#but today it sort of feels like I pulled just about every muscle in my body

[rafes-slut]

Raw, Next Question

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x You (Best Friends to ???)

Warnings: Smut, Sexual Tension, Friends-to-Lovers Vibes, Light Teasing, Mutual Attraction, Slight Possessiveness

Summary: It started as a joke. Rafe sent you a shirtless gym pic, and you responded with a flirty TikTok reference. But when he calls you out on it, things quickly spiral into something neither of you can ignore.

Rafe was always sending you pictures of himself. It was just a thing he did—whether he was bored, feeling himself, or just wanted attention. And you were used to it. You’d gotten everything from drunken selfies to pictures of him lounging shirtless by the pool, flexing in the mirror just to show off. But today’s was… different.

You were in the middle of scrolling through your phone when the notification popped up.

Rafe: [Image]

You tapped the message, expecting something ridiculous, only to be met with the sight of Rafe at the gym. Shirtless. Sweaty. Flexing.

His muscles were on full display, every inch of his toned chest and arms glistening under the fluorescent lights. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, and the way he was holding his phone—angled slightly down—made the entire thing feel intentionally suggestive.

You barely thought twice before typing out a reply.

You: Raw, next question.

It was a joke. A stupid TikTok trend. You didn’t even expect him to respond right away. But not even a minute later, your phone started ringing.

You hesitated, staring at his name lighting up your screen, before finally swiping to answer.

“What?” you answered casually, trying not to sound like you were overthinking your reply now.

“Raw?” His voice came through the speaker, low and amused.

You rolled your eyes. “It was a joke, Rafe.”

He let out a slow, knowing hum. “Nah, see, I don’t think it was.”

“Oh my god.”

“I think you saw that picture and actually thought about it.”

“Please,” you scoffed, heat creeping up your neck. “You send me shit like that all the time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t usually say you want me raw.”

You groaned, flopping back on your bed. “That’s not what I—”

“I think it is,” he cut you off. “I think you saw me flexing, thought about how good I look, and said exactly what was on your mind.”

His voice had dropped lower, turning smug and teasing.

“You’re literally delusional,” you muttered.

“Am I?” There was a slight shuffle on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“In my room. Why?”

“Open your window.”

Your stomach flipped. “Rafe—”

“Open it.”

You sighed but got up anyway, crossing the room to push open your window. And sure enough, there he was, standing outside in the dim glow of the porch light, still wearing his gym shorts, still shirtless, phone still pressed to his ear.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re fucking insane.”

“You gonna let me in or what?”

You hesitated for half a second before stepping back and letting him climb through. He moved smoothly, like he’d done it a million times before—which, to be fair, he had. But this time, there was a different energy between you.

You could feel it as he stood there, looking at you, eyes darker than before.

He took a step closer, then another, until he was right in front of you, the heat of his bare skin radiating between you.

“So,” he said, tilting his head, “raw, huh?”

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain some sort of control over the situation. “It was a joke.”

He reached out, fingers barely grazing your hip. “What if it wasn’t?”

Your breath caught.

Rafe took another step, backing you up against your bed. His hands found your waist, warm and steady, his touch featherlight but deliberate.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice dripping with challenge.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering. But you didn’t say a word.

His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was hungry, possessive—the kind of kiss that left no room for second-guessing. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you against him, and you barely had time to process the way his bare chest felt against you before he was guiding you back onto the bed.

“You talk a big game,” he murmured against your lips, “but I think you like this more than you let on.”

[sincerelyneo]

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing. 

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said." 

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it. 

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style. 

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight. 

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night. 

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core. 

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him. 

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant. 

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room. 

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts. 

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. 

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.” 

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks. 

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it. 

Well, you won't be on your  knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard. 

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re  faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go. 

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense. 

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker. 

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him. 

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!” 

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake. 

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it. 

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours. 

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it? 

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way." 

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you. 

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him. 

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say." 

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest. 

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't." 

But you do it. 

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder. 

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely. 

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you. 

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. 

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house. 

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground. 

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!” 

You groan, I'm going to my room." 

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll  just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know. 

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. 

“What are you doing?” You spit. 

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan. 

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.” 

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy. 

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him. 

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you. 

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh. 

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel. 

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked. 

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear. 

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep. 

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck. 

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core. 

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that. 

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him. 

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you. 

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach. 

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?" 

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question." 

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head. 

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed. 

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face. 

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway. 

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base. 

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes. 

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper. 

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?" 

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs. 

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling. 

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs. 

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him. 

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp. 

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it. 

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch. 

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach. 

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling. 

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core. 

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge. 

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again. 

"Yes, and what else?" He growls. 

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues. 

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough. 

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down. 

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning. 

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before. 

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.” 

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed. 

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would." 

He’s thought about this? You know you have. 

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down. 

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions. 

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion. 

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off." 

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy. 

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets. 

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it. 

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t  move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely. 

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.” 

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick. 

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt. 

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards. 

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking  another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock." 

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat. 

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.  

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop. 

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter. 

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?" 

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod. 

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip. 

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat. 

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl." 

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more. 

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk. 

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself. 

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks. 

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer? 

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him. 

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. 

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

 You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore. 

"You want it." He says point blankly. 

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget. 

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites. 

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them. 

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity. 

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere. 

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on. 

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still. 

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats. 

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes. 

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?” 

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you. 

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined." 

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring. 

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now. 

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him. 

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe. 

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like  Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth. 

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it. 

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply. 

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?" 

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased. 

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him. 

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again. 

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now. 

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about. 

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling. 

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door. 

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?" 

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door. 

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass. 

"One second," you shout,  jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it. 

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you. 

"I was hot." You shrug. 

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.” 

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony. 

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you. 

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.” 

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself. 

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you. 

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh. 

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh. 

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling. 

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

[luveline]

hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.” 

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent. 

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?” 

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?” 

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it. 

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.” 

“You don’t have to go?” 

“What?” 

“You have rugby today.” 

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.” 

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out. 

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.” 

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.” 

“So it’s definitely the battery?” 

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your breath gets caught. 

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… maybe I did. I think so.” 

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?” 

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.” 

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face. 

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car. 

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends. 

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert. 

“What are your plans tonight?” 

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.” 

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?” 

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.” 

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?” 

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?” 

“You come in different cars.” 

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.” 

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome. 

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much. 

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

[spiderb00bs]

- THE GIVER

Ella Purnell x reader  

“Your girlfriend can finally relax and trust you for everything” 

Genre – fluff     Warnings – none 

 Now playing – The Giver, by Chappell Roan 

“So, baby, when you need the job done, you can call me, baby” 

You knew your girlfriend worked hard, that woman was practically a machine, job after job, just doing what she loves most. You love how Ella simply dedicates herself to every project she sets out to do, how she always gives her best in all of them, and that was one of the things that made you fall in love with the woman.   

Today was the day your girlfriend would finally come home after all the filming of Yellowjackets and Sweetpea. You were excited, jumping up and down. You'd tidied up the whole house - after going for a walk with the puppies you both adopted when you started dating - leaving everything just as you knew your girlfriend loved it, you'd made her favorite dish for dinner and picked up one of the most expensive wines you could find.   

Despite Ella telling you that you didn't need to pick her up at the airport, you went against all the woman's arguments, standing happily at your girlfriend's arrivals gate while you waited for her to appear among the people.   

Despite the cap and sunglasses, you could recognize your girlfriend from miles away. Approaching, you saw the woman smile lovingly, quickly entangling herself in your open arms. You loved knowing that she was working with what she loved out there, but it would be a big lie if you said you didn't miss hugging her like that.   

"Oh my God, how I've missed you." You said, tucking the lower woman's head into your chest.   

Removing her sunglasses from her face, Ella looked at you with a big smile, before sealing her lips to yours. "I missed you the most."  

Breaking away from the hug, you quickly grabbed her bag, entwining your hand with hers and pulling her into the car with you. "Babe, I can take my bag." Ella said, laughing slightly.   

"I know you can, but let me do it, okay?!" With a smile on her face, your girlfriend shook her head amusedly.  

Ella loved how devoted to her you were, and she had to admit she wasn't used to it. She was always a woman who managed to do her own thing, without much help along the way. In her relationships, she can't remember having anyone treat her the way you do, she's never been as well looked after, as spoiled and ill-at-ease as you make her feel, and she loves it. 

"What the fuck?" You heard your girlfriend's voice coming from the kitchen.   

You'd just come back from an intense workout, hurrying upstairs to take a shower after a make-out session with your girlfriend - who really enjoyed seeing you all sweaty and with your muscles exposed. You were going downstairs to get something to eat, the feeling of being clean strangely reminded you of hunger, but when you heard your girlfriend complaining about something, you had to sort it out.   

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Wrapping your arms around her waist, you saw her looking out into the yard of your house, following her gaze and seeing a fox, well ensconced in the space.  

"It seems this house loves to attract animals of all kinds." Ella's eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and the cute pout on her lips made you want to kiss her. "What do we do?"   

Thinking about the situation, you went to the kitchen sink, grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the tap. Looking at you with confusion, your girlfriend tried to see what you were doing, still without taking her eyes off the animal. Ella could see you wringing the cloth, letting the water run down the drain, and watching your bare back flex as you applied force to what you were doing. Biting her lower lip, your girlfriend remembered minutes ago, when she was riding you for the same reason she's drooling now, your muscles.   

Seeing you come back, the brunette shook her head, getting rid of the perverted thoughts that ran through her mind, but leaving a mental reminder to come back to them when the two of you were going to bed.   

"What's that?" Ella asked, looking at the cloth in your hands. It had a slightly strong smell, and she had to cover her nose with the shirt she was wearing.   

"It's just a bit of repellent. It'll keep it away without hurting." You said, opening the glass door and carefully dropping the cloth into the middle of the room.   

Smelling the strong odor, the fox quickly fled back the way it had come, through a small hole in the fence.  

"Oh, so that's where it came in." Your girlfriend pointed to the broken fence, making you shake your head and put your hands on your waist.   

"Looks like it. I'll go to a construction store after I've had my coffee and buy the materials to fix it." You said, pulling the smaller woman close to you by the waist, leaving a kiss on her head.   

Looking up to see your eyes, Ella smiled slightly. "Do you know how to fix this?"   

"Of course, my love!" You had a smile on your face, and Ella swore she could melt in your arms. "You're talking to a blue collar girl."   

Giving her a kiss on the lips, you went into the kitchen to prepare your breakfast, leaving Ella standing there watching you walk away. Three things were going through her mind at that moment; 1. she's finally found someone who doesn't dump things on her, 2. she's going to marry you, and 3. you're going to get a BIG reward after you mend the fence tonight. 

It was dark when you finally got home, the fence concert successfully completed. All you needed now was a shower and your girlfriend.

"Baby?" you called out. You knew the big-eyed woman hadn't come out, so you went upstairs, thinking she might be asleep or taking a bath.

When you opened the bedroom door, you found the bed neatly made, untouched. The room smelled of Ella's perfume, and the lights were low and music was playing through the speakers, making the atmosphere sexy and cozy at the same time.

If Ella was a room, this would be it.

"My love? Are you in the bathroom?"

As you walked further into the room, you heard the door close, jumping before you looked back and finally saw your girlfriend in black lingerie, which perfectly highlighted her tanned skin tone. Her hair was loose, and her bangs fell perfectly over her big brown eyes.

"Baby… what's all this?" You asked confused, but Ella could see the smile appearing on your face.

"You're so good to me, baby." The woman moved closer, wrapping her arms around your neck. "Let me be good to you too."

No smut for you this time, you little perverts hehehe

this is dedicated to everyone who asked for more fics of Ella

Drink water and stay safe,

xoxo, spider.

[possesseddesiress]

The Great Shift: Streaming

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

The Great Shift: Streaming

My name is Phil, I just got into college and I feel pretty lost about my life. I got into a career that I don't even like (but my parents said that money and opportunities matter more), I don't have many friends, much less a partner.

The few friends I have say it's weird that I'm so unsuccessful in love, I'm not bad looking, though maybe... yeah too skinny.

I don't have a hint of muscle, I'm small and scrawny. Also very shy, I do my best with regards to relating to others, but it's like I fail epically every time I try.

It was like my life was destined for unhappiness... and I was settling for that.

That afternoon was pretty quiet, I had a few chores (that I didn't understand), just me in my room at school because my roomie was out, and all my friends were busy. A pathetic afternoon, really.

I lay back on my bed, let out a sigh, pulling out my phone. Something I was quite a fan of, was video games, I liked the mechanics, the designs, and partly because I could pretend to be someone else: to know other worlds, other stories, although no doubt, it was also boring to play without other people.

So in part I also liked to watch some video game streamers. How they narrated the games, their charisma or their jokes, many times I just watched them while I was eating or doing something else.

There was one in particular, his name was Corey. Corey or better known as Noobro, was quite famous on Twitch, and had a certain charisma that I found quite attractive.

I looked up his profile, noticing that he was live.

- How are you today? - he said with a smile, he was playing something like Fornite. He said a couple of things but I didn't even pay attention thanks to a strange buzzing sound that started to play quite loudly. I couldn't quite identify the source, it almost seemed to be coming from my own brain.

I let go of the phone, clenching my head. I heard Corey moaning in the same way on the live feed, I swear even the lights flickered as if they were going to explode. And all at once, everything went black.

A second or two later, I felt some sort of tug, and I saw light again. I looked around confused, besides having a bad headache, I couldn't make out the noises very well either, they were like low murmurs of what seemed to be... music?

I wasn't listening to music before this, what the heck? I opened my eyes without being able to focus at all. Until I ended up glimpsing a computer in front of me.

A computer?

I blinked several times thinking that maybe it was a hallucination, but the computer with a loading screen was still in front of me every time I closed and opened my eyes. It seemed to be from a... game.

I noticed that he was also wearing headphones. I moved my face closer to the screen to notice that there was a camera above, and on the screen. A series of messages, and a thumbnail of someone's camera, seemed strange to me until I saw that it responded to my movements.

Wait... that wasn't someone's camera. That was my camera. But... Where am I?

I looked down at my hands, noticing thick fingers where small ones used to be, followed by a huge hand. I swallowed nervously, but mostly confused. I looked around, it was then that I noticed that the room looked strangely familiar.

I refocused my gaze on the screen, reading the comments, my heart pounding as I read some of them:

《 Hey, noob 》 《 What will you play today, noob? 》

I picked up a phone that was on the table, opened the camera and almost fainted at the sight of my reflection.

The man I watched almost day and night for his videos and live feeds was now in front of me... copying every move I made.

For a moment surprise was the only thing inside me, until I smelled his scent.

I noticed my new stench... strong, masculine, quite stinky, I almost let out a gasp. I wanted more, that was for sure, I tried to pull down a little more the sleeve of the t-shirt that was a little tight to expose my hairy armpits, but because of my new strength, I ended up tearing it.

Out of concern, I ended up cracking a smile, raised my arm and placed it behind the backrest, flexing it and enjoying the sensation; as my bicep swelled up and showed off my new huge muscles.

I almost didn't remember that Corey was originally on a live feed, until I heard the messages start coming out one after another.

Some confused, talking about how they woke up in other bodies and didn't know who they were now, but others were more... interesting.

《You're not him, are you? 》《 I was watching this video in my previous body, I ended up in someone else's who was also watching it, Noob, is it still you? 》

My shyness was about to cut off the transmission, but I felt a strange tingling, I had never felt it before, it was... courage?

- Nah, I'm not him - I said with unfamiliar confidence. It was strange for me to act like this but at the same time it felt so right, like something was finally finding its place in me.

《 And who are you? 》 《 How does it feel to be inside him? 》

- Well, I won't say who I was before. That's not important - I smiled, flexing my arms - It feels amazing, I look good, don't I?

I flexed my arms more and more towards the camera again, I also grabbed my pecs to start massaging them.

《 Let us see more then 》

- You sure are dirty, aren't you? - I teased, although I wasn't at all uncomfortable with what they were asking - I guess they're my fans now, so I must please you.

I spread my legs, feeling his thick build, wide and fat... I moved a little closer to the screen, starting to make slight provocative gestures: sticking out my tongue, biting my lip.

I looked like a fool at first though.... I felt good, and watching the messages explode with excitement did nothing but cheer me up more.

I continued to smell my new stinky, hairy armpits.

- You guys would love to be smelling this, seriously - I pressed my nose against my skin, ecstatic. Continuing that exploration for what seemed like hours, several of them even sent me some pretty juicy tips for getting.... more creative.

That day was somewhat chaotic in the streets, there was panic and no one knew what to do. It took the world at least a week to get used to the “Big Shift”, or at least that's what the scientists called it.

They explained that 80% of the world's population changed bodies without any control or pattern. Some changed between families, others with people from other countries, between genders... it was definitely chaos. Although it is quite lucky if we are honest, the exploration in private was undoubtedly... wonderful.

However, I did have a hard time adjusting to my new body, specifically because of the... work part.

Apparently, Corey's job wasn't just being a streamer, he was also an accountant. The career that I was about to study and that I didn't understand at all. So clearly, I ended up losing the job in a few weeks.

They gave me compensation for the whole body swap thing and at least to keep me afloat for about two months. I felt like it was all coming down but then I thought of something. Corey was famous on Twitch and other social media because he was charismatic, right?

Plus... He had a really good body.

Why wasn't I capitalizing on that?

The first bold move I took on his body was to wax my entire chest, I liked how he looked with hair, I must admit. Although seeing him hairless made it more... eye-catching. Two fat bulges that would catch anyone's attention.

I started uploading more racy stuff, pictures working out, in the gym, sweaty, with clothes that barely covered.

It was a risky move, but it sure paid off, in no time, I also opened a slightly more... explicit account, and suddenly I didn't have to worry about money anymore. I could have this glorious body in all its glory, play video games most of the day, make enough money to support myself and even have more for my personal tastes. I even bought a new car!

My life as Corey was going great, I finally had confidence with other guys (and none of them would miss the opportunity to get all body worshipping), I had money, I was doing what I loved. I finally had a purpose in life.

