back home after all.” 

Kara does convince Lena to call a cab this time, but they don’t speak for the rest of the car ride.

Lena pauses at Kara’s door. 

“Thank you, for coming with me tonight. Not many people would help a Luthor with an unsanctioned nighttime bonfire.” 

“I’m not most people.” 

“No. No, I don’t get the impression you are,” Lena says with a wry laugh. “And don’t think I’m going to forget about you carrying down all those papers. Best be on your guard Ms. Danvers, or I’ll start calling you to help bring in all of the legal documents I have to wade through.” 

“You could, you know.” What is she saying? Why can’t she ever just shut her mouth— “Call me, I mean.” 

Lena smiles. “I might just take you up on that.” 

When Lena has gone and Kara has shut the door behind her, Kara slumps down onto the floor. 

Oh. Oh, Alex is going to hate this. 

[bonedo-enthusiast]

special delivery 𐂐◯𓇋 (lrw)

desc: drug-delivery-man!riwoo brings a package for reader.

warnings: nsfw, mdni!, drug use (weed), sub!riwoo x dom!reader, praise, reader is a tease and very flirtatious, oral (both receiving), p in v, no protection used (but pls do!), riwoo has a small but thick dick, reader uses nicknames for riwoo (ri, baby), (slight) breeding kink if you squint, afab!reader but no pnouns used, + lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 1,841

“um, e-excuse me.”

you turn around to see a small nervous-looking man underneath the strobe lights. “yes sweetie?”

his cheeks turn a shade of red. “i was told to–um–deliver this to ‘red bunny.’”

“then you’re in the right place. i’m red bunny.” you look down at the box that the man is holding. “why don’t we take this elsewhere?”

the man gulped and nodded, his eyes shifting left and right. you let out a laugh and beckoned for him to follow you. “relax, honey. it’s my club, not a mafia warehouse.”

“s-sorry, i didn’t mean–”

“shh. it’s okay.” you lead him to a back room at a far corner of the club, making your way through the sea of bodies. once you reach the door, the bodyguard there opens it for you and you enter with the man following. “say, what’s your name, cutie?”

“my name? riwoo.” he says, avoiding your eyes. 

“and what brings you to a line of work like this, riwoo?” you ask, sitting down behind a desk and gesturing for him to sit in the other chair. 

“just needed some extra money.” 

“you can get extra money from uber.” you grin, amused. “come on. what’s the real story?” 

“i… i come here on business, ma’am.” riwoo says, his voice a little shaky. “i’d prefer for it to stay that way.”

“ma’am?” you scoff. “we look about the same age. no need for formalities. as a matter of fact, you can call me y/n.” 

“y-y/n?” riwoo asks, eyes wide. “why would you tell me your real name?”

you lean forward, eyeing him. “maybe i like you.”

he lets out a strained laugh. “so um… would you like to see the package?” 

“oh, sure.” you rest your head on your hand.

riwoo opens the box, showing you its contents of fifty grams of flower. 

“perfect. just what i ordered. you are amazing, riwoo.” you reach into your desk to pull out the appropriate amount of money, handing it to him. he slides it into his pocket and stands up. “wait.” 

riwoo freezes, his eyes on you. “yes?” 

you open the bag of flower and pull a roll out of your desk. “why don’t you stay for a while and smoke some of this with me?”

“oh, i don’t think–”

“come on. i don’t bite. unless you want me to.” 

riwoo’s cheeks turn pink. “uh… well, okay. you are my last delivery today.”

“see? it’s a sign. you deserve to relax… i’m sure you’ve had such a long day.” you coo, gesturing for him to sit back down. “just hold on while i pack this.” 

riwoo sits back down and watches you roll some flower into a blunt. you giggle at the way he stares at it. “have you never smoked before, sweetie?” 

“um…” he slowly shook his head, biting his lip.

“well, you’re in good hands. i’ll teach you.” you light the blunt. “alright, you’re going to want to inhale. not too much though, or else you’ll have a coughing fit. like this.” you demonstrate, allowing the smoke to expand in your lungs before blowing it out. “see? now why don’t you try?” you pass the blunt to him, who does as you instructed. he too blows out the smoke without coughing. “wow, i’m impressed. you’re a natural.”