I'm sure you wonder what happened to the original Corey, don't you? Well, he ended up in my body.

Some people suffered a "direct" exchange, which was that two consciousnesses moved between their bodies, closing only between them.

I talked to him for a while, I thought he would be upset or going crazy, but no, he was actually happy to relive his youth again, study again the career he liked (and take advantage of his knowledge), even try to do streaming again. I think he's doing well even though he's more successful as an influencer or something.

I just know that I improve my appearance quite a bit.

And I know he also watches a lot of my new content (I checked the subscriber list so I know he's definitely there), I guess he likes to see his body still. Maybe he even fondles himself watching my videos.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about being Corey now, the big "Noobro", and not just "big" in video games, if you know what I'm talking about.

- Hey guys, welcome to a new video. I just got back from the gym all sweaty - I smiled before dipping my nose into my armpit, leaving it on display for the camera's delight - How about we play something new today?

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 JJK | ch7

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

warnings: profanity, angst, humour, FLUFFFFF, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , inner conflict, insecurity, mentions of jungkook getting hard, ocs such a tease, drunk talks , alc consumption. they finally sort shit out! observant nari as always :) talks abt the video, they cuddle later in the chapter:(((

smut warnings: not really any smut apart from jk getting kinda hard but thats it !

wc: long…

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020

a/n: guyss! i was screaming writing this chapter, they are so cute :( but u guys srsly arent ready for the next chapter ;)))))) TYSM FOR READING MY LOVES AS ALWAYS PLS CMNT WHAT U THINK :)

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You wake up to the blaring of your alarm, and immediately, you regret every single decision that led to you staying up so late. Your body feels heavy, your eyes sting, and for a moment, you just lie there, staring at the ceiling as the sound continues to ring through your room.

You barely got any sleep. You know that. You had been up late, scrolling aimlessly, your mind looping the same thoughts over and over again. Even when you tried to shut your phone off and force yourself to sleep, you kept tossing and turning, your stomach twisting with unease.

With a groggy sigh, you finally reach for your phone to shut the alarm off, and that’s when you see it—his text.

Jungkook [3:17 AM]: yeah i got home safe, but just realized i left my cap at yours, definitely didnt leave it on purpose. can i come get it tomorrow? maybe after work?

Jungkook: [3:20] just realised its like 3am, so today i mean, lmao. goodnight :)

You stare at it, the words blurring together in your tired vision. You blink a few times, re-reading it even though there’s nothing complicated about it.

He sounds normal. Casual. Teasing, even.

And you don’t know why, but that bothers you.

Your chest tightens as you lock your phone without replying.

You pull yourself out of bed, stretching your sore limbs before dragging yourself to the bathroom. As you brush your teeth, you stare at your own reflection—at the dullness in your eyes, the faint shadows under them. You look tired. You feel tired. Not just from the lack of sleep but from everything swirling in your head.

Shaking it off, you go through your usual routine, washing your face, fixing your hair just enough to look presentable, and throwing on your uniform. The motions feel automatic, like muscle memory. Even as you slip on your shoes and grab your things, your mind remains clouded.

You send a quick omw text to Nari.

Then, without giving yourself time to think too much, you head out.

——

The moment you step into the diner, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon fills your nose. The familiar hum of the morning crowd, the faint clatter of dishes, the low chatter of customers—it’s comforting, in a way. Usually, it helps you wake up. Usually, it makes you feel grounded.

Not today.

Nari is already behind the counter, refilling the sugar dispensers when she notices you walking in. She lifts her head, her brows furrowing slightly.

“You’re kinda late today.” Her voice isn’t accusatory, just observant. “Everything okay?”

You force a small smile, shrugging as you set your bag down. “Yeah. Just- slept in a little.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully buy it. Her eyes scan your face, and for a second, you think she’s going to press further. But instead, she just nods. “Rough morning?”

You hum in response, tying your apron around your waist. “Something like that.”

She watches you for another beat, but before she can say anything else, the door chimes as a new wave of customers walks in. You both shift into work mode, greeting people, taking orders, moving around the diner with the usual rhythm.

But Nari doesn’t forget.

As you’re wiping down the counter during a lull, she leans in slightly. “Sooo…” she starts, dragging out the word. “How was it?”

You glance up at her, blinking. “Huh?”

She gives you an exasperated look. “You know. Him. Jungkook. Your little home visit.” She wiggles her brows. “What happened?”

You grip the cloth in your hand a little tighter. “It was fine.”

Nari stares at you.

“…Fine?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She blinks. “That’s it?”

You shrug, keeping your eyes down as you wipe the counter again even though there’s nothing left to clean. “We just hung out.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not the full truth, either.

Usually, you’d be telling her everything. You’d be giggling about the tension, about how close you both got, about the way your heart almost burst out of your chest when you caught him staring at you. You’d be reliving every second, analyzing every tiny detail together.

But now…

Now, you can’t bring yourself to say anything more.

Nari doesn’t push. But you can feel her looking at you, studying your face, your body language. She knows you too well. She knows something is off.

Still, she lets out a small hum. “Huh. Okay.”

And just like that, the conversation ends.

But you can tell—she’s not convinced.

And neither are you.

The rest of the day drags.

You go through the motions—taking orders, refilling drinks, clearing tables—but everything feels sluggish, like time is stretching itself out just to torture you. The usual rhythm of the diner, the comfort of routine, does little to distract you.

Still, you and Nari fall into your usual banter.

“Did you see table four?” she murmurs as you both stand behind the counter, pretending to be busy.

You glance over. An older man, seated alone, aggressively scrolling through his phone while sipping his coffee.

“What about him?” you ask.

“He’s been sitting there for two hours,” she whispers. “He keeps muttering to himself. I think he’s writing an angry Yelp review in real-time.”

You snort. “Probably about you.”

She gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “Me? What did I do?”

“I saw you only give him three sugar packets when he clearly wanted, like, five.”

She gasps again, even louder. “I am so sorry for my crimes.”

You shake your head, but the lightheartedness doesn’t last long. Even when you joke around, even when you chat about random things—like the girl who came in wearing the most questionable outfit for brunch or the guy who tipped you both in coins—it all feels distant.

Like you’re going through the motions but not really there.

Nari notices, but she doesn’t push. She just nudges you every now and then, throwing in little jokes, making sure you’re not completely drowning in your thoughts.

Eventually, the shift ends.

By the time you get home, your body aches, but your mind is still too restless to relax.

You kick off your shoes, sighing as you stretch your sore limbs. The apartment feels too quiet, the air too still, and for a second, you just stand there, staring into the dimly lit space.

Then, you move.

You toss your bag onto the couch, unbutton your uniform with sluggish fingers, and head straight to the shower. The warm water does little to ease the tension in your body, but you let it run over you anyway, washing away the exhaustion of the day.

After changing into something comfortable—just a loose tee and shorts—you sink into the couch, pulling your phone into your hands without thinking.

You don’t mean to.

You really don’t.

But your fingers move on their own, navigating back to it.

The video.

It plays in silence at first, your eyes scanning every frame, searching for something—anything—that might tell you whether this is real or not.

The comments are a mess.

It’s fake, obviously. People are so gullible.

That’s definitely him. That’s literally his dog.

It could be an old video.

Idk man… this looks recent to me.

LMAO caught in 4K.

You press your lips together, stomach twisting. You don’t know what to think.

You hesitate.

For a moment, you consider just… keeping it in. Not making it a big deal. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe— No.

You can’t do that. It’s not you. You’ve never been the type to bottle things up, to let something fester until it eats you alive.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you dial Nari.

She picks up instantly. “Finally. I was waiting for you to spill.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Nari…”

Her tone shifts. “Whoa. You sound stressed. What’s up?”

You run a hand through your hair. “I—I don’t know where to start.”

“Try the beginning.”

You inhale. Exhale. Then you start talking.

You tell her everything—how Jungkook came over, how the whole night felt like something straight out of a movie. But you don’t linger on that. You don’t let yourself get caught up in those feelings.

Because that’s not the point.

“When he left, I was scrolling, and I saw this video,” you finally say, voice tight. “Nari… I don’t know what to think.”

She pauses. “What kind of video?”

You swallow. “It—it looks like him. Hugging some girl. In an apartment. With his dog.”

Nari doesn’t say anything for a second. Then—

“…His dog?”

You blink. “Yes?”

Nari makes a noise, something between a sigh and a laugh, but she doesn’t say what she’s thinking, which is probably something along the lines of, This girl really identified him by his dog.

Instead, she says, “Okay. Before we spiral—before you assume the worst—I think you need to call him.”

Your stomach flips. “Call him?”

“Yes. Right now. Before this turns into a whole thing.”

You grip your phone tighter, pulse quickening.

Call him.

The thought alone makes your chest tighten.

But… you know she’s right. You have to.

You have to hear it from him.

You take a deep breath.

And then—you press call.

Your thumb hovers over the call button, hesitating for just a second before you press it.

The phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

You exhale, sinking back against the couch, your grip on your phone tightening. He’s probably busy, you tell yourself. Maybe he’s out. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe—

Your eyes flicker down to your screen.

And that’s when you see them.

The messages.

Messages you didn’t notice earlier—ones that had piled up throughout the day.

11:24 AM – You’re probably busy right now, but I just wanted to check in.

2:37 PM – Are you okay?

4:10 PM – I don’t wanna be annoying, but if somethings wrong, do you wanna talk about it?

6:03 PM – Am I still okay to come get my hat?

6:05 PM – Are we okay?

Your heart clenches.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed. You weren’t outright ignoring him, but you weren’t responding either, and Jungkook wasn’t stupid.

You hesitate for another moment, staring at the last message. It was sent only a few minutes ago.

Your stomach twists.

And then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you press call.

This time, he picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” Jungkook’s voice comes through, casual, warm. “Did you get any of my messages? I was worried—”

You swallow. “Jungkook.”

The second you say his name, his words trail off.

A beat of silence.

Then— “…What’s wrong?”

His tone shifts entirely. He sounds confused at first, but there’s an underlying tension there now, like he’s already bracing himself.

You inhale sharply, gripping your phone like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

And then—You tell him.

You swallow, struggling to collect your thoughts. “So, I saw this video. This video, and I— I don’t know— was this recent? Is this even you? I— I’m just— I don’t get it.” You feel your voice falter with every word, your thoughts coming out in a rushed, jumbled mess. “I saw the video and— and it looks like you, it’s definitely you, right? You look just like— and your dog is there, and— I don’t— I don’t know. I don’t know if this was when whatever were doing- Or before, or— God, I just don’t know what to think!”

The words spill out of you so quickly, you can’t even take a breath in between. Your mind is racing, but everything that comes out feels like nonsense.

Jungkook’s quiet on the other end, and you almost can’t take the silence. Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet and confused. “Wait, what video? You’re telling me you saw a video of me?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like your thoughts are moving too fast. “Yeah. I don’t even know if it’s you for sure, but it looks like you— your hair, your dog, everything. And I—I don’t know what to think, Jungkook. Like, was this recent? Was this before we met? After? I’m just… I don’t even know, okay?” Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, and then you hear him breathe out deeply. “I really don’t… Please, just show me.”

You freeze for a second. “You’re sure? I can just send it to you.” You’re not sure what you want anymore, not sure what’ll make you feel better. You just know you need some kind of answer, even if it’s one you don’t want to hear.

“Yeah. Show me.”

You quickly open the video again, hesitate for a moment, and then press send.

The seconds stretch on, too long, as the video starts loading on his end.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is almost flat. “That’s not even me.”

You can’t help the frustration that rises in you. “But it looks like you. It— everything’s the same.”

He sighs deeply, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his face. “I swear to you, that’s not me. I don’t know when or where that video was taken, but I swear it isn’t me.”

You can feel your chest tighten. “Please just tell me the truth.” Your voice cracks again.

There’s a long silence, and just when you’re about to speak again, he finally responds, softer this time. “I am telling you the truth.”

You want to argue. You want to keep pressing him, demand answers, but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, the words just slip out of him, barely above a whisper. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”

You’re voice softens. “I don’t know.”

Another silence falls over the call. It stretches on, thick and heavy, and you’re left with your thoughts—confused, unsure, and aching to know what’s real.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion building in your chest. The silence between you and Jungkook stretches out as you try to figure out what to say. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling—it’s just… everything feels so uncertain right now.

Jungkook’s voice softens a bit as he breaks the silence, though he’s still trying to be patient. “You missed something,” he says, almost with a touch of amusement. “That guy doesn’t have tattoos.”

It’s only then that you realize it—the guy in the video doesn’t have any tattoos, and Jungkook, well… he’s got an arm full of them.

You feel embarrassed, your face burning at the realization. “Oh…” you mumble, feeling a bit stupid for not noticing earlier. “I didn’t even… I guess I didn’t—”

“Seriously?” he teases lightly, though there’s no malice in his voice. “That’s how you know it’s not me.”

You sigh, your hand dropping to your face in frustration. “God, I feel stupid.”

Then, there’s a brief pause on his end, and you can practically hear him trying to put the pieces together.

“So,” he says, sounding a little more certain now, “you were jealous?”

You freeze, the question catching you off guard. The truth hangs in the air between you, but you don’t have to think long.

“Shut up,” you say quietly, finally understanding why you’ve been acting the way you have. “I guess I was.”

A small silence follows, before Jungkook chuckles softly, his tone a little lighter now.

“That’s why you haven’t been replying to me, huh?” he asks, almost playfully. “Guess that makes sense now.”

You don’t say anything, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips.

The weight in your chest lifts, a sense of relief flooding through you as Jungkook’s words sink in. You hadn’t realized how tense you were, but now that the truth is out, everything feels a little clearer. You let out a long breath, your fingers resting on your phone as if you’re finally allowed to relax.

“God, I feel so much better,” you admit quietly, though there’s a small smile tugging at your lips now that the cloud of uncertainty is gone.

He lets out a quiet laugh on the other end, as if he’s relieved too. “So,” he says, his tone still light, “can I get that cap?”

You roll your eyes, your smile only growing. “Seriously? After everything that just happened, you want your cap?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding a little sheepish. “It’s important, alright? I don’t know what I’m gonna do without it. I could die.”

You shake your head but can’t stop the small laugh that slips out. “Fine, fine. I’ll get it to you.”

There’s a pause, and then Jungkook’s voice softens, like he’s thinking about something. “Is Nari coming over tonight? Or are you going to see her?”

You’re a little taken aback by how quickly he picks up on your schedule, but then again, it shouldn’t surprise you. He’s been paying attention. “Yeah, she’s crashing here for the night. She’ll probably stay the whole weekend.” You tease, a playful edge to your voice. “You should be glad that video wasn’t really you, though. Nari would’ve gone full protective mode if it was. She would’ve… I don’t know, come up with some kind of plan to take you down or something.”

Jungkook laughs at your words, though you sense a slight tension in his voice when he responds. “I’m not sure I want to find out what she’d do, honestly.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease. “She wouldn’t actually hurt you. She just… she has a lot of feelings when it comes to me. And same goes for her.”

“I can tell,” he says, sounding amused but also a little more serious. “But, hey, it’s alright. I get it. I don’t mind, honestly. I want you to feel safe.”

You pause at his reassurance, feeling a warmth spread through you at the simple, sincere words. You can tell he’s being genuine, and it makes you feel a little less on edge about everything.

“Thanks,” you reply softly. “It means a lot.”

For a moment, the conversation lulls, the comfortable silence wrapping around you. But then Jungkook speaks again, his tone changing slightly, like he’s unsure whether or not he should voice his thoughts.

“Hey,” he starts hesitantly, “I don’t want to make this weird, but… I’m kinda- worried, y’know?”

You sit up straighter, your interest piqued by the shift in his voice. “Worried about what?”

“I don’t know, like… if things go further between us… are we just going to keep dealing with stuff like this?” His words hang in the air, heavy with the uncertainty he’s trying to work through. “Is this how it’s always gonna be? With the rumors and… all that other stuff?”

The words hit you like a wave. Go further? Your heart skips a beat as you process the possibility that he’s actually thinking about sticking around. It’s unexpected, and for a second, you’re frozen. You glance away from your phone, suddenly flustered, your mind racing. The idea of him wanting something more with you feels overwhelming—something you hadn’t even considered. A mix of warmth and nervousness floods through you, and you can’t help but feel a little dizzy at the thought.

You take a deep breath, considering his words carefully. There’s no easy answer, no quick reassurance to give, but you know you can’t lie to him. “I don’t know either,” you admit quietly. “But… I think we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, almost like he’s thinking it through out loud. “I just… I don’t want it to be hard. But I guess it might be, huh?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, it probably will be. But we’ll deal with it… together.”

There’s a pause on his end before he speaks again, sounding a little more relieved now that you’ve both acknowledged the elephant in the room. “I hope so,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation ends, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance at it, and your stomach drops as you see a message from Nari. “Im otw, and I swear to god, if I find out he’s pulled some shit like that… I’m cutting his head off. No one messes with my best friend like this. I’m coming for him.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at the dramatic text. You can’t help but find it hilarious, though it does make you feel a little better that Nari’s on your side.

“Well,” you say into the phone with a grin, “you’ll never guess what she just texted me, actually.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s voice sounds curious, his tone softening. “What’d she say?”

“Something like…” you pause dramatically, “she’s going to cut your head off if you mess with me. Classic Nari, huh?”

Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh. “I didn’t think I’d be on her hit list so soon.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease, “it’s just Nari being Nari. She’ll be fine.” Then you add, a little playfully, “But actually, she’s on her way here now, so, like, sorry, it completely slipped my mind- you can’t come over, unless you want to be with us?”

You hear his chuckle on the other end. “Yeah, I figured. Don’t want to get on her bad side. But I dont mind, it’s up to you, but I do really miss that cap” His voice is casual, but you can tell he’s trying to give you space.

You smirk, rolling your eyes. “Sure, you can come. I’m sure Nari wouldn’t mind… In fact…” you pause for effect, “we probably have some explaining to do before she goes crazy.”

He laughs again. “Got it. I’ll just wait for your text then. You know, letting me know when it’s good to come around.”

“Exactly.” You smile to yourself. “We’ll figure it out. And come whenever you feel like it.”