"oh, thank you." he gives you a shy smile and you take another hit, passing it to him. you two pass it back and forth for a while until riwoo starts giggling.

"what are you laughing about, ri?"

"i... i don't know." riwoo responds with a dopey smile.

"it sounds to me like someone's getting high." you lean back in your chair. "how does it feel?"

"like nothing i've ever experienced before. i like it."

"i'm glad. bet you feel so good, yeah?"

riwoo nods. "thank you."

"awe, no need to thank me. you deserve it, after all. being so good, delivering me my package."

"um... it might just be the weed, but... are you flirting with me?"

you let out a laugh. "i have been flirting with you this whole time, ri. have you only just now noticed?"

"oh." riwoo blushes again.

you stand up and walk around the desk, leaning against it and looking down at him. "you're just so cute. so sweet and oblivious." you card a hand through his hair.

"it's not fair that it's not affecting you yet." riwoo murmurs, noticeably leaning into your touch.

"it will soon. i have a bit of a tolerance." you finish off the blunt before crashing your lips against riwoo's.

he lets out a soft moan as you hold onto the back of his head, deepening the kiss. when you pull away to breathe, you see how wide his pupils have gotten. "w-why did you kiss me?"

"you didn't like it?" you ask, tilting your head.

"well no. i mean yes, but that's not--mmph."

you resume kissing him, effectively cutting him off. you start to feel more effects from the weed as your tongue swirls around his, the feeling a bit hazy. you pull away just long enough to catch your breath again. "riwoo, wanna eat me out?"

riwoo bites his lip and nods feverishly.

"i'm going to need to hear your clear consent."

"y-yes. i... i want to eat you out." riwoo's eyes are focused solely on you, wide with lust.

"good boy." you coo, caressing his cheek with your thumb before leaning back.

riwoo licks his lips nervously and sinks down in his chair, leaning forward so that he is face-to-face with your clothed cunt. he hikes your short dress up, his warm breath fanning against your skin causing you to shiver. riwoo places a kiss against your pussy, licking you through the fabric.

"mm, riwoo... need to take off my panties."

riwoo shakes his head. "i need you now. need you so bad..." he pushes your panties to the side, pressing his face into your already wet cunt.

"fuck!" you throw your head back, your hands finding their way into riwoo's hair, tugging on it a little.

he moans into you, his tongue darting between your folds. "taste so good."

your legs shake as he makes out with your pussy, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. "riwoo, i won't last long if you--fuck!--if you keep this up."

your words only cause him to eat you out more intensely, sucking and nipping on your folds. you grab a handful of his air, rutting your hips into his face causing him to moan. "feel so good, ri... making me feel so good!"

as you continue fucking his face, you feel riwoo slowly pull down your panties. you gasp when you feel your bare cunt against his lips. "sh-shit, baby!"

"want you to cum in my mouth, y/n." riwoo says, his voice a bit hoarse and desperate. "need to taste you."

he grabs your hips, his tongue pushing inside your cunt more and more with every one of your thrusts. his nose bumps against your clit, the stimulation causing the knot inside you to tighten. when riwoo adds a finger inside you alongside his tongue, you feel yourself coming undone. a white-hot heat consumes you as you cum, letting out a loud moan. riwoo quickly licks up your juices, moaning with you as he tastes you.

when you pull away, you look at the dazed riwoo below you, his chin glistening with your wetness. you blink repeatedly until you feel yourself being grounded once more, your high having made the orgasm ten times better.

"that was amazing, ri." you say, bending down to kiss him.

riwoo kisses you back, a pitiful moan falling on your lips. you smile at him when you pull away. "poor baby... that must hurt, huh?" you ask, palming his erection.

riwoo lets out a shaky breath. "y-yes..."

"need some help?" you ask. "wanna be inside me, ri?

riwoo moans wantonly at your words. "god, yes, please."

you help him slide his pants and underwear down. you look at his cock, smiling at how cute it is and marveling at its thickness.

"it's small i know." riwoo murmurs.

"nothing wrong with that. it's so cute, like you." you say, riwoo blushing at your words. you sit down on his lap, straddling his thighs and lining your entrance up with his dick. "ready baby?"

riwoo nods. "yes."

you sink down onto his cock, bottoming out with riwoo letting out a deep moan. you giggle and smirk at him. "feel good, baby?"

"s-so good..." riwoo throws his head back as you ride him, gliding up and down on his cock. you let out soft moans as he stretches you out.

"c-can i um...r-rub your um..." riwoo trails off, his cheeks turning red.

"my clit?" you ask with an endearing smile. this boy is just too cute.

"um...y-yeah."

"of course, baby. i'll guide you." you halt your riding momentarily to grab riwoo's hand, placing his fingers against your clit. "right here, ri."

riwoo starts rubbing your clit, hesitantly at first, but he then starts using more pressure when he hears you moan more loudly. you resume riding him, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

"f-fuck, ri!" you moan loudly. you reach up to your dress off your shoulder, rolling your nipple in between your fingers. you watch riwoo's eyes widen as he watches you, biting his lip. as though you can read his mind, you use one hand to grab the back of his head and gently push his face into your tits. riwoo immediately attaches his lips to your nipple, sucking and nipping at the bud.

"riwoo, i'm--shit!--i'm about to cum!" you moan, holding his head in place against your chest. riwoo lets out a moan in response and rubs your clit faster. you stop on his cock, your eyes rolling back as you cum around it. soon after you, riwoo pops off of your nipple with a high-pitched whine as he cums inside of you. you shiver as he cums hard, feeling him filling you up. you both pant loudly in the otherwise silent room, trying to catch your breaths.

"you're so hot." riwoo says, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your boobs.

you run your fingers through his hair. "thank you baby. you too."

after a while, he lets go of you and you shakily get out of his lap, his dick popping out of you and his cum trailing down your thigh.

"fuck..." riwoo breathes, his voice full of lust. you notice that his cock is already getting hard again.

you giggle, your movements slow as you come to kneel between his legs. "i've never fucked someone as cute as you. might have to keep you around..."

you look him in the eyes as you lick a stripe up the side of his cock, and riwoo squeezes his eyes shut. his mind being hazy, he's only able to have coherent thoughts about you as you start sucking him off.

a/n: this has literally been in my drafts for like two months iafoufuagf 😭 so glad that it's finally made it out of the dungeon!!

[itsnesss]

can you do a miguel diaz fic where reader doesn’t come from a good family but it’s her birthday and miguel, carmen, and his yaya celebrate with reader and its really sweet (and the whole celebrating is miguel’s idea)

𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 | miguel diaz × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | fluff, kissing, mention of a bad past

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You don’t know why, but today feels different. It’s your birthday, but you’re not expecting much. In your world, days like this often go unnoticed. Today, like any other, feels like just a date on the calendar—a reminder of what you don’t have, and never have had.

You’re at Miguel’s house. He invited you over, like he always does, but there’s something about his demeanor that suggests there’s more to it. He looks at you with a smile you can’t quite read, a mix of nervousness and excitement, as if he’s the one with something to celebrate.

"Everything okay?" you ask, watching as he paces back and forth, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m… just getting something ready. Don’t worry about it," he replies, almost as if he’s trying to hide something.

You feel a little uneasy. Miguel has always been kind to you, much more than you think you deserve, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is up. Something you’re not sure you’re ready for.

"Getting what ready?" you press, unable to stop yourself.

Miguel smiles, a flicker of mystery in his eyes. "You’ll see."

The sound of the front door opening makes you turn your head. Carmen, Miguel’s mom, walks in carrying a tray full of what looks like cookies. Yaya, Miguel’s grandmother, follows behind her, her slow, graceful steps exuding warmth. Both have that familiar, welcoming look that always leaves you feeling a little self-conscious, like you’re more important than you believe you are.

"Happy birthday!" Carmen says with a bright smile as she sets the cookies on the table. "Miguel didn’t let me say anything earlier, but… he didn’t want you to feel alone."