“Alright,” he says softly. “See you later, Y/N”

You smile, feeling lighter now that the air’s cleared a bit. “Bye, Jungkook.”

After a brief pause, you end the call, the silence in your apartment feeling oddly comforting. The weight that had been on your chest all day seems to have lifted, and for the first time in a while, things feel a little… okay.

You hear the knock at the door and, despite your better judgment, can’t help but roll your eyes. You open it to find Nari standing there, her messy hair falling over her face as she balances a heavy-looking bag of snacks in both hands. Her eyes widen when she sees you, and her lips immediately press into a thin line of concern.

“Okay, so, I brought, like, the most ridiculous amount of comfort food I could find, because you’ve been acting so weird today,” she says in a rush, stepping over the threshold with a dramatic huff. “You clearly need some serious moral support—”

You can’t help but laugh at how over-the-top she is. “You’re so dramatic, Nari. Seriously.”

Nari glares at you, shifting the bag in her hands. She’s clearly been carrying it for a while, and you can tell by her body language that she’s trying to hold it together, but her concern is written all over her face. She lets out a little sigh, the bags of chips and candy crinkling as she adjusts the bag. “You’re telling me nothing’s going on? You’ve been off all day, and you haven’t even told me what the hell is going on with you and Jungkook. So, yeah, I brought all this stuff to make sure you didn’t spiral.”

Rolling your eyes, you step aside, letting her walk in. The faint smell of salty snacks and chocolate fills the air as Nari clumsily shuffles past you, struggling with the weight of the bag. She moves to the kitchen counter, practically dumping everything onto it in one dramatic swoop.

There’s everything from bags of chips to a mountain of candy, ice cream cups, and two cans of whipped cream. It’s almost enough to make you laugh, but instead, you just shake your head. “I didn’t need any of this, Nari. I thought I was fine, but apparently, you had other plans.”

Nari starts ripping open a bag of chips with the same intensity she just had while hauling the snacks inside. She pulls a handful out, munching as she turns to face you. “Oh my god, you’re impossible. So, tell me. Seriously. What the fuck is going on with you and Jungkook?”

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms in a lazy attempt to shrug it off. “Relax, okay? We cleared it up. It wasn’t even him in the video, okay?”

Nari stops mid-chip, her hand still raised to her mouth, and stares at you, blinking. Then she drops her hand to her lap, looking at you in deadpan disbelief. “So I show up with a fucking snack buffet, and it’s all fine now?”

You can’t help but let out a quiet laugh at her dramatic response. She’s sitting on one of your kitchen stools now, leaning forward as if she’s about to interrogate you. She crosses her arms, giving you a skeptical look. “What do you mean it’s ‘fine’? You almost let me think I had to start a rescue mission.”

“Relax, Nari,” you say, leaning against the counter again and feeling a bit lighter now that it’s all cleared up. “It’s fine. It’s not him in the video, that’s all.”

You start to shift a bit, moving to grab a glass of water, when Nari lets out another heavy sigh. “Okay, okay. So now I’m just stuck with all this junk, and you’ve ‘cleared things up’? Jesus.”

She plops herself back down onto your couch with a dramatic flop, snatching a chocolate bar from one of the bags. “Well, glad I wasted my time bringing this all over,” she mutters, her voice still heavy with the remnants of her worry. You follow her into the living room, settling down across from her with a slight grin.

“I didn’t need it, but thank you anyway,” you say with a grin, shaking your head. “And, uh, he’s coming over later.”

Nari looks at you with raised eyebrows, her feet tapping against the floor. “Wait, what? After all that? Are you serious?”

You nod, smiling slightly at her reaction. “Yeah. It’s all good now, I just needed to clear things up with him, and we’re fine. No need for the snack aisle chaos.”

“Okay, okay.” Nari shakes her head, looking at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “If you say so. But I swear, if he messes this up, I’m gonna have to stage an intervention.”

You grin, feeling the warmth of her care, but also appreciating the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Nari smiles softly, a little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “I know. But you love me.”

She grabs another handful of chips as you both sit back into the couch, the mess of food strewn around you. The comforting chaos settles around you, and for the first time in a while, things feel like they might actually be okay.

You and Nari are sprawled across the living room, your half-empty snack bags littered across the coffee table as you both dive into another round of ridiculous TikToks. A few hours have slipped by, and you barely even notice the time passing. One minute, you’re comparing who has the most embarrassing saved videos on your phones, and the next, you’re both laughing hysterically over some cat video that’s so stupid it loops in your mind for a while.

At one point, you both start scrolling through social media, pointing at various people to make fun of, leaving comments on posts like a pair of snarky commentators. Your laughter echoes around the room as you both settle back into the couch. The blanket you’ve both been lazily using shifts as Nari pulls it more around her, her head resting on the armrest while she scrolls through yet another meme.

“You’re so weird, how do you find these things?” you say, chuckling as Nari snickers.

“I just search ‘shitposts,’” she responds, grinning widely. “Gotta keep it interesting.”

You both giggle, and then, almost instinctively, you reach for the last piece of candy in the open bag in front of you. As your fingers wrap around it, Nari’s hand shoots out from the other side, and the two of you lock eyes in a dramatic moment of rivalry. Without warning, Nari lunges forward, and before you know it, you’re in a playful tug-of-war over the last piece of candy.

You’re laughing, trying to wiggle away from her grip. “No way, Nari! I called it first!”

Nari grins mischievously, shaking her head. “I’m winning this. No way you’re getting it!”

She’s on top of you now, and the two of you are laughing and playfully wrestling around the living room, fully into the absurdity of the situation. You’re not even sure how it escalated this quickly, but there you are—grappling with Nari for the last sweet like children, your voices full of laughter and playful mock threats.

In the midst of the ridiculousness, you both hear a soft knock at the door. You freeze, mid-wrestle, as if the sound caught you both off guard. For a split second, neither of you moves, both of you breathing heavily from the silly tussle, now aware that someone’s at the door. Before you can react, the door swings open, and in steps Jungkook, looking casual as ever.

You and Nari immediately freeze, like a deer caught in headlights, both of you lying there in a tangled mess, with Nari still half on top of you. You stare at him wide-eyed, completely caught in the act, and for a second, the room goes quiet. The silence between you all is so awkward it’s almost tangible.

Nari, still on top of you, raises an eyebrow, deadpan, “How the hell did you get in?”

Jungkook stands in the doorway, his expression mildly amused, but with a small grin tugging at his lips. “Y/N told me the door would be open. Am I interrupting something?” He glances at the scene in front of him, his eyes flickering between you two in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been caught doing something much more embarrassing than just fighting over a piece of candy.

You and Nari both burst out laughing, the absurdity of it all finally hitting you. Nari lifts herself off you, still chuckling. “Of course, it’s you, Jungkook. Just walking in like it’s a damn movie.”

You scramble to your feet, brushing yourself off, your cheeks flushed from the weirdness of it all. “Uh, no, no interruption at all,” you manage to stammer out, still trying to hold in the laughter. “We were just…uh, yeah. Just sorting things out.”

Nari, still wiping tears from her eyes as she stands up, adds with a teasing grin, “Yeah, you caught us mid-sweet heist. Sorry to disappoint.”

Jungkook chuckles, glancing around the room before looking at the two of you with a raised brow. “Right. Well, looks like I came at a good time.” He steps inside fully, pulling the door shut behind him, and you both continue to laugh at how ridiculous the situation is.

After a few minutes of easy conversation, the rumbling of stomachs suddenly catches your attention. You glance at Jungkook, and then at Nari, and immediately burst out laughing.

As you step back from the moment, you finally take in the full scene. Jungkook’s standing there, holding his own bag of snacks—just like Nari had. It’s absurd, honestly. You can’t help but laugh at the situation, staring at the two massive bags full of sweets, chips, and other random junk. It’s almost like you’re being overprepared for an emotional breakdown that neither of you even needed.

You turn to Nari, raising an eyebrow. “Really? You both had to bring bags of stuff?”

She shrugs dramatically, her grin wide. “Hey, what if you actually needed it?” she teases. “What if you were completely heartbroken and I had to be there with my supply of junk food to make you feel better?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Right, right. Good thing I’m fine. Now we’ve got twice the junk for no reason.”

Nari just throws her hands up in mock surrender as she sits back down, pulling her feet under her and digging into one of the bags with a guilty pleasure look on her face. “Hey, I’m just doing my job here.”

You look over at Jungkook, who’s already setting his bag down beside him. He glances at you, still holding that amused grin. You chuckle to yourself, still in disbelief that you’re all here, doing this ridiculous thing.

A little later, the evening has settled into an easy rhythm. The room’s filled with the hum of idle chatter, the soft click of phone screens, and the occasional burst of laughter from one of the two of you. Nari’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch, the glow of her phone lighting up her face as she scrolls through it aimlessly. She’s been in that same position for the past half hour, shifting around to find the best position to sit, but you know she does it just because the floor feels better to her.

Meanwhile, you and Jungkook are sitting next to each other on the couch, not really paying attention to much else. It’s strange how easily the conversation flows between the two of you. You’re not even really discussing anything important—just the small stuff, like how your day’s been or random thoughts about the food bags or what weird things people post online. But it’s comfortable. The kind of comfortable that makes you forget the world outside the room exists.

Every now and then, one of you will share a thought that causes the other to laugh or shake their head in amusement. You’re too caught up in your own little bubble to notice that Nari’s doing the same thing she always does when she’s alone: scrolling through her phone, looking up occasionally to throw a sarcastic comment at you both before returning to her screen.

Jungkook leans slightly toward you, a smirk playing on his lips as he makes a quiet comment about something funny. You snicker, shaking your head. It’s moments like these—when the world feels calm, and you’re surrounded by good company—that make everything seem so simple. The way he just gets into the flow of things with you without needing to force it. No awkward pauses, just the ease of being together.

And as the night wears on, Nari starts tossing random comments your way, interrupting the small talk between you and Jungkook with a wry comment or question that only makes sense in her world. But, despite the interruption, it feels natural—like all of you just belong together in this space, no explanations needed.

“Okay, so… who’s starving?” you ask, feeling the pangs of hunger hit. You glance at the empty snack bags around you and then back at Nari and Jungkook, who both look equally hungry.

Nari groans and flops back against the couch. “Oh my god, yes. But all we’ve got are these crappy snacks. I need real food. Like, urgently.”

Jungkook looks over at the piles of chips and candy. “Crisis food,” he comments, shaking his head. “I think we need something a little more substantial.”

You laugh, “Well, what’s the plan then?”

“I’m ordering food,” you announce, pulling out your phone, but before you can even start scrolling, Jungkook speaks up.

“I’ll pay for it,” he says, a casual smirk on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Uh, no way. I’ve got this, seriously.”

But he just shakes his head, unfazed. “No, seriously. I’m buying. You let me bring the junk food, so it’s only fair I get the real stuff. Don’t argue with me.”

“Not happening. I’m getting it,” you argue, but you feel a little tug of guilt—he’s being persistent.

Nari glances between the two of you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Ooooh, this is some kind of power play, huh? Trying to win the ‘Who buys the food’ battle?”

Jungkook shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, fine. You win.”

Jungkook pulls out his wallet like he’s been waiting for this moment, and you let out an exaggerated sigh, but don’t put up any more resistance. Nari shakes her head, leaning back with a dramatic eye roll.

“I swear, I can’t believe you’re letting him win like that.”

“Oh, just wait,” you say, tossing your phone back on the table. “He’ll probably order something ridiculous.”

“I can hear you,” Jungkook mutters, the playful annoyance in his voice.

“Yeah, well, deal with it,” you shoot back.

It doesn’t take long for the food to arrive—greasy pizza, crispy fries, wings, and all sorts of things that aren’t exactly gourmet but are perfect for this kind of hangout. Everyone digs in almost immediately, and between bites, the conversation picks back up.

“So, about that video,” Jungkook starts, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled. “Was it as ridiculous as it seemed?”

You immediately groan, resting your head on your hand. “It was totally insane. I mean, seriously, who does that? I’m still trying to figure out what to think about it.”

Nari snorts from where she’s sitting across from you, biting into a wing. “Right? What even is the deal with that? I was reading through the comments on that thing earlier, and some people were just way too invested. Like, seriously?”

“I think some of them were just bored,” Jungkook adds, shaking his head. “It’s like they have nothing better to do.”

You lean back into the couch, your hands holding a slice of pizza as you chew. “I don’t know… it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt… wrong. Like, real.” You swallow, feeling the tension creep back in. “But I think maybe I just overreacted.”

Nari throws her hands up dramatically. “Okay, okay, but let’s back up for a second. You seriously thought that was real? I’m just trying to wrap my head around how you couldn’t tell it wasn’t him.”

You can’t help but snicker, shaking your head. “Yeah, I know. But the guy in the video looked so much like him! Like, even his hair, his—”

“Not to mention the tattoos,” Jungkook cuts in, his tone deadpan.

“The guy in the video didn’t even have any tattoos,” Jungkook points out, eyebrow raised as he looks at you. “Seriously, you missed that?”

You feel your face flush. “Oh my god. I know! How did i not notice that?” You drop your head in your hands, feeling more than a little embarrassed.

“See, this is why you gotta chill,” Nari teases, elbowing you lightly. “Your mind went straight to overthinking, and now you’re feeling like an idiot.”

“I don’t feel like an idiot,” you grumble, but you can’t help but smile a little. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, grinning. “It’s all good. Just, uh, next time maybe double-check the guy’s arms before assuming.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mutter, but the awkwardness has mostly passed now.

“So,” Nari says, grabbing another wing, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “does this mean we’re back to being friends again, or what?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook says with a relaxed smile. “Unless you want to keep giving me a hard time.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you,” Nari says, suddenly looking up from her food. “I just need to know… how do you feel about the whole, uh, rumor mill situation?”

You pause, looking between Nari and Jungkook. “What do you mean?”

“Like… everything with the video and social media and all that,” Nari presses, eyes serious now. “Do you think this is how it’s always gonna be? People thinking they know stuff about you?”

Jungkook sighs, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s always been like this- since i was a trainee- I’m just trying to get through this without it affecting my life too much, but… it’s hard.”

“I get it,” Nari says softly, her tone understanding now. “That shit follows you around, right? People don’t realize how much it gets to you until it’s already too late.”

The conversation quiets for a moment, everyone digesting the shift in tone. But then, Nari’s phone buzzes again, breaking the silence. She groans loudly, reading the message with a scowl.

“Ugh, are you kidding me? My boss just texted. I have to go in tomorrow. What the hell is wrong with him?”

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I thought you had the day off?”

“I did!” she complains, tossing her phone down on the table. “And now I have to go in and deal with his bullshit. I swear, I’m so done.”

You chuckle, trying to hide your grin. “I’ll get you an Uber, okay?”

She looks at you, still sulking. “I don’t want to leave. I’m having too much fun here.”

“I know,” you say, still grinning. “But you can’t skip work forever.”

Reluctantly, Nari gets up and grabs her things. “Fine, fine. I’ll go… but don’t think I won’t be texting you while I’m miserable at work.”

“You better,” you joke. “And don’t forget to text me when you’re home.”

Jungkook stands as well, giving Nari a friendly wave as she heads out. “Take care, Nari. Try not to kill your boss.”

“I’ll try,” she says with a dramatic sigh as she heads for the door. She pauses one last time before leaving. “Oh, and by the way,” she adds, winking at you both, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

With that, the door clicks shut, leaving you and Jungkook alone. The apartment is quieter now, and you glance over at him, feeling the change in the air.

As the meal winds down, you glance at the empty space where Nari had been sitting. The mess of food that remains on her plate is the only evidence she was even there. A half-eaten piece of fried chicken, some noodles with sauce that’s slowly soaking into the table, and an untouched dessert that’s now getting cold. Typical Nari—leaving a mess but somehow making everything feel lighter.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh as he looks at the leftover food. “Wow, she’s seriously crazy- not in a bad way, but damn” he says, his tone amused.

You smirk, shaking your head lightly. “I know, right? It’s just how she is.” You glance over at the space where Nari was sitting, the empty chair now a reminder of the conversation that’s just wrapped up.

Jungkook nods with a grin. “I mean, you’re lucky to have someone like her,” he adds, and you notice the softness in his voice, like he’s taking the moment in. You don’t really know how to respond to that, but you manage a small, easy smile. “Yeah, I know.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, the only sounds being the clinking of forks and the low hum of the background noise from the TV. You start picking up the empty bottles and bowls, but Jungkook is already on his feet, heading toward the sink.

“Hey, let me do it,” he says with a casual smile as he reaches for the dish soap.

You hesitate, about to grab the plates yourself, but he holds up a hand. “No, I insist,” he says, his voice a little firmer this time.

With a small shrug, you step back and watch him go to work. He’s methodical about it, washing each dish with care, his hands strong and sure. The muscles in his arms flex with each movement, and the tattoos that twist around his forearms catch the light as he scrubs. It’s such a domestic thing, watching him clean up without hesitation, and the sight catches you off guard.

You can’t help but notice how attractive it is—how someone like him, who you know is constantly in the spotlight, can be so grounded in a simple moment like this. The motion of him bending over to rinse the dishes, the way his shoulders flex, it all suddenly seems… a little too personal. You find yourself staring for a second too long before you clear your throat, trying to shake yourself out of the moment.

He looks up, catching the look in your eyes, and chuckles lightly. “What?”

You snap out of it, a little embarrassed. “Nothing, just… I didn’t expect you to be so thorough with this.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing you. “What, you think I wouldn’t know how to clean up?” His voice is playful, a little smug.

“No, I mean, I thought you were more the ‘grab a beer and let someone else handle it’ type,” you joke back, but the truth is, you’re surprised at how easily he handles it.

Jungkook chuckles softly and gives you a quick grin. “Nah, not really my style. I don’t mind it.”

As he finishes washing up, you walk over to dry the dishes, but before you can grab the towel, he’s already holding it up with a smile. “I’ve got it,” he says, finishing up the last dish.

You watch him for a moment, a strange warmth spreading through you. There’s something about him taking care of the little things that gets to you. It’s unexpected—and you find yourself appreciating it more than you thought possible.

After a few minutes of silence, you yawned and stretched, your mind starting to wander. You weren’t quite ready to go to bed, but there wasn’t much else to do either. “So… what now?” you asked, your voice a little slurred from the wine.