"Yes, happy birthday, mija!" Yaya greets you gently, pulling you into a warm hug that almost feels like home.

Your heart starts beating faster than usual. This… this isn’t what you expected. In fact, you didn’t even know you were expecting anything. But now, with Carmen and Yaya showering you with affection, you feel something you’ve never felt before. A warmth rises in your throat, your eyes beginning to sting with emotion.

"Miguel, what’s going on?" you ask, your voice cracking as you look around, unsure if you’re dreaming or if this is real.

Miguel looks at you with a warm smile, his expression almost nervous. "This is all for you. I wanted your birthday to be special. I think you deserve something good, even if it’s just for today."

The room fills with laughter and conversation. Carmen and Yaya take care of the food while Miguel watches you quietly, as if every move you make is something he wants to memorize. You feel a little out of place, but the warmth of the atmosphere begins to wrap around you. Somehow, in this house, with these people, you feel like you’re not invisible.

"Come on, open your gift," Miguel says, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. He hands it to you with a soft smile, as if he’s nervous about how you’ll react.

You open it slowly, almost in disbelief, and inside is a simple but beautiful necklace. A delicate silver heart with a small detail in the center. It’s perfect. And it’s yours. You’ve never had something so lovely.

"Do you like it?" Miguel asks, his voice low, as if your answer really matters to him.

"It’s… it’s perfect, Miguel," you say, your voice thick with emotion. You don’t know what to do; you can’t stop staring at the necklace. "Thank you."

Miguel steps a little closer. "I’m glad you like it." Then, with a mischievous smile, he adds, "Want me to put it on for you?"

You nod, surprised at how simple the gesture is yet how much it makes your heart race. Miguel carefully picks up the necklace and fastens it around your neck. The light brush of his hands against your skin leaves an odd, pleasant sensation.

The afternoon passes with more laughter and chatter. Yaya shares stories from her youth, Carmen talks about how Miguel has always been a good kid, and you listen intently, trying to absorb every moment. For the first time, you feel like you’re part of something bigger than yourself, something you never thought you’d experience.

Later, when dinner is served and everyone is gathered around the table, Miguel leans toward you, his gaze locked on yours.

"Do you want to go for a walk? I have one more surprise for you," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You nod, though part of you is nervous about what’s coming. But there’s something about the way Miguel looks at you that makes you trust him completely.

Night has fallen, and the two of you walk through the quiet streets under the city lights. Miguel leads the way, taking his time, enjoying the comfortable silence between you. Eventually, you arrive at a small park with a single bench beneath a tree. Miguel sits down first and gestures for you to join him.

"Sometimes, the simplest moments are the best ones," Miguel says as he looks at you, as if he’s assessing something. "And this… this is for you."

You sit beside him, staring at the horizon. You don’t know what to say, but you realize you don’t need to. His presence is enough. In this moment, all you need is to be here, with him.

"Thank you for everything, Miguel," you murmur, unsure if words can truly convey what you’re feeling.

Miguel leans in closer, and before you can react, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. It’s sweet, like everything he’s done for you today. A kiss that makes you forget your insecurities and doubts, that makes you feel like someone who’s worth something.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with a genuine, almost shy smile. "You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to know that I care about you. You’re important to me."

When you both return to Miguel’s house, the warmth of the home is still alive, and you realize that, even though life has never been easy for you, maybe this moment will change everything. Because here, with Miguel, Carmen, and Yaya, you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time: a sense of belonging.

[osleeplessflowero]

I'd like to request a error x (fem?)reader oneshot and they're playing like a Pocky game and jus having a jolly good time please?

You've got it Anon! I've only written Error once, so this is a good opportunity to give him some more content! (If you wanna check out the first one..click me!)- 🌸

Oneshot Masterpost❣️

Pocky Game

It's a bit of a boring day. The sun's shining, a gentle breeze blows through the air outside before making its way through an open window. You lean back against your couch as you stare at the TV, blinking lazily before hopping up to go and raid your kitchen for some snacks. You walk over to the kitchen table to rummage through a bag there, fairly distracted as white pixels begin to manifest behind you.