Jungkook glanced over at you, his expression soft. “I dunno. A tour or something?”

“A tour?” you raised an eyebrow

Jungkook nodded with a playful grin. “Yeah, show me what I’m working with.”

You hesitated for a second before shrugging, standing up straight. “Alright, fine. Follow me.”

As you lead him into your room, you realized how personal everything felt. Your bed, still a jumble of pastel yellow pillows and plushies, a soft and familiar comfort. You could feel his gaze linger on everything: the little trinkets scattered around, the photographs on the walls—ones of you as a baby with your family. The room was just so… you. And it felt a little vulnerable having him see it all, but oddly enough, it wasn’t uncomfortable. He was looking at it like it was interesting, like he wasn’t just humoring you but genuinely seeing you.

“Wow,” Jungkook said quietly as he took in the scene. “This room is… so you.”

You smiled, a little shy, unsure how to take the compliment. “Yeah, I guess. Yellow is kind of my thing.”

He chuckled. “I can tell. It’s… cute. I like it.”

You weren’t sure why, but hearing him say that made you feel warm. You moved to your desk, showing him some of your favorite items, and he took everything in with an interested look. It was odd, having him in your personal space, but in a good way. Almost like he was fitting into your world without trying too hard, and that made everything feel easier.

Jungkook eventually moved toward your bed, picking up one of your plushies. “These things are huge,” he said, holding it up. “How do you sleep with all this?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “I don’t sleep with all of them. Just the ones I really like.”

“Ah,” he nodded knowingly. “So you sleep with the plushies you really like. That’s cute.”

Your heart fluttered a little, and you found yourself laughing it off. “Okay, you’re embarrassing me now.”

He shrugged with a teasing smile. “I don’t make the rules. Your room is just… really cute.”

And for some reason, that felt kind of nice.

Jungkook dramatically flops onto your bed, his arms spread wide as he sinks into the plushies. He sighs like he’s just finished a marathon, face half-buried in a stuffed animal.

“This is it,” he mumbles. “This is the life. I’m never moving again.”

You giggle, swaying slightly on your feet as you watch him make himself at home. The drinks have softened the edges of your thoughts, and suddenly, the sight of Jungkook—sprawled out, cuddling a plushie like he belongs here—is just too cute.

Without thinking, you grab your Polaroid camera from the shelf. Click.

His eyes snap open.

“Wait—” He pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking at you. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

You pause, looking down at the film as it starts developing. “Uh… yeah?”

Jungkook scoffs, sitting up properly. “You could’ve warned me.”

“Why? You looked cute,” you say, giggling as you shake the Polaroid.

Jungkook freezes.

“What—” He clears his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. “Don’t call me cute.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, grinning as you step closer. “You are, though. You and my plushies match.”

His ears are definitely turning red now. He grumbles something under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, and you laugh before turning toward your wall.

Without hesitation, you find an empty space and tape the Polaroid onto it.

“Wait—” Jungkook’s voice is different now, less playful and more surprised. “You’re putting it there?”

You glance back at him. “Yeah. Why?”

He doesn’t respond right away, just staring at the picture now blending in with the rest of your memories.

“That’s, like… your special wall,” he says slowly. “It’s all family and childhood pictures and stuff.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, stepping back to admire it.

He turns to you. “So I get to be up there?”

You blink at him, tipsy honesty slipping out before you can stop it. “Duh. You’re special.”

Jungkook visibly short-circuits.

His mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. He shifts on your bed like he’s trying to find a comfortable way to exist in this moment but is failing miserably.

“I—” he starts, then laughs, shaking his head. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk,” you retort, plopping down onto the bed beside him.

He groans, rubbing his face with both hands. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

You grin, nudging his leg with your knee. “Why? Does it make you nervous?”

Jungkook lowers his hands just enough to glare at you, but his pink ears give him away. “No.”

“Liar,” you tease, rolling onto your side to face him. “Admit it. You like being on my wall.”

He huffs. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you do.”

He glares harder. You just smile.

After a second, he gives up with an exasperated sigh, flopping back into your plushies again. He grabs one and chucks it at your face, making you burst into laughter.

“Go to sleep,” he mutters.

“Admit it first.”

“Never.”

After the whole Polaroid moment, neither of you really address the fact that Jungkook isn’t leaving. It just kind of happens—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

At some point, you stretch, sighing. “I need a shower.”

Jungkook hums in response, sitting up on your bed, scrolling through his phone. You’re about to head to the bathroom when you realize something funny.

You turn, smirking. “Are you gonna come with me?”

Jungkook’s fingers twitch around his phone. His head snaps up. “What?”

You snort. “You’ve been following me around like a lost puppy all night. Thought maybe you wanted to stick by my side for that too.”

His ears go pink. He scoffs. “I have not been following you.”

You just stare at him.

His jaw clenches. “…Not like that.”

Laughing, you shake your head, already making your way to the bathroom. “Relax, I’m joking. Whatever.”

Jungkook clears his throat, flopping onto his back, pressing his phone to his face—but the way he keeps shifting makes it obvious he’s still thinking about it.

You take a quick shower, just washing off the remnants of your day. You can’t fall asleep without showering or feeling clean, it’s always been like that for you.

When you’re in the bathroom, an idea pops into your head.

You crack the door open, peeking out. “Hey, Jungkook?”

He looks up. “Yeah?”

“Can you grab me some clothes?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh—uh, yeah. Sure.”

You bite back a grin. “Just pick anything. And don’t be weird about it.”

Jungkook mutters something under his breath but gets up, heading toward your closet. You hear him rustling through the clothes, and then— He sees a particular piece of underwear which has something stirring in his lower stomach; It’s light yellow, lacy, and he feels like a fucking teenager when he feels his cock stirring at the thought of you wearing them.

“…Oh.”

You stifle a laugh. “What?”

“…Nothing.” More rustling. Then another pause. Then, lower: “…Damn.”

You grin. “Jungkook.”

“I’m working on it!” He quickly shuts your underwear drawer, snapping out of his horny and tipsy state of just staring at the endless amounts of underwear you have. Opting for a camisole, shorts, and some pale yellow polka dot underwear, which you find not particularly sexy, but something about it’s sheer simplicity of a garment has Jungkook’s stomach churning more than the lacy pair, he finally walks up to the bathroom.

Finally, he knocks on the bathroom door. “Here.”

When you swing the door open fully, Jungkook visibly stutters.

You’re wrapped in a thick bathrobe, still slightly damp from the shower, hair messy. The scent of your shampoo drifts out, and for a second, he just stares.

Then he clears his throat, shoving the clothes at you. “You, uh. Smell nice.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re going with?”

He huffs out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “What, you want me to say you look good too?”

You smirk. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re an idiot.”

Still grinning, you grab the clothes, but right before you close the door, you tease, “By the way… took you a while to pick something out.”

His ears are pink again. “Shut up.”

And as he walks back to your bed, he definitely doesn’t think about what else was in your closet. Not at all.

As you settle into bed, you grab your lotion, propping a leg up to moisturize like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Jungkook, sitting stiffly at the edge of the bed, is very much not casual about it. He swallows, looking everywhere but directly at you, only for his eyes to betray him and flicker down anyway. The slow drag of your hands over your skin, the soft glow of your fairy lights catching the sheen of moisture—it’s doing things to him. What the fuck is going on tonight?!

But it’s when you sit back, finally done, and turn to him that he really freezes. Your face is bare, completely natural, no makeup, nothing—just you. And somehow, it’s unfairly captivating. His staring doesn’t go unnoticed. “What?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook blinks, caught. “Nothing,” he says quickly, but his voice is just a little too soft, a little too genuine.

You hold his gaze for a second longer before shaking your head with a small smile, crawling under the covers. Once you’re comfortable, you glance at him again. “Are you actually going home tonight?”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really don’t want to,” he admits. “I’ll stay for a while, but I do have to leave at some point ‘cause of Bam.”

That makes you frown. “Oh. Right.” You try not to sound too disappointed, but he catches it anyway.

Still, neither of you makes any move to get up. He slides further onto the bed, settling in, and somehow, the space between you begins to shrink. It’s hesitant at first—shoulders brushing, then shifting apart, then brushing again. But the longer you lay there, the more natural it feels.

Then it happens. Your breathing slows, deepens. The subtle weight of your body against him becomes heavier, and when he glances down, he realizes—you’re asleep.

Jungkook holds his breath. He moves carefully, slipping under the covers, but the second he does, you stir, a soft little noise escaping you as you instinctively nuzzle into his chest. His entire body tenses. His heart? Gone. He’s genuinely struggling to process the fact that you’re in his arms, warm and trusting, curling up like you belong there. And you do. To him, you do.

And it hits him like a truck. He’s falling. Hard.

It’s not just attraction—it’s something deeper, something terrifyingly real. He already knows he likes you, but now, lying here with you wrapped around him, listening to your soft breaths, he realizes just how much. He’s never felt like this before, never wanted something so badly but so delicately at the same time.

His fingers twitch where they rest against your back. You’re so close, so warm, so—

Jungkook exhales shakily. Yeah. He’s staying.

Carefully, he reaches for his phone, typing out a quick message to Taehyung:

pls ferd bam in the morning? i’m nt coming hmr

He tries his best to type with one hand, not wanting to wake you up. He’s selfish, and he wants this moment to stretch as much as he possibly can.

A few seconds later, he gets a response:

LMAO. ok lover boy

Jungkook rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he sets his phone down and looks at you again. You’re ridiculously snug against him now, face smushed into his chest, and—oh. There it is. A small, damp patch forming on his shirt.

You’re drooling.

A smile tugs at his lips. If you were awake, you’d be mortified, but right now? Right now, you look impossibly cute. And yeah… he’s probably never washing this shirt again.

With a quiet chuckle, he lifts a hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re really something else, huh?” he murmurs. You don’t stir. He exhales softly. “God, I’m so screwed.”

The fairy lights cast a dim, golden glow across the room, just enough for him to make out the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. And as he watches, sleep slowly begins to pull at him too.

Jungkook’s last thought before he drifts off is simple, inevitable:

He’s never felt so… normal in his life, and it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

[konpeitonom]

Pookie I'm BEGGING YOU for a curly x fem reader smut but like he has a rough day and reader asks her to take it out on her so he's like rougher with her than usual 🤭🤭 then there's some nice fluffy aftercare afterwards. As usual take ur time and take breaks!

-🌺 anon

a long day of work, captain grant curly.

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — content warnings for light choking, degrading.. he’s a bit mean. some creative liberty was taken..

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; i don’t like to write full length one shots n such and don’t plan too.. just not my style. so i’ll write this in sort of a headcanon-ny / drabble formatting. just a quick heads up for anyone who requests me! i also.. forgot the fluffy aftercare part.. perhaps another time, or a little pt2 if i feel so inclined..

but this might have been my favorite to write for today. this is my 6th piece for the day (posting in the morning..) thank you for ur request anon..

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

— curly after a long, tiring day of work, all he wanted was to see your pretty face. it always made him feel better. everytime he opens that door, he’ll hear, “welcome home!!”, “you were working for so long, can’t you cut back your hours?”, “i missed you so much. quit that stupid job, please?” .. you get the point.

— he seems extra tired today. even after dinner, a nice bath, some tv, he still looks so stressed! you have to do something. isn’t there anything you can do?

— eventually he ends up venting about work, how stressed he is. he doesn’t like to but he knows you don’t mind. one thing led to another and he was on top of you.

- ♡

“curly.. you know, you don’t have to hold back as much as you do..” you say, your hands on his arms. your fingertips trace his muscles just slightly, as a way to ease him into the idea.

he groans at that thought. god, he really needs to let it all go. but he can’t do that. he really can’t, “what are you talking about?” he said, playing dumb. but you were able to see through him, of course you were.

“curly..”

“no, i can’t.”

“please.. you can take it all out on me. please? i want it. i really do. don’t you want it too?” you respond so desperately.

- ♡

— you knew your husband well. he’d only do it to make you happy. and if that was it? then he can’t say no.

— he’s a bit soft at first. he’s still holding back. just be patient with him, it’ll take awhile for him to get a bit rough the way he does.

— one of his hands holds tightly onto the bed frame, the other on your shoulder keeping you down. his pace is regular but his thrusts are much rougher, you can feel his dick bruising your insides.

— please be vocal.. it tells him you’re enjoying it too. even all pent up and stressed, he’s prioritizing you’re pleasure. even like this, he’ll make sure you cum first.

- ♡

your mouth is wide open, the prettiest noises coming out of it. he looks down at you, his eyes a bit squinted as he places a hand on your neck. you nod gently as to reassure him it was okay, and that’s when he pressed down.

he lets out a low groan, “fuck, do you like that? seriously?” he teased, his tone mean. you didn’t expect that from him, but it was more than welcome.

“god, should’ve told me sooner.” he said, as he pushed down just a bit- pushing the boundaries of what was you’re regular, “look at you. you’re such a mess. i wish you could see your face right now, it’s fucking pathetic.”

- ♡

— you can tell he feels bad, but small reassurances fuel him. so just nod and smile and he’ll continue.

— at this point his pace quickens and he’s rough with it. his hand that isn’t wrapped around your neck like a vice, is on your hips- digging deep into your skin.

— he’d then turn you over to your tummy, making you go on all fours as he pulls your hair back. kind of like a leash. his dick balls deep into your pussy still.

— god, he was so rough. it hurt, you can’t lie. but it felt so good, so good to know that the sensitive man you married has a side to him that only you have the pleasure of feeling.

— “fuck. seems like you enjoy being used like this. yeah? like a fucking toy? why didn’t you say so before then?” he’d whisper into your ear.

— he cums at the sight of your eyes rolled back to make eye contact with him, your tongue a bit out as you moan uncontrollably. maybe it was also the teardrops that stained your face. you looked pitiful, really.

— “are you okay?” he’d whisper in your ear. he felt bad for cumming first. but he couldn’t help it. he could only hope you wouldn’t be too upset.

— that’s when he’d turn you over to your back to see your face much more clearly. if you tell him now that you need a break, he’s happy to do so- then please you. no harsh words, just love.

— but if you nod, tell him it’s okay- and that you want to continue. you’re in for a long night, because at that slight nod he’s already shoved his dick back in you. he’s desperate, and you’re willing to give it to him.

[am-i-interrupting]

Helllooooo!!! I was wondering if you could maybe write something of Silco x Reader where reader suffers from headaches and he gives them a shoulder/head massage 👀 it’s can be fluffy, sensual, sexual…. However you want!! Xoxo!!!😘

Scattering Tension

With Silco’s busy schedule and chaotic life, one would assume he was the one who needed the constant care in any relationship. Did he need to be pulled to bed? Yes. Did he need to be reminded to eat? Occasionally. However, that was not the case.

He was actually a very attentive lover. He was in touch with your and your body seemingly better than you were. He would be able to spot the signs before you and drag you away to rest before things got bad.

Today was one of those days. You were unable to focus. Everything just went through one ear, around the boiling pain, and then right out the other.

The pain was behind your eye. It carved through the tissue into your brain. You could feel the blood rushing through your veins and the pain pulsed with it. It wounded its way into your teeth. The muscles of your jaw pulled tight. That tautness went down the back of your neck and into the tissues of your shoulders.

You felt a pair of cold, long fingers press into your temples. The pressure forced apart nerves. A moment of relief was granted to you as they no longer bounced against one another.

You leaned back. A soft chuckle was given in reply.

Two fingers pressed against your temples. Another two curled at the connection of your jaw. The knuckles dug into the tight muscles. A thumb was behind your ear. It was soft and caressing in comparison to the pressure of the other fingers.

“You work yourself too hard,” Silco’s voice said.

His chin brushed against your hair but you could still smell the smoke and ash on his breath. It brought you comfort.

You wanted to give some witty reply about a pot and a kettle or something of the sort but the knuckles which worked your jaw were too nice to part with. Instead you simply groaned.

The fingertips at your temples moved further down. They rubbed at the soft tissue until they met the hardness of your cheekbone. They passed beneath your eye and down.

The knuckles left your jaw but not before circling up one last time to the place at the top where your muscles were gathered. A final, hard press was given to them like a farewell kiss.

You were made aware of every piece of gathered muscle, tissue, and even the veins which rolled between and through as Silco’s hands wrapped around your neck. His thumb pushed and a hum left you. The tension was slowly ebbing away. A tide of pain and pleasure came to you as it did.

“You’re too good at this,” you said.

His hands flattened. He gathered up your skin and grabbed. The flat of his hand rolled at the back of your neck. His fingers pushed into the underside of your jaw.

“What can I say? I’m good with my hands,” you could hear the sly, pleased grin on his face.

You couldn’t even retort. His was right. In all the underlaying ways he was implying, he was right. He was a man who knew how to use his hands and use them well.

[iouinotes]

Heartbeat | Seth Cohen

pairing: Seth Cohen x female!reader

show: o.c California

warnings: kissing, arguments,

summary: Seth is your best friend and he's trying everything to win Summer's heart. You on the other hand would do anything to win his heart and make it beat for you.

author's note: I'm probably the last person on earth who hasn't watched this series. But hey, new potential for ff. By the way, please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks his voice sounds like Dylan O'Briens...

The way I love him is like the waves on the open sea on a beautiful day.

While the sun shines on my skin and my bikini slips slightly, revealing my sun-kissed skin, I try to secretly look at him.

The way his brown curls are wet from the blue sea or how his muscles tense as he pulls his shirt over his head.

I hear a sigh of relief escape from his mouth and have to giggle to keep myself from laughing at his swimming trunks.

Showing one of his cartoon characters, red and dark tones that highlight his pale skin even more.

And when he turns his head and smiles at me, relaxed in a way, as if there were only the two of us in the whole world, he has never looked more beautiful to me.

"Are you daydreaming, sunshine?" Oh, his teasing voice and that look in his eyes- what wouldn't I give to finally have him for myself.

"You'd like to know, Cohen." I grin slightly at him as I answer him. His raised eyebrows and the heat around us make my head spin.

"Okay, let me guess. Are you thinking about the party tonight at my parents' house and what you want to wear?" For a moment he looks out to the sea, reassuring himself that we are safe, until he finally lies down next to me with his arms outstretched above his head.

Rolling my eyes, I quickly answer him.

"Girls don't just think about parties and dresses, idiot." His brown eyes, which are now looking at me invitingly, make the butterflies fly around in my stomach.

"But was I right?" When I try to turn his head away with my hand, he holds mine tightly. But immediately afterwards he strokes my skin tenderly and my thoughts need a moment to sort themselves out.

"Whatever. And just because you started it, I'm going to wear my new blue dress. The one I brought to your room earlier, remember?" The triumphant smile on his face is worth every single word.

For a few seconds, all I can hear is the cries of the seagulls and the sound of the waves. I'm almost starting to doze off when his voice rings out again.

But this time my joy is dampened by his next sentence.

"Today is the day, you know? I'm pretty sure Summer will at least remember my first name by the end of the night." The sinking of my heart feels almost too painful to answer to him.

What else did I expect? Summer has been on his mind for years, every minute of the day since he first saw her.

Seth, on the other hand, has been in my heart since the first time we met. On a rainy day at a skate park, while I was just lost and he was practicing his tricks.

To this day, I can remember the moment when his brown eyes became the most beautiful sight in the world for me.

Nothing has changed ever since.

"Yeah, sure." It's always the same. His never-ending crush on her, the ever-growing hope that is destroyed with each and every one of her withering glances. The dejection in his eyes, as if his happiness would melt away as soon as she was near him.

I can never do anything about it. Because no matter how many times she ignores him or puts him down, her attention is the spark in his heart that never extinguishes.

Because what can I do? Summer is pretty, sassy and popular in our social circle. She makes every boy weak in the knees, worshiping her even though she never shows serious interest.

Seth is blind to it too, he just wants her attention. That she remembers how his name is.

I know his name. His favorite comics. His hatred towards bad movies or his nervous habit of talking endlessly without it making actual sense. I know his sarcasm, his heartbreaks, and his commitment to dreams.

But that doesn't seem to be enough. Because when he looks at her, he sees the sun. I, on the other hand, am a small star that doesn't shine bright enough to be noticed.

So as we fall into silence and I try to suppress my sadness about my unrequited love, he hums softly next to me.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

When we return from our little trip at sea, the sun is almost setting. My gaze falls to the floor and as I listen to his excited voice, I wonder how it would feel to hold his hand.

As we walk up the stairs to his room and I greet his father as I pass, I recognize the look in his eyes as he opens the door for me.

"Oh come on Seth. It can't be healthy for you to think about her for every free second of your day." With a sigh, he throws himself onto his bed with his back showing to me.

"I just wonder why she doesn't see my potential. I would be a great boyfriend."

Yes, for me.

"That's probably because you follow her around like a lost puppy. Compared to the water polo guys, that's a drastic difference."

When I carefully take my dress down from his door that I hung there a few hours ago, his eyes clouded with pity follow me.

A little ritual for us before every big celebration. Getting ready together, like boyfriend and girlfriend. But I immediately push the thought away.

"But everyone likes puppies. At some point she'll look at me and realize that we would make a great couple." Shaking my head, I pat him on the shoulder.

"Everyone has their dreams, Cohen." I meet his gaze as he thoughtfully glances back at me, suddenly meeting my eyes with a newfound interest.

"What are you dreaming about?" The curiosity in his my voice makes me smile.

"Well, it may be a bit cheesy but I wish for… a person." At my words his eyebrows raise and as he sits up straight, I suddenly feel constricted.

"One person for...what? Carrying your bags while you're shopping? I'm already in charge of that." Laughing, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I didn't mean that. Even though that's nice, no argument there. No, I mean a person with whom I can experience my first times. You know, the first date, the first romantic kiss. The first vacation shared together...the first time sleeping together, feeling each others heartbeates. That's what I dream of."

As I finish my last sentence, I look at his face. See his rude stare and his open mouth.

"Wow, I- I didn't know you wanted all this so much." Shrugging my shoulders, I turn around to stroke my blue dress. Trying to hide my heated cheeks.

"It's not going to happen anytime soon anyway, so I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming." The silence that follows is almost painful.

"Nevermind. Also, we only have an hour left to get ready. We'd better hurry." He roles his eyes at my attempt to change the subject.

"You say that every time and you always beg me for another five minutes at the end." As I take off my sandals, he narrowly avoids a pair I throw at him.

"Be quiet, Cohen."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Kirsten had outdone herself. The decorations, the guest list, the food selection. It was all perfection.

As I look out the window of Seth's room, I repeatedly brush a strand of hair out of my face. My heart beats faster with each passing second of silence and I feel my cheeks turning pink as Seth comes out of the bathroom.

The black suit, a red tie and the neat curls. This view is even more perfect than the one outside.

You'd think I'd be able to hide my attraction to him better by now, but when I audibly catch my breath, he looks at me critically.

"What? Does that scream my-mother-picked-out-my-wardrobe too much?" The crooked grin on his face makes me think dramatically long about my answer.

"Everyone knows you're a mama's boy, so it won't hurt your aura." The hand that comes to his chest as he sucks in air makes me giggle.

"Damn, that was mean. But do you think Summer likes mama's boys?" As soon as he says her name, it’s sounding like a prayer from his lips, I try not to show my disappointment on my face.

"Seth-" I sigh, trying to pull myself together. After all, he's still my best friend and I don't want to hurt his feelings. Even if it means hurting my own.

"What?" Innocence swims in his eyes and again, I wish I could tell him the truth. Instead, I continue to play matchmaker.

"I know best how much you want to impress her. But please trust me when I tell you that it always brings bad luck when one person loves their partner more. There has to be a balance." But my words don't seem to have any effect.

"I will bring balance to the force-" The laughter that escapes from his throat makes me shrug my shoulders a little more relaxed now. He knows he got me, when I can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Nerd. Come on, Skywalker, it's time we both show up at the party." Nodding, he closes the door and as we step out onto the bright terrace with the sun shining on us, I feel peaceful.

Unfortunately, the feeling only lasts two hours. Or more precisely, until Summer, the beautiful, graceful, mean Summer, enters the Cohens' house.

Since that moment, I have had an overexcited, confused, useless boy next to me who can't stop embarrassing himself.

"Do you think I should get her something to drink-" I interrupt his speech for the first time in three hours.

"If you don't stop this right now, I swear I'll never ever surprise you with comic books again." The threat actually makes him close his mouth.

"Why are you in such a bad mood? Do you need a drink?" If he hadn't said it so sarcastically, I would have found the question sweet.

"Seth, I can handle a lot of things in our friendship. Your never-ending sarcasm, your inappropriate jokes or your ability to always say the wrong thing to people. Hell, I can even deal with your love for cartoon characters and your obsession with video games on a daily basis. But talking about Summer every second of the day, twenty-four hours a week? That has reached my limit."

While I try to keep my voice low, the confusion is written all over his handsome face.

"But who else should I share my despair with? You're the only one who's really interested in what I have to say." His words hurt a part of my heart that I cannot describe.

"Exactly. I'm interested in you. Not how pretty Summer looks or what Summer just said, did, or might do in the future." For the first time that evening, he actually seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"So...change of subject?" Relieved, I have to start smiling lightly.

"Yes, please." As we smile at each other at that moment, it feels, for once, like I have his full attention.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As soon as I open the door to the ladies' room, I wish I could immediately turn around and leave.

In front of the mirror, her face looks at me skeptically.

I try to act like she doesn't bother me, even though there are so many things I'd like to say to her.

"Aren't you that girl who's always with Steven?" I look at her, clearly confused.

Rolling her eyes, she continues. "The nerd with the brown curls, his parents own the house, I heard."

"His name is Seth." She shrugs and applies her lip gloss. Her eyes alternately focus on me and the mirror in front of her.

"Whatever. Are you together?" I feel heat rushing to my face and as I try to answer relaxed, she seems to see right through me.

"What- together? No- we're friends. Just friends." As she turns to me now, she raises her eyebrows almost disinterestedly.

"Really? Then why are you looking at him like you're in love with him?" I turn away from her curious stare and try my best not to let my nervousness show.

"You must be mistaken. He's my best friend." As she stands two steps ahead of me, I don't know what to say.

"That doesn't mean you don't have feelings for him. What about him?" Sighing, I can't try to deny it any longer.

"He doesn't." When I see compassion in her eyes, I start to like her a little.

"Then change that. He's just a boy. Show him what he's missing out on. A little skin showing, a few compliments. He won't realize what's happening until he's begging you to let him kiss you." I look at her, laughing, and for a moment I dare to dream.

"What if he likes someone else? How can I keep up?" With elegant steps she walks past me and opens the door.

"Then you have no choice but to outdo her."

When the door closes, I am left alone with my thoughts.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As Seth loosens his tie, I am still deep in thought.

After my conversation with Summer, the party was over quicker than expected. Seth and I watched some of the guests, joked about the age difference, had two glasses of expensive wine and had the time of our lives.

All without talking about Summer again.

Now that I'm here in his room and we're getting ready for bed, I'm unsure about my next steps.

I usually sleep on his bed while he puts his mattress on the floor. Since we were little, this has been our approach to spend the night together.

However, tonight I want it to be different.

As I remove the clips from my hair and the makeup from my face, Seth talks incessantly about the latest Legion comic.

It's reassuring to listen to him like this while I think about my next steps.

We usually change separately, there's just a certain intimacy in being so open and showing yourself in your underwear.

But Summer said I have to go for it. Why do I listen to her? I don't know to be honest. I just think I should seize this moment of courage.

So I stand up and breathe in gently, trying to behave as inconspicuously as possible.

I slowly take off my dress and as it falls to the floor, Seth's head turns in confusion towards the noise.

"What have you dropped now- oh" I can literally see his eyes double in amazement and he almost chokes on his words in surprise.

I have to smile when I notice how he can't stop looking at me in my lace underwear.

1:0 for me.

"Are you still breathing, Cohen?" When I see him swallow, I turn my back to him. His reaction is so intoxicating that it fills me with renewed confidence. As my hair brushes my back, I finally hear his chatter.

"What- yeah- I'm just- I'm fine- are you fine? Has it gotten warmer in here? Are you warm? It seems so, otherwise you wouldn't be undressing in here. God, no girl has ever undressed in front of me." Laughing, I pick up one of his shirts with the stupidest designs, but there's still nothing I'd rather wear.

When I put it on, it covers me down to my knees and as soon as I turn around, I meet his gaze.

"We're not nine anymore, Seth. I think our friendship can handle us changing in front of each other." As I walk towards him, his gaze wanders along my legs.

"Er- sure. Of course, no problem. I- what?" My fingers slowly stroke his shirt, carefully grasping his tie as I begin to untie it completely.

"Do you think we can go to sea again tomorrow? This time we are not under any time pressure." I feel him stiffen slightly under my touch as he tries his best to stay cool. Well, as cool as Seth Cohen can be.

"Sure- maybe around one o'clock? Ryan is probably doing something with Marissa anyway. Doing god knows what- wait. I shouldn’t say his holy name out loud, when they are doing certain rather unholy stuff. Why am I saying this? I just mean, that we can both sleep in, I guess. And we can stay awake a little longer tonight." When his tie finally comes completely loose, I gently place my hands on his chest.

I meet his gaze as I raise my head, now so close to him. Our faces are only inches apart. I can see the brown in his eyes and the blush that adorns his face as he stops rambling.

"Yeah? What do you want to do?" Maybe this is the moment he finally realizes that Summer isn't the only one who exists in this world.

Maybe he'll finally notice me now.

"Teach me how to flirt?"

Did the world just stop turning? Or is it just my heartbeat that has stopped? Just with his words, just with the way he looks at me.

As if he no longer wanted to shy away from this tension between us.

"Flirting is an art, Cohen. I don't know if you're capable of pulling it off." His subsequent eye roll and the hand that he places pleadingly around my own make me reconsider my next actions.

At least now I can finally reveal my affection to him.

"Please, I'll go shopping with you. Even to the men's department so you can pick out my clothes. Just teach me." Surprisingly, I pause at his words.

"Even if I put sweatpants on you?" His face twists slightly.

"Yes, even if I have to wear sweatpants." I smile, brushing my hair back. As my eyes focus on his figure, a thousand thoughts race through my head.

"Okay. First step: your posture. I know how much you like to dramatically gesticulate your sentences with your hands, but you should avoid that when you're trying to flirt. You have to stay cool, confident. But still polite, not as if you don't care about the answer." Nodding, he listens attentively to each of my words, trying to understand the intention behind them.

"Like this?" I see him put his hands behind his back and stand there stiffly, his curious look ever present in his eyes.

I laugh and shake my head. "Not quite. Here, I'll show you." My hands move to his own ones, pulling them forward. Slowly I stroke his knuckles, but when I notice his opening mouth at my gentle touch, I let them go.

"Put them in your pockets. Stand up straight, but don't try to force it. Just relax." When he puts his hands in his pockets and stands with his foot slightly at an angle, he looks so carefree for a moment that I almost fall for the trick myself.

"Convincing enough?" Nodding, I try not to let the sight burn too much into my memory.

"Keep that up. Next important step. Your language, the way you speak. If you're going to flirt, it has to be seductive. You have to make me hang on every word that comes out of your mouth." As if I don't already do that.

As his eyebrows draw together, I see the confusion in his pupils and sighing, I speak up again.

"Try talking to me." I wait invitingly for his next move.

"Hey, uh what's going on?" When he doesn’t speak any further, I intervene.

"Okay, maybe I should show you how to do it first. Firstly, you need to try to initiate a conversation." I take a quick breath and try to relax my shoulders to prepare myself.

As I wrap my fingers around his collar and slowly stroke down his shirt, I see him swallow.

"Did you enjoy the party?" I try to maintain eye contact with him while keeping my voice a little quieter and giving more meaning to my words. I can literally see the gears turning in his head.

"I-I did?" When he stops speaking, I put my hand on his chest, circling the pattern of his shirt.

"Don't you want to ask me what I liked the most?" I see how he closes his mouth, trying to find the right words, as if he suddenly doesn't know how to talk to me normally anymore.

"What did you like best?" I smile sweetly, slowly sliding my fingers into his neck and playing with his brown curls.

My heart beats louder than ever, when I notice the expression on his face as I caress his hair softly.

"You."

It is this one moment when the world makes sense. When the eternal waiting, the torment of the last few years and the stupid boy in front of me finally makes sense.

Because his eyes wander to my lips and I feel his breath across my face as our bodies are drawn to each other like magic.

His lips almost brush mine, we are so close together that my mind is unable to think of anything other than his touch.

What it would be like to kiss him.

"Is this still part of the lesson?" His breathless voice makes me smile.

"Well, do you want it to end?" I have to laugh at his lips as he quickly shakes his head.

"What-what should I do?" I stand slightly on my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear.

"What every princess wants from her fairytale prince. Kiss me."

He leans slowly into my touch. With every breath he takes, I can feel his arms sliding around my waist as his curls brush my forehead. He licks his lips uncertainly and when I look into his eyes, full of affection and the desire to kiss me, I fall in love with him even more.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." Confusion adorns his features and I try not to let my strong heartbeat distract me too much when I finally tell him the truth.

"Waiting for what? Me?" Laughing, I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of his closeness.

"It's always been you for me, Seth. When I said, "You're unbearable"? In my head, I wanted to spend every second I'm in this world with you. Or when I always roll my eyes when you stumble over your words, as if you're afraid it would bore me too much and I would stop listening to you. Because I would never do that. God, I practically hang on every word that comes out of your mouth."

As astonishment takes over his gaze, I feel a blush creep over my skin. What do I have to lose now?

When he answers, a loving smile adorns his face, coupled with a brief shake of the head.

"So I was unconsciously flirting with you the whole time? You know, step two?"

"You don't have to flirt with me for me to fall for you, Cohen. I fell already, hard."

His eyebrows rise, his nervousness changes almost abruptly to a smug expression.

"Is that so? Even though I talk about Captain Oats for two hours, when I was telling you his story from my childhood?"

"Why do you think I'm still here? No one would listen to that, not even me, if I hadn't been thinking about how good you looked in your sweater."

"Very shameless of you, Captain Oats would be disappointed by your little interest in his life."

"And would Seth Cohen be disappointed if I'm too interested in his life to pay attention to anything else?" Grinning, he pulls me closer to him.

"I'm pretty sure he'd be flattered." His lips hover over mine as his words cast a spell over my mind.

"Then I guess I should do that more often." Slowly, I push him back and let him fall onto his bed while his eyes roam over my body.

"Oh, definitely. You can do anything you want." Smiling sweetly, I move closer to him until I sit down on his lap. His hands find their own way to my thighs, stroking my bare skin.

“I can hear your heartbeat, Cohen. Are you nervous?“ I smile as I tease him, roaming my fingernails over his chest.

“I don’t do nervous. But indeed sunshine, my heartbeat is that noticeable, because you‘re making it beat faster. You‘re making my time on earth feel faster and I would‘t want it any other way.“ Smiling in the kiss, I stretch my hands around his neck.

Being with Seth Cohen isn't always easy, but I guess love isn't either.

[sweetimpurity]

i think i speak for alotta Miguel lovers...but we need more blue collar Miguel. Bots AND fics.

🍊 no.2

Whatever you like. Mechanic. Engineer. Construction. Welder. Bricklayer. Tiler.

Could be in a relationship with us or maybe just the guy who comes around.... Oh even a maintenance man. Handy man. Bob the builder. Nah. But we all know we'd love to see him working a car..

Thank you anon for all these wonderful requests! I'm working my way through them and consuming the necessary media to do these justice haha! I love it! 🍊

These bots can all be found on my profile: sweetimpurity on c.ai!

Blue collar husband ೄྀ---ˊˎ-

He’s tired and dirty after work…

He's tired and dirty, sore and achy. Coming home after an insanely long day and walking up the steps to the front door is his last big hill to climb. All he could think about all day was your pretty face. He absolutely hated leaving the bed this morning. Wanted to stay there with you in his arms. But his job is demanding and tough. A different construction sight, more shingles, new bricks to be laid all the time. But he does it all for you. Even more than for himself.

He finally makes it to the door, opening it with his key and stepping in. Relishing in the quiet of the apartment, knowing you're in here somewhere.