Lifting the bag up a bit, you jolt as soon as you feel various blue strings wrap around your body from behind; yanking you into the Anti-Void once more. You deadpan as soon as you realize who's behind this, shaking your head with amusement and making sure you don't drop the bag as the strings soon put you down.

"Y'know, you could've just asked me if I wanted to come over and I would've said yes." You smile, walking over and leaning over Error's beanbag chair to look into his differently colored eyelights once he glances up at you.

"That's boring. I like to keep things original." He shrugs, before patting the spot beside himself. "Hurry up and sit down, the show's about to start."

You happily sit in a beanbag beside him, sitting your bag of snacks between you so he can grab some as well.

"Awww, you brought me here just to watch your favorite Universes..I'm flattered, Error." You tease, grinning when his cheeks lightly flush in response and he turns his face away from you.

"Oh, whatever.. just be grateful I didn't keep you upside down." He huffs, before glancing curiously over at the bag you brought with you and looking inside of it.

"I am grateful for that, at least. Oh, uh, you can have anything you'd like, I don't mind. I've got plenty for both of us, and I know you have a sweet tooth..soo I'm sure there's something you'll like." You point finger guns at him, before diverting your attention to the screen for a moment. He hums in acknowledgement, rummaging through it to find anything of interest. After a bit of searching, he pauses before lifting up a small red box.

"What's this?" He points to it, leaving his finger against the cover. You squint your eyes for a second, before perking up a little.

"Oh! Those are Pocky sticks, they're like biscuits- the cookie kind- covered in chocolate. They're really good- they also come in different flavors. I think I saw strawberry once." You think back for a moment as he opens the box, fidgeting with the wrapper around the sticks. "Tell me what you think."

He opens his mouth, and for a brief moment you can see multiple blue tongues threatening to poke out before he takes a bite. You pause a second, feeling your face lightly darken before you shake your head to snap out of it. Pausing a second to contemplate, he gives a nod of approval before tipping the box your way so you can take one as well. You reach forwards, happily taking a bite as the show begins in the background.

"You know there's actually a game themed around these? It's kinda silly." You look down at the current stick you have in your hand as he glances over, tilting his head in curiosity and lightly pushing up his glasses.

"How's it work?"

"Well- it's something more suited for intimate couples. I don't know if you'd want to do something like that, but..it's essentially a game of chicken. One person puts a stick in their mouth, and the other person bites from the other end. They keep going until either one person pulls away, or they kiss." You place a stick in your mouth to demonstrate as you speak, gesturing your hand like a mouth before putting it down and continuing to eat the stick until it's gone.

He hums in acknowledgement, pausing for a second to contemplate something. He trails one hand over the other, fidgeting as he falls into deep thought. A blush crosses his face, causing his skull to burst with color.

"It's not something we have to do or anything, I was just telling you about it-" You wave your hands around quickly, before he turns to you.

"I-I-I want.. to try." He looks at you with a serious expression, his blush dying down a little bit and leaving the faintest trace behind. Your eyes briefly widen in surprise, and you inhale.

"Are you sure? Do you really? You don't have to push it if you don't want to." You insist, looking between his face and the box.

"I- ..I know. There's still plenty of chances to back out, and..it's something I want to try. If I can't handle it, then I'll know. If I can, then..well, we'll see how that goes." He turns the volume of the display in front of him down, placing the bag aside so there isn't anything between you. You can feel your heart race a mile a minute at the mere idea, watching as he takes another stick from the box and gingerly presses the opposite end of it past your lips so you can hold it in place. Oh man, this is indeed happening-

Keep your breath steady.. just stay calm. Oh, but it's hard to stay calm when there's a possible chance you both could kiss! From the looks of it, he's a little nervous too..but it's worth a try.

He takes the first bite. It's small, nothing too crazy but it does bring you both a little closer. He scoots forwards a little bit, before taking another. The stick slightly wobbles a bit in your mouth, but not enough to be noticeable.

With determined browbones, he takes another and slowly continues until he's finally moved past the middle. Now mere inches away from you. He pauses for a second to look over your face, feeling his own growing hot again. You make sure to give him a look of reassurance as you try to steady your rapidly beating heart.