"Baby, I'm home..." He calls softly, putting his bag down, peeling his jacket off and the hat he was wearing pretty much all day. "Jesus..." He sighs, seeing the dust covering the brim of the cap, watching it fall off onto the carpet and onto his hands. "I'm filthy..."

Handyman Miguel  :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

He’s come to fix your pipes… 😉

The faucet is leaking again. Of course. Because as soon as you get someone to come fix your radiator, something else would break. With the cabinets under the sink wide open, towels scattered across the floor, the boards under the sink soaked and warped, cleaning supplies and things all scattered across the kitchen floor... you're just waiting for your savior to finally come. The plumber you called in a sort of emergency request to help stop your floor from completely flooding through.

So antsy you wait here. You live alone so there aren't any roommates sharing in your panic. Watching the pipes leak into a pan under the sink, checking it every half hour. Watering your plants on the fire escape with the water that collects. Then instantly putting the pan back under there to collect the water seeping out through the threads of the pipes. Feeling quite helpless.

Finally after this process continued all morning long, there's a knock at the apartment door. You're in the process of bringing the pan back to the sink when you hear it. "Just a second!" You call frantically, putting it down and rushing over to the door. Practically ripping it open. And delivering a long winded explanation of everything that's gone on all day, all in one breath, all in a panic.

The poor handy man stands there, listening to your panicked retelling of all that's gone on. His dark eyes slightly widened, looking down at you from his tall height with soft concern.

Extra! *ೃ༄

Firefighter husband 

Your lifesaver…

"Pa! Pa! Papa!" His little girl squeals, bouncing up and down as he pulls his jacket off and puts his bag down after a long day at the station. Some routine checks and a car accident on the interstate were what made up his day today and he's tired to say the least. But seeing his kids and you makes it all worth it.

"Hey mija..." He grins, picking her up as much as it strains his muscles. Giving her big kisses on her chubby little cheek as she instantly starts telling him all about her day. Soon after, he sees you and the other little ones emerge from the kitchen to greet him at the door. He's grateful for his family after a day like that. To see everyone's faces after the day he had is like heaven.

Kinda went overboard ha! I hope you like them! And if you have any critiques or the links don't work let me know! Love ya! More to come...

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

[makochi-furin]

KAJI REN AND DAZAI OSAMU WITH S/O WHO WAS PREVIOUSLY IN A PHYSICALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP

A/N: these are what my scenarios look like :)

WARNING(s): reader used to be in an abusive relationship, mentions of PTSD

KAJI REN

Your boyfriend, Ren, had texted you earlier today that his mom was out, and that if you wanted to you could come over, or you two could go out to town to do something, since he didn't have rounds today.

You jumped on the chance, obviously, quickly getting dressed and practically running to his house. It wasn't often that you two got to spend time together, even on weekends, because Bofurin took up so much of his time. You were so proud of him, of course, for being in Bofurin, but you also missed him a lot.

That's how you found yourself in his room. After about two hours of catching up and joking around, he asked you if you'd mind him playing on his PlayStation. Apparently, one of his friends had asked him to join.

You said it was okay out of habit, because before, with your ex, if you'd have said anything else... Let's just say you'd end up feeling it. Plus, Ren told you it'd only be about thirty minutes, and then he'd take you to go get food.

He didn't have any sort of headset on, though, so you pretty much sat on his bed and watched him, talking all throughout about any random thing that popped into your head.

Although he didn't reply much, you knew he was listening. His headphones were around his neck, after all, and sometimes you'd catch him smiling about something you said.

He was quiet, and it was nice to be able to talk about yourself for a change. Though, with Ren, it seemed like you were always talking about yourself. You just hadn't gotten to in so long. Talking about yourself before Ren was usually met with ridicule.

Eventually, you two settled into a comfortable silence. You leaned back on the headboard, phone in your hand as you scrolled through social media.

You got a pop up that your phone was about to die, which had you pouting at the screen. Looking around, you saw a phone charger on his nightstand, but it wasn't plugged in. You couldn't see an outlet anywhere nearby.

"Hey, Ren?" you started hesitantly.

He hummed.

"Can I use your phone?"

Ren nodded, quickly grabbing it from his pocket and tossing it onto the foot of the bed. "Why?"

You were shocked. Astonished, even. Carefully, you took his phone, opened it, and were even more shocked when you realized there wasn't a password. Shaking your head, his question finally caught up to you. "Oh, mine's almost dead."

He nodded towards the outlet beside his desk. "You can charge it there, if you want."

You smiled, grabbing your phone and his charger. As you made your way past him, you couldn't help but ruffle his hair playfully.

He rolled his eyes at you, but gave a little smile.

Crouching down beside the outlet, you realized it was already full. You were pretty sure the grey cord was the one that was connected to his PlayStation, so you instinctually unplugged the black one without even thinking about it.

When the quiet sound effects from his game immediately stopped, you felt your heart drop. Genuinely, it was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on your head, and now your every muscle was tense.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Your ex always scolded you for never being able to do anything right. Being with Ren, you had begun to move past that. Now, though, you were agreeing with him.

Ren watched the screen go black, blinking with the controller still in his hands. After a few seconds, his jaw locked and he lied his head back on his chair.

You didn't even say anything, too scared to. All you could do was stay crouched there like an idiot, the cord still in your trembling hands, watching his reaction like a hawk.

He didn't seem happy.

He sighed, ran a hand down his face, and then stood up and began walking over to you.

You popped up into a standing position, pulled taut like a rubber band about to snap. The offending cord was still in your stupid hands.

You wished Ren was more easily readable, because he had the same stoic expression he always did. Only, when you caught sight of the annoyance in his blue eyes, you changed your mind. You wished he had stayed unreadable.

"R-Ren, I'm so sorry," you breathed, feet glued to the ground. You felt completely unable to move.

"Yeah... It's fine," he muttered, reaching out for you.

Instinctually, you turned your face away and raised your hands to block the hit. It was a motion you'd ton plenty of times before. In fact, it was so ingrained in you that you didn't even realize you were moving, didn't realize you were holding your breath, until the strike never landed.

Slowly, you peaked open an eye to look at him.

Ren was staring at you oddly, his hand held out palm upwards. He was frozen, too, and you could see the cogs turning behind his eyes. For a moment, it looked like he was short circuiting.

"I... I was just gonna plug it back in," he explained awkwardly, eyes moving from the cord in your hand to the outlet on the wall.

You flushed red immediately, beating yourself up over how stupid you'd made yourself look. "Right... Right, I'm sorry." You practically shoved the cord into his chest, still shaking and unable to move your body how you wanted to.

Ren nodded, examining you with his eyes. Then, he let the cord fall to the ground. Slowly, as if scared of frightening you, he sat down on the edge of his bed. He grabbed your shirt, gently pulling you between his legs, looking up at you.

You didn't want to meet his eyes, hoping he'd just forget it ever happened and move on. You felt stupid enough without him adding onto it.

"What was that about?" he asked quietly, hands resting on your hips. "Did you think I was gonna hit you?"

Too ashamed to answer, all you could do was shrug. You were sure you were a pitiful sight, still trembling like a chihuahua.

To your immense relief, he didn't look offended. Rather, he looked worried. There was a storm gathering in his dark blue eyes, but his voice had never been gentler as he asked, "Why?"

You knew what he was saying. He'd never hit you before, or even come close. Ren hadn't even ever yelled at you. Sure, maybe the two of you hadn't been together for long, but you'd done plenty of things at this point that your ex would've freaked out about. Ren would only assure you that it was fine, that there was no need to apologize for every little thing.

You couldn't speak for a few minutes, terrified to tell him the truth, but also wanting to. For some reason, you wanted him to know, even though you also didn't. You didn't want him to look at you differently, but now that he was asking outright, you really didn't want to lie, either.

Finally, after several minutes of gathering up enough courage, you told him. Maybe not everything, but enough.

"You know... my ex?"

Ren nodded, already knowing where this was going. He didn't know the guy personally, but he'd heard stories. It was a small town.

"When he was mad, he hit me," you said simply, trying to shrug like it was no big deal, but Ren could see right through that. "It doesn't matter anymore."

He hated himself for not knowing the words to make you feel better about it; he really did. For the life of him, Ren didn't know what to say. He was the stupid one. All he could do was pull you closer, wrap his arms around your waist, and squeeze.

He really wasn't good with words, and he'd never felt like more of an asshole for it.

You played mindlessly with his hair, honestly happy that he wasn't digging anymore into it. "I'm sorry," you couldn't help but say, feeling like this whole awkward situation was your fault.

"Never apologize for things you didn't do," Ren said quickly, and you were taken aback by how firm his voice was, leaving no room for argument.

Trying to lighten the mood a little, you said, "Well, someone has to," with a bittersweet smile. Then, you hugged him back, enjoying the warmth, the comfort that came from being wrapped up in him.

He didn't reply. Instead, he just held you.

After that, you thought it was over.

Ren didn't mention it again, and everything was out in the open. The air was cleared, and now you didn't have to feel guilty for "lying" by omission. You'd never need to think about your ex again, and Ren didn't look at you differently (to your immense relief).

He was more mindful of not frightening you accidentally, but that was really all that changed.

At least, you thought it was.

One day, you were lounging on his bed again, phone in hand. He was at his desk, playing a game with his friend from Bofurin. Afterwards, he was taking you out for dango, which you were looking forward to.

Suddenly, you got a text from him. From your ex. It made your stomach churn just seeing his name pop up on your phone again, but you were curious, so you read it.

'I'm so, so sorry for everything I did to you. You deserve so much better than me. I'm just a piece of shit, and you were way too good for me. I'm just really, really sorry.'

Your eyes flew open, because that was not your ex, but the number was definitely his. "Hey, Ren, check this out," you whispered, awed.

"What is it?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at you with raised eyebrows. His hands, bandages over his knuckles from a recent fight where he had "gone a little too hard" (his words), held steady to his controller.

"My ex... He apologized to me," you breathed, still in shock. Your ex was not the kind of person to apologize. Even when he left you bruised and bloody, no apologies came, only half-assed excuses and monologues about how mean his mom was.

"Crazy," Ren said in a deadpan tone, turning back around to his game.

You blinked, suddenly putting the pieces together. These words were not your ex's, not by choice, anyways. And Ren had met you on the bridge last night with those bandages, but no other signs of a fight, not even a scratch or bruise.

Your eyes widened, dropping your phone immediately to stare into the back of Ren's chair. "Ren...?"

He hummed.

"Did you do something?"

"Uh, yeah," he said bluntly.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You stood up and went over to his chair, looking down at him with wide eyes. "What exactly... did you do?"

He didn't even look at you, eyes still trained on his game, as he casually said, "I beat the shit out of him."

"Ren!"

He only shrugged, and then wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you closer until you were sitting on the arm of his chair. Ren kissed the back of your shoulder, and then said, "Someone needed to."

Kaji Ren wasn't great with words, and in the moment when you told him about your ex, he'd never hated himself more for it. That is, until he remembered how great with his fists he was.

DAZAI OSAMU

You sat on the couch in the living room of Osamu's small apartment, where you had been staying pretty much since the two of you started dating. Outside the window, you could see the stars shining against a nearly black sky. Tired to the bone, all that was stopping you from passing out in his bed, which smelled so sweetly of him, was the fact that he was still out on some mission.

Knowing what he did for a living, especially knowing how dangerous it was, you just never felt right going to sleep without seeing him back home first, safe and sound. As such, you sat with a fluffy throw you'd brought from home over your lap, trying to pay attention to the soap opera playing on the TV to no avail.

You were worried sick, constantly checking your phone for updates, but he hadn't texted you back in hours. It was nearly three in the morning now, and as the minutes ticked on, you felt your heart encase itself with this terrible dread and worry.

You knew before you started dating him about his job at the detective agency, but you'd never imagined back then how attached you would become to him. He didn't seem like the type to stay, so you never figured you'd be up all night worried.

Alas, here you were, halfway getting ready to drive to the agency building and ask about his whereabouts.

You flinched, brought out of your mind, when the door very slowly creaked open. Immediately, you turned around to look over the couch, relief washing over you like warm sun rays when you saw Osamu walking in.

"Hey," he said softly, probably seeing from the deep bags under your eyes how tired you were. Osamu's eyebrows pinched together, concerned, as he carefully placed his trench coat on the counter. "What are you still doing up?" He made his way over to the back of the couch, long, thin fingers absently going to lightly scratch against your scalp. Crouching slightly so he'd be closer to you, Osamu tilted his head. "You weren't waiting up for me, were you?"

The way his fingers softly tugged at the roots of your hair sent a pleasant shiver through your body. "Of course, I was... I wanted to make sure you were safe." You tilted your head up and back to properly look at him, dazed momentarily by the way his lips lifted into the softest smile, his brown eyes twinkling.

"I'm sorry. I would've called you, but my phone went dead." He leaned down to brush his lips against your hairline, hand leaving your hair. "You should get some sleep. I'll join you after I take a shower."

You nodded, the memory of his touch ghosting over you. "Okay." Honestly, you couldn't think of anything better than going to sleep. Part of you wanted to be a little pissy with him for not getting back to you somehow, but the other part was just too relieved to see him in one piece.

"I'll be out in ten," he said, squeezing your shoulder before walking off down the hall.

You sighed lightly once he left, pushing your blanket to the side and standing up. Stretching your arms over your head, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Osamu was rough around the edges, and it had taken him quite some time to get used to being in a relationship, but being with him felt like a breath of fresh air. Your previous partner might have lowered your standards some, but after months and months, you still felt safe with Osamu.

He didn't switch up on you like your last had.

It was a testament to how far you'd come that you were annoyed about him not answering. In your last, that was the last thing on your mind. Your physical health wasn't always guaranteed back then, because your last had a penchant for punching everything that inconvenienced him and a short fuse to match.

Even reminiscing about it made your muscles tense up, so you quickly shook away the thought. Just as you were about to head into the bedroom, you saw his coat lying on the counter out of the corner of your eye. With an exasperated sigh, you walked over to pick it up and hang it on the coat rack.

Osamu had a terrible habit of dropping his clothes wherever.

You picked it up, about to hang it on the rack when your fingers cramped. Wincing, the coat fell from your grasp. As soon as it hit the floor, there was a loud POP! that had you covering your ears, dizzy and confused.

It was accompanied by the terribly loud shatter of glass, and shards falling unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor.

You gasped and jumped back, eyes widened with horror. Apparently, his gun had been in there, and now, like the idiot klutz you were, his living room window was shattered.

Just like that, all of your progress froze. You were in fight or flight, blood pumping rapidly through your veins. You could feel your heartbeat at every pulse point, because oh, my god.

He was going to be so angry.

You were acting on autopilot now, flashbacks coming to you of a time when you'd accidentally broken a plate—just a plate—and your ex put you in the ER for it. This was a whole window. You were hyperventilating, your brain cut off from oxygen and getting fuzzy.

It wasn't a second after the gun went off that you'd flown over to the window and crouched down, trying to gather all the pieces. Maybe, if you had it cleaned up by the time Osamu was out of the shower, he wouldn't be as angry.

You didn't really hear him frantically shout your name from the bathroom, the buzzing in your ears too loud. Neither did you hear him running into the living room, panic in his eyes as he assumed the worst.

When Osamu saw you there, he blinked, confused. When his eyes found the trench coat not lying where he'd placed it, he understood immediately.

"Hey, hey, hey. Baby, that's glass," he said, quickly making his way over. He'd already taken his shirt off, revealing the bandages wrapped around his middle and up his neck.

You didn't really hear him, nor did you notice how the shards cut your hands. Blood dripped down your fingers, palms, and wrists, staining the glass and the floor red.

Osamu crouched down beside you, eyes widening at the bloody scene. He immediately grabbed your wrists to stop you from collecting any more glass shards, his grip firm, but gentle.

You froze, too scared to look at him. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, shaking your head as tears welled in your eyes. "I didn't mean to, Osamu. I swear. I—"

"Hey, it was my fault," he replied, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have left a loaded gun lying around like that. I'm sorry, okay? I'll clean this up later."

"I—I can do it," you insisted, finally looking at him. Your breath stopped when you saw the sadness in his eyes, the way he looked like he just knew.

He smiled at you, but it was placatingly, as if he knew the quickest way to go about this was to simply go along with your panicked ravings. "I'm sure you can, baby, but I will. It's my fault. Let's get you to the bathroom so I can treat your hands, yeah?"

"My... hands?" You looked at your hands, your wrists still in his grip, and were horrified by how bloody and mangled they looked. Your breathing was starting to even out, finally coming back to yourself.

"Yeah, just..." He eyed the glass, and it was all around. Tiny shards that glinted dangerously in the yellow light of a nearby lamp, all around you. "Don't move."

You were still dazed, so you just did what he said.

Osamu stood, and then carefully scooped you up bridal style. Lips pressed into a thin line, he looked around at the floor closely before finally finding a spot where it didn't seem the glass reached. He set you down carefully, and then led you with a hand on the dip of your back to the bathroom.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting on the toilet, in disbelief of the spell you'd just had. Meanwhile, Osamu had lied out tweezers, Neosporin, and bandages on the sink counter.

"I'm sorry," you uttered again, embarrassed of how he'd found you, and more so embarrassed of how he was having to fix you up now. Honestly, you didn't even want to look him in the eye.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said softly, grabbing the tweezers in one hand. With the other, he squeezed your knee. "I'm not quite used to living with someone else yet. I should know better than to leave a loaded gun around."

"I'm so clumsy," you muttered, head falling.

"And I'm an idiot," he said lightly, using a finger to raise your chin. He rested his forehead to your's, closing his eyes tight. "I'm relieved it was the window... When I heard the gunshot, I was terrified it was you."

You squeezed your eyes shut, too, enjoying the closeness. The tears that had brimmed earlier started to fall, but you wouldn't acknowledge them.

"I know what PTSD looks like," he murmured, wrapping his arm around you and holding you close. "If you want to talk about it, we can."

You shook your head, biting your lips. Not yet. You weren't ready yet.

Osamu nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling away. He gently grabbed one of your hands, getting ready to remove the glass from your skin. He made quick work of your hands, and before long they were glass free and bandaged.