He knows he can bail at any time, something he appreciates. Though he also doesn't want to lose this little game you have going. And so he makes his decision.

With a quick breath that he doesn't truly need, he slowly closes the gap between you both. The remaining pieces break off from one another as you briefly kiss, before he quickly pulls away. You both pause for a second to swallow and you take a moment to study his expression. ..No error messages..no glitches.

"..How do you feel?"

"..I think..I think I liked that." He raises a hand to his mouth, feeling his soul pounding within his chest. "I'm..I'm willing to try again, that time was a little short. Just to know for sure."

"Oh- Okay, yeah." You sit up a little bit, resting your hands in your lap. He places another stick in your mouth, and the process repeats. Only, you notice he moves a little quicker this time. Less hesitation than he'd had before.

Once he finally reaches the end, he closes the gap again. Only this time, he stays there a bit longer.. leaning into you. You feel your face beginning to burn, slowly closing your eyes to return the feeling. The kiss is slow, gentle. Warmth flows between the two of you as you stay in place, savoring the feeling of each other before you both pull away.

"So..how do you feel now?" You watch as his eyelights lightly tremble, hazy after the kiss. He looks a bit dazed for a second, before snapping out of it and leaning back so there's a short distance between you again.

Burying his flushed skull in his scarf, he mutters: "I liked it."

You smile at that, moving to face the screen again. Feeling satisfied by the experience.

"I-I-It's still something I have to get used to, but.. I don't think I'd mind trying again sometime." He glances over at you briefly, meeting your loving eyes before looking back at the screen. "You don't have to be so smug about it-"

"I'm not. I'm happy you were comfortable doing that with me. It's a new experience..I'm glad we could both enjoy it." You smile warmly, replaying it over and over in your mind as you stare at the screen. Your staring is briefly interrupted when a small plush dangles down of the skeleton beside you, its little face being gently pressed against your own before dropping into your lap. You gladly pick it up, hugging it tightly as the skeleton beside you huffs in amusement.

The rest of the day plays out like it usually does, the two of you watching your favorite things together until you both fall asleep beside one another.

[cigarettesaftersae]

cream puff - 02 milk box

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: shidou ryusei x f!reader | contains : fluff, (slight)angst, a bit suggestive(its shidou.), highschool au, troublemaker shidou, reader loves baking, spring :P, warning is shidou

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Dear diary, My greatest secret is out. I’m ever more stressed. I can’t get this thing- or i guess someone off my mind, and i’m embarrassed to say why. What do I even do with this milk box?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“What is worse?” Shidou asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Um… peanut butter?” you blurt out nervously, your voice cracking ever so slightly.

“You don’t like peanut butter?” Lui turns to you, looking genuinely offended.

“I thought you knew—” you begin to defend yourself, but Shidou cuts in.

“Well, let me know if you need anything. Thanks for the seat. I’ll give you another place to sit if you want?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Before you can decipher his cryptic offer, Shidou leans over the table. You freeze as he leans closer—too close—and sniffs the air around you.

Sniff, sniff

“What… are you doing?” you ask, panic seeping into your voice.

He sits back with a grin that borders on unsettling. “You smell nice. It makes my cells buzz.” His eyes narrow slightly, as though he’s pondering something deeply. “Can I call you that? Buzz?”

You blink at him, speechless. Buzz? What is even happening right now? “See you later, buzz” Even with Shidou leaving, it’s like a ghost, his presence, and aura kissing whispers to you. Between the two of you and Lui, silence is the only thing filling the air. You’re both not shocked but genuinely confused by the current events, what more can a person leave an effect on than him?

“I think he’s into you.” Lui starts

“Don’t even start” you say, still confused by what happened

Finishing up your meal, a milk box was still accompanying you. You haven’t even opened it, not a sip or a lick. Should you accept such a gift from Shidou Ryusei?

“You gonna drink that?” Lui breaks in

“I don’t know, maybe”

“Maybe? Its from Shidou Ryusei. What if it’s not milk?” Lui’s face rusted up a scrunched nose and agitated eyebrows

“What does that mean? You mean he laced it or something?”

“Ehh…something like that?” Lui says awkwardly. Could she really be referring to…no..

“Ew! Lui stop that”

“I’m just saying! I heard he does weird activities in the men’s bathroom.”

“Oh like what?”

“Stuff, he’s basically a bad boy, troublemaker, and a weirdo.”

“Well I know about that. Everyone basically does”

Another step and you're taken back the classroom, wide whispers chipped in your ear as you waited so neat and patient for the teacher. So loud the gossips, however you, quite the opposite. Finding Lui was a rarity you thought would never happened. In this lousy area, you’re rather idle compared to the rest, so is Lui. You took your talents on baking, you loved the idea of putting something in the oven to come out ever so tasty. You might believe that’s the only reason why Lui ever befriended you. The treats were to die for.

In her mean red glasses, the teacher arrives bringing forth her energy to share with the rest of the class. Settling away the chippering birds, she takes a mean glare across the room, scanning, searching, traveling those eyes behind the glasses for a certain someone whom anyone can guess straight on. Shidou Ryusei, sitting right at his seat perfectly. It was rather ominous to see him in class never late, skipping till the bell rings to head home, or bickering till the sun hides behind a mountain. “First time you aren’t late. Is this spring blossoming a new leaf for you?”

“You could say that teach” His response sluggish, practically pushed his ears a whole other away, eyes centered no where on the board. You watch as his back is leaned, elbows rested by, and if you’re crazy you’d noticed a small twitch- a muscle tense move from his back. But no, it wasn’t, in a small second his back, along with his head is turned directly towards you. The immediate eye contact frightened you, shivering butterflies down your spine than your stomach and you rush up looking down on your notes with a pencil ready in your hand as if you weren’t just looking at his blonde to pink hair and unprofessional uniform attire. With a curiosity firing in you, you couldn’t help but take a another peek and he hasn’t looked away. This time you don’t embarrassingly look away because he sends you a little wave fancying you with a charming smile as well.

You couldn’t help but look up and then away, well who wouldn’t? Maybe he’s waving someone behind you? You look behind, and you know you’re answer, he’s looking at no one- but you.

How anymore could you be awkward, you didn’t even wave back. Too shy as you chose to focus only on your notes which held only doodles than the lecture required. You should be a good student, smart, and quiet. Writing each letter to the next or the number. Then study all day after, but there’s just one thing preoccupying your mind than the usual test next Tuesday. Shidou Ryusei

As the day rises to an end, the teacher announces her words before leaving

”Oh- and with the school spring festival coming up, it is your duty, as a class, to plan something creative that’ll contribute to the atmosphere. Good luck, and head home safe.”

A cheer amongst with the class, a rumble of brightness filled the air and the whole class is already thrilled in planning to what’s next. The class representatives took quick action to settle down the overjoyed. “Does anyone have any ideas what we should do as a class?”

“We can do a play about Romeo and Juliet, it’ll be so romantic like spring!”

“No no, we should do something with art!”

“What about a small bakery?”

An intriguing suggestion took favor, but left with plot holes of questions

“A small bakery? not bad…But who here knows how to bake?” The silence voiced louder than a clean whisper. All heads looked around waiting for ‘me!’ but no one answered. Not even you.

“Y/n does!” Lui chimes in vastly, breaking away the silence. And you widen your eyes at her till you really open your eyes you noticed every head is turned to you with an excitement. “Y/n? Is that right?”

“Yes! She’s literally a baking goddess, she just never shows it around.”

“W-what nonsense…No I don’t” You shy away, gulping down your dry throat, Lui confirmation only makes you more nervous.

“I can also confirm that” The voice catches you off ground, not expecting anyone to say that. Maybe Lui, but this was a male’s voice. Deep and luxurious, so you search around for the voice to realize it came from Shidou.

“Well if you don’t mind Y/n, your talents could be put to great use. And we’ll all help”

“Oh even better some of us could be like super cute waitresses! and waiters too!”

“That’s a good idea, Y/n?”

You blink once, twice, three times. All of this was going too fast, Lui revealing your talent, Shidou, everything.

“Uh-yes good idea..”