He kissed the knuckles on your right hand, and then pulled you up to a standing position. "I'll clean the glass up. You go lay down. I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

You nodded.

That night, as you fell asleep in his arms, you had never felt safer.

[andcars]

ㅤ [ 𝗢𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔 ]

premise. a brief introduction to the streamer who's about to ruin your life. scrolling through twitch mindlessly, you stumble upon probably the weirdest yet most arousing stream of your life

tags #ㅤdaniel ricciardo/female reader, alternate universe — twitch streamers, softcore porn streamer daniel ricciardo, suggestive content, open ending, this is more like an epilogue than anything wc #ㅤ .6k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀AO3

Every single one of your favourite streamers is dead. Okay, not literally. When you opened up Twitch today, not a single one was streaming as expected. You scroll endlessly and try to find someone new to interact with—just the same old games and topics. You’re procrastinating every part of your life right now. Twitch needs to be your getaway, the paperwork isn’t quite fond in your eyes.

“Whatever You Say”

It’s written in a video of a man leaning back against his chair. The framing of the camera exposes his face down to his crotch—the shorts of his expose the image tattooed on his thigh. It’s almost lewd. His shirt is slightly pulled up, exposing just a bit of his pelvis and the boxers he’s wearing. It’s perverted. Holy fuck, the framing of the thumbnail and the title of the stream just wakes you up from your idle scrolling.

Clicking into the stream, you weren’t sure what else to expect. He’s laughing when you load in, only a hundred in the stream but all of them talkative. “Is that it? That’s all it takes?” he asks, looking at the side—assuming to be where chat is placed on his computer— as he smiles ear to ear. The Australian accent surprises you a little. It’s a bit thick yet understandable. He laughs again, the entire chat screaming out affirmations in different ways. “Alright,” he says, “Whatever you say. Payment first though?”

Everyone rushes a user. It surprises you when 5000 bits get donated—a whole fifty. Jesus fucking Christ. The streamer doesn’t look surprised and just claps, clearly impressed. “Good girl.” That made you feel something. Before you know it, he starts to strip. He doesn’t strip hurried, it’s teasing, almost. He adjusts his camera first, properly showing off his torso as he scoots his chair back. His eyes move from chat to the camera, gripping the ends of his shirt and tugging on it as if that would help him strip. It’s slowly pulled off, the eye contact never lessens, and it makes you feel like you’re in the room with him. His eyelids dimmer and when the shirt is pulled over him, he lets his arm stay in the air for a second. Seconds feel much longer when you’re staring. He puts his arm down and bundles the shirt together before throwing it behind and to his bed.

“See? I told you I have a tattoo here,” he points at his arm, flexing it needlessly as he tilts his body to show the camera. “And here,” he puts his finger to his chest, protruding it a little, “and of course on my hand, as you know,” he rests his hand against his pec, gripping a little to show how it flexes. Your eyes don’t leave the screen, his eyes don’t leave you—the camera either. It’s obscene how easily he goes to show off his body for the camera. The low lighting of his room is obscured by the harsh lighting by, what you assume to be, a ring light. It frames his muscles too well. It makes it look sculpted.

“You’ve quieted down,” he says, voices sultry and low. “Everyone quieted down. What’s up with that?” he asks as if he doesn’t know the truth. He lets the chat slowly talk again, only leaning back with his arms underneath his ass. He’s putting his hips slightly forward, spreading his legs more to pull up the shorts further up—the tattoo getting more visible. It’s a ship of sorts. Not like that matters, just the sight is worthwhile. He’s not saying anything. He doesn’t need to. You know he’s well aware of the effect he has on these people. It’s fucking annoying. You subscribe to him—D3R.

@delululeclerc @rtorresblog @jamie2305

FOOTNOTE ────── i was gonna put this on the patreon but it's too short for anything LMAO. this is more like an introductory post but when my requests are up again i hope ya'll request for him :p I need ideas on how to continue this hehe

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 4

Just a heads up tomorrow is the start of my posting hiatus. I will still do WIP Wednesdays and will be posting headcanons and stuff like that during that time. I will begin posting again on Sunday Sept. 1st. I haven't decided which story will get each slot, or if I just post based on vibes. Most likely vibes if I'm honest.

In this we get the first of Eddie's presents to Steve, Eddie refutes the stupid Steve charges, and Steve remembers something important that he forgot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Steve was living it up in the pool. His parents had an outdoor heated pool, but it was more for leisure than laps because of it’s weird oblong shape. But this? It had an outdoor pool, but the indoor pool was Olympic sized. Like proper with the lane lines painted on the bottom and everything.

So he practiced his backstroke and butterfly. And by the time he got out his muscles were deliciously sore and his skin was wrinkly. He showered and then padded over to the sauna to relax his ache muscles.

As he was the only one there, he set the temperature to slightly hotter than warm but not scorching. He wanted to rest his muscles not sweat out every toxin in his body. Once he was feeling good enough, he got dressed and walked back to his hotel.

He looked at the swimsuit in his hand and realized he wouldn’t have do laundry here if he didn’t want to. Wow. His mom always made him do his laundry even though they had a maid who would wash his parents’.

Steve looked at his watch and decided it was time for some dinner. He threw the swimsuit into the laundry basket and went to go blow dry his hair. He pulled out his but then noticed the one already on the counter. His eyes flicked between the two and there was no doubt that the one the hotel provided was way better than his.

He put his back in his bag and turned on the hotel’s hair dryer. It never overheated or would start to smell half way through the process. He ran a little gel through his hair and spritzed his hair three times with the hair spray.

He admired himself in mirror a moment. He was good looking. He knew that. But he never in his wildest dreams thought he had the looks to pull a rockstar. Like that was crazy levels of confidence. But looking in the mirror just now, maybe he could see what Eddie saw.

Steve walked up the table that had his wallet and picked it up. He pulled out his fake ID, the one that got him this cushy hotel room. He wouldn’t be able to use it for god knows how long, but he wanted to keep it. As a memento of sorts. God. He was already feeling melancholic about the whole thing and it had only been five hours.

That was when he spotted it. On the bed was a big white box. He frowned and walked up to it slowly. He wasn’t worried about people getting in. This was a hotel. It was probably put there by housekeeping or even the concierge. He knew better than to keep anything in his room that might interest a snoop.

He just wondered who gave it to him. He picked up the card and read it.

-To my little Canary

A parting gift from me.

Promise me you’ll wear it and think of me often

-Your Eddie

Steve lifted the lid of the box and inside was the most beautiful silk pajamas he had ever seen. It was a short-sleeved button up that stopped just an inch or so below the waistband of the matching shorts. The shorts themselves weren’t very long, not quite booty shorts level, but close. Both in a soft, light yellow color. Perfect for summer time.

He ran over to the phone and quickly dialed Eddie’s cellphone.

“Hello?” the warm, dulcet tones answered.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, even he knew it was. He was just so excited.

“My little Canary,” Eddie purred. “I take it you got your present.”

“I did,” Steve said, twirling the cord around his finger. “They’re beautiful. I can’t wait to wear them tonight.”

“Good,” Eddie said, a smile evident in his tone. “I hope I go the size right. Did you do anything fun today?”

Steve told him all about his day swimming and the sauna. He even told him about the hair dryer because he was just that excited about it all.

“That sounds great, little Canary,” Eddie said, his fondness oozing through in his tone. “I’m sending someone by with a card that I will load money on so that you can get things like gas for your car and other things for your personal hygiene, as I assume you’ll want to buy that stuff yourself.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve found himself saying, almost against his will. “Could have gotten by with the hotel toiletries.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but I wanted to give you the option of a choice.”

Steve blushed deeply, glad that Eddie couldn’t see him in that moment.

“Look, little Canary,” Eddie purred, “we just got to our location and I have to go, but I’ll call you after the show and tell you all about it.”

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ll talk then.”

He hung up after they said their goodbyes with a sigh. He flopped on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

Fucking hell. What was he even doing with his life?

His stomach growled. Well, for starters, he guessed he was going to dinner.

~

When Steve finished his meal, which was even better than breakfast...He never had a steak melt in his mouth like that before. It was so soft and buttery and the potatoes tasted of rosemary and garlic, the carrots were covered in a glaze that tasted of honey and something darker.

He shook his head.

Anyway.

When he finished his dinner he went back up to the room. He resolved that he would need to do more than just swimming to keep the delicious food off his waistline. He was going to have to check out the gym here.

Steve looked at the time and decided it was too early for bed, but he got into the new pajamas anyway. The shorts were pulled on first and fuck. Steve felt sinful just wearing the damn things. They cupped him in all the right places but when he moved or sat down they didn’t ride up or pinch. He seriously thought about not putting on the shirt at all. But the desire to see the full effect won out.

He pulled it on and buttoned it up. And just like the shorts, the top was form fitting but comfortable. The V in the neck from where the highest button went (it didn’t button all the way up) just showed a peek of his chest hair.

He admired himself in the mirror for several minutes before he forced himself to go back out to the suite.

Steve grabbed the remote and started flipping the channels. He was used to cable as his mother needed her HSN and his father needed the soccer score. Not because he was interested in the game, but because he’d bet on foreign games.

But either his parents only had basic cable or there were a bunch of new channels added recently. And he was willing bet it was the former.

He found a late night baseball game from a Japanese league and started watching that. He couldn’t understand the announcers and he didn’t know the players’ names, but it was still baseball, regardless the language.

Before he knew it the game was over and it was late at night, finally time for bed. He got all snuggled into bed when the phone rang.

“‘Ello?” he muttered sleepily.

“Oh, darlin’,” the warm tones caressed his ear, “did I wake you?”

Steve hummed in the negative. “Just getting ready to sleep. Tell me all about selling out Indy.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I’d ask you how you knew Corroded Coffin sold out tonight, but you spent all of last night surrounded by my fans. Even the stupidest person on the planet would have had to pick something up.”

“Mhmm,” Steve murmured. “That’s me, stupidest person on the planet.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two. “Who says you’re dumb, baby?”

“My parents,” he said softly, “my first girlfriend before I realized I was gay, my ex-boyfriend, you know the one my parents kicked me out for? And um...the kids I babysat for are all like super geniuses, so they get frustrated with me a lot.”

“Oh my little Canary,” Eddie cooed. “You’re not dumb. School smarts isn’t everything. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s true,” Steve said, a little less sad. “I’m talking to a bona fide rockstar.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie agreed. “But let me tell you about my night and see if I can’t lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice.”

“I’d really like that.”

So that’s what Eddie did, he talked and talked until he could hear the soft little snuffling of snores from his Canary.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

~

When Steve woke up the next morning, the phone was still dangling off the cradle from where it fallen the night before when he fell asleep listening to Eddie.

Eddie had a great talking voice. Dude should do books on tape or voice acting or something. Maybe he’d tell him the next time he called.

He stretched and yawned. He woke up just as well rested today as he had yesterday. Which meant that as good as the sex was, and it was amazing, it wasn’t as big a factor in his night’s sleep as he thought.

He got up and went to go grab a shower. He hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, as he had used the swimming pool’s showers yesterday. He ordered breakfast and then hopped into the shower, telling them to just come in and leave it next the sofa.

He dried off with one of the most luxurious towels.

Steve stopped for a moment. He really needed to stop comparing the hotel to the life he led before being kicked out. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even in the same state let alone ball park. His life here would always be miles away from the life he left behind.

New cage, same as the old cage really except real gold instead of merely gilded. Better food, furniture, amenities. Same limitations. Can’t drink, but he could smoke.

So he went out on the balcony to do just that. He brought his food out with him and just smoked, watching the busy crowd below him.

Oh shit!

He scrambled back inside the hotel room and fumbled around for his wallet. He pulled out a little laminated card and dialed the one on the top.

“Henderson residence, Claudia speaking,” the warm motherly voice answered.

“Mrs. Henderson,” Steve whined, almost in tears at the sound of her voice.

“Steve?” she asked gently. “Oh I was wondering when you were going to call. Dustin has been worried sick. He went to Family Video yesterday to return “Ghostbusters” and the snooty girl at the counter said you’d been fired for sodomy!”

He winced a little at the harsh word she used. “I–I’m gay, Mrs. Henderson,” he whimpered into the phone. This was it, she was going to turn him away too. Forbid Dustin from seeing him, then it would get around to the all the other parents and he wouldn’t be able to be around Holly or Will. And–

“Ah...” she said, just as gentle and warm as before. “Can you help it? Can you choose who you love?”

“No, ma’am,” he whispered, hanging his head between his shoulders.

“Then why would I care?” Claudia huffed in annoyance. “The first thing a mother should learn is to love your child no matter what, no matter who. Now, if Dusty gives you a hard time, you let me know. You hear?”

Steve felt a swell of pride in his chest, she might have not had been his real mother, but he should have known better than to bet against Claudia Henderson.

“Here, let me go get him,” she said softly. “Would you like me to explain it to him first?”

A lump formed in his throat as he choked down tears. He forgot he wasn’t isolated. He wasn’t cut off completely from people.

“Yeah,” he said, his lip quivering. “If you would.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Claudia said warmly. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have long to wait. Soon there was the sound of Dustin practically screaming in his ear.

“Hey, bud,” he said when he could finally get a word in.

There was a sniffle. “Why didn’t you call me and Ma? We would have taken you in.”

Steve’s heart swelled again, this time in utter love for this butthead. “Because my dad would have seen to it that she lost her job at the library and with your dad having just passed, I couldn’t do that to you, to either of you, okay?”

There was another sniffle. “Okay...”

“Here,” Steve said, “I can’t tell you where I am right now, because no doubt my dad is trying to run me out of town, but I can give you a phone number to call. I might not always be there, but you can leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“I guess that’s acceptable,” Dustin huffed. “Can I tell everyone you’re okay?”

Everyone meant his kids. Max, Elle, Will, Mike, Lucas, and Erica. And well, Holly, too. But she was too young to really understand what was going on. Technically Erica should be in that same category but she was too smart to be left out. Steve didn’t even bother trying most days.

“Yeah, bud,” he murmured. “You can tell people I’m safe. Just keep the number to yourself for now. I don’t want my dad knowing where I am.”

“Roger that!” Dustin said.

They talked for a few moments longer before Claudia took the phone back.

“I’m going to call the PTA calling tree,” she said, “and get the word out that you’ll be unavailable to babysit for the foreseeable future.”

Steve hummed. “I think that’s the part that upsets me the most about all this shit.”

“I know, sweetie,” Claudia assured him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

And he was absolutely certain if anyone could, it was Claudia Henderson.

He let out a sigh of relief for the first time since he was kicked out.

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED MAX LIMIT 50 REACHED!!!

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[thetomorrowshow]

when you had nothing to say ch. 4

Sometimes Jimmy feels like he needs a massive sign on his chest that reads, I’M DEAF. PLEASE WRITE THINGS DOWN. That might save him some lectures he can’t hear. Unless there aren’t any written signs around because nobody else can read. - or, 5 times that someone found out Jimmy was deaf + 1 time they accommodated him :), chapter 4

“Jimmy?”

Jimmy looks up from where he’s re-hemming his sleeve, the threads having all pulled out. He looks up at Tango, smiles. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you know. Just wondering how your day’s been!”

Ah, Tango can probably feel his muscle aches. Jimmy sets down his needle and stretches, reaching his arms up toward the ceiling. He groans, restrains a yawn. “Good, good. Tended to the goats, bothered Grian, yelled at Joel. The usual. How was your day?”

Tango is making dinner for the two of them, baking potatoes in the furnace while some sort of milky cheese sauce boils on the stove. He stops stirring for a moment to glance at Jimmy, brows furrowed contemplatively.

“Good,” he says. “Yeah, my day was good.”

There’s something not quite right in the way he looks at Jimmy, something almost . . . confused. Does Tango think he was lying? Why would he lie about something so simple?

Maybe he thinks it’s a Grian situation. It isn’t the server’s best-kept secret that Grian’s trying to create a Secret Soulmate bond with BigB, ignoring his own soulbound to do so.

Does Tango think he’s lying about what he did today because he suspects that he’s trying to team up with someone else? He would never betray him that way, not in this game! Not when everything is built around the two of them sticking it out together, no matter what people like Grian and Scott and Cleo might say.

Scott and his stupid Relationship Ranch. Jimmy would bet his horn that half of Scott’s purpose is breaking up soulmate bonds.

It would be useful to have someone like that on their side.

Jimmy opens his mouth to suggest it, but just as quickly closes it. If Tango thinks he’s cheating on him, to suggest they have Scott and Cleo over for dinner would be tantamount to admitting his guilt. Not that he’s actually guilty—he isn’t! But it would make it appear so, and he can’t risk the suspicion that it would cast on him.

Tango’s turned back to the stove, continuing to stir the sauce. “I was thinking, we . . . bacon. Does that sound good?”

“Er, yeah,” Jimmy says. Why do people never look directly at him when asking questions? Does Tango want bacon now, or a different night? And does he need Jimmy to do anything about it? They should have some bacon in the icebox from that pig that Cleo butchered, but why is he bringing it up?

Tango waits, then turns an inquisitive eyebrow on him.

“Wait, like, right now?”

“Uh, that . . . said,” Tango laughs, looking back to the sauce the second he starts talking.

Not again.

“Sorry, you’re turned away from me,” Jimmy says awkwardly. “Could you say that again?”

Tango looks at him, that weird, confused look on his face again. “Um, I said that that’s what I said? If we want a bit of bacon in the sauce, we need it now.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, right,” nods Jimmy. “I’ll—I’ll go grab it, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His cheeks burning, Jimmy sets his sewing down and pulls on his shoes, then hurries outside without lacing them up. They keep their icebox in the cave under the ranch, which makes it a bit of a trip every time they need to grab something, but he doesn’t mind. It’s nice out once the sun is down, a bit of a warm breeze ruffling his hair.

When Jimmy returns, lump of bacon in hand, Tango takes it without saying anything, immediately tearing off a strip and chopping it up into bits. He chops about three strips, then gives Jimmy the rest of it to return to the icebox.

On his way back from the second trip, Jimmy pauses to look up at the sky.

He’s always loved the stars. He used to lie on the grass of his front lawn and gaze up at them until his parents sent him to bed; when he was in the army, he would frequently volunteer for night shifts until his superiors figured out that the night sky distracted him from his job.