The whole class is back in cheer, took over by joy and vibrant cherry blossom. Claps echoed to your ears, and Lui is already by your side also excited. “Oh y/n, this’ll be fun!” But you couldn’t yet take in this joy and vibrant cherry blossoms. Not yet, you’re still trying to take this all in because right now you’re still preoccupied by something on your mind, Shidou.

.

.

.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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He didn’t mean to do anything. He was sold the body. He had no idea. He didn’t go looking for trouble. He didn’t know anything ahead of time. His worst crime, really, was being overzealous for Halloween. If this whole thing has been about giving people back the energy they deserve, what the hell did he ever do to deserve this? 

As glad as Buck is that he’s been able to secure his loved ones’ futures, he wishes he could go back to a time when he didn’t know any of this existed at all. Ignorance is bliss, or whatever.

Eventually, worked up and exhausted and unable to calm his mind, Buck goes searching through his medicine cabinet. Not for anything disastrous. Just like night time cough medicine or drowsy allergy tablets. Something to help him along. He just needs to sleep. He thinks one, long restful sleep will be good for him. That’s what this must be. The inability to feel relieved from the punishments? It must be sleep deprivation. He’s been overdoing it. 

Buck finally finds some Benadryl, and slides a foil sheet of packaging out of the box. This will help, he thinks as he presses his thumb to pop one through its casing. It has to help. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” a familiar, smug voice fills the bathroom. “Do you fight fires with a water gun? Because that’s what you’re doing right now?”

Buck nearly drops the gel capsule in surprise. He turns to look at Nemesis. She’s leaning in the doorway, smirking.

“Is something fucking funny?” Buck demands. 

She shrugs. “Nothing has truly been funny to me in centuries.”

“That sucks,” Buck replies flatly. “I feel for you, really.”

“Ditch the pills,” she says. “That won’t fix anything. I’ve come to help.”

“Okay, for one, it’s Benadryl. For… Well, second, you ruined everything! I don’t trust your help! This whole thing was a fucking trap!”

“Well, it was an open door you walked through, sure,” Nemesis says. 

“Yeah, at the end of the maze you dropped me in!”

“So dramatic,” Nemesis sighs. “I always end up choosing drama queens.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buck scowls. “I’m just overreacting to the destruction of my personal life.”

“You shook on it,” she reminds him.

“What do you want from me?” Buck sighs. “What can I do to make this less painful?” 

“Well, it’s sweet that you’re asking,” Nemesis drawls. “But I’m here to tell you that you’re taking on a bigger project. Some fish that need to be fried.”

“And you can’t do it?” He asks.

“That’s what you’re for, kid. Or don’t you get it yet? I don’t want to do these things. But they need to be done, or there’s chaos.”

“So the quota we agreed on is changing, is what you’re telling me?” He asks. “Now I have to go after exactly who you want me to go after?”

She nods. “Or those pretty little futures aren’t guaranteed.”

“Who is it?” Buck asks, feeling snared. 

“A few politicians,” she says. “Some operating out of D.C, one out of Florida, and another-”

“What?” Buck demands. “No! I can’t just go jet setting. I have work.”

“Oh,” she nods. “I forgot to tell you. You should probably quit that.”

“Quit?” Buck gapes. “I’m not quitting!” 

“Well, really, your schedule isn’t your own anymore,” Nemesis says. “If you were some cute little travel blogger, I’d say, sure, continue. But firefighter? Won’t fly.”

“I can’t do that!” Buck protests. “I won’t!”

“Alright,” she nods. “Then don’t. Go look into one of their futures and spoil the whole thing. I hope you’re comfortable with what you see.”

“I-I can’t do that, either!” 

“Those are your two choices,” she says. “Or, there’s a third. Feel like this until it drives you to… Well.”

“This is cruel!” Buck shouts at her. 

“You think I care about cruelty? After all I’ve seen?” She laughs. “Even you are beginning to numb to it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, I could never-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a key turning in the front door lock. Buck goes rigid. This is horrible timing. There are only two people with his spare key. Eddie and Maddie. He doesn’t want either of them seeing him like this.