He sighs, slowly, wills himself to not get dizzy as he cranes his neck even further back, looking for familiar constellations. Every world has different formations, but sometimes he can find new spots for old favorites.

But dinner is on the stove, and Tango is waiting for him, so Jimmy heads back to the house, smiling at Tango when he checks over his shoulder.

“The stars are beautiful, tonight,” he tells him, and Tango chuckles, turns back to the sauce.

“It’s so funny . . . you . . . stars, every time.”

“Come again?” Jimmy asks, crossing to the side of Tango so that he can see his lips.

Tango doesn’t answer, though. Instead, he takes the pan off the stove and sets down his roughly-carved wooden spoon, turning to properly face Jimmy.

“Jimmy,” he says, “are you feeling okay?”

Jimmy blinks. “Uh, yeah?” he says. Oh, no, is this when Tango brings up any little inconsistencies and uses it against him somehow, even though Jimmy’s been doing his best to prove his loyalty this whole time.

“I just—my ears are hurting,” Tango says. “And, like, I didn’t do anything, I think—the Warden didn’t scream at me or anything. Did you hurt your ears?”

What?

The confusion, even suspicion, that Jimmy thought he’d seen on Tango’s face is clearly concern, now, and Jimmy frowns, touches his ears.

“I don’t think so?” he says. “You said they hurt?”

“Yeah, like, sore. You don’t feel it?”

Sometimes his ears itch, but they rarely hurt. He’s constantly aware of whether or not his ears hurt, knowing that if they get even a simple infection, he’s at risk of losing the rest of his hearing.

So Jimmy’s fairly certain he isn’t feeling any pain in his ears, which brings up the question: why do Tango’s ears hurt?

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I haven’t felt anything.”

Tango hums. “Well, the potatoes are probably done. How about we have dinner and figure it out in the morning?”

If Tango’s ears hurt, then Jimmy’s should be hurting. That’s the way the bond is meant to work, no matter who the pain is coming from. But Jimmy just shrugs it off—it can’t be that serious if Tango thinks they can wait until morning.

He picks up his shirt that he was hemming, frowning when he can’t find the needle. Did he stick it back in the sleeve? He can’t remember. Probably not. This happens every time, will he never learn?

Oh, well. He tosses the shirt onto his bed and drags his chair back over to the table, overly conscious of the scraping sound it makes against their rough wooden floor. He ought to put some wool on the feet of the chairs, make sure they don’t make any sort of sound. Or he could just take his hearing aids out—he’s been wearing them a lot more than he should, and his ears are definitely tired.

Jimmy adjusts one, rotating it just the slightest bit to see if the new position gives his ear a bit of a break. It’s marginally better, so—

Wait.

“Tango,” Jimmy says slowly, “can you feel my hearing aids?”

“What?”

“That might be why your ears hurt,” says Jimmy. He touches the left hearing aid—and now that he’s thinking about it, his ears are definitely a bit sore from how long he’s been wearing the hearing aids. He hadn’t noticed, accustomed to it as he was. “I’ve been wearing my hearing aids for too long. It can definitely be a bit uncomfortable. Here, let me take one out.”

He takes out the left one, sighs a little bit as his ear relaxes. Tango reaches up to rub his own left ear, mouth half-open.

“I—yeah, that fixed it,” he says, and Jimmy puts it back in, twisting it to fit it in just right. “Sorry—you wear hearing aids? Are you Deaf?”

“Did—did you not know?”

“No, I didn’t know! When did that happen?”

“Way before you ever met me,” Jimmy says. “How did you not know? They broke during Third Life and I couldn’t hear for the last few weeks, remember?”

Tango shakes his head, utter surprise painting his face. “I don’t remember that at all.”

To be fair, they didn’t really see much of each other back then. Even though Jimmy spent those last weeks in a near-silent world, cutting his communication to those necessary, he had just kind of assumed that everyone knew what had happened. Apparently, Grian and Scott hadn’t gone around telling everyone about it.

He doesn’t know whether or not to be grateful for that.

“Well, I’ve been Deaf since I was a kid,” says Jimmy, with a bit of a shrug. “I guess I’m just surprised you can’t tell—everyone always says I talk too loud.”

“I just thought you were a loud guy!” Tango says. He turns away for a moment, pulls the potatoes out of the furnace, then turns back, tossing down the towel he’d used to grab the pan. “So, like, what do I sound like to you?”

Jimmy wrinkles his nose. “I dunno, like . . . everyone else? It’s hard to figure out whose voice is whose if they aren’t looking at me, and it’s hard to understand at all without watching their lips—it’s kinda garbled. My hearing aids mostly just amplify, they don’t help a lot with distinguishing.”

“How much can you hear without your hearing aids?”

“Not much,” Jimmy says. “Like, if I’m in a crowded room, I can hear this . . . buzz of noise? Sometimes if someone shouts, I can kind of hear it. Everything sounds like a really muffled TV on the lowest volume setting.”

Tango shakes his head, as if in astonishment. “Man. I never woulda guessed.”

It’s strange just how often in his life Jimmy accidentally hides it. He never really intends to. It just sort of . . . happens.

Why are these conversations always so uncomfortable? Teenage Jim was right about that sign pinned on his shirt thing. That would preemptively end every conversation about people not knowing he’s deaf.

“Well, now you know,” Jimmy shrugs again, awkwardly. “I’ll try to take them out more. Um, should we fry the bacon?”

“Right, right!” Tango hops over to their shabby kitchen chest, digging through for the frying pan. Before he can find it, though, he turns back toward Jimmy.

“I’ve got your back,” he says seriously. “Let me know if you need help with anything, yeah?”

Jimmy doesn’t know quite how to respond to that. “You too,” he settles on eventually. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t ever end up asking Tango for help.

He doesn’t need it. Not really.

[ceilidho]

prompt: Soap being a funny, goofy flirt with his barista whenever he's on leave back home….super cocky and charming, then a couple months go by …. and he comes back sort of rougher around the edges after Las Almas. less trusting. a bit meaner when he talks to her….. [soap/reader] 2.5k; nsfw (on ao3)

-

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He’s back again. It’s not a usual occurrence, but when it happens your heart kicks into overdrive. He appears like clockwork every couple of months, and then back to back over a quick succession of days. Like he’s in town one week and then gone the next. 

You look up from where you’re organizing the muffins in the display case to find him grinning down at you from the other side. His hair is freshly shorn on both sides, the stripe of hair down the middle likely barely long enough for him to work his thick fingers through it. He’s got a cocksure grin spread across his lips. A fresh cut over his right eyebrow, a butterfly bandage over it. 

“Hi John,” you say. It’s almost a struggle to say the words. Your hands shake a bit where they’re extended out amongst the pastries, fingers pressing into a carrot muffin a bit too hard. It dents beneath your fingers. You pull them out, rest the tongs behind you on the countertop. 

“Hi kitty cat,” he purrs, folding his arms over the pastry case, leaning as close to you as he can. If it were anyone else, you might be tempted to scold them for smudging the glass. It’s you that’ll have to clean that up later. “Not Johnny anymore? Have I been gone for too long?”

Charm like butter spread thick over freshly toasted sourdough, already melting into the bread, dripping onto the plate between the pockets of air. You know he could ruin you if he wanted to, if you let him in. 

You know it won’t be long until you fold. He hasn’t been subtle about it. “Sorry, Johnny, we’re all out of scones.”

“Aw, that’s how you apologize for tossing up my morning?”

You twiddle your thumbs. “Sorry.”

“‘Have to do better than tha’, kitty cat,” Johnny says, lips drawn into a faux pout that has your heart skittering in your chest like it’s been let loose from the stables for once. “I was waiting for those scones for near a month."

“We have cream buns,” you offer. He snorts.

“Not in the mood for anything cream filled just yet.” 

There isn’t a shade of red deep enough to describe your face. “Pardon?”

“Ye fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” Johnny asks instead, evading the question.

You probably look as gobsmacked as you feel. It’s not like you haven’t been asked out on dates before, but Johnny is leagues away from any of the men you’ve dated. He’s cockier, back straight and chest out, flaunting the muscles strapped across his chest and arms. You think it’s reasonable that you’ve chalked his flirting up to habit, something he does with everyone; whatever distance you’ve put between yourself and your inevitable nervous breakdown has been built on assuring yourself that Johnny surely didn’t mean for you to take his flirting seriously.

Apparently, you were wrong. 

“You want to take me out?” you ask, sounding a bit dumb. 

“‘Course I do.” He cocks an eyebrow, leveling you with an obvious look. “Haven’t been shy about it; s’a bit tough when I’m all over the place these days, but I’m in town for the next two weeks, so we’ve got some time. When you getting off today, kitty cat?” 

Johnny leans farther over the countertop, towering over you now that you aren’t standing on the raised platform by the pastry case. Palms spread wide over the granite; when your eyes flit down, you can’t help the way they’re drawn to the dark, livid tattoos crawling up his forearms. Dark ink like they’re new trophies on his skin. 

His attention is always like the sun; your whole body burns under his gaze. There’s something about being stared at so intensely, blue eyes raking down the front of you, that makes you unsure. 

He buys a croissant instead, tenner pressed gently into the palm of your hand. You're tempted to deflect, tell him you aren't interested.

“Seven,” you whisper instead, hands shaking when you hand him his change. 

His hand closes around yours, callused fingers rough against your skin. “Got it. Pick you up seven sharp.”

When he leaves, you barely hear the jingle behind him, the blood pounding in your ears. You have a date. 

Your chest is tight for hours, thinking about your date later that evening. He picks you up after your shift, just as you’re locking up; you thought you’d have a couple minutes to head back to your apartment and freshen up, but you find him waiting outside the coffee shop for you, clad in a black hoodie and the same jeans as earlier. 

He’s as slick and gentlemanly as you might’ve anticipated, walking you to the pub with a hand nestled against your low back. You talk for what seems like hours tucked away in the corner. Johnny makes good conversation, but sometimes it feels a bit like an interrogation. He’s talkative, but there’s a faint edge underlying everything he does; he makes you wait for him at your table while he orders for the two of you at the bar, taking the seat facing you so you’re ensconced in his shadow, hidden from anyone else in the pub.

He insists on walking you back to your place, boots splattering through the puddles accumulating between the cobblestones. He makes sure you walk on the dry side. Every light you pass under sweeps across his face in a golden arc, illuminating the corner edge of his jawline, the plush spread of his lips, the furl of his ear like a nautilus shell. Brows that slope over deep set eyes. 

When he leaves you off at the door, Johnny’s hand curls in the hairs at the back of your neck and tugs you up for a kiss that goes scorching hot. Fingers tangled in your hair, other hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you in place. You feel trapped, helpless against the onslaught of him; a hot tongue flicks into your mouth and he groans, making your head spin. You feel it resonate through you. 

“Johnny—” you mumble when he pulls away for a second, cut off when he leans back in to suckle at your bottom lip. His beard is bristly against the soft skin around your mouth. 

You feel him smirk against your lips. He nips at the lower one. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, a’right, kitty cat?”

Johnny only looks the slightest bit disheveled when he pulls away. A thumb traces your lower lip. He briefly looks regretful, like he wants to bend down again for another one—you feel the intention when he presses his thumb ever so slightly past your lips—but then he pulls back, walking backwards down the street away from you. A hand raised in goodbye.

Then the next day, he’s gone. Vanished into thin air. You glance up whenever the wind chimes over the door jingle, but it’s never him, always someone with a different hat, a different face. 

You thought he promised you two weeks this time. Your chest collapses when the door opens and someone else walks in. Apparently he spoke too soon. 

Two days go by; you’re fighting the desperation to know. It oddly never crosses your mind to think that he’s ghosting you. Maybe it should. You hardly know him outside of the brief interactions you have every other month when he’s back from wherever he works (and you know that it’s all top secret, hush hush, you’ve seen the military tattoos and kept your questions to yourself), but it doesn’t feel—and you think this with no small degree of irony—like something he’d do. 

On the walk home, you often catch yourself looking for the familiar shape of him. Wandering past the shops closing up for the night, people piling into the bars, raucous voices tumbling up into the smoky sky; you stand on your tiptoes on the other side of the street and peer in, looking for the broad shape of his back. 

You never spot him. There is a cold gap in your life that goes unfilled. It smarts at the root of you; you didn’t think you could miss Johnny. You thought you could feel a twinge of regret every now and then for not indulging his flirting a bit more, but you had honestly shelved him higher than you could reach in your desires. Until he took you out and listened to you ramble on, listened deeply with his attention rapt, his cheek pressed into his fist as he leaned against the table towards you. Until he whisked you safely back home and held you in place while he sipped kisses from your mouth until your lips were swollen. 

It’s months later when you hear it. 

“Hi kitty.”

Your blood goes hot at the sound of his voice. When you whip around, Johnny’s on the other side of the counter like he never left. Black shirt that clings to the curve of his biceps, old jeans with fades around the knees and thighs stretched around his thighs. 

When you meet his eyes, they seem charged, steadier than usual. Flat lips turned up just at the corner, one side only. Johnny’s not usually so still, so grounded on his feet; there’s usually a frenetic undercurrent to him, like catching a live wire. You don’t know what he’s like out in the real world, but in your world he looks like he paces and runs to work himself free of all the extra energy. Maybe other forms of cardio.

“Johnny, you’re—” You catch yourself before the words tumble out, before you make it known that you’ve been tossing and turning late at night wondering where he went. Blue eyes sparkle like they hear it anyway, the faint note of desperation seeping into your voice like a hoarseness. 

“Fancy going for a bevvy tonight?” he asks you again. Less of a question this time. 

You feel pulled to him on a string. He doesn’t leave you in peace this time. He waits you out, sits at a table in the coffee shop facing you. Customers you’ve known for years seem entranced by him, and how could they not? They don’t make them like him often—tall and blue eyed, roguish; ruggedly handsome when the mood strikes. Pretty boy until he turns the full weight of his stare on you and you’re forced to contend with the fact that he is, in fact, all man. 

Your amity turns to enmity when someone stares at him for too long. Placated only because Johnny never so much as turns their way. 

Dinner is a long, drawn out affair. His conversation is rougher than usual, punctuated by bouts of silence. His eyes are murky waters. Something’s changed, you think, salad speared on your fork, hovering just in front of your mouth, studying him. Something happened in the months that he was away. Whatever it was, it’s left Johnny a bit more calculating, less trusting. He sits facing the door this time, eyes flicking up whenever it opens on the other side of the restaurant. 

“Sorry, angel, don’t have it in me to be sweet and gentle anymore,” Johnny says when he walks you to your doorstep. “‘Fraid it’s gonna be rough for you from now on.” 

His words make you tremble. 

The kiss at your doorstep doesn’t end there this time. Maybe this is all an extension of that moment months ago, the natural endpoint. You were never going to end up anywhere else but flat on your back under him.

“Pure gaggin' fer it, aren’t ya, kitty?”

Johnny’s voice is rough, barely a rumble over the sound of your own keening. Your whole body slides up the bed every time he ruts into you, thick cock spearing you open. Your hands slip over his shoulders where a layer of sweat has built up; your bodies slide together like you’ve been at it for hours, rather than just the thirty minutes since Johnny bodied his way into your place and made you guide him to the bedroom, shucking his clothes the whole way there.

“No, I would’ve—” You gasp on a particularly rough thrust, teeth clenching together, “—I would’ve w-waited. Oh god, oh god.”

“Haud yer' wheesht, bonnie, quit whining,” he grunts. “Dinnae act like you weren’t asking for a big cock in this cunt. Could hear her purring behind the counter. Needed it for months, didn’t ya?”

You knew this was in him somehow, this penchant for dirty talk. He’s always moved like it was in him. You feel swept away by it, scorching under his hands and tongue and dick. Tightly wound. Only capable of holding on, one hand clenched now in the lowest part of his mohawk while he ducks his head to suck your nipple into his mouth. When he gives it a mean bite, you squirm and cry out.

“Never thought you were s-serious,” you admit, whimpering when he nips again at the tender spot there. 

Johnny draws back onto his haunches, still deep in you. There are scars across his chest that you didn’t notice before. New skin frosted over, deep gouges across his arms; what you think looks like a bullet wound. Your eyes go wide. It’s impossible to think what he must have been through.

He looms over you, hand coming up to curl delicately around your throat. Just enough to let you know that he’s there, that he’s got you right where he wants. Johnny smiles wide, wicked, white teeth stark in the darkness of your room. 

“Oh, I’m very serious, kitty,” he laughs, deep and throaty. He thrusts languidly into your heat now, drawing it out. 

He makes a show of it when he comes, fingers tightening around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat. It strikes you in the moment that you let him in bare, trusted him despite months of absence and no real excuse for it. When he pulls out, you feel it leak from you. Frustration boils under your skin because you haven’t come yet; you feel almost betrayed, a whiplash reaction that has tears welling up in your ears. 

“Don’t worry,” Johnny coos at the sight of your pinched face, “you’ll get yours, bonnie. Gonna treat this kitty real nice.”

You struggle against his hold when he forces your legs wide and slots himself between them, making his way down the bed. He tongues deep into your cunt to lick his own spend out. Your thoughts dribble out of you, head empty; there’s nothing left in you except bone-deep exhaustion and the feel of his bearded cheeks scraping against your inner thighs. 

You flinch like you’ve been shocked when he sucks at your clit, hypersensitive. He laughs when you do, doubling his efforts. His hot mouth on the place where he still drips from you might make you lose it completely. The most wounded sound bubbles out of you. Your hand trembles in his hair, torn between pulling his mouth closer and pushing him away. 

He doesn’t relent until you’ve come twice, your face flush with blood. When his tongue flicks over your clit again, it’s for the pleasure of seeing your legs spasm. 

“Johnny, please—can’t anymore,” you beg, trying to press your foot against his shoulder to push him away. 

His chin glistens with your juices. When he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, plump and swollen, you drag in a harsh breath. Maybe you could go again.

“Kitty, I’ve had a rough couple weeks,” he says, voice light but for where it descends into a memory, deep and dark. “Just let me eat your cunt and we’ll talk about everything later, okay?”

Your fingers tingle like they’ve fallen asleep in his hair. When you give in, it feels inevitable.